#james gillies imagine

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Red White And Royal Blue OC Masterlist

Name: Abigail Claremont-Diaz

Story: Miss Americana

Face claim:  Zion Moreno

Love Interest: Bea Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

For all that Abigail Claremont-Diaz wanted to build a name for herself outside of being First Daughter Of The United States, she also couldn’t imagine her life without the past four years.  Without her daily commute from the White House to the GWU campus, without the secret service always a step behind her, without the beautiful, bustling streets of DC to call her own.  She missed Texas, it would always hold a special place in her heart, but she couldn’t imagine life if she’d never left.  She certainly couldn’t imagine her life if she’d never started dating the Prince of Wales — although did it count as dating if her eyes always strayed to his sister?  Abi had spent four years building her perfect life under the microscope of Capitol Hill but, much like a £75,000 wedding cake, her twin brother’s lack of impulse control and obsession with her boyfriend had to send it crashing down around her. 

Name: Caroline Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Story: Sweet Caroline

Face claim:  Sabrina Carpenter

Love Interest: Oliver Cochrane

Caroline Henrietta Alexandria Theresa Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.  Princess of Wales.  Britain’s sweetheart, the tragic princess.  If her life were her own, maybe Caroline could have followed her dreams, could have followed her father’s footsteps and become an actress, the first female James Bond.  But her life belonged to crown and country, and Caroline’s free will only extended far enough to choose which media smile to use on any given day.  Caroline Fox had dreams, hopes, ambitions, secrets.  Princess Caroline was just a doll, a piece in her grandmother’s never ending game of chess.  This time, Caroline’s job was simple: to clean up the mess caused by her older brother and her dearest friend, to make the so-called Cakegate look like a silly misstep between best friends and not like an international incident that could determine the fate of American politics for the next four years and beyond.  In theory, it shouldn’t have been too hard, after all, Henry and Alex were quite possibly her two favourite people in the world, and Caroline had never not been able to charm her way out of trouble.  The only problem is that her grandmother’s plan involves a staging a relationship and eventually an engagement, possibly even another royal wedding.  The only problem is that this relationship would be between Caroline herself and Alex Claremont-Diaz.  The only problem is that Caroline knows that Henry has been in love with Alex for the past four years.

Name: Cate Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Story: Diamond Eyes

Face claim: Liz Gillies

Love Interest: June Claremont-Diaz & Nora Holleran

Name: Eileen Eisner

Story: Come On Eileen

Face claim: Lily Collins

Name: Isabel Luna

Story: We Built This City

Face claim: Ana De Armas

Frankly, the entire goddamn country should feel grateful that Isabel Luna loves Alex Claremont-Diaz as much as she does.  She wouldn’t be stepping back from her beloved — and well earned, no nepotism required — job as her older brother’s chief of staff to babysit just any First Child for the entire year leading up to Ellen’s reelection.  But it was Alex.  Alex, who she’d known for pretty much ever.  Alex, who she’d comforted through his first heartbreak.  Who she’d given his very first shot of tequila, who she’d mentored when they worked together on Raf’s campaign.  Alex, who was her brother just as much as Rafael.  And it was for Ellen — and maybe Isa wasn’t as close to her as she was to Oscar, but Ellen had always been an inspiration to her and she would do whatever it took to ensure that she beat Richards in the election.  Besides, she’d been babysitting Alex since he was a pubescent little shit, she was probably the most qualified person to wrangle him around for the next year.  Honestly, preventing another Cakegate level international incident should have been easy; if only Alex hadn’t decided to fall in love - and bed - with the Prince of Wales.

Name: Kennedy Quinlan

Story: Winding Roads

Face claim: Ashley Benson

Kennedy Quinlan couldn’t remember a time before Alex Claremont-Diaz.  The three musketeers, along with their other best friend Liam, they’d been inseparable since pre-school.  For well over a decade, they had done everything together.  And yes, Kennedy had known that graduation would change everything, but she hadn’t expected this.  With Ellen winning her election, Alex no longer had a reason to return to Austin.  With Kennedy on the road, following wherever the rodeo circuit led, she never had time to visit either boy.  And Liam, well, she wasn’t sure what had happened, but he had completely ghosted.  Without her best friends to ground her, Kennedy lost herself in her horses.  No other life, no other interests, being “Rodeo Barbie” had become her life, not just her job.  That was all that she was.  Until the fall.Injured, untethered, with no idea who or what she wanted to be if she wasn’t a rodeo star, Kennedy had no idea what was supposed to come next.  Until Mama Ellen offered her an internship under Zahra Bankston, a home within the White House, and some semblance of direction in her life.  But Kennedy is no longer the girl she’d once been, and Alex is no longer the boy she once knew, and one way or another, the impending election was going to force Kennedy to figure out who exactly she is.

Name: London Carter

Story: Closer To Fine

Face claim: Emily Alyn Lind

London Carter had plans.  She had plans for graduating Magna Cum Laude with a double major in political science and international relations.  She had plans to work on Ellen Claremont’s reelection campaign, to help make another four years of Claremont-Holleran a reality.  She had plans for winning her senate seat, and for becoming Secretary of State.  She had plans to be Vice President in the Claremont-Diaz Carter administration of 2032-2040 alongside her best friend, FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz.  Her plans did not include Alex causing an international incident with the Prince Of England.  Her plans also did not include having to use every bit of her upcoming international relations degree to clean up his mess.  And her plans definitely did not include Alex falling in love with said Prince Of England, especially in the middle of Ellen’s reelection.

Name: Lucy Kent

Story: Lucy In The Sky

Face claim:  Maude Apatow

Name: Madison Richards

Story: All-American Bitch

Face claim: Madelaine Petsch

Aside from her general and entirely justified dislike for her father, Madison Richards had several other issues with his plan for her to – in his words – seduce the youngest British prince and steal the trade deal out from President Claremont.  To start, judging by the fact that he had never once attempted to sneak a glance down her dresses, Madison suspected that she was far from Prince Henry’s type.  Furthermore, his plan failed to consider the fact that she had spent the whole campaign trail so far sneaking around for clandestine hookups with Alex Claremont-Diaz, the First Son himself.   And, last but certainly not least, her father still had no idea that she had spent her entire time in rehab sleeping with the Prince’s older sister.  But then again, getting herself in close quarters with the Prince and Princess of Wales and the First Son could only help in her own plan: to do whatever it takes to stop her father from getting elected.

Name: Margaret Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Story: Heartbreak Princess

Face claim:  Florence Pugh

Love Interest: Pez Ojonjo

Where Henry was the Prince Of England’s Hearts, Margaret had always been the Heartbreak Princess.  Filling the void left by her father’s death with a string of meaningless flings, Margaret had never been anything but completely transparent about what she was looking for: a distraction.  Not love, never love, but a way to pass the time in between Bea’s breakdowns, Mary’s lectures, and trying to draw Henry out of his shell.  But when Henry falls into a cake, and a torrid romance, with the American First Son, Margaret finds herself swept up in an international whirlwind as she tries desperately to protect her twin brother’s heart — only to realize that in doing so, she may have left her own heart far more open than she’d ever intended.

Name: Oliver Cochrane

Story: Sweet Caroline

Face claim: Thomas Doherty

Love Interest: Caroline Fox

[veryrealimagination]

Nowhere To Run

Day No: 2

Prompt: Caged

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: Fic

Trigger Warnings: James Gillies, drugging of victim, past reference to child abuse

SFW

Llewellyn woke with a stabbing pain in his head. Strange, as he didn't think he drank enough wine to have a hangover. The first time he drank wine, legally, he was lost in testing his palette and ended up experiencing such a horrible hangover that William took pity on him and let him sleep for the day. Later times, he knew where to stop. He thought he stopped early enough last night, because the bottle he had tasted off. Something had been added to it.

Perhaps it hadn't been something to make it more palatable to those with no ability to stand the reds.

His mattress was harder than it should have been, and opening his eyes showed that it was not his mattress. He was lying on a thin pad, something that he had in his hideout before Liza and William took him in. His constable's jacket was gone, as was the multi-tool that William got him for his 21st birthday. His watch, badge, wallet. Nothing had been left in his pockets. Even his shoes were gone.

"I have never been drunk enough to lose things," he muttered, sitting up. A couple of blinks and his mind wasn't imagining what was in front of him. It was bars. Twisting, he found himself completely surrounded by them. "Not in jail, then." The area he was in was small, barely enough for the pad. Outside of the bars was an incomplete room. A wall was almost gone, and another had a three by three foot hole taken out. There were wires and other strange items lying about.

