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visndcaitswhore · 4 months

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AMAVI || Joseph Descamps (Mixte1963)

AMAVI (latin; The second-person singular imperfect of amare. Meaning: to love)

Veni Vidi Amavi

I came I saw I loved

The first day of school never made Gabrielle feel anxious; it was just school, after all. This time, however, she didn't want to be the first one in. She decided to let some time pass as she leaned on the wall of one of the buildings close to the school with a cigarette in her hand, watching a red-headed girl walk through the crowd of boys staring her down like she was some foreign entity. Scared to approach while also wanting to pounce.

"They are going to eat her alive," she mumbled to herself, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. Suddenly, she wished the cigarette break would last longer. But she tried not to back down; there was no point in feeling regret now that she was already here, and after she convinced her parents to allow her to try this out, Backing down wasn't something she ever did, anyway.

A few more girls gathered, greeting her as they passed her. It wasn't a big place; everyone knew almost everyone. Yet, when a blonde stopped next to her, Gabrielle realized she didn't know her. In fact, she had never seen her; if she had, she would remember simply because this girl had to be the most beautiful person she had ever met. Gabrielle wasn't ugly; everyone told her she was beautiful, but this girl was something entirely different.

"Are you going to attend here too?" the blonde girl asked, and Gabrielle had to blink a few times to stop her admiration before answering.

"Yes. Want to go in together?"

There was always one thing Gabrielle could depend on: that no girl wanted to be alone in a place surrounded by strange boys. And, like she expected, the girl nodded. Gabrielle nodded with a smile, threw her cigarette away, and offered her elbow to hold on. "I'll be your chaperone," she joked at the girls confused expression. "I'm already wearing pants, after all."

The blonde looked down to confirm that she was indeed wearing light pants and a button-up short-sleeved shirt, accompanied by a smirk. Gabrielle knew she almost looked like a boy, and her mom only allowed her to wear them if she let her hair down and didn't act like a crude boy. Hence, her dark hair was half down.

Finally, the girl hooked her arm around her own with a hesitant smile. "The pants look good. I'm Annick"

"Gabrielle"

Walking inside the school was easier with company, and both girls—as if they had talked about it beforehand—held themselves pridefully, were self-assured, and chatted like they weren't fully aware that they had pulled the attention of everyone in the yard. The small walk consisted of talk such as 'I like your dress' or 'They look so stupid looking like that'.

"Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell," mumbled a dark-haired girl when they finally reached the board to see their assigned classes and teachers.

The rest of the day was surely something; if Gabrielle had to use one word to describe it, she wouldn't be able to find it easily.

The first lesson was history with Mrs.Giraud. Climbing up the stairs, Gabrielle heard the red-haired girl tell the brunette that she wondered how bad Mrs. Giraud could be. "I heard she is a stuck-up bitch." Gabrielle said quietly, her pace matching theirs.

"Who told you that?" the brunette laughed.

"Someone from my neighborhood. He had some other words to use too, but I think I summed it up pretty well."

Soon she learned that the brunette was Simone, the new girl, and Michele, the butcher's daughter. She also learned that'stuck up bitch' wasn't enough to disappoint her teacher, who immediately shot her a look of shock and clearly disapproval when she spotted her attire. But she didn't say anything until she did.

Gabrielle found a seat at the back of the class and started getting settled, unaware of someone staring at her until they had all settled, and the teacher started talking when she spotted Annick at the front of the class. She was absolutely, totally, wholly scandalized by her seat next to a boy and promptly sent the boy to sit next to the 'boy with the long hair'.

It didn't take Gabrielle to realize she was talking about her, and her eyebrows shot up.

"In the list, I thought that we were getting five girls in this class. One of them turns out to be just a pretty boy." Mrs.Giraud spat out, and some laughed around.

"I'm pretty" Gabrielle mouthed

"She also called you a boy," said the boy who sat next to her.

"A pretty boy."

The boy that was sent to sit next to her was Henri Pichon, and he went to sit somewhere else the moment the next class rolled around. Latin, not her strong suite. History she could manage, but Latin not so much.

Annick, on the other hand, seemed to excel in that too, much to the displeasure of the teacher, who refused to call upon her even when she was the only one raising her hand. Gabrielle made a distasteful sound when the old man simply looked around like a lost donkey, trying his best to inspire a boy to raise his hand. And when one of them did raise his hand, he immediately gave him all his attention.

"I think the lady has raised her hand," the boy said, forcing the teacher's hand.

As Annick got up to say the answer, Gabrielle tried to subtly sneak a peek at the boy who was a few seats to her left as she moved her hair out of the way before quickly looking away when she made eye contact. Descamps was not someone she wanted to associate with during school hours, that was for sure. That is a testament she will circle back to at the end of the day, or even in five minutes.

A piece of paper started circling around the boys in class, and a boy got in trouble. Another reason to not even touch the papers Descamps gives around.

The rest of the day was calm, except for an incident at lunch hour, which of course involved Descamps. All the girls quickly realized he was one of the main troublemakers at the school and a constant annoyance. He was confident enough to present his art skills, but Simone shut that down easily, and Gabrielle added:

"Simone, don't be so hard on him. Poor thing has never seen real boobs before."

She winked when he glared at her.

Then the next hour rolled around. Catastrophic was one way to describe it. Descamps decides to concoct a prank on Michele, or maybe he was aiming at Simone. Gabrielle wasn't sure as she just watched him place a bucket of water on the door, which would fall on whoever opened it first.

"This is so stupid," she said, reaching to remove the bucket, only for Descamps to grab her hand and pull her aside.

"No, this is fun," he corrected, taking the extra measure of blocking the way with his body. Now, Gabrielle was tall, but he was at least half a head taller.

"You are going to get in trouble on the first day for being stupid," she said, pulling her hand back, aware of the fact that no one else seemed to do anything to stop him. A quick glance at Annick did her no good, as she also seemed reluctant to help out.

"Don't be a bore."

Not having enough time to do anything, Michele opened the door, and she was drenched in water. Gabrielle just shook her head. Some people laughed, some others just seemed sorry, and most of them focused their attention on Michele's chest. They couldn't see anything of value, just her bra, but to immature boys, that was enough.

Gabrielle went back to her seat when the English teacher entered the class, but not before she exchanged a glare with Descamps, who winked at her.

Bastard.

Now to the catastrophic part: no, Michele having her bra exposed to the whole class was not the catastrophic bit.

"Then Michele's brother came into the class. He started punching around, and Descamps got glass in his eye; he was bleeding a lot. They took him to the hospital; he might lose his eye, they said. And yeah, that's about it." Gabrielle smiled uneasily as her parents stared at her in shock, speechless. "Other than that, the day was pretty quiet."

"The boy lost his eye?" her dad asked.

"Maybe, yeah."

"Are you hurt?" Her mom's sharp eyes scanned her, inch by inch, for any scratch.

She shook her head.

No, she wasn't hurt. She had been walking to her seat when this happened, and someone pushed her to the side when Magnan started punching. She just watched, even when Descamps was on the ground, hand covering his eye to the Dean next to him.

"Joseph Descamps is the boy that lives right across from us, right? Your friend"

"Not my friend," she mumbled, closing her eyes in exasperation and falling back on the armchair.

"Weren't you together all the time a few years ago?"

Her dad, who just a week ago was swearing to God he had never seen these girls' Gabrielle was with, even though she had been hanging out with them for years and they had been to her house plenty, suddenly seemed to remember that one old friendship that has been almost completely dissolved.

She blinked, her nose wrinkled. "Yeah, like 2 years ago."

They almost kicked girls out of the school; there is no need to mention something like that. It might actually make her mother happy.

"I heard they almost banned girls from the school." Her mother quiped, trying not to sound too dissapointed at the fact it did not happen.

"So much for, uh." Her dad looked towards her to fill him in.

Gabrielle smiled. "Progressiveness."

Javier Blanc was a large man with a beard and a scary disposition. A man like that you would think was fit for sons, but alas, God gifted him girls—four, to be precise. In the last 15 years, since the birth of his oldest, he has heard it all, from 'Oh, maybe next time you will get lucky' to 'it's okay, girls are gifts'. Yet he listened to his girls rants and echoed them to the best of his understanding.

Her mother never really agreed with that disposition fully. Marie Blanc did, of course, want her daughters to become capable and marry good men, but she still wanted them to remain girls. So Gabrielle being taught boxing, being more inclined towards math, wearing pants, and walking with her hands in her pockets rubbed her the wrong way. Gabrielle, breathing alone, rubbed her the wrong way.

She didn't care when her younger three came inside the house with muddy shoes and clothes or when it was obvious her oldest showed more promise at violin than the rest did. They were babies, and they would continue to be her babies till they reached their 50s. Heck, Sophie was 13 years old already. Precisely two and a half years younger than Gabrielle.

Not that it hurt Gabrielle. It annoyed her that her mother never had anything purely good to say about her without a backhanded insult, but it didn't wound her. So she simply listened to her rant about Voltaire without saying much before deciding to go to bed.

"I have school tomorrow after all," with a snarky tone and a pointed look. Okay, maybe she wasn't the easiest child. Maybe she had a short fuse and held a grudge. That wasn't her fault. Her mother was like that, too.

Finally, alone in her room she couldn't resist to urge to pull back the curtain that covered her window, peeking at the room that also looked directly into her own from across the street. Descamps' room. Well, back then he was just 'Joseph' but it felt wrong to use his first name now. Gabrielle had been the one to stop calling for him to hang out, after all. But when they were kids, when their mothers would tack them in bed, the window would be their immediate destination.

Even now, once in a while, they would throw cigarettes at each other if one of them had run short.

There was no light in his room tonight, they must have kept him at the hospital for tonight. As Gabrielle was about to close the curtain, she spotted some movement in the darkness of his room that had her immediately shoot forward, ignoring the art supplies she had accidentally kicked since they had been resting on the wall. Her eagerness was something that would torture her for a few days, and she would thank her lucky stars that no one saw that.

Especially when she realised that the movement was Descamps' mother, who seemed to be packing some of his clothes to take to the hospital when she suddenly froze, and by the fact that she put her hand on her face, Gabrielle could only guess that the woman was crying or she was just exhausted by the day. When the woman raised her head, and looked directly at her Gabrielle found out it was both.

The woman managed a smile, and waved. Gabrielle mirrored her actions, closed the curtain and climbed in her bed, holding the covers close to her chest. She wasn't sure how long it took for her to fall asleep, at some point everything just got quite and dark.

#multiple parts #uploaded on wattpad and ao3 #joseph descamps #fanfic #annick mixte1963 #michele #simone #alain laubrac

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circuit-if · 9 months

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Info post for the key characters and romance options for Circuit, with personalities, (some) backstory, and appearance listed. Choose between 4 romance routes - fall in and out of love with the other driver on your team, your rival on the track, your team's head engineer, or the sponsor heiress who's taken a liking to you.

Roman Gray [RO, he/him] - Your rival on the track. Gray came from the same neighbourhood as you, and you've raced alongside him since your very first competition. But he's no longer that young boy, left grinning with adrenaline after every circuit. No, now he's hungry for that prize with a stern drive that wont let whatever friendship you had get in the way of, and faces you only with stone cold glares and ridiculously tough competition.

Backstory - You and Roman grew up racing along tracks all over small town California, proving yourselves to everyone who doubted you over the years and rising fast in the ranks beside one another. You both spend your nights after races at the same bar in San Diego, where you make memories and vow to each other to make it to the top: the URCA championships. If only it were possible to do it together.

Appearance - Short dark brown hair in a textured fringe, gray eyes, soft, one sided smile, lean muscle, fair skin, 6'0. He wears his race jacket whenever he can, usually over casual streetwear with dark neutral tones and greens.

Romance Route - Rivals to lovers. Compete with Roman in the championship league while underlying grudges, hurt, and jealousy get in the way of the love that you share underneath, and the will to forgive. Can you repair what was once there, rescuing it from the rubble of that last night in California, or will you let it fall away under the press' love of rivalries? Or will it become something more?

Nicholas/Nadine Spade [RO, gender selectable] - The other driver on your new team, nicked "The Blade" and loved by many. N has been racing for nearly as long as you have, along the searing tracks of Miami with an effortless talent. Always finding a way to twist the situation into a witty joke and a laugh, they quickly establish themself as someone to trust among the chaos that is your new life as a top racer.

Backstory - N. grew up in Miami, under the legacy of their father, an elite racer from decades prior. From a young age, they were recognised in races for their family name and its power and prowess in the racing world. They struggled to create their own identity, eventually being labelled "Spade the Blade" for their creative tactics for cutting through groups of cars at a time.

Appearance - Dirty blonde hair cut at their neck in beach waves, chestnut brown eyes, freckles, smile lines, lopsided, charming grin, tan skin, 5'8. They wear a lot of graphic tees and have a habit of collecting bracelets for their wrists, with a generally vibrant palatte underneath their leather jackets for motor biking.

Romance Route - Friends to lovers, with a little "just friends" thrown in. Win races side by side, strategise, and plan with a little distraction on the side. Mutually pine for one another between circuits, and realise the importance of your other half not only for the team, but for you.

Sadie/Spencer Monroe [RO, gender selectable] - Your head engineer, a failed aspiring racer with a silent but deadly disposition. S designed your car from the wheels up, with one goal: to win. To win in a way they couldn't on the track themself, despite knowing everything there is to know about the sport. S has high expectations for you and N, and they're not one to disappoint.

Backstory - S. grew up in the countryside of New York, with one goal: to become the most legendary racer the URCA has ever known. With that in mind, they began racing circuits across the mid Atlantic, building and repairing their own cars and taking them into leagues they weren't welcome in because of their ultra-creative mechanic improvements. They quit soon after, turning their engineering talents to the benefit of more talented racers instead.

Appearance - Auburn hair at the base of their neck, hazel green eyes, a dusting of freckles, slender, pale skin, 5'9. They wear a brown bomber jacket over a lot of their clothes, a lot of flannel and warm tones.

Romance Route - Forbidden love. S. is an engineer, ensuring your cars are running exactly as they should, pushing them to their limits with speed and control. Their job is entirely behind the scenes, almost no one knows they exist, and they prefer it that way. You're a racer. The worlds eyes are on you. When you both face your growing feelings, you're forced to keep them away from the rest of the world and hide your romance.