"You are completely interesting," a voice commented. Glancing up, Llewellyn saw a man roughly around his age standing in the empty wall. His mind still muddled by the wine and additive, he barely realized that he should recognize him. "I wondered how one essentially raised by William Murdoch would act in a distressing situation."

Llewellyn held up a finger. "Was this before or after you calculated the sedative added to my wine which is still active in my system?" he asked, upset about the tampering. That was a glass of possibly good wine that he wanted after a poor day patrolling.

The other man laughed, "Oh, you have a mouth. I like that." A simple chair was produced from the other side of the wall and he sat in it so he was across. "Perhaps I should wait until both are worked out of you, but I couldn't help coming over when you started waking." Taking out a paper, he unfolded it and lightly waved it. "After seeing you and William, I had to find out the truth. Robert said that you were nothing more than an errand boy, but I knew that wasn't it. And then I found this. Elizabeth Milner and William Murdoch agree to become the legal guardians to Llewellyn Watts. September second, Eighteen-Ninety One. Fourteen years old, why so late?"

He studied the paper in the other man's hand and realized it was the one that he went searching for when he first became a Constable. Admittedly to also steal from the local records so no one would be able to connect himself and William. "You took it," he said, frowning at this villain having such an incriminating document. "I was looking for that."

He smiled. "Why?" Llewellyn almost spilled, but then realized that he would be admitting to stealing a government document. The man chuckled. "Did you plan on hiding such an important document from someone like me?"

Ahh, hmm. "Yes." And the Constabulary, possibly. He was technically a a relative of William's, that would be problematic if he ever wanted to work with him on the force. Not like they would deviate in their ways of work if they were to ever partner up.

No, they wouldn't act differently. Too much.

"Well, that didn't work out well for you." Llewellyn's head was cleaning out a bit, and something was starting to become a little bit clearer. Namely, who the person was in front of him.

It was James Gillies.

He didn't interact with the man at all, surprising since he buried Julia the last time. William was terrified that he would go after George or Llewellyn, considering how close he was to them. Jackson had gone and walked with him for the day while they tried to hunt down Gillies and bring Julia back to safety. He liked Jackson. Sturdy fellow. Didn't take shit from the other Constables of One. A good conversationalist.

He now saw why William was worried for everyone else around him. Gillies managed to get his wine cup drugged and must have had help to get him here, wherever he was being kept. He watched William after their first meeting and saw Llewellyn, went searching for the guardianship papers and stole them. That is likely the reason Sally didn't know about me. Otherwise she would have used that again William. A sliver of fear started sprouting, but it wasn't enough to rattle Llewellyn just yet. He didn't know what Gillies's plan was yet, but it didn't look the greatest. "No, it didn't. I'm still working on it."

Gillies grinned, darker than a normal person's. His fear was already growing a bit. "Well, you won't have to worry about that for a bit. You're not going anywhere for awhile." How long? He stood up and took the chair with him. Llewellyn waited until he wasn't in sight or earshot to bring up his legs and bury his head. After letting out a few shaky breaths, he stood up. Wobbly, he held onto the bars as he looked around.

There was no visible lock or door. The bottom of the cage was also bars, which wasn't nice on his feet. The top seemed to be hinged. There isn't a good way to lower items and people from the top. Unless he planned on just dropping someone in. That would injure whomever he planned on. Seeing how 'attached' Gillies was, it would likely be William. At the end of his thread with the pain at his feet and his head aching again, he went back to the pad and dropped down.

Hearing something rattling where Gillies had gone, Llewellyn had the feeling he wasn't getting out soon. If at all.

-

The woman that walked in was a surprise.

Llewellyn had been given a small chunk of bread and tea before Gillies proclaimed he had errands to run. Both were finished quite quickly. He knew at the moment, his food and drink wouldn't be laced with anything. The man needed him alive, and awake for the most part.

She gracefully managed to get over the ledge that still blocked the lower half of the giant hole in the wall. A nice dress, in a light, soft green with white lace, it was something that a richer woman would wear. He looked up, expecting to see Sally Pendrick. I wouldn't be surprised, they probably had a shared dislike of William. The face shocked him, as it was Julia's. He almost jumped in joy until he saw that she didn't talk. At all.

Julia always greeted him when he visited down in the morgue, on the street if she managed to be where he patrolled, when she visited William at the boarding house.

She wasn't talking, wasn't trying to get him out. Too still for seeing Llewellyn in a cage and being in danger, again. So much was wrong that he backed up away from her, admittedly just hitting the bars right behind him. "You're not Julia," he muttered.

"Oh, drat, and I was hoping that she would pass," Gillies complained, coming up behind her. "What was it? She needs to be close to the real Julia as possible." Llewellyn didn't want to give him any ideas. He didn't like the fact he wasn't getting answers, and proceeded to grab Llewellyn's hair through the bars, pulling it and holding him in place. "What. Did. I. Do. Wrong?"

He hissed, "She didn't talk, didn't act like her."

"Oh well," he said, letting going and letting Llewellyn drop his head forward and away from him, "That's not what I was worried about. The face, though. Did it look like her?" He grabbed the back off Llewellyn's shirt to bring him back and force him to look again, holding his head in place. "Am I close?"

One second, two. "I thought it was her when she walked in."

He chuckled, finally stopping the torment. "Good. Penelope, you are doing splendidly. Why don't you have a lunch? Put up the dress, we'll need it for later." There wasn't a smile on the face, the mask not able to do so just yet. But, he could tell she was happy, and left without the same grace she had coming in.

-

"So, how did William and you meet?"

Llewellyn looked up from his folded arms. Gillies had started working installing a clock over the smaller hole, which he explained was going to be outfitted with a specific mirror that he had yet to get his hands on. He hadn't explained anything about what he was doing, even if he wanted feedback about how things looked. He only knew about the mirror because he had faked being asleep when the man walked in muttering about it.

"At his boarding house," he said. It was technically the truth.

The man looked over at him. "Oh, hilarious," he noted, "Come on, tell me the story of little Llewellyn Watts met the Detective that took him in and gave him a home. I could always use a little heartwarming story."

Llewellyn didn't want to tell the story to James Gillies. He's, he's never really told the story to anyone 'important.' George and Henry had a condensed version after he showed up beside William a couple of times. Julia knew. Liza told her during one of the check up visits after his kidnapping. Brackenreid was told the story when he barged in to find out why his detective wasn't coming in and found him and Julia giving Llewellyn a cold bath to reduce his fever. As far as he knew, he was sleeping on William when it happened.

He definitely didn't want to tell the man that buried Julia.

Sighing, Gillies stopped trying to mount the clock, which was a pain as the thing was heavy. I'll need a second person for this anyhow. Oh, what I wouldn't do for another Robert. Instead of getting a chair, he set up the board that he used to give food to his captive. A cup was filled with lukewarm tea and bread was shoved over while he had a cup and slice himself. "Llewellyn, I would really like to hear the story," he instructed.

He rarely gave out more than a single 'meal' a day. Llewellyn had to believe this was a 'bribe' to get information. And sadly enough, he was willing to take it. His hunger constantly gnawing at cycling levels. His head went between fuzzy and painful.

"The person that took me in after I had no family had to force me to leave," he started, straining out as much information as he could to prevent him from finding out about Huey. He was the last one he had left of the Marks. "I was on the streets for a couple of weeks before I searched for food on a street known for calling in street children. I didn't know. There was a woman doing her errands that was about to lose a pair of pants into a puddle, so I stopped it."

"So chivalrous."

"Instead of thanking me and continuing on, she placed their groceries into my arms and brought me along as an extra set of hands for the rest of her shopping." Gillies lightly laughed. "After she was done, she led the way back to their boarding house. She was cooking when William came home."

"Ooo, and he adopted you immediately once he saw you?"

A shake of the head. Curious. "He didn't appreciate his fiancee bringing home a street child. They had an argument about it, especially after he found out about the groceries shoved into my hands."

"Did they stop?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I hid under the table when his voice got louder. I was shaking and William must have seen what I felt, because he didn't argue anything after that."

"Fear?" he inquired. Llewellyn nodded. "You feared William at first?"

"One of the boarders where I lived broke my ribs," he explained, "After I had to leave, multiple people set me on edge by their mere presence."

James frowned. As much as he enjoyed taunting and going after adults surrounding William Murdoch, a child was over the line for him. The young girl he lured from her home was completely untouched. He bought her cake and gave the doll, after teaching her what to say. If he had started this earlier, it wouldn't have crossed his mind to target Llewellyn Watts. Hell, he likely would have just handed him cards and presents to deliver to Murdoch.

It also unlocked some troubling thoughts that he had about the relationship between his parents and several of the friends that they kept around when he saw their children with bruises. Wanting to work those out, he pushed the tray over and finished his side before using that new rage to lift the clock up and onto the anchor he had embedded in the wall. Llewellyn plucked and pulled apart the bread before chewing quickly and swallowing.

-

Finally, the mirror arrived. It was one of the last pieces James needed. Everything else was ready to come out, but he wasn't going to place any of it until Llewellyn was where he needed to be.

Which meant getting him in the enclosed room without having any trouble. It was unlikely that he would be willing to move over with a simple gun pointed at his back. He could get one of the thugs that he reached out to to move him by force. But he would rather not have to rely on another person. 'Penelope' was already taken care of and he didn't want to leave loose people around.

Another bottle of wine, the cup he had reserved for Llewellyn coated with the sedative he had used last time, and one for himself and he was sitting in front of the cage again. The look he got was filled with suspicion. Granted, it was well deserved. If he didn't have something planned for the man, Llewellyn would have made a wonderful detective to Toronto. "Trust me, you will want this option," he stated pouring the two out. "I could force you over with a gun, or a knife." Finding out about Christopher Lunderson, the killer that actually curtailed some of his activities when he was younger thanks to his parents keeping himself and Robert in, was a joy. Seeing some of the scars he acquired made him think about causing his own. "This is the peaceful one."

He disagreed. "Peaceful would be turning yourself and all the evidence of Julia's innocence into the Constabulary. With no weapons."

"Well, yes, I'm not going to do that." He sipped at his wine. A horrible brand and year. Or maybe that was because wine wasn't his thing. His father used to drink bourbon, which warmed him at every sip when he also indulged. "This is a step down from what you drink, so you know perfectly well what you're tasting is the sedative. I'm not 'ruining' another wine."

He still didn't touch it. James was losing a bit of patience. "Llewellyn, we have sixty hours before Julia will be hanged for her 'crime' of killing her husband," he said, the two knowing perfectly well she didn't do it, "You can drink, go to sleep for a while, and I can stage you up without any issues before getting William." He hadn't let him know the full 'game', just that William was choosing something. He figured one choice would be proof of evidence, but he didn't know the consequence. Llewellyn likely thought it had to do with him.

Oh, that was cute.

Knowing that Julia's life was on the line, he grabbed the offending cup and started sipping it. And then gagged. "How is this better than the first cup you drugged me with?" he demanded, tempted to spit everything out and pour it out.

"Well, I was told the wine is cheap. Better to not ruin another good cup." He kept drinking his, hating the taste. Llewellyn forced himself through half of it, before he started teetering. The cup was split, his hand unable to hold. It was working as intended, faster than last time. He crashed onto the pad, and barely saw Gillies standing up before falling asleep.

He woke up in a chair. Completely uncomfortable, it was a high straight back. The better for the chains wrapped around his chest to keep him up. His wrists were cuffed behind his back. Those are probably mine. His legs were free, not like it didn't matter. Llewellyn figured out quickly he was in the room linked by the three by three. That mirror apparently was one way, and he couldn't kick it to break it. He could see the cage he had been held in for weeks. There was someone new in it now. It didn't take James Pendrick to figure who it was.

"William!"

[xxjewellynwatts]

The shop owner - A James Gillies x OC (you!) story

Request: Hello:))) I don't know if you still write for James Gillies... but if you do then it would really be great with some fluff or something. I'm honestly a sucker for any James Gillies x reader content! Also, you're an amazing writer and I really appreciate that you write for Murduch Mysteries!! Hope you have a great day!!:))))

Answer: Thank you so much ! I haven’t written in ages, so I hope you’ll enjoy this! @mylifecrises

Warnings: contains spoilers of Gillies’ first episode.

The sound of a bell got you out of your daydreams. A tall, confident, well-dressed ginger-head boy who seemed to be around your age got into the shop you now owned ever since the death of its owner.

His eyes paced for a while around the room, glancing back and forth from item to another, thinking fast before he at last locked eyes with you and briefly smiled.

Charming, you thought with a hint of mockery.

‘Good morning, how can I help you?’ you said politely.

He stopped walking towards you for a second, taken aback by the elegance of your voice. You were one of those people who didn’t ‘sound like they look’ but in the most flattering way.

‘I need a few tools for a physics experiment’ he said as he walked again towards you while showing you some of the said tools.

As you packed them for him, you looked curiously at him.

‘Are you a student at the Toronto university?’ you asked without sounding too intrusive.

‘Yes’ he smiled, happy you were quick to understand. ‘I’m Professor Bennett’s assistant.’

As soon as you heard that name, he could have sworn your mood shifted. Your face seemed a bit darker, and you had subconsciously furrowed your brows.

‘Oh’ you coldly said. ‘Well, have a nice day’ you quickly said as you handed him the package.

He smiled, less convincingly, very intrigued.

‘Thank you, you too’ he said slowly as he headed back to the University.

You sighed as he got out and went back to daydreaming the life you could’ve had had it not been for an unfair society.

A few days later, the young man came back to the shop. He noticed you had a different dress, nonetheless unique in the way it looked like it had been made just for you. Your (h/c) hair was tied up and your curls loosely fell around neck. You were reading a book before he interrupted you.

‘Oh, hello again’ you said with an unintentional smile. ‘How did the experiment go?’ you enthusiastically asked.

‘Quite well’ he said with the same smile. ‘If you ignore the fact one of the nails fell right when the machine was starting to work’ he sighed.

‘Oh’ you puckered your lips. ‘Isn’t it the most frustrating thing when something creating with our own hands fails us?’ you empathised.

The young man frowned and smiled at the same time, surprised by your poetic choice of words and relation to the situation.

‘Actually, yes. It’s really... frustrating. How come you know that feeling?’ he asked, curious.

‘Oh, trust me, I’ve been on both sides of the “creation”. I’ve felt the strong pride of succeeding in creating something as much as I’ve suffered from the pain of failed attempts. I like creating things, little objects to make my daily life easier like small machines just to... test a theory’ you shrugged.

‘Why, isn’t that quite surprising!’ laughed James. ‘Oh, I’m James Gillies by the way’ he said as he reached for your hand to shake.

You shook his, surprised by the sweetness of his touch as he was of your little enthusiastic roughness.

‘I’m (y/n), nice to meet you’ you smiled, suddenly shy.

‘It’s really nice to meet people who are so imaginative and creative. Sometimes I feel as though all students want is their degree, sadly missing the experience of intellectual stimulation thereby’

‘Oh, trust me I know...’ you answered, raging inside again. ‘Had it not been for this... stupid professor, I would have been experiencing things by your side, as the student I deserve to be.’

James starred in shock.

‘Wait... are you... a physicist?’

‘Officially? No, because I’m a woman. But in reality? Absolutely.’

You pointed towards the book you had left on the counter to meet him. It was a physics book, of a higher level than James’ current syllabus.

When James left your shop, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and how unfair it was that you were rejected from the University on the basis of sex. Had it been up to him, he would have gladly accepted you. You were certainly smarter than most of the students here.

It was already dark when he left. You two had been discussing Physics theories the whole afternoon and did not notice the sun setting down nor the moon coming up. James didn’t even want to leave deep down. He was eager to talk to you and discover your wonderfully unique ideas and contributions to the field. But the rage he felt could not even represent a quarter of yours. You were a passionate, determined and very curious person. And it made you sick people stopped you from showing your true potential.

Ever since that afternoon, you’d meet up occasionally in a café with James to discuss Physics or anything. You two got along so well you seemed to have known each other for years. You were even one of the very few people who could make James actually laugh.

One afternoon, as you were sitting in front of each other, leaned a bit due to your eager interest in your conversations, a silence fell between you two and you got lost for a split second in each others’ eyes.

‘It’s a shame’ said softly James. ‘I wish I could study and work with you everyday.’

By the time the words were out, James realised what he said, and got a little bit nervous. He never felt that way, it intrigued him. He starred down, and around, trying to ignore your (e/c) eyes.

‘I wish so too’ you answered, not ashamed a bit but sad. ‘If I could kill Professor Bennett, I would.’

James immediately looked back at you.

‘Wait, who?’

‘The professor Bennett. He is the one who convinced the jury of teachers I wouldn’t be able to stand the competition and would never be better than all those young men. He refused my application even though I had a perfect education and threatened to leave the University if they accepted me.’

You had spat the last words with the quiet rage and sadness you had confined within you for months. Tears rolled slowly down your face and James did not even notice his eyes were discretely tearing up too. He suddenly wanted to take you in his arms, reassure you, just like he wanted to shout at the professor Bennett he used to admire so much. He suddenly took your hand. Startled, you looked up at him, across the small table. He hesitated for a second and, too nervous from the proximity he had created, stood up. He gave you one final hesitant look before turning around and nearly running away.