Carmen Caddel [RO, she/her] - Heiress to one of your biggest sponsor companies. Carmen grew up in the lifestyle of fame and luxury, and handles it with such grace and poise that shows in every paparazzi photo and every interview. With her guiding you through the press conferences and afterparties, it should be easy to maintain the public image you're intended to keep. Right?

Backstory - Carmen was born to Defina Caddel, the founder of the creatively named company, Caddel, that has been at the head of the fashion industry for decades. Carmen inherited Defina's expensive taste and affinity for matters of fame from a young age. She was raised learning about her mothers' company, around fashion designers rather than her peers, and preparing for the day she would have to take over as CEO herself.

Appearance - Curly black hair to her mid-back, dark brown eyes, full cheeks, bright smile, tan skin, 5'5. She's only ever seen in designer clothes (most often from her mothers' brand), all of which are sleek and fitted prior to wear.

Romance Route - The power couple. MC is a driver that has worked from the bottom up, and Carmen was born into wealth and fame. With different skill sets, connections, and experience, you both face the fame and fortune, good and bad, that's coming at you a little stronger together.

- PROMO POST -

#circuit #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interact-if #interactive game #choice of games #cog game #if wip #cog #dashingdon #interactive fiction wip #hosted game #circuit-if #ros

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thelittlelostprincess333 · 4 months

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Something that never fails to make you horny?

Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]

What is your favorite part of your body?

What do you wear to bed?

When was the first time you masturbated?

Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside or in public?

Do you own any sex toys? (Can we see it?)

Are you a squirter?

do you have extreme kinks?

What are your top 5 kinks

Okie dokie! First off, I loveeeee these unique questions!! Thank you so much for asking💕 Let’s get into it 😈

Something that never fails to make me horny

Wow…it’s actually difficult to choose because there are a lot of things that instantly make me drip. One of my favorites is the hand around the throat. Whether it’s slow and intentional or rough and commanding, I absolutely melt every time I get to wear a pretty hand necklace. The surprise corrective hand necklaces are my favorite🤭

Have you ever tasted yourself?

Yes, I adore tasting myself just because I genuinely enjoy the taste and scent of my own pheromones. I take a few extra measures to ensure I am extra sweet down there so it’s just an extra reward when paired with the fact that I can also drink my own sweet milk from my udders while edging. Truly the Land of Milk & Honey

What is your favorite part of your body?

Haha, weird little tidbit about me…my favorite body part used to be my collarbone. I was obsessed with how defined and artistic it looked.

Now…I’d have to say my tiddies. I used to feel really self conscious about them because they were so much bigger than everyone else’s in school. I felt not as pretty because they sagged a bit and weren’t those perfectly round perky bimbo tiddies. But now, I adore them because they are so soft and squishy and milky and constantly getting bigger. They’re beautiful😍

What do you wear to bed?

What Marilyn Monroe wore to bed…my jewelry and nothing else. My personal jewelry for bed include Master Wolf’s training collar, my wolf necklace with my keys, and maybe some earrings

When was the first time you masturbated?

Oh my goodness, I remember being curious about what p0rn was but not really knowing so I googled it. I found a somewhat popular site and started watching happy ending massages. I happened to watch one where the woman was being massaged and learned what to do from there.

When was the last time you had sex outside/in public?

Well, the last time I had sex outside was a few months ago bent over the hood of my car outside my parents’ house. It was around midnight and I had gone outside to “meditate”. 🍃💨 My ex came by to see me and one thing led to another. It was a really unique experience though because it was out in the country and you see all the stars, hear the owls and night creatures, feel the chill of the wind. I definitely want to have more outdoor experiences…just not with an ex😅

In public, I think the most fun one was when I gave this incredibly sloppy toppy to a guy I had a crush on at an amusement park that we went to sing at. We snuck into the family bathroom and I went to town. I could hear the screams and laughter and rides all around while he fucked my face. That was one of my first kinky experiences too so it’ll always hold a special place in my little slut heart.

Do you own any sex toys? Can we see them?

If you had asked me this 8 months ago, I would have had to say no. Before I got back on tumblr, I had been in a situation where I wasn’t free to explore my sexuality at all. No sex toys, no kinks and fetishes, no promiscuity of all kind. Fast forward to now…I have a treasure trove of toys and outfits that continues to expand all thanks to my wonderful Master Wolf and his encouragement for me to embrace my true slutty nature. This is only the beginning of what I hope will become quite the collection!!💕

Are you a squirter?

Yes, I most certainly am!! I actually wasn’t sure how good I was at squirting, but I learned during my Birthday Trip with Master Wolf that I am most certainly a squirter. I adore the feeling and especially love getting to that point with my Domi vibrator by fucking myself with it.

Do you have any extreme kinks?

That’s a tough question. I’m still learning what “extreme kinks” are because I always explored without putting labels to anything I saw. I’m finding out that yes, I do have quite a few extreme kinks. I’m very big on exploration and the artistic elements of kink anyways so I don’t like to limit myself much on what I may be able to experience in this space.

What are your top 5 kinks?

To be fair, these tend to change weekly if not daily as I explore more and learn about more fun ways to play.

Currently,

1. Master/slave dynamic

2. Somno/Intox play

3. Urolagnia (iyktyk)

4. Orgasm Denial

5. All things Anal💕

Conclusion

I hope you enjoy my responses. This was so much fun to respond to so feel free to send any questions anytime! Also…Feel free to send me a golden star if you liked the answers (praise kink, anyone?) 🌟

Love ya byeeeeeee💕

#naughty asks #ask me questions #anon asks #dms open

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athenswrites · 7 months

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Adele Hall [Not Your Typical Fairytale]

They pushed open the doors, together. At the vanity sat Adele, with her back turned to the door. She dabbed at her face with a makeup sponge, the rest of her makeup strewn all over the countertop. A billowy red dress swallowed her up, making her look smaller and even frailer. She spotted Piers’ reflection in the mirror, before turning around. (Knight of Dawn, Chapter 3)

QUICK FACTS…

Full Name: Adele Paris Hall (Arthur Georgi Hall)

Pronouns: she/her

Title: None (formerly, in reverse order: Queen of the State of Georgia, King of the State of Georgia, Prince of the State of Georgia, Heir Apparent)

Gender: Transfemale

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday (Age at start): October 8th, 2157 (53)

Parents: Georgi Hall (deceased), Alsona (Monroe) Hall (deceased)

Siblings: Albert Ezra (missing)

Spouse: Clara Rayas-Hall (deceased)

Children: Wesley Alejandro (missing), Lake Norman (deceased), Jillian "Piers" (adoptive)

Notable physical features: freckles, almost always wearing red lipstick/nails, frail but holds herself high

Personality: cold, distrusting, brilliant, stubborn, proper, demanding, fearless

Extended Intro...

Queen Adele Hall is the adoptive mother of Piers Hall, and the former Queen of the State of Georgia. Adele grew up in the palace, training and preparing to become the next monarch of her family's line. When Adele was 13, she would meet her future wife, Clara "Claire" Carmen Rayas, the youngest daughter of two wealthy businessmen from Florida. The two would marry three months after Adele's 18th birthday (Clara was five months older). Only four years later, the beloved Georgi Hall would die relatively young from a heart attack, and a 22 year-old Adele (then still Arthur) ascended to the throne. She was coming off an era of high prosperity and growth for everyone in the state, and knew she'd have to live up to the standards set by her father. Unfortunately, Adele's life would be full of tragedies of both her own making and unavoidable causes. Her and Clara's son, Wesley was born sickly, and she reached out to an up-and-coming geneticist and his assistant. Adele would spend the next 10 or so years under his thumb, before barely escaping back to the Palace with her life. Clara did not survive, but Adele managed to rescue her now two sons, Lake and Wesley, along with Dr. Panya. About a year later, she adopted Piers, her last child. After the loss of her wife combined with her paranoia, the now-Queen grew cold and cruel, often lashing out on both her friends, children, and the citizens she served. For the next 19 years, Adele would develop the reputation as the Bloody Queen, with a record amount of executions occurring, along with several state-sponsored attacks she blamed on terrorist groups. When Piers turned 18, there were immediate calls for her abdication, and reluctantly (and due to her health beginning to fail) she did so in November of 2210.

WIP PAGE

Tag List (reply or dm to be added or removed; I pulled from the old tag list): @author-a-holmes, @soul-write @flowerprose @ceph-the-ghost-writer @theglitchywriterboi @when-wax-wings-melt @thechaoticflowergarden @lyralit @penspiration-writing @samatedeansbroccoli @charlesjosephwrites @italiangothicwriteblr @thetruearchmagos @pineapple-lover-boy @unilightwrites @sanguine-arena @bardic-tales @joshuaorrizonte @blind-the-winds @circa-specturgia @hymnonlips @aloeverawrites @the-stray-storyteller @writeblrsupport @starlit-skys @kyuponstories @guessillcallitart @magic-is-something-we-create @talesofsorrowandofruin

#oc intro #character intro #introduction #writeblr #writing #wip #excerpt #athenswrites #nytf #adele hall

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diorb4bysblog · 9 months

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How to dress like the Girls Next Door!

The Girls Next Door Part 1. Holly

1. BLonde bombshell! If your trying to look like holly then this is your lucky day! being blonde is key to becoming a girl next door. Now you don't have to become a blonde but if you really wanna complete the look. Then go ahead and be extra cause why not?

2. HIGH SOCKS

Back in the day Holly was the queen of wearing knee high socks. She wore them in almost every look. So get yourself a pair of knee high socks and a cute mini skirt! One tip is too not wear socks with sandles. TRUST ME!!! That is a no no socks with sandles is the most disgusting thing in fashion history you do not wanna be seen in those. They can only be worn with mini skirts,booty shorts, and in hot school girl uniforms. But Holly wears them in shorts and skirts.

3. PINK Holly was known to wear a lot of pink but not as much as Bridget! but will get to that in the later parts of the girls next door series. As you can see she has a pink top on in this picture. She usually wore graphic shirts usually in the color baby pink. She would usually wear shirt with cute thing s on it like dogs and bunnies but will get to that later. The most important part of this series is to wear them tight. I'm not saying to suffocate yourself but start wearing more revealing clothes like v necks, crop tops, polos but un Butten them just a little bit to make yourself look a little more scandalous.

4. CLEAVAGE

Get your self a Victoria's secret bombshell bra. Ok well you don't have to get a Victoria's secret bombshell bra because we both now that's too expensive for us. But just get a cheap push up bra with a lot of plush in it. What I mean by that is to find one that's thick. Preferably one with pads in it and don't take them out. And if you don't find one like neither of those then stuff it I believe in you girl! you can do this! if you don't quite know how to stuff your bra then watch some tutorials to learn on how to make them look more natural or just wear to bras but if wanna go all out then you can stuff them too. Do you girl!

5.PERSONALITY

One important thing into becoming a girls next door is imitating Hollys angelic personality. Holly was a sweetheart and still is and if you wanna copy Hollys angelic persona. Then you will have to start with manners. One reason why Holly is called angelic is because she is always polite with people and does not start arguments. Another reason is because she never smacks while eating or gets food on herself, or messes up her makeup. Lastly if she has something to do that is a important duty she will do it without complaining. One thing about holly is that she likes so have fun so im not telling you to be stuck up. But just be polite!

6. Marlyn Monroe Just like the last topic about personality most of Hollys elegance comes from Marlyn Monroe. As you can see in this picture she has an haircut inspired by her. So if you wanna become like Holly then your gonna have to be like Marlyn a little to . Because Marlyn is Hollys biggest inspiration. Most of her outfits in the show "The Girls Next Door" are inspired by Marilyn Monroe. In important events like Casa Blanca Nights, Bridget's murder mystery birthday party, and her second photo shoot with Bridget and Kendra was inspired by Marlyn Monroe.

7. Makeup!

Back in the 2000s Hollys favorite lip glosses were the lipgloss in the shade prrr which is still avalible too buy on amazon but i don't think it is in stores anymore.

Kevin Aucoin Making Faces book Cinema Secrets foundation Shade COTY airspun loose powder MAC lipliner Spice NARS lipstick Dolce Vita Maybelline lipstick 235 Warm Me Up https://amzn.to/3peewEw Bobbi Brown Lip Gloss Petal https://amzn.to/34Zhply MAC Lipglass Prrrr https://amzn.to/2KGkWNA Damone Roberts brow pencil in Latte https://amzn.to/3mQGMfy Laura Mercier SC 2 concealer https://tinyurl.com/y8rmnooo Guerlain Terra Cotta https://amzn.to/38FCKAW DOSE OF COLOR concealer brush https://tinyurl.com/y3pjgnh9 MAC eyeshadow white frost https://tinyurl.com/ycme6klp MAC eyeshadow Paradisco https://amzn.to/38Dc2IO MAC eyeshadow mulch https://amzn.to/3ponqiF MAC liquid liner boot black https://amzn.to/3aGigKN Revlon color stay black liquid eyeliner https://amzn.to/38FD42C Ardell demi wispies lashes https://amzn.to/3aDarn3 DUO eyelash glue https://amzn.to/2Ydhdeo Wander Beauty black mascara Paula Dorf Baby Eyes

youtube

8. Clothes

Back in the early 2000s Holly wore shirts from the brand happry bunny,blonde mafia,juicy couture,denim jean skirts, high socks,low waist jeans, playboy jackets, fancy dresses, long sleeve shirts,converses,uggs,jackets,shoes,high heels. The end

sorry if this was sloppy i wrote this really late

also if holly sees this don't take it seriously because i know this is only how you acted on the show

ok by then lol

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homomenhommes · 9 hours

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 27

1906 – Friedrich-Paul von Groszheim (d.circa 2003), born in Lübeck, Germany was an ordinary German man who was imprisoned by the Nazis for the (then) crime of homosexuality under Germany's now-repealed Paragraph 175.

Von Groszheim was one of 230 men arrested in Lübeck on suspicion of being gay by the SS in January 1937 under paragraph 175, which outlawed homosexuality. He was imprisoned for ten months, during which he had to wear a badge emblazoned with a capital A, for Arschficker (arse-fucker):

They beat us to a pulp. I couldn't lie down...my whole back (was) bloody. You were beaten until you finally named names.