After that meeting, you thought James had had enough of your conversations. After all, no matter how intriguing and curious he was, perhaps you didn’t intellectually stimulate him anymore. But your ego was not shattered yet. His absence had only brought up a feeling of longing to see him again, for reasons you couldn’t understand at this point. Weren’t you supposed to be jealous of him? After all, he was studying something you were desperate and passionate about. He wasn’t the victim of his own gender.

A few days had gone by and you were starting to really miss him. But there was no way you would ever go back to the university.

Then one day, you woke up to read a really intriguing news in the newspaper. The Professor Bennett had been killed by an ‘invisible’ murderer. Your eyes paced restlessly trying to grasp the meanings of the words printed. You felt your heartbeat accelerate dangerously as a suspicion crippled dangerously in the back of your mind. You turned around, hoping you’d see James coming running to tell you about the professor’s death and how deeply he was affected by it. But there was no one around.

You hardly fell asleep that night. And you had to say farewell to the idea of ever sleeping well when you heard a strange noise at your balcony at three in the morning. You stood up, covering yourself in your blanket on top of your nightgown, and slowly approached your balcony (you lived just above the shop you owned).

You had to cover your mouth to shut down your terrified scream once you saw James climbing on your balcony. He stood up at your window and smiled once he saw you. Startled, you didn’t move until he softly knocked on the window-door. You shook your head, trying to get a hold of yourself and ran to open the door.

It took you by surprise when James immediately punched his lips against yours in an adrenaline rush. You stood back. You immediately understood.

‘What have you done?’ you whispered, your voice shivering in terror.

James slowly smiled. He knew you would understand. He knew you would receive his love letter through a terrible - but brave - act: a revenge.

‘I love you’ he said, smiling even more. It felt good to say it. He never felt anything like that for anyone. He didn’t even care that much about his own family.

You thought, fast. James was clearly a dangerous person. Yet as twisted as it could have been, you felt touched by his act.

You kissed him, finally making your decision. He kissed your hands and forehead.

‘Don’t worry. Even if they find out, I will always get back to you’ he promised.

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

The Smuggler- James Gillies

Request: Hi! Are requests still open? If so, could I request a James Gillies one-shot where the reader(f) is just as cunning as he is. He's escaped from custody again and they team up. He thinks he's found his match, but she's actually working with Murdoch. Is this okay?

A/N: I rewrote the conclusion a couple of times but I am pleased with the end result. It’s somewhat a predictable ending but that comes with following the request. It was specified that Gillies was to see the reader as his equal but this seems out of character, ego seemed to be a great vice of his character.

__________________________________________

Finding the correct tracks was surprisingly easier than expected, it still took several hours as the prey made the attempt to cover their path. Woodland creatures were always more preferable to hunt than other humans. The latter was arguably more intelligent than the former the fact you got so far without detection for so long would say otherwise.

The unset path became more vague as you continued along it. It was already days old but out in the forest there were few areas of value that differed from trees and foliage. Another hour had passed before a sign of human life was found, peaking from around a tree glimpses of a makeshift camp could be seen. A white sheet pretending to be a tent silhouetted the dissipating daylight. You freed the shotguns strap from your shoulder and aimed both barrels in the camps direction. A generous gift from a constable who left it unguarded on the chair next to him while he slept.

From a distance it appeared to be abandoned, a look closer confirmed this. A used fire place and sleeping cot now visible. It mirrored campsites if your own from the past months, perhaps with a worse tent and lacking a woman’s touch. Now standing in the center with the gun by your side, there seemed to be no thing of value or any sign the camps owner would return if they were still in the area. A shuffling brought you out of your surveying and the shotgun back to your attention. Turning both barrels towards a man emerging; even dirty and wrapped with makeshift bandages bushels of brown hair still glistened in the limited light. It would become less of a spectacle when you realized that shine was the result of sweat and grease; at least you managed to remain relatively clean out on the run. In his arms a bundle of sticks and scavenged logs for the fire, too bulky to be used as an effective weapon against a modern firearm. “Why hello there.”

That oddly cheerful line started the discussion that bleed long into the night, spiced with canned meat, forged plants and the remaining contents of rum in your flask. After enough coaxing you managed to get his story out of him, the only promise to unload the gun and tell your own. Both situations were remarkably similar: convicts in the run from the law, main difference being you crossed the boarder into Canada while he was already in Ontario.

“What did you do before this?” James politely asked. Regardless of his tone your guard remained up constantly, not ready to be played or manipulated with. “Smuggler, if you needed something questionable across a boarder we would get it. No hesitation.” You take a drink from your canteen before continuing, studying James as much as he’s studying you. “Mostly from the Philippines and Europe.”

“Sounds exciting.” You shook your head slowly.

“It had its moments but I don’t miss it. The pay was good but rarely worth the risk. One police raid tipped off by the competition and two dead cops leaves the whole operation up in the air.”

There was a moment of silence as James nodded along, nefarious thoughts no doubt lingering below the surface. He told you his story after, leaving out details for the sake of brevity. A former student turned criminal with a failed plot of revenge under his belt, much less a killer for profit but rather twisted glory.

“And I thought I was dangerous.” You muttered when he finished, earning a laugh and smile highlighted by the campfires glow. Another silence came over the pair of outlaws soon after. It was broken by you after it became overwhelming.

“What’s your plan then? Another attempt at revenge?”

“Eventually.”

You shifted in your seat, unsure if your next course of action would objectively be the best. This pondering did not go unnoticed by your dinner guest. “I have a proposal James.”

“Go on.” You leaned in closer despite not another soul being present within the range of a kilometer.

“We had contacts that would, cooperate, with us in the past. Ones a boat Captain up in Ottawa, worked to get equipment across the Atlantic. He owns me a favour and can get us passage far away from here.”

“You want me to go with you?” He phrased it as a statement rather than a question.

“It’s easier to travel long distances in a group, you can hold your own in a fight if the need arises.” You had to force yourself from not letting out a chuckle at the last part of the sentence. “And with all due respect, whatever half baked revenge plan will get you killed.”

He pulled back from you, his face almost returning to the darkness of the night away from the fire. You knew you tempted him, mutually beneficial with the prospect of escape; you were still the one in possession of the only gun however. “Where would we end up? Europe?”

“Balkans, Morocco possibly. No where past the Ottomans, not any more anyways. But no where we could easily be followed.”

James hesitated for another second before sticking out his hand, “Deal.” You shook it without delay. The skin was rough and calloused from his escape. Such scaly skin did give off the impersonation that you shook hands more so with a beast rather than a man. Only time could tell James Gillies would live up to his reputation.

-

“Over there.” You gestured over your shoulder to a well rounded man exciting a pub, “That’s our Captain.” Gillies discreetly looked but remained still as to not draw attention. In the past two months you managed to teach the fellow convict tricks of yours to blend in to a crowd, along with how to bath in the wilderness so you could tolerate his presence.

You pulled your cap down further despite having your back to the street, a habit maintained when operating in public or a big city. James would openly mock this trait, citing it as nervousness and in turn a weakness. The boldness increased the closer you traveled to Ottawa. Even with the shotgun still in your presence he was emboldened; likely due to his own side arm borrowed from a farm house back south. You were unsure if this was a gesture of friendship or a side effect of ego. Such examples were responded to with an eye role before moving on.

“We should meet him at the ship. Hard to imagine we’re almost out of here.” Readjusting the guns shoulder strap you turned into the streets with Gillies close behind. “Happy to get out of here too?”

“I just hope where ever Captain Roberts takes us will be far from the British and Yanks.” You weaved through the crowd of the harbour, by passing vendors pushing wears and men moving cargo without any taking notice of you or your companion. Just another pair of hands passing through. You could catch glimpses of Roberts through the crowd ahead of you, meeting up being an irrelevant aspect if you both had the same destination.

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck with me this long y/n.” James spoke up. You turned to face him briefly. “Despite the profession I held I’m a woman of my word.”

“You’ve got me this far without stabbing me in the back,” he taunted. “I’m starting to believe your being genuine y/n.”

“I could say the same thing about you James.” You retorted.

Not long would pass before you stood beside the ship promising safe passage; receiving a friendly embrace from Captain Roberts that only had a hint of ale on it. He wasted no time checking to see if you were alright, well feed, uninjured; perhaps in disbelief you were standing in front of him

“I heard your crew got caught up down south in New York.” He loudly whispered while bending down to your height. No one around would care to hear regardless, Gillies located himself on the lid of a wooden crate in earshot of the conversation.

“We did, if they’re not dead they’re in jail; likely be swinging by the end of the year.”

The discussion soon switched to business. Despite the simplicity of the request and recalling every previous good interaction between you two it was a tough order for Captain Roberts. “You still owe me for the Turks Roberts.” At that he sighed in defeat and agreed to the terms of passage. All the while Gillies hummed to himself, always planning his next step. The tune was interrupted by you.

“No guns.” He slowly looked up from his box seat. “Pardon?” “That’s the deal, you don’t like it don’t take it.”

You outstretched your hand to request the satchel containing his dangerous toy. Instead he used your appendage to pull himself up like a maiden. “I’m a reasonable man y/n. No need to worry.”

He walked past you and onto the ship deck to meet the captain. Now your turn to take up the rear for once in the journey. Gillies’ introduced himself to the captain was respectfully with a false name and full smile. Roberts coldly cut to the business without the bear hug you were provided. “Just hand it over son.”

Gillies relented, taking off his satchel for Roberts to forcefully part it from him, not that he was in a position to complain. The Captain rummaged through the mostly empty bag and retrieved the revolver still in quintessential condition. He held it up inspecting the chambers for loaded bullets to which he found six. James could barely register the barrel being pointed back at him before a blow struck the back of his head.

You smashed the butt of the gun into Gillies skull with all the strength you could muster in the brief window of opportunity. He fell limp almost instantly but you allowed yourself another strike on him before relenting. The heart beat that had been racing for the past hour had began to finally slow down. In no less than five seconds of action you had already spent all of your breath and began panting. Sucking in cold ocean air as James Gillies laid motionless on the ships wooden deck was one of the few pleasant feelings you’ve had the past several weeks.

“The deed is done!” You called out, despite Roberts being the only visible soul you knew others were lurking in the shadows. Then wondering over to the side to lean overlooking the other boats on the water. Constables emerged from hidden areas and placed chains on the unconscious Gillies bleeding slightly from his scalp.

“I thought we agreed to not risk injuring him.” You recognized Detective Murdoch instantly from voice alone. Still possessing a disdainful tone he had when he told you the plan. Likely debating if he should go back on his word and place you back in handcuffs.

“He’s not dead don’t worry. Besides I’d be doing you a favour if I offed that mad man for you.” He stood behind you, his eyes burning into the back of your head like a lit fag pressed against the skin. You disarmed yourself and leaneded the gun against the railing. Murdoch unsurprisingly took the weapon without hesitation. “I don’t doubt you think like that y/l/n.”

He was about to walk away but paused, forcing himself to show some form of gratitude. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I mean it.” Slowly you turned around to face him, shrugging with the response. Over Murdoch’s shoulder you saw the infamous killer being hauled away.

“I told you Detective, I keep my word.”

[sublime-cacti]

is he..? ….you know…. being resurrected again?

[dannyo000]

[gene-forrester]

“Gillies?”

Murdoch Mysteries

— S06 E12 | Crime and Punishment 

[letterboxd]

Noir Zealand Road Trip.

Breakout noir filmmaker James Ashcroft speaks to Letterboxd’s Indigenous editor Leo Koziol about his chilling new movie Coming Home in the Dark—and reveals how Blue Velvet, Straw Dogs and a bunch of cult New Zealand thrillers are all a part of his Life in Film.

“Many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think.” —James Ashcroft

In his 1995 contribution to the British Film Institute’s Century of Cinema documentary series, Sam Neill described the unique sense of doom and darkness presented in films from Aotearoa New Zealand as the “Cinema of Unease”.

There couldn’t be a more appropriate addition to this canon than Māori filmmaker James Ashcroft’s startling debut Coming Home in the Dark, a brutal, atmospheric thriller about a family outing disrupted by an enigmatic madman who calls himself Mandrake, played in a revelatory performance by Canadian Kiwi actor Daniel Gillies (previously best known for CW vampire show The Originals, and as John Jameson in Spider-Man 2). Award-winning Māori actress Miriama McDowell is also in the small cast—her performance was explicitly singled out by Letterboxd in our Fantasia coverage.

Based on a short story by acclaimed New Zealand writer Owen Marshall, Ashcroft wrote the screenplay alongside longtime collaborator Eli Kent. It was a lean shoot, filmed over twenty days on a budget of just under US $1 million. The film is now in theaters, following its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, where it made something of an impact.

Erik Thomson, Matthias Luafutu, Daniel Gillies and Miriama McDowell in a scene from ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

Creasy007 described the film as “an exciting New Zealand thriller that grabs you tight and doesn’t let you go until the credits are rolling.” Jacob wrote: “One of the most punishingly brutal—both viscerally and emotionally—first viewings I’ve enjoyed in quite a while. Will probably follow James Ashcroft’s career to the gates of Hell after this one.”

Filmgoers weren’t the only ones impressed: Legendary Entertainment—the gargantuan production outfit behind the Dark Knight trilogy and Godzilla vs. Kong—promptly snapped up Ashcroft to direct their adaptation of Devolution, a high-concept novel by World War Z author Max Brooks about a small town facing a sasquatch invasion after a volcanic eruption. (“I find myself deep in Sasquatch mythology and learning a lot about volcanoes at the moment,” says the director, who is also writing the adaptation with Kent.)

Although Coming Home in the Dark marks his feature debut, Ashcroft has been working in the creative arts for many years as an actor and theater director, having previously run the Māori theater company Taki Rua. As he explains below, his film taps into notions of indigeneity in subtle, non-didactic ways. (Words in the Māori language are explained throughout the interview.)

Kia ora [hello] James. How did you come to be a filmmaker? James Ashcroft: I’ve always loved film. I worked in video stores from the age thirteen to 21. That’s the only other ‘real job’ I’ve ever had. I trained as an actor, and worked as an actor for a long time. So I had always been playing around with film. My first student allowance that I was given when I went to university, I bought a camera, I didn’t pay for my rent. I bought a little handheld Sony camera. We used to make short films with my flatmates and friends, so I’ve always been dabbling and wanting to move into that.

After being predominantly involved with theater, I sort of reached my ceiling of what I wanted to do there. It was time to make a commitment and move over into pursuing and creating a slate of scripts, and making that first feature step into the industry. My main creative collaborator is Eli Kent, who I’ve been working with for seven years now. We’re on our ninth script, I think.

But Coming Home in the Dark, that was our first feature. It was the fifth script we had written, and that was very much about [it] being the first cab off the rank; about being able to find a work that would fit into the budget level that we could reasonably expect from the New Zealand Film Commission. I also wanted to make sure that piece was showing off my strengths and interests—being a character-focused, actor-focused piece—and something that we could execute within those constraints and still deliver truthfully and authentically to the story that we wanted to tell and showcase the areas of interest that I have as a filmmaker, which have always been genre.

Do you see the film more as a horror or a thriller? We’ve never purported to be a horror. We think that the scenario is horrific, some of the events that happen are horrific, but this has always been a thriller for me and everyone involved. I think, sometimes, because of the premiere and the space that it was programmed in at Sundance, being in the Midnight section, there’s a sort of an association with horror or zany comedy. For us it’s more about, if anything, the psychological horror aspect of the story. 

It’s violent in places, obviously, but there’s very little violence actually committed on screen. It’s the suggestion. The more terrifying thing is what exists in the viewer’s mind [rather] than necessarily what you can show on screen. My job as a storyteller is to provoke something that you can then flesh out and embellish more in your own psyche and emotions. It’s a great space, the psychological thriller, because it can deal with the dramatic as well as some of those more heightened, visceral moments that horror also can touch on.

Director James Ashcroft. / Photo by Stan Alley

There’s a strong Māori cast in your film. Do you see yourself as a Māori filmmaker, or a filmmaker who is Maori? Well, I’m a Māori everything. I’m a father, I’m a husband, I’m a friend. Everything that I do goes back to my DNA and my whakapapa [lineage]. So that’s just how I view my identity and my world. In terms of categorizing it, I don’t put anything in front of who I am as a storyteller. I’m an actor, I’m a director. I follow the stories that sort of haunt me more than anything. They all have something to do with my experience and how I see the world through my identity and my life—past, present and hopefully future.

In terms of the cast, Matthias Luafutu [who plays Mandrake’s sidekick Tubs], he’s Samoan. Miriama McDowell [who plays Jill, the mother of the family] is Māori. I knew that this story, in the way that I wanted to tell it, was always going to feature Māori in some respect. Both the ‘couples’, I suppose you could say—Hoaggie [Erik Thomson] and Jill on one side and Tubs and Mandrake on the other—I knew one of each would be of a [different] culture. So I knew I wanted to mirror that.