Von Groszheim was held in a cell with no heating, very little food, and no toilet facilities. Freed, he was rearrested in 1938 and tortured. Von Groszheim was eventually offered the 'alternative' of castration or Sachsenhausen concentration camp. He 'chose' castration. Terrible as it may seem, it was a decision that probably saved his life. He was then released.

Because of the castration, von Groszheim was rejected as physically unfit for military service in 1940. In 1943 he was arrested a third time, this time as a supporter of the former Kaiser Wilhelm II, and imprisoned as a political prisoner at Neuengamme concentration camp.

After the war, he settled in Hamburg.

Von Groszheim was never acknowledged as a victim of the Nazi regime, and due to on-going persecution of homosexuals in Germany, it took nearly half a century before he broke his silence. Eventually he explained why he began to speak out: 'I'm living proof that Hitler didn't win. I'm aware of that every day. If I don't tell my story, who will know the truth?.' He only told his story in 1992, on We Were Marked with a Big "A", a film in German with English subtitles.

In 1995, he was one of eight signers to a declaration given to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. that called for the "memorializing and documenting of Nazi atrocities against homosexuals and others."

Jack Cole rehearsing Marilyn Monroe

1911 – Jack Cole (d.1974) was an American dancer, choreographer, and theatre director known as the father of theatrical jazz dance. He developed an entirely personal mode of jazz-ethnic-ballet that prevails as the dominant look of and technique for dancing in today's musicals, films, nightclub revues, television commercials and music videos.

Jack Cole, a student of Ravi Shankar's older brother Uday (who popularized East Indian dance in the West), danced with the staid orientalist Denishawn troupe, and invented jazz dance by applying what he knew of Indian dance to jazz music.

He stripped in Broadway's Ziegfield Follies Of 1943, opened New York's Rainbow Room, and formed a troupe that eroticized the Radio City Music Hall, Roxy, Ciro's, and the Fairmont and Dunes hotels.

His Hollywood entrance didn't go well: his specialty number for Fox's Moon Over Miami (1941) was cut as too sexy and he was fired by Arthur Freed from MGM's Ziegfield Follies (1946), for "griping about all the 'queen bees' like Cedric Gibbons and Roger Edens." Minnelli, Gibbons, et al, worked within the MGM closet, but Cole was a rebel and didn't hide his gayness.

At Columbia, then a minor studio, he lasted from 1944 until the McCarthy hearings of 1948, when most of his dancers fled to Europe. His first Columbia film was Cover Girl (1944) with Rita Hayworth, working with Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen, and Felix. He worked with Ann Miller and thrice more with Hayworth, his eroticism transferred almost intact to her in the 'Put the Blame on Mame' number in Gilda (1946), his homoeroticism most pronounced in the satirical 'Greek Ballet' in Down To Earth (1947). When Gilda describing herself stops in midsentence, the next word could be "stripper," for Cole based her movements on striptease.

At Fox, Cole vitalized Gwen Verdon in On The Riviera, revitalized Betty Grable in Meet Me After The Show (both 1951), surrounded Mitzi Gaynor with slinky catmen in The I Don't Care Girl (1953) and became Marilyn Monroe's dance guru from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) until the end of her life, surrounding her with musclemen in There's No Business Like Show Business (1954).

He returned to Metro for Vincente Minnelli's Kismet (1955; he had done the Broadway show and the 1944 film); Designing Woman; and, with Gene Kelly, Les Girls (1957).

Back at Columbia, he gave Betty Grable a male harem in Three For The Show (1955). His gayness was hidden within his Orientalism, suggesting to Shirley McLean that "masculinity and gay identity" are not necessarily antithetical, erasing gender (unlike true oriental dance), and sought after by female dancers.

But "for gay audiences, the classic Cole number" is 'Is There Anyone Here For Love?' in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, featuring Physique Pictorial-type gymnasts oblivious to Jane Russell's charms: they even pump "their buttocks up and down in rhythm, an outrageous simulation of gay sex."

Cole lived openly in a mansion with his lover, David Gray. Their pool parties were "very naughty and very gay," with Gray on a diving board in high heels. At a 1974 memorial for Cole, Jane Russell reminisced about Cole's penchant for gay porn.

1951 – Luis Zapata Quiroz is Mexico's most prominent gay author. He rose to popularity in the 1970s with books about the youth subculture of Mexico City. His novels examine the connection between daily life and the popular culture of radio, television, and film.

Born into an upper middle-class family in rural Mexico, Zapata escaped the restrictions of his background by losing himself in the cinema. Popular culture, cinema, melodrama and soap opera have all played a significant influence on his writing.

Unusually for a Mexican writer, most of his novels, and stories feature gay and bisexual characters prominently. Where heterosexual characters appear they are usually within the context of the family and there is some element of hypocrisy and concealment, so the happiness of the normal social order is in some way seen as a smokescreen for more interesting goings on beneath the surface - as is the case with much popular drama and soap opera. His style is very heavily reliant on representing convincing dialogue and conversation - often between people of different social classes.

His work includes Hasta en las mejores familias (Even in the Best Families, 1975), Las aventuras, desventuras y sueños de Adonis García, el vampiro de la colonia Roma ( The Aventures, Misadventures, and Dreams of Adonis Garcia, Vampire of the Roman Colony, 1979), Melodrama (1983), En jirones (In Shreds, 1985) and La hermana secreta de Angélica María (The Secret Sister of Angelica María, 1989)

1953 – President Dwight D. Eisenhower signs Executive Order 10450 which establishes grounds for investigation and dismissal: "Any criminal, infamous, dishonest, immoral, or notoriously disgraceful conduct, habitual use of intoxicants to excess, drug addiction, or sexual perversion." Without explicitly referring to homosexuality, the executive order responded to several years of charges that the presence of homosexual employees in the State Department posed blackmail risks. As a result, more than 640 federal employees lose their jobs over the next year and a half.

1963 – Today's the birthday of Russell T. Davies (born Steven Russell Davies). Davies is a Welsh television producer and writer and the prolific writer best known for controversial drama serials such as Queer as Folk and The Second Coming. He's also garnered major Geek love for spearheading the revival of the popular science-fiction television series Doctor Who, and the spin-off Torchwood. Although Doctor Who always had serious levels of camp, Davies really stretched the series into a much more inclusive and sexually playful character.

Born in Swansea, Davies aspired to work as a comic artist in his adult life, until a careers advisor at his school suggested that he study English literature; he consequently focused on a career of play- and screen-writing. After he graduated from Oxford University, Davies joined the BBC's children's department on a part-time basis in 1985 and worked in varying positions, including writing and producing two series, Dark Season and Century Falls. He left the BBC in the early 1990s to work for Granada Television and later became a freelance writer.

Davies moved into writing adult television dramas in 1994. His early scripts generally explored concepts of religion and sexuality among various backdrops: Revelations was a soap opera about organised religion and featured a lesbian vicar; Springhill was a soap drama about a Catholic family in contemporary Liverpool; The Grand explored society's opinion of subjects such as prostitution, abortion, and homosexuality during the interwar period; and Queer as Folk, his first prolific series, recreated his experiences in the Manchester gay scene. His later series include Bob & Rose, which portrayed a gay man who fell in love with a woman; The Second Coming, which focused on the second coming and deicide of Jesus Christ; Mine All Mine, a comedy about a family who discover they owned the entire city of Swansea; and Casanova, an adaptation of the Venetian lover's complete memoirs.

His most notable achievement is reviving and running the science fiction series Doctor Who after a sixteen year hiatus, with Christopher Eccleston, and later David Tennant, Matt Smith, and Peter Capaldi in the title role of the Doctor. Davies was awarded an OBE in 2008 for services to drama, which coincided with his announcement that he would step down from as the show's executive producer with his final script, The End of Time (2009-10). Davies moved to Los Angeles, California, to oversee production of Torchwood: Miracle Day and, before the death of Elisabeth Sladen, series five of The Sarah Jane Adventures.He has since returned to Manchester.

His latest show, Cucumber, a spiritual successor to Queer as Folk focuses on middle-aged gay men in the Manchester gay scene, and is accompanied with Banana, an E4 anthology series featuring younger characters across the LGBT spectrum on the periphery of the Cucumber narrative, and Tofu, an online documentary series available on 4oD discussing modern sex, sexuality and issues arisen during the show with the cast and public. The three names reference a urological scale categorising the male erection by hardness from tofu to cucumber, and are used to symbolise differences in sexual attitudes and behaviour between the two generations. Although Cucumber is designed as a self-contained serial focusing on the life of one man, Davies envisions Banana as open-ended and believes it could continue after its sister series finishes.

Davies' next project after Cucumber and Banana will be The Boys, a Channel 4 series about the HIV/AIDS crisis during the 1980s. The Boys will be a dramatised retrospective of the crisis which focuses on the men "living in the bedsits" during the 1980s as opposed to films such as Pride which focus on gay activists; Davies notes that the stories regarding the politics of the crisis and the virus itself has been told, but not those regarding the early victims of the virus itself. Davies describes The Boys as a way of "coming to terms" with his own actions during the 1980s, when the shock of the crisis prevented him from properly mourning the deaths of his close friends. After The Boys, Davies plans to write a series about sextortion that draws inspiration from real-life incidents of blackmail that resulted in suicide.

Davies is openly gay and has been with his partner, customs officer Andrew Smith, since 1999.

1992 – James Duke Mason is an American politician, writer, and political activist. He is the son of singer Belinda Carlisle and film producer Morgan Mason, and the grandson of the late British actor James Mason. In 2010, The Advocate listed Mason as one of the most influential young LGBT Americans in their "Forty Under 40" issue. He was named in OUT magazine's 2011 "Out 100" issue as one of the 100 most influential LGBT people in the world.

Born in Los Angeles, Mason moved to Europe with his parents as a child. In an Attitude Magazine interview, Mason stated that he is openly gay and that he came out to his family and friends at the age of 14 in 2006. After graduating from Mougins School, an international school in the south of France in July 2010, Mason moved back to the U.S. to study Political Science at California Lutheran University. After a year he moved to West Hollywood, California to focus on his efforts in grassroots advocacy.

He was appointed to serve as a Page in the U.S. House of Representatives during the summer of 2008, and also worked as a volunteer for Hillary Clinton during the 2008 Democratic primaries. He has appeared on TV shows such as Dr. Phil, Nancy Grace, and Politicking with Larry King to discuss LGBT issues, has written articles for websites such as The Huffington Post and The Advocate, and did a YouTube video to back the It Gets Better campaign.

In December 2011 it was announced that Mason was appointed to the board of directors of Outfest, making him the youngest member in the organization's 30-year history. He began his term in January 2012.

He served as an official surrogate for the campaign of Barack Obama in the 2012 U.S. Presidential Election. He had a small acting role in the film What Happens Next, which screened as part of the Hollywood Film Festival. He was a candidate for the West Hollywood City Council in the March 3, 2015 election.

1998 – Ghislaine Landry is a Canadian rugby union player. She won a gold medal at the 2015 Pan American Games as a member of the Canadian women's rugby sevens team. During the 2016-17 season, Landry succeeded Jen Kish as captain of the national sevens. On 20 October 2018, Landry became the first woman to hit the 1,000 point milestone in the women's sevens World Series.

In 2016, Landry was named to Canada's first ever women's rugby sevens Olympic team, which won the bronze medal in a match against Great Britain. In 2017, Landry moved into first place all-time in HSBC World Rugby Women's Sevens Series scoring with 706 points. In June 2021, Landry was named to Canada's 2020 Summer Olympics team.

Landry attended Saint Francis Xavier University.

She came out as homosexual in 2006 and married her partner in 2018.

In 2021, she announced her retirement from the sport, hanging up the boots at the age of 33 after an illustrious international career that spanned a decade.

2009 – Iowa becomes the third state to allow same-sex marriage.

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imnotavamp1r3 · 4 months

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♡ TMI tag!!! ♡

So the other day I was watching some of Eugenia Cooney's old videos since I used to watch them a lot as a kid. I found some of her tag videos and I guess I thought it'd be fun to do one of those 2015 Youtube tags but on Tumblr. I'm not sure if this is going to be that interesting but yeah. You can watch Eugenia's video here btw.

🎀 What are you wearing?

I'm wearing a Misfits Marilyn Monroe t-shirt, black cargo pants, a skeleton hand bracelet, and Hello Kitty headphones because I'm listening to music right now.

🎀 Have you ever been in love?

I've had crushes but I doubt I've ever been in love

🎀 Have you ever had a terrible break up?

🎀 How tall are you?

168 cm or 5'6

🎀 How much do you weigh?

Last time I got weighed I think it said something like 105 lbs

🎀 Do you have any tattoos?

🎀 Do you have any piercings?

No and I don't even have my ears pierced

🎀 What's your OTP?

Buffy x Angel

🎀 What's your favourite show?

Gravity Falls

🎀 What are your favourite bands?

I love so many but The Pretty Reckless, Paramore, Tally Hall, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens are probably my top five.

🎀 What's something you miss?

Nigahiga

🎀 What's your favourite song?

I don't think I really have a favourite song but my top song on Spotify every year is always Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless so I guess that's my favourite.

🎀 How old are you?

🎀 What's your zodiac sign?

I'm a Gemini but I don't really know what that means other than that I'm apparently evil.

🎀 What do you look for in a partner?

I don't know

🎀 What's your favourite quote?

'I'm just a girl'

🎀 Who's your favourite actor?

Anya Taylor-Joy, she's so gorgeous and smart and she always chooses great projects (except for that one time when she was in the Play Mobil movie). She's probably my favourite scream queen too.

🎀 What's your favourite colour?

Probably really obvious but pink

🎀 Loud or soft music?

Loud

🎀 Where do you go when you're sad?

Notes app

🎀 How long does it take you to shower?

When I'm not crying, less than ten minutes

🎀 How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

Usually about 10-20 minutes

🎀 Have you ever been in a physical fight?

I have a brother so yeah

🎀 What's a turn on for you?

Guys with long hair, mainly because of Kellin Quinn

🎀 What's a turn off for you?

Guys calling girls 'females'

🎀 Why did you join Tumblr?

I was bored

🎀 What are you afraid of?

Looking dumb and doing badly in school

🎀 What was the last thing that made you cry?

Probably my mom arguing with me the last time we had lunch together.

🎀 When was the last time you said you loved someone?