Probably more than anything, I knew if I had to choose one role that was going to be played by a Māori actor, it was definitely going to be Jill, because for me, Jill’s the character that really is the emotional core and our conduit to the story. Her relationship with the audience, we have to be with her—a strong middle-class working mother who has a sort of a joy-ness at the beginning of the film and then goes through quite a number of different emotions and realizations as it goes along.

Those are sometimes the roles that Māori actors, I often feel, don’t get a look at usually. That’s normally a different kind of actor that gets those kinds of roles. And then obviously when Miriama McDowell auditions for you it’s just a no-brainer, because she can play absolutely anything and everything. I have a strong relationship with Miriama from drama-school days, so I knew how to work with her on that.

Once you put a stake in the ground with her, then we go, right, so this is a biracial family, and her sons are going to be Māori and that’s where the Paratene brothers, who are brothers in real life, came into the room, and we were really taken with them immediately. We threw out a lot of their scripted dialogue in the end because what we are casting is that fundamental essence and energy that exists between two real brothers that just speaks volumes more than any dialogue that Eli and I could write.

Matthias Luafutu as Tubs in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

What was your approach to the locations? [The area we shot in] is very barren and quite harsh. I spent a lot of time there in my youth, and I find them quite beautiful places. They are very different kinds of landscapes than you normally see in films from our country. We didn’t want to go down The Lord of the Rings route of images from the whenua [land] that are lush mountains and greens and blues, even though that’s what Owen Marshall had written.

I was very keen, along with Matt Henley, our cinematographer, to find that duality in the landscape as well, because the whole story is about that duality in terms of people, in terms of this world, and that grey space. So that’s why we chose to film in those areas.

Regarding the scene where Tubs sprinkles himself with water: including this Māori spiritual element in the film created quite a contrast. That character had partaken in something quite evil, yet still follows a mundane cultural tradition around death. What are your thoughts on that? Yeah. I’m not really interested in black-and-white characters of any kind. I want to find that grey space that allows them to live within more layers in the audience’s mind. So for me—and having family who have spent time in jail, or knowing people who have gone through systems like state-care institutions as well as moving on to prison—just because you have committed a crime or done something in one aspect of your life, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t room and there aren’t other aspects that inform your identity that you also carry.

It’s something that he’s adopted for whatever reasons to ground him in who he is. And they can sit side by side with being involved in some very horrendous actions, but also from Tubs’ perspective, these are actions which are committed in the name of survival. You start to get a sense Mandrake enjoys what he does rather than doing it for just a means to the end. So any moment that you can start to create a greater sense of duality in a person, I think that means that there’s an inner life to a world, to a character, that’s starting to be revealed. That’s an invitation for an audience to lean into that character.

Erik Thomson and Daniel Gillies in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

What is the film that made you want to get into filmmaking? The biggest influence on me is probably David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. I saw that when I was ten years old. A babysitter, my cousin, rented it. It’s not a film that a ten-year-old should see, by the way. I was in Lower Hutt, there in my aunty’s house, and it was very cold, and there’s a roaring fire going. My cousin and her boyfriend were sitting on a couch behind me, and they started making out. I sort of knew something was going on behind me and not to look. So I was stuck between that and Dennis Hopper huffing nitrous, and this very strange, strange world opening up before me on the television.

I’ve had a few moments like that in my life [where a] film, as well as the circumstance, sort of changed how I view the world. I think something died that day, but obviously something was born. You can see what Lynch did in those early works, especially Blue Velvet. You don’t have to go too far beneath the surface of suburbia or what looks normal and nice and welcoming to find that there’s a complete flip-side. There’s that duality to our world, which we like to think might be far away, but it’s actually closer than you think.

That speaks to Coming Home in the Dark and why that short story resonated with me the first time I read it. Even in the most beautiful, scenically attractive places in our land, many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think. Blue Velvet holds a special place in my heart.

What other films did you have in mind when forming your approach to Coming Home in the Dark? Straw Dogs, the Peckinpah film. The original. Just because it plays in that grey space. Obviously times have changed, and you read the film in different ways now as you might have when it first came out. But that was a big influence because there was a moral ambiguity to that film; those lines of good and bad or black and white, they don’t apply anymore. It just becomes about what happens when people are put under extreme pressure and duress, and they abandon all sense of morals. The Offence by Sidney Lumet would be another one, very much drawn to that ’70s ilk of American and English filmmaking.

‘Coming Home in the Dark’ was filmed on location around the wider Wellington region of New Zealand.

Is there a New Zealand film that’s influenced you significantly? There’s a few. I remember watching The Lost Tribe when it was on TV. That really scared me. I just remember the sounds of it. Mr. Wrong was a great ghost story. That stuck with me for a long time. The Scarecrow. Once I discovered Patu! [Merata Mita’s landmark documentary about the protests against the apartheid-era South African rugby tour of New Zealand in 1981], that sort of blew everything out of the water, because that was actually my first induction and education that this was something that even occurred. I think I saw that when I was about eighteen. That this was something that occurred in our history and had ramifications that were other than just a rugby game.

And Utu, every time I watch that, it doesn’t lose its resonance. I get something new from it every time. It’s a great amalgamation of identity, culture, of genre, and again, plays in that grey space of accountability. Utu still has that power for me. It’s one of those films, when it’s playing, I’ll end up sitting down and just being glued to the screen.

It’s a timeless classic. I will admit that when I watched your film, The Scarecrow did immediately come to mind, as did Garth Maxwell’s Jack Be Nimble. Yeah. [Jack Be Nimble] was really frightening. Again, it was that clash of many different aspects. There was a psychosexual drama there. You’ve got this telekinetic mind control and that abuse and that hunkering down of an isolated family. There are plenty of New Zealand films that have explored a sort of similar territory. They’re all coming to me now.

Bad Blood has a great sense of atmosphere and photography and the use of soundscape to create that shocking sense of isolation and terror in these quick, fast, brutal moments, which then just sort of are left to ring in the air. But I love so much of New Zealand cinema, especially the stuff from the ’80s.

Kia ora [good luck], James. Kia ora.

Related content

Leo’s Letterboxd list of Aotearoa New Zealand Scary-As Movies Adapted from Literature

Dave’s Cinema of Unease list

A Brutal Stillness: Gregory’s list of patient, meditative genre films

Sailordanae’s list of Indigenous directors of the Americas

Follow Leo on Letterboxd

‘Coming Home in the Dark’ is available now in select US theaters and on VOD in the US and New Zealand. All photographs by Stan Alley / GoldFish Creative. Comments have been edited for length and clarity.

[lonnieontherun]

James Ransone as Gilly Martin in “In A Valley of Violence”

[princesa-do-apocalipse]

https://www.wattpad.com/story/257483059?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=RainhadoAmor&wp_originator=sbt3DdogSe%2FO8DOhRe3uIbB6q%2B5QR6kKGik41UPIEOMZTi5yhe%2FDx7qmOOH8cKbKNs7UufGq2XByeylpB1JUgUeEV7vwRdC0EsbDS3f8nULL3YEI05abbCzTUzvFb%2B0s

[owlsinathens]

Hello on this extra sunny Friday which is also the first day of A Daydream of Jon!

So, when I was posting the Fake Marriage AU, one of my lovely readers, xMehx, and I got talking in the comments about a vet!Jon AU.

Their idea was, paraphrased, Jon being a vet and Theon bringing his pet in and finding Jon so hot he starts contacting everyone he knows who has a pet, then resorting to adopting strays, just so he can go see the hot doc again, to Jon's growing concern and confusion. ("Omg does this guy actually live with thirteen dogs, seven cats, three chinchillas and a parrot?!")

I absolutely loved that idea and filed it away for later, until one of the daydream prompts reminded me of it. So of course I didn't find the time or energy to write it, but in my desperation to contribute something I took some pics from the interweb and created the monster you see above.

I LOVE all things James Herriot and obviously now this small AU idea has taken on a grander scale than I imagined 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Anyway. Vet!Jon. Anyone? 😁

(PS I'm aware I'm really bad at photoshop. And it wasn't even photoshop but picsart. Which I'm bad at too. But I had so much fun doing this!)

@jonsnow-creative

“I’ll see you for Robert’s check-up in two months, Renly,” Jon tells the young man standing on the opposite side of the examination table. “And no more extra treats for you, Robert,” he tells the immensely fat frenchie gazing up at him, plain adoration on the cute bug-eyed face.

“Thank you, doc,” Renly says, a guilty look on his face as he picks his dog up with a groan. “I thought he was just a little… chunky?”

“He’s more broad than tall,” Jon comments dryly. “No more extra treats. Longer walks.”

“Will do,” Renly says before he hurries out of the examination room.

“One day he’ll be able to roll that dog along rather than taking him on a walk,” Jon mutters as he washes his hands. “Who’s next?”

“A new patient. Theon and…” Gilly, Jon’s assistant, squints at the sheet in her hand. “Squid.”

“Squid?” Jon pauses in wiping the examination table to throw Gilly a disbelieving look. “Please tell me there’s not actually a guy with a cephalopod waiting out there.”

[pisoirzboinic]

I just caught up with the last 3 seasons of Murdoch Mysteries, so I want to say some of my personal headcanons about the characters

-George has a lot more written media than ‘’The Curse of the Pharaohs’’, his comic book and ‘’A Man Alone’’, but he is very self conscious about those

-Even so, Effie and Watts usually end up stumbling upon those and read them. Sometimes, if their attempts at convincing him to share them with more people fail, they see eachother to discuss what they liked in George’s newest work, like a 2 person book club

-Murdoch is autistic.

-When she’s stressed, Julia goes to practice her archery skills, it helps her focus and relax

-Pendrick is pansexual and has had a short lived crush on Murdoch at some point

-Terrence Meyers doesn’t necessarily like smoking, but he thinks cigars make him look more important

Modern AU time :D

-James Gillies adores FnaF and has some saved edits of purple guy in his gallery

-the Newsome siblings all have Tik Tok and Twitter

-Watts would probably be very invested in movie culture, I’m imagining him to be the type to explain things like The Matrix or the Marvel multiverse but also some very underground and abstract media

-Both Murdoch and Watts enjoy watching Game Theory and Film Theory and debating the conclusions afterwards 

-Henry Hieronymus Higgins-Newsome is a self declared Garfield kinnie and a gamer

-John Brackenreid has a Neopets account and likes Pokemon

[veryrealimagination]

Day No: 23

Prompt: Tied to a table

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings:

SFW

James woke up with a crippling headache, not unlike the one he received after Patty’s first attempts at ‘shine. However, the last time he ended up in the bed of… well, it was an embarrassing conversation when he woke up and he didn’t want to think about that right now. Nope, not gonna think about that.

This wasn’t as nice, as it was hard, metal and cold. Finally making his eyes open, he saw that he was on a medical table. Different than the ones he remembered from the clinic and the two hospitals he’s visited in his travels. The ones he stayed in didn’t have straps that tied the patient to it. It was not only his wrists and ankles wrapped, there were also straps over his legs and chest to completely keep him down on the table. At least he could lift his head.

Then a hand landed on his neck and pushed it back down without releasing him.

The face that appeared above made him instantly angry. “Gillies,” he growled, remember the last time when he had been in Portia. He promised the man would end up in the Corp jail cell unconscious. He should have specified that it should be Gillies the one unconscious.

“Pennie, Pennie, Pendrick,” he chanted, darkly grinning down at his victim. “Like the new place? I never knew that all the Ruins were connected. Found a wonderful set of offices and science labs to play in.”

Science labs? No… He’s still… “Aggressive Mr. Ladybugs and Snaililobs. The Jump Dancers that were altered with higher toxins in their bites,” he said, pulling it together, “Your favorite calling card.”

He let go of his neck, but he still had that unnerving grin. “I have been learning so much from a series of scientists from Vega Five, only held back by pesky morals and fear of consequences from the Alliance and the Church,” he story-told, walking over to a Worktable crossed with a Lab one. James was getting mildly anxious over the way Gillies was acting. He didn’t let go to just give a standard villain speech. That got him the last time. Julia knocked him out.

“I have never heard any of them complain over the restrictions put in place,” he argued, “They always considered it a challenge to work within them.”

“Yes, well, I found those ones boring.” He was messing with a series of flasks and bottles, carefully reading his own handwriting. “I wonder what it would be like to ask some Duvos scientists what they thought.”

“We can always ship you off so you can ask them yourself. In fact, if you hadn’t escaped the first time, you could have more time over there.”

Apparently, he found the one he wanted. The cork was uncapped and a syringe was being dipped in. Whatever it was had a clear look, perhaps a little darker than normal. “Hmmm, I’ve seen some of the places from across the border. All smoke and gray. The humans so dull.” He tapped out the air and walked back over to James. “I can’t imagine what they would think about someone like me.”

It was then that James Pendrick noticed that he had been outfitted with an IV drip, and Gillies was about to inject that needle into it. “I will rip that out,” he warned.

Gillies sighed, “You’re going to make this annoying. It could have been quiet, just describe your symptoms and pains.” He moved over to another medical table. One that had someone strapped to it as well. Oh, Light, no. Undoing the chest one, he pulled the other person up.

James swore his heart skipped when he saw Llewellyn. “No!” he yelled.

The needle was positioned and pushed into the skin of his throat, earning a wince, but no sound. “Now, Pennie, I can give little Llewellyn here a concentrated version of my little project. Might kill him, render him catatonic-”

Whatever the rest of his threat was, an intruder alarm cut him off.

Oh, thank Light. I hate listening to that sort of crap. Gillies had threatened at least two of his dates like that. And William and Julia. The idiot let go to check a large array of screens, leaving his intended victims unintended. Llewellyn carefully watched him as he wiggled something out of one of his pockets. A glimmer showed it to be a small knife, one of the ones they gave for good inspections. He flipped it so it was against one of the wrist straps and started sawing.

“Oh, I forgot to give William enough credit again. He was always faster at solving things when you were involved. Although this was even fast for him.” He turned around and Llewellyn stopped his movements. “Maybe I forgot to calculate Llewellyn over here.” He quickly had to hide the knife as Gillies undid the straps and pulled him off the table, using a pistol to keep him from fighting back while he pulled him away. “Experiment time!”

[xxjewellynwatts]

Who Is She? - A James Gillies x OC (you) story!

Part 2: https://xxllewellynwatts.tumblr.com/post/623376771092480000/who-is-she-a-james-gillies-x-oc-you-story

Request: Hello. I saw that you want to write James Gillies stores and I thank you for that!! It would be great if you wrote something were the reader (in this case a women) had connections to James when he was still at the school. As he starts his killings. And maybe the have a little flirt going or something ^_^

A/N: You're welcome!! :) I'm so glad you requested! I tried my best to make it as short as possible, I'm sorry!! I could only cover his first killing but I could do a part 2 if you want to! And for the flirt part... well I imagined what 'flirt' meant to James and I guess it looks like that haha.

Like every morning, the physics students of the University of Toronto entered the class and found their seat. And like every morning, James Gillies, a brilliant student (if not the most, actually) sat next to another brilliant student called Robert Perry.

Unexpectedly, the professor did not take place at his usual desk. Instead, you entered the room in your beautiful white and blue Victorian dress and took place at his desk after the professor introduced you:

'Gentlemen, we have a new student. Please welcome her kindly as she will attend every class and exam just like every one of you.'

It may seem as an odd introduction but you were, in fact, the very first woman taking a physics course in the University of Toronto. And these 'gentlemen' didn't seem to take you seriously as you could tell from their small grin. Nevertheless, you stepped up and spoke with your mildly low but charming voice. You were confident, as always, and that sure erased the grins of these men - except for James and Robert. Though James' grin seemed more of a curiosity look.

'Good morning, gentlemen' you said. 'My name is y/l/n and I am very honored to be the first woman in this class. I am looking forward to discovering more on our Universe as well as on our Earth for we merely have theories that have yet to be experienced' you smiled a bit. 'I'm looking forward to working with you all as well'. As you said this, your glance caught James' who seemed to have been whispering to Robert's ear.

When the class was over, you heard Robert speaking with James on their way out.

'She must have had incredible results to have gotten here' said James.

'Or an incredible charm' said Robert mockingly.

You immediately stopped them even though it seemed inappropriate considering you've been eavesdropping.

'I'm afraid I have to tell you something Mr...?' you asked as you looked right into Robert's eyes.

'Perry' he said, surprised and confused as you could tell from his frowning face.

'Mr Perry, you should never underestimate a woman's capability. Be it physically or mentally. Or you might have surprises... and I mean... bad ones.' you smiled arrogantly, which made James chuckle in amazement as Perry took him away after one last angry look at you.

You'd been in the class for two weeks now and merely ever talked again with the duo. You later found out they were both the Physics' professor assistant (James) and Chemistry professor assistant (Robert). You would have gladly taken Robert's place to show him what you were capable of but you loved Physics much more. And that showed in your work. Which is why you were offered, after your first week, James Gillies' place as the professor's assistant. You had never spoken to James after that which is why you were even more surprised when you saw him sitting in front of you tonight, in the library.

The library was quiet and empty.