I think it was to one of my friends but I'm not sure

🎀 What is the meaning behind your username?

It came from the Falling In Reverse song I'm Not a Vampire. There's not really a reason why I chose that song specifically, I just really like vampires. Originally my username was just going to be imnotavampire with no numbers, but that was taken so I added a 13 into vampire.

🎀 What was the last book you read?

Lapvona by Ottessa Moshfegh. I might write a whole post about it because I really enjoyed it.

🎀 What book are you currently reading?

Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors

🎀 What is the relationship between you and the last person you texted?

She's my mom

🎀 What is your favourite food?

Probably apples because they're the thing I eat the most

🎀 What is a place you want to visit?

I would really love to visit the Palace of Versailles. It looks so beautiful and I'm so jealous of all of the French queens who got to live there.

🎀 Where is the last place you were?

Panera Bread parking lot

🎀 Do you have a crush?

Yes, on thirty year old emo men

🎀 When was the last time you kissed someone?

I've never kissed anyone

🎀 When was the last time you were insulted?

The aforementioned lunch with my mom

🎀 What is your favourite flavour of sweets?

Strawberry. I'm so addicted to strawberry flavoured things that someone could tell me their vomit is strawberry flavoured and I'd probably try it.

🎀 What instruments do you play?

I play guitar

🎀 What is your favourite piece of jewellery?

Probably the skeleton bracelet I mentioned before because I wear it the most and my mom hates it.

🎀 What was the last sport you played?

If taking ballet as an elective in middle school counts then ballet

🎀 What is the last song you sang?

I sing a lot so I'm not really sure. Probably Bubblegum Bitch by Marina because I sing it all the time.

🎀 What is your favourite pick up line?

It's a toss up between 'Dang, girl, are you a construction worker? Because you are BUILDING,' and 'I want your bull in my Bronx.'

🎀 Have you ever used it?

No but I will

🎀 When was the last time you hung out with someone?

I have no idea. Really all I do is just rot in my room.

🎀 Who should answer these questions next?

Anyone else who also wants to overshare on the Internet

That's it, byeeeee!! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

#emo #scenemo #scene #kawaii #cutegore #girlblogging #hell is a teenage girl #rawring 20s #rawr xd #cutecore #scene girl #scene queen #scenecore #scemo #pretty when i cry

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch5 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

You and Five need a place to hide.

Proceed at your own risk and Merry Christmas, I guess....

Chapter Five: Keechie's Cabin

Keechie was a dedicated follower of Destiny’s Children. When he died in April 1997, he left his cabin and the bulk of his estate to his Prophet, believing in his divinity to his dying day. Klaus had been lucky to have been able to claim it nearly twenty-five years after the fact. Deep in the forests near the Maine border, it provided Klaus with the perfect bolthole in the last few years. Whenever he needed to get away for a bit of much needed self-care, the cabin always welcomed him.

As cozy as it was, Klaus didn’t envy them spending winter there. Luckily, she and Five would be able to get there with relative ease now but in a few weeks’ time the roads might be hard to pass. The cabin boasted an outbuilding complete with tools, Snowcat and snow shovels, but the isolation still worried him a little, especially considering they would have to stay there for the rest of her pregnancy. They'd have to go completely dark. Their phones were left, switched off in their bedroom. They couldn't be traceable.

She runs around upstairs packing them both clothes and personal objects while Five creates himself a small arsenal from the weapons room. Klaus empties the whole pantry into the trunk of the larger of Five’s two cars. Anything non-perishable or long dated. Just in case.

When confirmation came through, Herb drummed his fingers on the desk and scribbled a note on his pad. They’d lost Wynn and the mark had survived. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected- the Commission employed many extraordinary agents, but Number Five had always been in a league of his own.

Herb had certainly been no fan of The Handler’s, she was a terrifying woman and particularly sinister when it came to Five, now he thinks about it. One thing she’d said a few times had stuck with him though: could the Commission be like jazz? Could it…improvise? Was it worth doggedly pursuing the same course of action when even your partial attempt might tweak things? Why not take a more iterative, free form approach? When he made the order, killing Five’s partner (or fiancée now, apparently) had been the kindest cut, but since this news he’d had an inkling. After years in the office, Herb had learned to trust his inklings about things.

So when Betty returned with the rerun files, Herb had read them carefully two or three times. Sometimes, things take care of themselves. No more cuts were needed, kind or otherwise: it seemed that they’d already taken the decisive action. Things would resolve themselves and, this way, Five would only have himself to blame.

Five is weird about laundry. You both had to adapt to each other’s idiosyncrasies, (Five had taken to wearing socks in bed because you got freaked out if the soles of his feet touched you unexpectedly in the night) but his laundry thing had been one of the first.

When you’d moved in, still recovering from your injuries at the hands of Michael Monroe, you’d bought some new detergent, done a load of laundry, pressed it and put it away while he was out. When Five had gone to dress himself the next day, he’d tensed and ripped the shirt off him as if it was filled with writhing insects.

“What’s that smell?”

“It’s a new detergent” you’d said, bewildered, watching him scratch at his arms where the shirt had touched.

“I hate lavender.” He’d grumbled, still hugging himself a little.

“Who hates lavender?”

“I do. Just…thanks and all but let me do the laundry from now on.”

Considering this was your most hated chore, you hadn’t looked this particular gift-horse in the mouth. This had stuck, and Five was now in charge of laundry. As a result, when you’re hurriedly stuffing clothing into suitcases, you’re not sure where most of your panties and his favorite pajamas are.

"There’s a load still sitting in the drier." he mutters, distractedly, sat on a stool and checking a scope fits the Remington he intends to bring.

Before you can hurry away, he calls you back. His eyes and tone of voice seem detached.

"You said you felt it this time?"

"Yeah. I felt it come...out. It pulsed my stomach."

He looks back down at the rifle.

"You need to understand what you're getting into here. This is going to be months of isolation and I can't predict what will happen with the portals," when you meet his eyes, there's only business-like seriousness, "Diego's a sack of shit but he's right. We could go down to planned parenthood."

When the words are out, a sliver of emotion comes back into his eyes, perhaps at the look in yours.

"I..." you consider, chewing your lips, "I still don't want to."

He closes his eyes and nods.

"I thought as much," he takes one hand off the gun and rubs at his forehead, "I just wanted you to know you have the option. I know it would be the logical way forward but is it weird that I'm relieved?"

"No. Logic doesn't always come into these things. Plus, I could still hurt people: the doctors, the public."

He smiles, and the angle of his lips signals that he's still feeling the effect of drink.

"We could just aim you at the protesters outside?"

You let out a hum or two of laughter and kiss the crown of his head.

With the packing finally done, (though a little haphazardly), everyone except Diego and Santi had said goodbye as you’d got ready to leave. You couldn’t really blame Diego, but Lila gave you a hug.

“Just ignore him, kitten. He just got a scare." she kisses your cheek and hands you a box, "I found this for you, it's a doppler from when I was pregnant with Santi. It lets you hear the heartbeat."

"Thank you," you'd hugged her again, tears in your eyes.

As Viktor said his goodbye, he held you extra tight and whispered to you.

“I know what it’s like to be treated like a bomb that could go off at any moment. It’s not fair.”

You reciprocate his tight hold.

Diego watches you drive away from an upper window.

How Lila can wave you off as if you couldn’t maim her in a second, he doesn’t know. Well, if Lila loses a limb, she shouldn’t expect any sympathy from him.

They’ve already argued about it. Apparently Lila cares more about Five’s kid than her own. She watched Santi bleed like a firehose just like he did, and yet she’s downstairs acting like nothing happened?

The helplessness was the worst thing. He thought he could protect his boy from anything, but that portal chewed him in like a devouring maw.

Absent-mindedly, he runs the sheathed blade of one of his knives between a finger and thumb. He only turns around when a small voice sounds from Santi’s bed.

“Daddy, can we play video games now?”

It makes him smile.

“Sure. But nothing too intense. We're gonna play Animal Crossing or something.”

He turns away from the window as the car exits his field of vision.

Five has roughly six stages of drunkenness, (one fewer than Paradox Psychosis): Stage One: Elevated and jokey Stage Two: Surly Stage Three: Awful dancing Stage Four: Karaoke Stage Five: Maudlin Stage Six: Vomiting and blackouts

When he’d been called into action against Wynn, he’d been somewhere between three and four, but the hour or so of abstinence since then had brought him back down to a two.

You were driving the whole way- nearly seven hours. You could tell that not being in control of the car was difficult for him, especially with the chance of another portal appearing at any second. Your insistence that he was several times over the legal alcohol limit was the only thing that stopped him from taking the wheel. He’d tried to argue that he was fine to drive, (hadn’t he just fought Wynn well enough?), but you’d put your foot down. So instead, he sat morosely for the first hour, backseat driving in a way that made you want to drive him off an overpass.

“That’s a yield sign!”

“I know, I can see it too.”

“Sorry.”

He’d leaned his head against the door instead. His leg was shaking restlessly.

“Will they find us at the cabin?” you ask.

“Yes. Eventually, I just don't know when. We need to be vigilant and we may have to run. I can deal with the Commission once you’ve had the baby.”

“What do you mean, ‘deal with’?”

“Boom.” he mimics an explosion with his hands.

You scoff, “So the first thing you’re going to do when you become a Dad is blow up a bunch of people?”

“Yup. I’m protecting you both. Isn't that what Dads do? The limit’s 70 here, by the way”

“I know!”

“Sorry.”

“Last year you told me you were done with them- done with killing for them.”

“Correct. And what better way to ensure I keep that promise than blowing them sky high?”

His voice and eyes take on the look that scares you- the unhinged look he wore as he held the gun to your head on the night you met. That look is really just the B-side of the disorder he’s unwilling to acknowledge out loud; the other face of the neuroses that cause him to wake screaming at least once a week. You try to bring him down:

“And what if you don’t come back? How do you protect us then?”

He looks out of the window, cheek pressed against the glass. After what seems like a long time, he replies.

“Once the baby’s born, the threat should be neutralized. I suppose I could renegotiate with Herb.

“Then do that.

“Watch your blind spot.”

“FIVE I swear to God-“

“Sorry.” he says and falls silent.

You drive for a few more minutes in silence until a thought hits you,

"Shit."

“What?”

“I forgot your Christmas present.”

“Don't worry about it, dear one. We had more important things to worry about."

"So you forgot mine too?"

He lets out a little laugh. “Would I forget something like that?”

"Well now I feel bad."

He snickers, pulls out the road atlas and spends a few minutes following the route. An idea seems to strike him and he smiles boyishly.

“Hey- let’s try and make the most of this.” He leans towards you, angling his jaw in the way he knows you find most attractive. “Me and you, before the baby comes. What do they call that these days? A ‘babymoon’?”

Apparently, he’s back down to his drunk stage one.

“I’m not sure imminent threat of assassination or consumption by a rogue time portal is what the Instagram moms had in mind.”

“But would you expect any less from a baby-daddy like me?”

You catch his eye briefly. His grin broadens and his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline.

“Plus…” he continues, “A Christmas snuggled up by the fire…Bing Crosby playing…snow outside” his voice has taken on a silky quality; smooth-talking you, “it sounds pretty ideal to me.”

It does sound nice. You rock your head from side to side, seeming to weigh his words.

“Maybe I can go cut us a little Christmas tree?”

You smile, unable to keep playing nonchalant. “That does sound pretty perfect.”

He puts a hand on your leg and strokes you, inching his hand upwards and inwards. With his finger-tips, he makes little circles high on the inside of your thigh.

“I’ll have you all to myself…and out there in the woods, there’s no-one to hear you scream.”

This gives you the giggles:

"Is that supposed to be sexy?"

Five scowls, though it doesn't reach his eyes. You push him a little further; you consider teaching him to laugh at himself one of your primary responsibilities.

"That was like, the opposite of hot, Five. It makes it sound like you're going to murder me."

He laughs reluctantly, keeping his brows lowered in mock-irritation.

"I'm not ruling it out."

The first few weeks had been the idyll he’d foreseen. Once you’d got used to all the Klaus-based iconography hanging here and there, the cabin was undoubtedly pleasant. The walls and floor are wood-paneled and give off that slightly minty pine smell.

It's a small building, consisting of a single living space made up by a rustic kitchen, dining area and living room. Upstairs, on a mezzanine level is the bedroom and bathroom. In the middle of the downstairs sits a wood stove, the chimney reaching up through the center of the house, spreading warmth throughout.

Though a little threadbare in places, Klaus has clearly kept the cabin in good repair. The floors are covered in rag rugs; the chairs and bed in crocheted quilts. It would have been the perfect vacation were it not punctuated at least once a day by increasingly uncomfortable portal eruptions.

On December 20th, Five had indeed brought in a little four-foot pine. You decorated it together with threaded popcorn, a few cookies, holly and some pink hydrangea you’d found in the woods. Left from summer, the flowers had faded on their stems to a deep rust color, individual petals brown and skeletal. After unearthing some 1960s household candles from a kitchen drawer, you had managed to secure them to the end of the tree's branches with wire, lighting up the whole thing pleasantly. It was a makeshift tree but all the more special for that.

Five was, of course, an extremely adapt hunter. Thirty minutes on Christmas Eve was all he had needed to return with a buck slung over his shoulders. This he’d hung, skinned and butchered over the course of the rest of the day. The chest-freezer in the outbuilding was stuffed full of meat by the time he’d finished. You’d been both impressed and saddened by his unflinching efficiency. Survival had been his way of life for so long. He took no pleasure in hunting like some did- it was a means to an end.

The beautiful roast venison loin was the star of your Christmas meal. The canned potatoes and greens you ate with them had not done the meat justice.

After dinner, he had produced two wrapped boxes, a large and a small one.

"One of them I'm pretty sure you'll like, the other was just a guess so maybe open that first."

He handed you the smaller of the two boxes, wrapped (badly) in paper patterned with sleighs. Before you had done opening it, he'd already started talking.

“I…er…I know you don’t wear much perfume but I thought it might suit you. It reminded me of the body wash you use. Apparently that’s geranium?”

You took the bottle out of its box and spritzed it on your wrist. It was nice. While it was true that you don’t wear perfume very often, this one might be an exception.

“Do you like it?”

He was clearly trying to project his usual confidence and failing. You could tell by the slight sway in his hips that he was anxious for your approval. It was helplessly endearing. You could just imagine him, stalking around the fragrance counters of a department store before a brave retail assistant approached him.

"I love it. I'm just surprised you didn't get me Chanel No.5."

He grinned back at you, "I considered it but it seemed a little...gauche."

You'd laughed at this, an ironic smile forming.

"As if you jack off in the mirror and really love the smell of your own farts?"

"That's a weird way of putting it, but yeah."

You laughed again, applying it to the pulse point of your neck, then stood a little on tip toe to give him a peck on the lips.

"It suits you. But don't forget about the other one now."

Inside the larger gift's paper was a brown paper shoe box, tied with a red ribbon. You gaped on noticing the branding.

"Shit...Five!"

His smile was broad, "That's the one I'm sure about...but I think you might struggle wearing them as the baby gets bigger."

Inside, as you hoped, were the scalloped-edged designer pumps you'd tried on months ago but dismissed as too frivolous an expense. You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked back at you, trying to conceal that he was proud of himself.

"Wow...how did you...?"

"I have my sources," he said, mouth twitching.

You picked up one of the shoes as if it was made of glass. It was the right size. Your shining eyes met his.

"Did Lila tell you about them? Or Klaus?"

"Can't I have a bit of goddamn mystery?"

This was as good as admitting it, so you laughed and gave him a quick, fierce hug. Before breaking apart, you kissed him on the nose.

"Thank you, darling, I can't believe it!"

"Don’t mention it. Merry Christmas, beautiful."

He moved as if to kiss you again, but you were out of his grip too quickly, peeling off your thick socks to put the shoes on. It was better to make the most of them before your ankles swelled to the size of hams. Five had watched with amusement as you looked down at your feet admiringly and gave a little squee of excitement.

"So you're quite the champagne socialist at heart?"

"Oh shut up. I just wanna redistribute the champagne!"

He laughed a little. He was enjoying spoiling you. The gleam in your eye gave him what a less cynical man might describe as ‘the warm fuzzies’. All he knew was that seeing the woman he loved carrying his baby and eyes filled with childlike joy was nice, to say the least.

You spent the rest of the day lying on the rug in front of the fire, listening to and singing along with old songs, making out and talking softly about how things would be this time next year. Occasionally, you raised your feet above your heads, looked at your shoes and let out more exclamations of pleasure.

His smile was smug.

“So your gift for me has a lot to live up to, then?”

"You'll see."

As the time drags on and Christmas fades into the new year, you both begin to feel the effects of confinement. Your pregnancy bump seems to grow daily after barely being visible for so long. The baby also begins to press on your bladder, making you irritable and needing to rush to the bathroom with alarming regularity.

The hormones are also a killer, especially in this uniquely stressful situation. You find yourself beginning to cry more regularly while your sex drive, (already healthy) has rocketed to a slightly deranged level. Five struggles to keep up with your lightning-fast mood changes; confused by how quickly crying could turn into sex and vice-versa.

Ever vigilant in case the Commission made another attempt, he had set up booby traps in the surrounding woods and he checks these compulsively, never wandering out of earshot, lest he's needed to close a portal.

He's sleeping even worse than usual: you often wake in the night to find him maintaining his weapons or else reading about fetal development and how to soothe crying infants from one of the many books on the subject he brought from his Dad's study.

On one such night, a portal erupts in your sleep, waking you up with a shriek from pain like intense menstrual cramps. Furniture slides across the room, ready to plug and then be devoured by the portal.

“It’s okay- it’s okay!”

Five throws back the covers, blinking in the sudden eerie light. Finding his feet, he feels the portal’s resonance with his hands, allowing his power and instinct to work in tandem. The furniture slows by a tiny amount and he manages to key-in.

“It hurts!”

“Hold on!”

The portal thrummed and spat static electricity. This is bad. This isn't right. They've been getting worse, sure, but these pains are like a wet washcloth being wrung tight inside you.

“The baby, Five! I might be having-" but your final words are engulfed in a shriek as the washcloth ratchets to an even tighter apex.

His face screwed in concentration and grunts of effort escaping the corners of his mouth, he leans forward into his outstretched arms. Saliva flies from his mouth with his hard, hissing breathing through gritted teeth

“Nearly.”

With a yell and a forward lurch, Five dispels the portal, falling onto his hands and knees. The pain recedes, like the tide going in over rocky ocean bed. You're able to breathe fully again, so you pant. Meanwhile, Five scrambles to his feet and tosses through the bedside cabinet with little regard for the rest of the contents.

“Are you ok? Does it still hurt?”, he says, wildly.

“I…don’t know.” He finds what he's looking for: Lila's doppler. He throws the covers off you to expose your stomach.

His shaking hands fumble with the box and the machine and gel fall out onto the bed. You grab the gel while he readies the sensor and handset. You manage to get the screw-top off with difficulty and spread it onto your stomach. The handset beeps on in Five's hand and he applies the sensor. He skims it over you.

Nothing,

You’d seize his wrist and move it lower; you looking up at him and he down at you. Your eyes exchange a single look of panic while nothingness still rings in your ears.

"No." murmurs Five, answering the growing certainty in your eyes. He moves the sensor again.

...and there it is; the doppler detects the steady whoosh whoosh of the heartbeat. You breathe identical sighs of relief. He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, breathing coming to an easier rhythm.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @fivefolklore, @jamiebower88

Chapter 6 on Tumblr Next Tues

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

Note

Just cuz I can lmfao

YTAU YTAU YTAU YTAU

Enjoy some Steve POV!

X X X

Steve stares at himself in the mirror, wishing Robin was here to help him pick out an outfit. He’s meeting Eddie at the tattoo parlor at 7 so they can grab some food and walk around downtown Hawkins. It’s September, the temperature is starting to drop, and leaves are very faintly changing color.

Pulling off his navy polo, the shop owner groans and runs a hand through his hair. Fuck. Why is this so hard? Because it’s Eddie, the guys he’s unknowingly jacked off too numerous times thanks to wavs on YouTube. It’s also the guy that’s incredibly attractive and sweet and funny and kind. Jesus Christ.

Looking around his bedroom, he finally decides on a plain dark green t-shirt and his old, vintage blue grey Members Only jacket, a gift from Robin last year for Christmas. Deciding he looks good, Steve goes and brushes his teeth, then fixes his hair. Years ago he would have obsessed over it, but now he lets it mostly do its own thing. Robin always tells him it looks better than highschool, and he tries to believe her.

The walk from the apartment to Main Street is only ten minutes. Steve actually enjoys walking most days, it lets him clear his head and he likes to people-watch. The lights on Green Light’s parlor sign are lit up, letting everyone know they’re open. He’s been in a few times now, though still not many. He’s known Eddie (personally) for less than a month, but it’s nice they’re starting to hang out more.

The one issue he keeps running into is trying not to think about the fact he’s listened to this man sneeze for over two years, has built a whole fake persona for him, but now he’s hanging out with the real Eddie. The real ‘thebanished’. It’s kind of mind blowing.

Bells hit together and ring out as Steve opens the door, knocking from where they’re hung on the door knob. He smiles at Lana, the one piercer they have employed, and she smiles back, her Monroe piercing glinting in the light.

“Eddie, your boy is here!”

His boy? Steve tries to get the words to compute in his brain as he looks over to where half walls separate workstations. The middle one on the right side of the room is Eddie’s, and he can’t help but grin as a messy bun of curly brown hair pops up from behind the wall. A moment later, Steve notices Eddie’s holding a tissue in his hand. Cheeks feeling warm, Steve forces himself to walk closer. Surely he’s not sick again, right? If he is the universe has to be fucking with him.

“Hey Harrington,” Eddie beams at him.

The artist is wearing a plain black shirt and black jeans with rips at the knees, his usual attire. Tattoos litter his arms completely, spilling onto his hands. Steve thinks he’s seen some kind of design peep out from around the necks of his shirts sometimes, too. There’s a few wispy curls around his face, bangs brushing his eyebrows.

“Hey, you ready for food?”

“Yeah man, gimme just one second,” Eddie smiles and tosses the tissue into his trash can. “Sorry, I was cleaning off my gun,” he adds, gesturing to the half taken apart tattoo gun sitting on the chair.

So universe isn’t fucking with him then.

“Oh, you can f-“

“Nah, I need some food, this can wait till tomorrow,” he promises, and Steve melts a little at how genuine Eddie looks. Thoughts about Eddie and food remind Steve of six nights prior when Eddie had told he and Robin he was diabetic.

The older of the two grabs his denim jacket from the back of his chair and pulls it on, then grabs the backpack that’s sitting in the corner, also black. He turns and gives Steve another smile, then gestures to the front.

“Ready?”

Nodding, Steve follows him out, passing by two guys who look like they're in their twenties, obviously high and on the couch.

“They’re going to get the shiftiest tattoos if that weed is as strong as it smells,” Eddie laughs, walking down the sidewalk. “How was your day Stevie?”

“Hopefully they regret it,” Steve smirks, basking in the fact the air has dropped to the 60’s and 70’s recently. “It was good! Robin has that date tonight, so she wouldn’t stop talking all day…”

Steve means to continue talking but the sun catches his face and he’s not wearing sunglasses. Almost immediately his nose itches and he stops walking, eyes fluttering shut. He can feel Eddie stop too, can hear the little keychain on his backpack stop hitting the fabric.

“eiIHKSHH! heh’IhDSTCHHuh!”

He snaps his face downward, hardly covering, but directing any spray he might have toward the ground and himself.

“Sorry,” Steve blushes when he opens his eyes and sees Eddie staring at him.

Then it hits him. Duh. Eddie’s into this. Well…maybe not his sneeze personally, but anyone who has a YouTube full of wavs has to actually have the kink too. Oh god…how loud had he been? Shit, he needed to practice sneezing in front of a mirror to watch his face or something now, because what if it was super bad?

“Bless you.”

Eddie says it was an amazing amount of ease, it doesn’t come out shaky like Steve’s had weeks prior when the guy had been sick. He’s still looking at him.

“Thanks.”

“That’s rare, sneezing from the sun,” Eddie adds, and what the fuck, how is he so chill talking casually about this?

“Yeah, I think I remember reading that somewhere. I’ve always done it.”

Maybe he can have some fun with this. Eddie doesn’t know that he knows. Holy. Shit.

As they continue their walk down to the local burger place, Steve listens to Eddie talk about his friend who’s coming into town, and how he can’t wait for Robin to meet her. As they approach Benny’s Burger Joint, Steve turns and his eyes once again get light shone into them.

“IHKSHH! eiISHH’UH!”

He manages to twist away into his arm this time, sniffling after.

“Two times in one walk Stevie? Jeez, are you a vampire?”

Steve blushes and laughs, shaking his head and opening the door for the man, feeling oddly light.

#my fic #em #st #sh #prompts #asks #ytau

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urban-swan · 2 years

Text

((TW: Rant))

Kim Kardashian and the Met Gala.

I know this is probably some old news for some, but I can’t just shake this from me; it’s bothered me so much how such a thing could happen. I need to get this off my chest.

So as most of you have already seen, Kim Kardashian had worn the authentic Marilyn Monroe "Happy Birthday Mr. President" dress which dates back to 1962.

Admittedly, she wore the dress for a few moments before changing into a replica of the actual dress, but that begs the question, Why didn't she remain wearing the replica of the dress the entire time?

Not only this dress one of a kind, it is also known to be one of the most expensive dresses in the world. And also a part of history. Marilyn Monroe wore the dress to signify Women's rights and the freedom women have to wear whatever they want. Because of it's age, this dress is incredibly delicate, fragile, and sensitive. Even needing to be kept under appropriate climate levels and humidity levels while in display so it won't disintegrate. These types of historical items are so delicate, some museums question whether it is worth damaging the gown by trying to put it up on display, and whether the damage is worth it or not.

Unfortunately, Marilyn Monroe had been a victim of exploitation throughout her career. And even after her death many years ago, she is still exploited. This dress is hers, it was made and tailored to her, and it should've remained hers. She should've been the first and the last person to wear the dress. But because of peoples entitlement that has change.

I am beyond disgusted with Kim Kardashian and Ripley's for letting such a thing happen. Ripley's are the company which bought he dress when it was auctioned and put it out for display. Although they are not an official museum. they have seriously violated the ethics of Museums by letting someone wear such a gown. So even if they were to ever wish to become a museum, they have destroyed all chance of that happening ever.

Marilyn was a petite and small lady, she had a 24 or 25-inch waist, but even she struggled to fit into the dress. So much so, they had to sew her into the dress last minute. This is in no way to body-shame Kim but since she is obviously a much bigger hipped lady compared to Monroe, it is clear she would of not fit into the dress.

When looking at the Met Gala photos, you can clearly see where the damage has been done. The gown has been stretched and even Kim has stepped on the him of the dress several times. She even had that white coat with her for photos to hide the fact the dress couldn’t properly hit her. You’d think if that was the case, something would tell her or someone else would say that this wasn’t a good idea or it wouldn’t work out. Although Kim is not entirely to blame, Ripley's should've refused the idea and Kim's managers (if she has any) to shut down the idea too and instead let her wear the replica instead. And that Kim would've used her status in the world the express the importance of preserving such important things.

However, this is not the case and I am deeply heart-Broken by it.

Kim was not wearing an antique, she was wearing an artefact. And also, Ripley's had gifted Kim a lock of Marilyn's hair which I am disgusted by, these type of people have let Marilyn down. To all the people who let such a thing happen, I hope you all have your heads bowed down in shame.

There has even been pictures circulating online of the before and after of the dress after Kim had wore it; it showed visible strain and pulling on the fabric and clips, several rhinestones and gems had also come loose and fallen off.

What makes this even more saddening, is that this gown was worn by Marilyn Monroe just a few months before her death. Meaning this is one of the very last things we had of her. Although this might come across as weird, she wore this dress nude underneath and so practically her sweat and her essence was on that dress. But it has now been lost forever after being re-worn.

Kim Kardashian also were the very same authentic green ivy dress Marilyn did at the Golden Globe awards. Kim even was seen clutching the very same golden globe award Marilyn Monroe was presented to on that occasion.

Fortunately, I am not the only ones who thinks this online.