'Congratulations' said smoothly James.

You looked up from your work to him.

'Thank you' you said coldly.

'I'm genuine' said James as he looked at you with a small smile. 'I was considering quitting anyway but I'm glad a woman took my place.'

'It's a pleasure to meet a man who knows women and men are equal' you said as you handed your hand for him to shake. Which he did, immediately.

'So tell me... what made you want to become a physicist?' asked James.

'I've always been interested in physics. And I like to believe everyone should study physics to understand the world around us and the one that is out of our sight. How about you?'

'Same reasons...' he said, surprised at your answer. 'Though I also like to apply theories through experiments' he said with a spark in his eye.

You continued to talk with him for a long time before you two were thrown out of the library for it had to close. He invited you to the pub, but you refused kindly as you didn't want to miss your lectures the next morning.

The thing is, James was incredibly confused about you. You were very smart, you had proven it, but you were also a bit mysterious. It was like you had had a tumultuous life before you entered the school, which was certainly the case as James would later discover.

A few months later, you woke up to a terrible news. A professor had been killed by an invisible person. You were wondering why someone would do that when you saw James and Robert talk with Station Four Detective William Murdoch. You overheard them asking to follow the investigation to see how physics could apply to real life and that is the moment when you realised something was off about these two. They had been talking very discretely in the library everytime you saw them there. You even once saw Robert get mad and storm off the library as James sighed. Maybe they knew something would happen to the professor...

A few days later, you found them, yet again, talking with Murdoch to know more about the case. Why would they be so interested if they didn't have anything to do with it? Maybe it was a bit far-fetched to assume that already but you had always had a very good intuition. On that night, you decided to talk with James. You followed him as he headed to an empty class to take back his books which he had forgotten. You silently closed the door behind you and you stood in the dark in front of him as he struggled to see who closed the door.

'You said you like applying theories didn't you?' you asked suspiciously.

'Yes I did' he said with a smile. And you knew this smile by heart by now. It was an illusion meant to make him look like he had everything under control.

'You know...' you started walking slowly around the class as your face was lit every now and then by the streets' lights. 'Science can be used for so many things. And I find it highly satisfying when something you wrote on paper comes to reality.'

You stood in front of him.

'I like your mind' you said smoothly. 'You are a chaotic yet so logic person. You'd do anything to achieve your goals and see your plan come to reality.'

His smile had disappeared by now and he was slightly frowning.

'First time?' you asked.

'I beg your pardon?' he asked.

You stood in the light, closer to him. He tried to analyse your face, that grin of yours he knew by heart. You startled him as you took out a paper. There was an illustration. A mechanical object holding a gun which was supposed to shoot once the sand was out of the bag.

'First time killing someone, ay?' you said with a smile.

'Excuse me...!' he started to act shocked.

'There's no point in denying it, James.' You called him by his name for the first time.

'I won't go to the police. After all... my life would get boring if I didn't see your brilliant criminal mind work.'

The room was silent for a moment.

'What do you want, y/n?' he asked, saying your name for the first time as well.

You laughed. It amused you. You liked these little games. You two had been playing the perfect student all along. But now that you knew his flaws, you could show a bit of yours as well.

'I may... or may not have a criminal past.' you said as you started walking around the room again.

'How come you're not arrested?' he asked, as his smile grew wider.

'The art of disguise, Mr Gillies! I love acting. And I have to say, I'm quite convincing. Otherwise, how could I have been a constable for a few months and erased all evidence incriminating me?'

James didn't know if he could trust you or not. But you sure were serious... and convincing.

'What did you do?' he asked, now all interested.

'Ah! That's a story for another day. Now, Mr Gillies, if you'd like some advice from... a friend, I'd recommend you get rid of this Mr Perry.'

You leaned closer to him.

'He will speak. He will betray you. I can tell from his eyes and from the fight you had last time.'

James' smile faded away.

You kept the paper incriminating him with you.

'Have a good night. And if anything happens to you, I'll kill Mr Perry myself.'

For some reason, that made James' heart beat even faster. But not out of fright. It was out of excitement and.. curiosity.

He couldn't help but stand in that empty dark class and wonder...

'Who is she?'

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

At Night

The crackle from the fire intensified as you added another log. The stone basin containing the red and orange flames as they danced up the chimney, provoked by the addition fuel. Returning to your chair the light was once again strong enough to read the pages of your book. A medical journal for your studies at the University of Toronto. That is where you would rather be, not the farmhouse on the request of your parents.

While they were busy vacationing down at Niagara falls you had to watch their farm, tend to the livestock, horses and make sure the river bank did not burst. Thankfully the harvest had already been collected so you only had to make sure the animals were feed and hope your class mates were taking proper notes on your behalf. It would be more convenient if you could simply ask them but your parents were never a fan of the newer technology, the most advance device they owned was an oil lamp you've known since childhood.

However that was out of your control, pushing it from your mind and back to the book in front. The silence was daunting at first, only your breath and the fire were audible. Occasionally waves from the river could be heard but otherwise it was you and the flame. When you found yourself settled the book was again priority, taking in the information as a drunk would ale.

The concentration was broken again when the faint sound of coughing being carried to you by the wind. Rising from your chair you decided to investigate, you where the only person for several kilometres in all directions and no animal could make such a noise. Putting on your coat you exited the building. The cold was biting at your exposed face immediately but curiosity pushed you forward.

As you approached the stream the coughing gets louder, still hauntingly quite. When the river came into view your lamp revealed nothing, the black water reflecting the light back at you. You were about to turn back when the coughing picked up again, letting the noise lead you to its source. You almost dropped the light in surprise.

On the rivers shore laid a man in the mud. His head was turned towards you, a mixture of blood and dirt clinging to the surface. The rest of his body appeared no better, his dark blue clothing tattered by the waves. Exposed flesh on his back screaming in agony, lacerations leading from the neck to his legs that were still submerged in the water.

Without a moments hesitation you grab the man by his under arms, balancing his body and the lantern in your hands. His skin was stone cold, he could be mistaken for a corpse if not for the subtle breathing escaping his blue lips. It was risky to move him with a potential head injury but leaving him in the river was an almost certain death sentence by hypothermia.

It was roughly thirty meters to the front door but with the extra weight you were exhausted when you pushed through the wooded entrance. In the new found warmth and light you placed your guest on his back in front of the fire. When done you noticed the handcuffs that bound his wrist together. The light also revealed the dark blue was actually a prisoner jump suit, still recognizable when caked in mud. This was a surprise but his life was still in your hands, you are a healer, not a executioner.

Despite being drained of energy you frantically ran around the house grabbing whatever could prove useful for the situation. Thankful you brought home some supplies from university, originally a resource for studying but now a tool. When you return to the living room the mystery man now had his eyes slightly open, fighting with himself to keep them that way. When you came into view the brown pools never leave your figure, filled with both curiosity and fear. You try not to pay him attention concentrating purely in your work, cleaning the mud and blood from the skin, seeming almost endless.

When free of muck you had a unobstructed sight of the work ahead of you, almost wanting to quite then and there. The left side of his face was almost caved in, fresh blood replacing any previously removed. His now bare chest was home to several deep gashes, one the length and depth of your fore finger. All of these injuries combined with the paper white skin was a sight any sensible person would run from, but the brown eyes staring back at you kept you in place. Either from fear or a sense of duty to life you stayed.

The fire burned strong through the night, illuminating the needle and thread as they stitched wounds closed. Glass bottles shining along with the liquids they contain. By morning the fire had turned to a smouldering ruin, a single line of smoke leading up the chimney. The man at some point last night fallen back unconscious, however he was at least alive. You did not know the extent of the damage however, the wounds on his chest, back and head were cleaned and covered in a white cloth to cover the horror beneath.

You sat in the same chair as last night watching him, waiting for something to happen. His hair and remaining clothes dried over night, revealing curls which fell back onto the floor. From what you could tell he was a handsome man, young and strong figured. But that would most likely change when the bandages were taken off. You were again brought from your thoughts by coughing, the man was awake.

The same brown eyes from last night found you again, less fearful this time but the pain more visible.

"Do you have a name?" You asked, the lack of sleep playing with your voice, but not remotely comparable to the grating response, a tone filled both exhaustion and pain.

"James."

___________________________________

Request: Are you taking requests? Is so do you think you could do some more James gillies x reader stories please. Love your writing btw❤️

A/N: Why are these on the bottom? Because despite the obvious twist that is we all saw coming I don't want to spoil it. The gender of the reader is not specified like usual because they don't interact with anyone, so my normal strategy of making it neutral unless necessary was not needed. My apologies for the wait.

[dannyo000]