I’m going to politely put this in the best way I can: Excuse my language but for Fuck’s sake leave the poor woman alone, leave her some goddamn respect and let her rest in peace.

Sorry for that overly-long rant, hope you all enjoy the rest of your day.

(I’m also aware this isn’t my typical content/posts, really sorry but bare with.)

#marilyn monroe #kim kardashian #golden globes #met gala #disrespect #fashion #dresses #met gala 2022 #marilyn monroe dress #tw rant #personal rant #rant post #history #historical clothing #artefact #antique

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fatalezr · 1 year

Text

The Takeover - Part Ten (Finale)

Suzy woke up alone in her bed in a state of rapture. Her dreams had been filled with the thoughts of the previous night's adventures. Two days ago, she had been helping to take down the once-powerful Martinelli gang. This morning, she was waking up as a key member of the new group in charge. The thought of all the power the group could now wield was intoxicating, and she touched herself, giving herself stimulation and pleasure with her hand. "Mmm" she moaned and she continued to think of all of the work there was to do in Pacific City. There were still businesses to set up, still enemies for her to kill.

She thought about the Tommy gun that lay beneath her bed and the joyous ride they had enjoyed together. She was now a feared assassin within Pacific City. There was just a few more details to iron out. She dressed into some expensive lingerie before putting on her pinstriped trouser suit, again choosing to not wear a blouse. It was becoming her signature look and she wanted anyone to know that if they were looking down her jacket, their days were numbered.

She pulled on her fedora and gave her Tommy gun a clean. It had gotten a lot of work recently and she stroked it, taking care of every detail in it and giving it a light kiss when it was ready for use again. She loaded some magazines of bullets and got ready to face the day. It would soon be the final glorious moment for the gang in their takeover.

Suzy waited patiently for the car to arrive. It did so just after 10 and she got into the vehicle next to Annie, who was already in her pinstriped suit with a black shirt and white tie. "Ready for today?" Annie asked her.

"Oh fuck yeah" Suzy replied, already anticipating the climax later.

"Great" Annie said, "let's go and make history". They drove down towards the docks until they saw the person they wanted to converse with. Congressman Jack Gilbane had just finished a visit to a local business and was walking on his own, hands in his pockets. Annie pulled the car up alongside him and Suzy wound the window down.

"Congressman, let's have a word" she said. Gilbane sighed but then nodded and reluctantly got into the back seat of the car.

"I hear you're the one we need to thank for your intelligence last night" Annie said, "you did good Congressman".

"Th...thank you" Gilbane said, looking between the two women suspiciously, "is Ms. Monroe with you?"

"No" Suzy said, "she's got business to attend to this morning but she's got a message for you. She wants to meet. You, your top aide and all your other political lackeys. Downstairs at the Richmond Hotel, at 9pm. Don't be late".

"OK" Gilbane said, "but I need more info. What does she want to discuss?"

"Why that's simple" Annie said, giving him a smile, "the future of Pacific City".

------

Annie watched as the Congressman nodded and then got out of the car. He was a key part of their plans for the evening at the Richmond Hotel, but there was someone else around the docks they needed to meet. She drove into the area where workers were busy hauling crates ashore from a cargo ship and got out of the car.

She looked around and saw a young man in a flat cap, who jogged over to her. "We've...we've got the delivery you wanted Miss" the young man said, sounding a little nervous.

"Load it in the car" Annie said, "and Joe, don't try to cheat us. I know exactly what all the contents should be". Joe gulped but nodded. He turned to go but Annie stopped him. "Where's your union rep today?"

"Mr Kenney?" Joe said, "he's over there, you can't miss him".

Annie looked over to where Joe had pointed and saw a tall man with a clipboard and a full beard. "Stay here" she said to Suzy, before she walked over to the man. "Mr Kenney?" she said, as she approached him.

"Yeah, who wants-" Kenney said, turning and stopping his gruff sentence as he saw he was speaking to a woman in a pinstriped suit. "Oh, beg your pardon" he said sheepishly.

"You run the union on this dock, yes?" Annie asked him.

"Sure" he said, "I do". He looked around nervously.

"You used to report into Rico Martinelli" Annie said, "but these docks belong to Helen Monroe and our organisation now". She stated her words as facts, not as questions before pulling a brown envelope from inside her jacket. "Do you understand, Mr Kenney?"

"I...I do" he said. He took the envelope and his face turned to shock when he saw the cash inside.

"Ms Monroe is hosting a meeting tonight at the Richmond Hotel, 9pm. You'll be there" Annie said forcefully. Kenney nodded and Annie turned around, allowing herself a grin as she walked away.

------

Lillian slipped in through a back door of the courthouse, nodding politely at the young security guard who had let her in. He was one of Helen's informants in the legal world. She was wearing her pinstriped suit and fedora but knew there was a risk doing so brazenly in a court of law, hence the back door was her preferred means of entry.

She walked quickly up the stairs towards where the offices of the various judges at the courthouse were and stopped by the one for Hank Simmons. She knocked and heard his deep voice say "enter".

Lillian stepped into the room and immediately shut the door. The judge was finishing putting his robes on and combing his short white hair. He gasped when he saw Lillian, her pinstriped jacket open and the white blouse and black tie on display. She started to reach into her jacket pocket.

"No...no...please!" the judge said, throwing his hands in the air.

Lillian smirked and instead of pulling out her gun, pulled out an envelope with cash. "You know who sent me?" she said to the judge. He nodded. "Good. Because the last man who used to buy you off is dead. There's a new Queen in town and she wants to meet with you, tonight, 9pm at the Richmond Hotel".

She put the envelope down on a desk in front of the judge, who looked at it curiously. "Be there" Lillian warned, "or next time I'll be pulling something different on you".

The judge gulped and nodded. His face had gone as white as his hair. Lillian smirked before stepping out of the room and quickly heading back towards the exit.

------

Ruth looked from her car window at the offices of the Pacific City Tribune. It's reporters had been going back and forth all day as the news of Rico Martinelli's death had spread. She wondered what the headlines would be in their next edition. Would they show the picture of Martinelli's mutilated body with Helen's hat and Tommy gun resting in front of it? She doubted the readers would have the stomach for it.

She was already wearing her pinstriped suit with a black shirt and white tie, and knew what office she needed to go to. She got out of the car and walked into the front of the newspaper. The receptionist looked up and gasped but Ruth kept walking. She climbed the stairs to the newsroom, not caring about the stares she got from other journalists.

There were some shouts and screams from the various typists and some reporters. Ruth smirked - she was not carrying a Tommy gun with her but evidently the sight of a woman in a pinstriped suit struck fear into the others. She walked past them and continued into the officer of the editor, Gil Cruickshank. He was meeting with two other men.

Ruth looked at their astonished faces as she entered. "You two, out" she ordered the sub-editors. They looked at Cruickshank who nodded his head and then left, looking fearfully at Ruth.

"Wh-what do you want?" Cruickshank asked. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no tie.

"I got an exclusive for you" Ruth said, giving him a smile, "a nice, fat, juicy one".

"What about?" Cruickshank asked.

"About the future of the reporting in this paper" she answered. She pulled an envelope from inside her jacket that was filled with cash. "But to get it you need to be at the Richmond hotel later, 9pm".

Cruickshank leaned to take the money but Ruth grabbed his arm. "Be there" she said, "or I got a different exclusive for you". She opened her jacket and showed him her Colt pistol in a shoulder holster. "I got six exclusives, all loaded". The editor gulped and Ruth released his hand.

She smirked again at the man and then walked out of the office as confidently as she had walked in.

------

Nellie sat at the table in the back room of the restaurant. She was not in her pinstriped suit but instead a white blouse and long woolen skirt. The table had been laid for lunch and looked good. She looked at her watch - her guest was running late.

There was a knock on the room door and it opened. A waiter in a white shirt and bow tie showed in a large man wearing a double-breasted suit, who looked around curiously.

"Ah Mr. Mayor, please come in" Nellie said, rising and smoothing her skirt.

Mayor Joe Trimble gave Nellie a curious look but sat down at the table opposite Nellie. "What's going on?" he asked. "I got your note...but I wasn't sure who to expect". Nellie knew that he had received an envelope of cash and an invitation to lunch at his favourite restaurant that he used to frequent and where he would often meet with Rico Martinelli.

"Yes" Nellie said, "my commiserations on the death of your old friend". The Mayor frowned and looked to the side.

"Martinelli was never a friend" he said, "more a convenient....partner".

"I know" Nellie said, "good partnerships are hard to find these days. And particularly with your re-election next year..."

"What's your point?" the Mayor asked.

"My point is you need a new partner, someone who can deliver the votes that Rico could deliver for you" Nellie told him. The Mayor gave her another curious look but it changed to surprise as Nellie reached under the table and pulled out a pinstriped fedora hat.

"Oh my god" he said quietly.

"I'm glad you understand," Nellie said, "you want the votes, Helen Monroe can deliver them. All we need is you and your deputy to join us for a chat, tonight, at the Richmond Hotel".

"And if I refuse?" Mayor Trimble asked.

"You saw Rico's house...." Nellie said, darkening her eyes at the Mayor. "and he had a lot more friends than you do Joe".

The Mayor flashed panic across his face before nodding and getting up. "I'll...I'll be there" he said, buttoning his jacket and walking out.

------

Bessie looked up from her desk. She was wearing a smart blazer over a relatively plain dress. The Police Commissioner, Don Treadwell, was in his office and he looked tired. 'I'm not surprised' she thought, 'not after last night'. She knew the Commissioner would have attended Rico Martinelli's home personally to see the dead man and most of his day was spent trying to fend off the press who wanted all the details of the gruesome crime.

The police station headquarters had been a buzz of activity. Bessie noted several captains looking around nervously, unsure what to do now the family they served had been wiped out. Even the honest cops were disoriented.

She got up from her desk and poured a coffee to take to the Commissioner. She knocked on his office door and entered. "Are you OK sir?" she said as she entered.

Treadwell looked up, looking older than his 51 years. His hairs were grey and he had bags under his eyes. "Yes Bessie, I'm fine" he said, trying to muster a smile, "thank you for the coffee". He accepted it gratefully. "You're here late" he said, looking at the clock. It was past 6pm and her shift normally finished at 5.

"Well just here to help sir" she said. "If you don't mind me saying, maybe a walk would be good for you? Help you clear your head?"

The Commissioner thought about it for a second. "Yes" he said, nodding, "yes, that's a good idea. Thank you Bessie".

She have him a smile and then shut the door to the room. 'Sucker' she thought. She waited a few minutes until she saw Treadwell exit his office, his coat on and she followed him out of the door. The Commissioner wandered away from the office towards a nearby park while Bessie looked around for a black car. She saw it, and Annie was sitting in the driver's seat. They gave each other a discreet nod.

Treadwell sat on a park bench, relaxing for a few seconds, and Bessie took her chance. She hitched up the leg of her dress and pulled a small pistol from a holster by her stocking. She walked confidently up to the Commissioner.

"Why Bessie, what-" he began to say but then froze as he saw the gun. "Bessie, what's going on?"

"You're going to come with me" she said confidently, giving him a smirk. "I have someone who you're going to want to meet".

The Commissioner looked at the gun and then her, a look of horror on his face as the truth dawned on him. "Bessie...no...you're...you're helping them?"

"Helping them? Ha!" Bessie laughed at his ignorance, "I killed four men last night alone. I was there when we slaughtered your men a couple of weeks ago. I put 50 bullets into Rico Martinelli and if you don't do as I say, I'll do the same to you". Treadwell continued to look at her in shock and horror. "Now get up" Bessie commanded, "and we'll go walk to that car, nice and easy".

He had no choice but to comply, getting up and walking towards Annie's car that now pulled up by the side of the park. He got in the car and Bessie sat next to him, keeping her gun on his chest at all times. "Where are we going?" the Commissioner asked.

"The Richmond Hotel" Bessie said, "to meet with Helen Monroe".

------

Eva looked at the three women around her in her kitchen. It was evening and they were all wearing black and sobbing. "It's just so awful!" Irene lamented. Roberta agreed. Eva just nodded her head and tried to comfort them. They still didn't know that she had been instrumental in killing their husbands.

"How did you deal with it?" Francesca asked, "when your husband...." Her voice trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge the death of Marco Petrino, Eva's former husband. The women were all married to members of the Martinelli family, or had been, until their husbands were mercilessly killed by Helen and her gang. They were also some of the inheritors of the remaining family money now its living relatives had been killed.

"The Mayor needs to do something," Irene said resolutely. "We gave him enough of the family money, he needs to do whatever it takes. Even bring in the National Guard if needs be! He needs to find whichever group of lowlifes hurt this family and kill them!"

Eva just nodded her head, laughing at the women and their foolishness in her head. The Mayor might have been a good ally when Rico was alive but he'd be one of the first to switch allegiances when the money from the family dried up. "It's OK ladies" she said, "it's OK".

"But is it?" Roberta asked.

"It will be," Eva assured her, "trust me, I know. Sometimes we need to just pick ourselves up. Change our perspective on things".

The women looked at one another. "Come on" Eva encouraged them, "we'll go get dinner, it's on me".

"Thanks Eva, you're the best," Irene said, finally giving her a brief smile.

"Of course" Eva said, "just let me go change quickly". She walked upstairs to her bedroom and shut the door. What a bunch of fools, she thought. All the women were good-looking but didn't have a shred of intelligence between them, more being trophy wives than real members of the gang.

Eva changed from her brown dress into her pinstriped trouser suit with a black shirt and a white silk tie. She savoured the moment of doing it up and then put on a fedora hat and black leather gloves. She looked in her wardrobe for her Tommy gun and some drums of ammunition. She was ready.

She began to descend the stairs to the women. "Like I say ladies" she said as she walked, "it's about changing your perspective". She kept her gun by her side and looked at them all as they saw her in all her glory. They looked terrified.

"Eva, what? No!" Irene said, standing, "no, you can't!"

"Yes I can" Eva said. She raised her Tommy gun at her waist and pointed it at the ladies, "and now like I say, it's time for us to go to dinner at the Richmond Hotel". The women shrieked a little. "Quiet!" Eva said, "one wrong move and I'll waste every one of you".

The women continued to look terrified and betrayed but each dutifully raised their hands. Eva commanded them to go out of the back door where two cars were waiting, one driven by Nellie and another by Ruth. The women were made to get into each one and Eva smiled - she was going to help show the women a really fresh perspective on life at the Richmond Hotel.

------

Kate beckoned the truck to back up further towards the back entrance of the Richmond Hotel. The evening had started to get cold and it was past 8pm. She raised her hand when it was in position and the couple of women driving it got out. Like Kate, they were dressed in pinstriped trouser suits.

The three women began unloading the bottles of moonshine from the back of the truck. It was a special batch - the last to be distilled when Rico Martinelli ran the distillery on the edge of Pacific City. Kate carried a couple of crates through the back of the hotel kitchens and handed it to a barman in the hotel's ballroom.

"Give every guest a glass" she told him, "and then at 9pm, scram. This is going to be a private meeting".

The man nodded nervously and took the crates from Kate and the other women. She looked around the ballroom. It was oriented towards a stage, with circular tables arranged and looked magnificent. The rest of the hotel had been shut down for the evening. Kate had seen to that.

She had arrived at lunchtime, already clad in her trouser suit and demanded the front desk bring the manager. The gentleman in charge of the hotel had turned white as a sheet when she insisted it would be closing for the evening and all guests were to be turfed out but had dutifully done so. Most of the staff had already been sent home and told to not speak a word of what was going on. As a reward, Helen would give them a week's worth of wages and Kate had made sure each man and woman was paid properly.

There had been one bit of trouble. An elderly British couple staying on the hotel's third floor had refused to leave and at 6pm Kate knew it was time to take action. She donned her fedora and knocked on the room door.

"Yes?" the older British man said as he opened it.

Kate kicked the door open further and the man and his wife screamed. She had pulled her M1911 from her pocket, the pistol already clad with a long sound suppressor. Pap-pap-pap. Three shots had immediately downed the man, his white shirt punctured by the bullets. His wife screamed. but Kate had turned her gun on her. Pap-pap-pap-pap. Her four bullets had hit her in the chest and within seconds she was dead.

"Damn fools" Kate had said whilst staring at their bodies. They were obviously tourists who didn't know that when Helen Monroe wanted something, she got it.

Kate observed the lobby of the hotel now as guests started to arrive. She recognised a judge, a couple of police lieutenants and even the Mayor and his deputy. All of them had evidently taken the envelopes of money that had been passed through the city and with it, Helen's invitation to show up for her party. She directed them politely into the ballroom where the barman served drinks.

More men filed into the room, the editors of the two major papers, union leaders, city officials and Congressman Jack Gilbane, who was looking calmer than most. Kate was courteous to everyone and welcoming. She wanted them all relaxed when Helen started her show. There was about 30 of Pacific City's brightest and best in the room.

As they approached 9pm, she gave a nod to Eva, who turned up with three women in black all looking terrified. They were the Martinelli wives that remained in the city and loyal to him. Eva bundled them into the ballroom where they took their seats. The clock tolled 9 and Kate looked into the room - everyone had arrived. Kate shut the door to the ballroom and locked it. She went around the back of the room and the stage that was set up, where she saw what she had been waiting for.

-----

Helen saw Kate smiling as she observed the whole gang of women, now numbering over 50, waiting behind the curtain of the stage, all dressed in their pinstriped suits, Thompson submachine guns by their side. They were lined up in three rows like an army and Kate duly filed into place after one of the women handed her a weapon.

She could hear her audience of all the city leaders chattering away, enjoying their taste of moonshine. She gave a cunning smile to the women behind her, picked up a Tommy gun and then stepped forward, going in front of the curtain and on to the main stage in the ballroom.

The talking in the room almost immediately stopped as she stood at the front of the room, her long red hair blazing under the lights for all to see, gun dangling by her side. She took a few seconds to look at the set of faces. "Ladies, gentlemen, welcome" she said, "welcome to the future of Pacific City".

"Now, I know that all of you in this room received tribute from the Martinelli family in return for your support. Well Rico Martinelli is dead". She let the words hang in the air for a few seconds. "It's now time for a new order within this city. I know each of you was crooked in your own way. You were all loyal to that family in one way or another. In fact, there was only one truly innocent man in all of Pacific City, isn't that right Commissioner?

She turned to see Police Commissioner Don Treadwell being pushed from behind the curtains. He was still in his uniform and he shielded his eyes as the light hit him.

"What the-?" he said as he saw Helen standing there. "My god". His eyes went around the room and he saw all of the politicians and leaders and judges.

"You never took any Martinelli money" Helen said to him, "congratulations sir". The Commissioner stood open-mouthed. "But tell me, will you take mine?"

"N....never" Treadwell said defiantly. He looked around the room. "Shame on you, shame on all of you! You're all under arrest!"

Some people in the room shifted uneasily and Helen laughed. "No Commissioner, they are not" she said, "this is my room, not yours". She raised her Tommy gun and looked at all of the faces in the room. "This is what happens to those who refuse to bend a knee".

She smiled and her gloved finger curled around the trigger of the Tommy gun. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She shot the Commissioner in the stomach, the gun roaring into life. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She continued to shoot him, hearing shouts and screams of alarm from the powerful men in the room. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She emptied the rest of the 50-bullet drum into Treadwell, whose body slumped and bowed to the floor beneath Helen.

The image of the broken policeman on the floor and bleeding in front of Helen was not lost on the room. Every eye in it was turned to her in fear. "Have I made myself understood?" Helen asked the room, "do you know who your Queen is now?".

The room was silent for a few seconds before Congressman Jack Gilbane stood up. "All hail Queen Helen!" he shouted, "All hail Queen Helen!". His eyes glistened with terror and his hand shook as he bowed deferently before her.

Others in the room took up the call, all of them scared for their lives. "All hail Queen Helen! All hail Queen Helen!". The shouts became louder and soon every politician, judge, union official and more was on their feet, bowing before Helen and shouting "All hail Queen Helen!" Even the Martinelli wives at the back of the room were doing so.

Helen let them chant her name whilst she lit one of Rico Martinelli's cuban cigars. She smoked on it for a minute whilst the chanting in the room continued. "Silence!" she said eventually and the room immediately fell quiet. "You have acknowledged me as your Queen. Now you know that every leader cannot abide....treachery".

She said the last word with malice and smiled as the curtain behind her slowly opened, revealing her army of women. They stepped forward onto the stage, fedoras on their heads, Tommy guns at their waists.

The powerful people in the room looked up, their faces almost drained of colour. They looked at Helen, questioning. She puffed on her cigar. "You're asking a question" she said, reading their minds, "you're wondering why I'd pay you all a handsome sum just to bring you here and slaughter you? Well that money used to be Rico Martinelli's, that drink used to be Rico Martinelli's, you all used to be Rico Martinelli's....and I already have your replacements lined up".

Some people screamed. The judge collapsed to his knees and pleaded. Jack Gilbane looked white as a ghost.

Helen puffed on her cigar again before holding it in her hand. "LADIES" she bellowed to her army, "WASTE THEM!".

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. The room exploded with the sound of gunfire as Helen's gang began mercilessly slaying everyone in the room. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. They swept the room with their Tommy guns. Helen reloaded her own and joined in, laughing and smoking as she did so.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She observed the slaughter as she fired. Mayor Trimble had been caught trying to flee by bullets from Annie and Nellie's guns. His double-breasted suit was ripped open and the two women had turned his chest to shreds. "MORE! MORE!" Helen shouted as the women reloaded and fired again. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She wanted nothing but total destruction and as the men and women were cut down, she laughed heartily.

"HAHAHAHA!" BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. "HAHA!" BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She heard more sounds too, not just the sound of gunfire. The women around her were moaning with pleasure. Suzy was putting what seemed to be 100 bullets into the head of Judge Hank Simmons, the old man's head now turned to nothing more than pulp. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. Kate had picked on the women at the back, particularly shooting their breasts and had been joined by Ruth. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. Eva was still sweeping her gun around the room, shooting any and every inch of a person in sight.

Smoke and cordite filled the room. The women reloaded again. There was no movement but Helen found her bloodlust was not satisfied. "MORE!" she shouted again, and the women all obeyed, laughing, screaming, shouting, moaning but most importantly shooting. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. The ballroom floor was turned to a blood red as the room was massacred in spectacular fashion but the shots continued. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. The roar of the guns only stopped when every bullet had been used.

There was so much smoke now that Helen could hardly see anything. She puffed on her cigar and listened to the sounds of pleasure from the women by her side. Suzy was touching herself. Annie and Ruth shared a passionate kiss. They were all enjoying themselves in this, their ultimate moment of victory.

Helen turned to look at them all and the women all looked at her. "Ladies, this city is ours" she declared triumphantly. "We're going to build an empire here so great no-one will touch it".

The women shouted and cheered in applause but Helen calmed them. "But that's not all," she said, "our empire will not just be here. We'll take it down the coast and across the plains and over the mountains and through the fields until every damn city in this country is ours!" She let the words hang in the air and the gang looked at her in astonishment.

"And our next target" she finally said, puffing a little on her cigar, "is down the coast. Yes, we're going to take over the jewel of Northern California, San Merido!"

She turned back to look at the bloody mess of bodies and power in the room. Annie's voice piped up behind her. "All hail Queen Helen! All hail Queen Helen!" and suddenly all the women were shouting and cheering at the top of their lungs.

"ALL HAIL QUEEN HELEN! ALL HAIL QUEEN HELEN! ALL HAIL QUEEN HELEN!"

#thetakeover #hitwoman #killer woman #female assassin #femme fatale #mafia story

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pinkchaosstories · 10 months

Text

Blood and Thorns - Chapter 15 (Part Three)

Chapter 15 (Part 3): Plans and Prayers (Read Chapter 1 (part one) here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters)

She finished grabbing the items for Frigga’s attendant and then hung the apron she was wearing to follow Stephan to Sapphire’s study. Not a room Razi liked being in much, and she hadn’t visited it since Frigga’s big breakdown. She’d been avoiding it like it was contagious, quite frankly. Razi entered the study, announced by the manservant who promptly left, closing the door behind him. Razi stood up straight and kept her expression as neutral as possible, eyes trained on the floor in front of her. “You called for me, ma’am?” Sapphire was standing at her window, and Razi felt something was off. The light orbs were darkened, the room was cold, the fireplace vacant, and Sapphire’s hands were clasped together in front of her so tightly her knuckles were white. She was usually an intimidating presence, that was for sure, but the energy coming off the woman as she turned to look at Razi was… Violent.

“Miss Wood,” Sapphire took a few steps towards Razi but stopped to stand at her desk instead. Her voice was sharp, sharper than Razi had ever heard before. “My niece seems to be ill. She claims heat exhaustion. You had her outside for quite a while today, I was informed.” “Yes ma’am. She requested I accompany her on her nature walk, as usual.” Sapphire flipped through one of the pages on her desk briefly, and silence filled the room. She let it flood the room until it threatened to suffocate them, though every so often Razi could swear she heard a buzz of electricity or see an electrical charge flash around the lady’s feet. Finally she spoke, her tone cold, severe, and heavy. “As you are aware, the Magnus-Monroes are dear friends of ours. It was important to Frigga she be there this evening. And now… she’s suddenly too ill to go.” “I’m sure she’s upset, ma’am. How can I help?” Sapphire scowled, her icy blue eyes filled with hate and her anger radiated through the air like a hail storm. “You can help by ceasing your actions towards Frigga, Miss Wood.” Razi’s blood ran cold as Sapphire began slowly approaching Razi. “I’ve tried to be tolerant, I see Frigga loves you dearly. I have done everything for her, Miss Wood, so you’ll understand this delusion you’ve ensnared her in must stop immediately. I asked you nicely last time, but this is your last chance.” Razi took a deep breath. She needed to worm her way out of this gently. This could end badly and Frigga was relying on her to be there tonight. “Ma’am, I meant no harm,” she responded slowly. “I care deeply for your niece.” Sapphire snorted with derision. “Of course you do,” she chided. “And I’m sure it would set you up for life, leeching off our family like a parasite. It’s clear to me she will not end this stupidity.” She took a few steps closer to Razi who kept her sight solidly on the floor ahead of her, keeping her face as blank as possible despite the pounding of her pulse. Sapphire continued. “I have nothing against you personally, Razi, and out of respect for your father I have been patient. He was a wonderful man and an excellent worker. You have also been a good worker until now. I’ve done my best to salvage this situation, tried to pull you away from her tactfully, gave you the opportunity to do the right thing.” Her voice lowered into a hiss, the promise of pain saturating every word. “But my patience is gone. I am so close to, not only firing you, but also having you banished from this city completely.” She stood a mere step away from Razi, who dared not look her in the eye. The air was full of electric static, jolts were peeling off Sapphire like a quiet lightning storm. “This is your last chance to do right by Frigga and our family. If I see this continue, trust me when I say you won’t have to worry about your future employment options ever again. Am I clear?” Razi clenched and unclenched her jaw. The threat hang heavily in the air. She needed out of this room in one piece and she needed to do it in a way that would ensure Sapphire still left for the evening. Razi was intimidated, but she kept calm. “Understood, ma’am.”

Sapphire glared with an intensity Razi had never personally experienced before. She just wanted out, she wanted to leave desperately. Every second alone with this woman Razi was in danger. “Get out of my sight,” Sapphire spat, abruptly turning back to her desk. “And stay in the kitchen tonight.” “Yes ma’am,” Razi replied, bowing slightly before backing up and leaving the study. She had done it, somehow. When she left, closing the door behind her, she let out a sigh of relief, she was lucky to have gotten out in one piece. She did as she was told and headed back to the kitchen, waiting out Sapphire. At 5:00 on the dot, she finally left the house. Once the carriage was out of the driveway, Razi made her way up to Frigga’s room. When she entered, she saw her in bed with Doris gathering up the dishes from the tea and ice they’d retrieved earlier. The attendant saw her and frowned, she’d been made aware of the situation, clearly, but Razi didn’t care. With luck this would be the last night she’d have to take orders from anyone. “Wood! You’re not supposed to-.” “Thank you, Doris,” Frigga interrupted sternly, accessing an authority Razi didn’t hear from her often. “But you’re excused for the evening.” “But Miss!” “Now, Doris." Doris hesitated before curtseying politely and exiting the room, closing the door behind her. Frigga shot up from the bed and ran to pull Razi in for a hug and kiss, full and warm and passionate. Determination suited her well, Razi thought vaguely. “I heard my aunt summoned you to her office.” “Yup,” Razi chuckled. “I’m definitely gettin’ fired tonight.” Frigga rushed to change into something more suitable for working magic. As comfortable as bedclothes were, she was going to need her ritual clothes. Razi had seen them once or twice from a distance, never up close, but they were just gorgeous and she gorgeous in them. A sleeveless, dark navy-blue dress with a full skirt and decorated with gold stars, tied at the waist with a gold sash. She also had black stockings underneath and some practical but elegant flats. Razi helped pull her hair back to get it out of her face as well. When it was back in a braid and tucked into a low bun, it was 5:15 and they needed to get moving. The ritual room needed to be absolutely ready for Rosalind. They had warned Frigga the circle they’d be using was complex and required the whole space, not to mention plenty of time to do the actual drawing of it. The room needed to be completely clear before Rosalind arrived at the house. The two women rushed to the room, relieved to find it void of people completely. It was a bit messy with preparations for Rosalind’s succession so they set to getting everything out into the hallway, careful to not block the doors. By the time the room was empty it was 5:50 and Rosalind would be here shortly. Frigga’s stomach flipped, suddenly acutely aware she might not make it through this. Breaking a contract like this was never a walk in the park, and her aunt had been incredibly thorough. If it went wrong, the consequences could be astronomical, her nightmares the last few nights had made that crystal clear. However, she was prepared, whatever happened, and she looked forward to her life after this. She and Razi could go anywhere, do anything they wanted. She had even made sure her things were ready to go in case they needed to leave in a hurry. And if she didn’t make it, she would still be free. She took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. Golden constellations slowly drifted across it, reminding her of what she was leaving, the protection of her family. She looked around the room nervously, her fingers brushing over her mother’s necklace on her neck. Would this be the last time she was going to be doing magic in this house?

A knock at the front door resounded faintly and the women looked at each other. Razi nodded and set off to collect Rosalind, returning with them shortly. They were also in their ritual attire, fitted black slacks and a sleeveless tunic with folds forming a ribcage down the back, though they were also wearing their usual jacket on top. Frigga ran and embraced them, and, to her surprise, they embraced her warmly back. “Thank you, Rosalind. This means everything to me.” They released Frigga from their embrace. “Are you absolutely certain?” Frigga noticed Rosalind was tense, trembling softly, but she did not remark on it. She was sure, without the slightest shadow of doubt. “Let’s get started.” Rosalind stripped their jacket, which Razi took out of the room, and began their prep-work. They had brought a bag with them and pulled out their blueprints for the ritual’s circle out, giving a copy to Frigga. “Clear?” Frigga looked it over. It looked deceivingly simple, but one small mis-mark could spell certain failure, and she knew this design hadn’t been easy to manufacture. But she nodded because, yes, it was clear. They set off, marking the dark wood flooring with chalk Rosalind had made special for the purpose. The circle was 15 feet in diameter and within held nine sigils. Most of the individual elements were familiar to Frigga, but never had precision been more important. They discussed the final details of their plans and when their work was done, it was 6:30. They stood back from the markings on the floor, inspecting it critically. While Rosalind silently walked the perimeter to look it over one last time, Frigga’s nerves began to sing. She went through the order of events one last time to ground herself: before the actual ritual they would need to cleanse the space and bring up a circle of protection. Then Frigga would formally renounce the contract, cut through the brand on her arm, and then the hard part would begin. They would be making a cursed item, essentially, using the broken contract’s energy as fuel. “Sorry for the unfortunate soul that thing comes across,” Rosalind had half-joked. They would be taking the item back to their place for safe keeping, but it was true, in unsuspecting hands, this energy within the item would spell disaster. Rosalind would channel that energy themself and one misstep would mean failure and potential permanent harm to both of them. No mistakes were allowed.

When Rosalind made it back to Frigga, completing their inspection, they motioned for Razi to come near to speak with them both. “It shouldn’t take long,” they began. “But once Frigga triggers the penalty and I start funnelling energy, we cannot be interrupted under any circumstance.” Razi nodded. “Gotcha. I’ve sent the staff to other wings of the house, and nobody should be coming up here anyway.” Rosalind nodded. “It’s best if you stood in the hallway so you can see anyone that’s coming. I understand you want to be in here but, practically, it would keep us safer.” Razi’s brow furrowed. Frigga knew they were right and she saw Razi was still not convinced of their intentions. But Rosalind did have a point, she would be more effective just outside the door. Razi’s eyes met Frigga’s and they were filled with apprehension. Frigga softly placed a hand on her cheek. “I’ll be fine, sweetie.” Razi’s untrusting gaze flickered up to Rosalind, pained and doubtful. Rosalind met her gaze, and Frigga saw they weren’t as uncomfortable under the scrutiny as she would have been. Instead, they were looking at the women with visible sympathy. “I swear to you,” they said seriously, offering a hand to Razi, “I will do my best to ensure she stays safe. I know you have no reason to trust me and plenty of reasons to be suspicious, but on my honour as the head of my family, I swear to you I will do everything in my power to help her.” Razi squared Rosalind up and down. They showed no irony and Frigga knew Razi had no choice. She had done everything possible to get them here and now she had to trust Rosalind. She shook their hand solidly. “Please just make sure you both make it,” she asked. Satisfied for the time being, Razi held Frigga tightly and they shared one last kiss, begging one another to be safe. Finally, when they parted, Razi took up her spot on guard in the hallway. “Shall we?” Rosalind offered an arm to Frigga and walked her to the north-side of the circle where she knelt down, hands just outside the chalk circle they had drawn together. Rosalind took up their spot opposite her, mirroring her stance. It was 6:40. It was time to begin.

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stringofjunkc0de · 11 months

Photo

Bored? Bold what applies to you.

You are in high school.

You dropped out of high school.

You live within 20 minutes of your best friend.

You don’t have a best friend.

You live within 20 minutes of the last person you kissed.

You live within 20 minutes of your ex.

You have hugged someone in the last 48 hours.

You have been to the movies within the last week.

You have had 3 or more boyfriends/girlfriends just this year.

You have been a designated driver.

You have broken merchandise and not paid for it.

You have played strip poker.

You are Catholic.

You are atheist.

You recycle regularly.

You are a brunette.

You have dated a blonde.

You are friends with a redhead.

You are taller than your mum.

You are taller than your dad.

You have a bank account.

You’ve written a check for less than $5.

You have visited the Statue of Liberty.

You have visited the Eiffel Tower.

You have visited Big Ben.

You have visited the Colosseum.

You have visited The Great Wall of China.

You have never been out of the country.

You have been a waiter/waitress.

You own a Bible.

You own something with a Pentagram on it.

You have used a Ouija Board.

You have been a witch for Halloween.

You have been a zombie for Halloween.

You have your eyebrow pierced.

You have a Monroe piercing.

You have your nose pierced.

You have no tattoos.

You have more than 2 tattoos.

You straighten your hair occasionally.

You have worn a dress in the last 3 days.

You live somewhere that gets snow.

You celebrate Hanukkah.

You were at your own house last New Year’s.

You were at a bar last New Year’s.

You slept through last New Year’s.

You have worked on Christmas Eve.

You have worked on Christmas.

You have been told ‘I love you’ by someone today.

You were told by someone who’s not family.

You slept in your own bed last night.

You regret kissing the last person you kissed.

You are wearing a necklace right now.

You are wearing something red.

You are wearing something blue.

You are wearing something purple.

Your phone number ends with an even number.

You have kissed the last person you called/texted.

You are currently listening to music.

You are waiting for something.

You don’t like seafood.

You have eaten deer sausage.

You have given a complete stranger your phone number.

You have been hit on at work.

You have been hit on by someone more than 20 years older than you.

You have been whistled at.

You were creeped out by it.

You are a good speller.

You are very punctual.

You were dating someone in December of 2008.

You are still dating that person.

You have cheated on someone.

You have been on a cruise ship.

You have camped out in your own backyard.

You are wearing something that doesn’t belong to you.

You are a Pisces.

You are an Aquarius.

You are a Leo.

You wonder what will happen when you die.

You are afraid of the dark.

You write in all capital letters.

You have been told you have nice handwriting.

You have had a song written for you.

You have had a picture drawn of you.

You have curly/wavy hair.

You are wearing a watch.

You are wearing flip flops.

You wouldn’t date someone who smoked.

You know someone with the same birthday as you.

You are a morning person.

You are a night owl.

You slept in past 10 am today.

You have big plans for next weekend.

You are thinking of someone right now.

Your job is stressing you out.

You don’t have a job.

You have never had a job.

You were fired from your last job.

You know sign language.

You will usually try something at least once.

You have been swimming in the last month.

You are pessimistic by nature.

You have taken a ballet class.

You have taken karate.

You have taken gymnastics.

You wish on shooting stars.

You wish at 11:11.

Your birthday has already come this year.

You have been in a relationship that lasted longer than a year.

You aren’t over your ex.

You have gone after someone you knew was bad for you.

You have let someone use you.

You were/are a teenage mom.

You are an otaku.

You are a cosplayer.

You were named after someone.

You like your name.

Your last drink was water.

You have visited somewhere said to be ‘haunted’.

You have skipped school just because you didn’t feel like going.

You have taken medicine when you ‘feel a headache coming on’.

You are self-conscious about your body.

You have a hangover

You have a pet fish.

You have had a Jehovah’s Witness show up at your house.

You have godparents.

Your parents are still married.

You have step-siblings.

You are the oldest.

You are adopted.

You have a triplet

You don’t want kids.

You want more than four kids.

You have a bad temper.

You have made out with a complete stranger.

You usually make the first move in an intimate situation.

You have broken your arm.

You have had to get stitches on your face.

You have had an MRI.

Your fingernails are painted.

You like to draw.

You like to sing.

You can play an instrument.

You keep a lot of secrets from people.

You don’t think people would accept you if they really got to know you.

You don’t trust people easily.

You borrowed something you really need to give back to someone.

You drive a car older than a 2002.

You have lost a friend you never thought you would.

You know a child who died of cancer.

You know a teenager who died in a car wreck.

You have done something illegal in the past 24 hours.

You have cut your hair in the last week.

You wear glasses.

Your favorite season is Autumn.

Your favorite color is orange.

Your favorite animal is a dolphin.

You last rode in a car with a relative.

You last rode in a car with a girl/woman.

You last rode in a car with the person you are dating.

You regularly watch Asian dramas.

You love Chinese food.

Your best friend is older than you.

You have to go to school/work tomorrow.

You answered every question truthfully.

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themakeupbrush · 2 years

Note

Sorry if this is a stupid question but is there like a reason for Kim K wear Marylin Monroe's dress? I mean, I can see why SHE would want it, but what's the point for whoever is curating the dress? Isn't it like a risk to allow someone to wear it? The dress has historical value, is it worth to risk damaging it and for what? Bad exposure? The last person who wore this dress is no longer M Monroe, doesn't that makes it a little LESS special? I'm honestly trying to understand how lending iconic looks like that works.

Some museums lend out "archival pieces" that are normally in their care to people for events like the met, there were other people wearing some today, though not as notable. What gets lent to who is really up to the museum's discretion. Some things are too fragile to be worn or need certain conditions to be preserved, or are on loan so it's not solely up to the museum, but beyond that, it's kind of fair game.

For the why, sometimes it brings publicity to the museum, or to their collection. I wouldn't have known Marilyn's dress was at Ripley's Believe it or Not in Florida before today. And in some cases, it adds to the appeal of the item. Like the Tiffany necklace was originally known for being worn by Audrey Hepburn, but now it's also known as Lady Gaga's Oscar Necklace.

In terms of risk, I'm sure there's a HUGE liability insurance policy Kim has to take out to wear it. They actually made her change into a replica before entering the party to reduce the risk of damaging it.

Personally I think it was a dumb choice, but lending out museum pieces to be worn isn't insanely out of the ordinary.

33 notes · View notes

manipvlator · 1 year

Photo

Bored? Bold what applies to you.

You are in high school.

You dropped out of high school.

You live within 20 minutes of your best friend.

You don’t have a best friend.

You live within 20 minutes of the last person you kissed.

You live within 20 minutes of your ex.

You have hugged someone in the last 48 hours.

You have been to the movies within the last week.

You have had 3 or more boyfriends/girlfriends just this year.

You have been a designated driver.

You have broken merchandise and not paid for it.

You have played strip poker.

You are Catholic.

You are atheist.

You recycle regularly.

You are a brunette.

You have dated a blonde.

You are friends with a redhead.

You are taller than your mum.

You are taller than your dad.

You have a bank account.

You’ve written a check for less than $5.

You have visited the Statue of Liberty.

You have visited the Eiffel Tower.

You have visited Big Ben.

You have visited the Colosseum.

You have visited The Great Wall of China.

You have never been out of the country.

You have been a waiter/waitress.

You own a Bible.

You own something with a Pentagram on it.

You have used a Ouija Board.

You have been a witch for Halloween.

You have been a zombie for Halloween.

You have your eyebrow pierced.

You have a Monroe piercing.

You have your nose pierced.

You have no tattoos.

You have more than 2 tattoos.

You straighten your hair occasionally.

You have worn a dress in the last 3 days.

You live somewhere that gets snow.

You celebrate Hanukkah.

You were at your own house last New Year’s.

You were at a bar last New Year’s.

You slept through last New Year’s.

You have worked on Christmas Eve.

You have worked on Christmas.

You have been told ‘I love you’ by someone today.

You were told by someone who’s not family.

You slept in your own bed last night.

You regret kissing the last person you kissed.

You are wearing a necklace right now.

You are wearing something red.

You are wearing something blue.

You are wearing something purple.

Your phone number ends with an even number.

You have kissed the last person you called/texted.

You are currently listening to music.

You are waiting for something.

You don’t like seafood.

You have eaten deer sausage.

You have given a complete stranger your phone number.

You have been hit on at work.

You have been hit on by someone more than 20 years older than you.

You have been whistled at.

You were creeped out by it.

You are a good speller.

You are very punctual.

You were dating someone in December of 2008.

You are still dating that person.

You have cheated on someone.

You have been on a cruise ship.

You have camped out in your own backyard.

You are wearing something that doesn’t belong to you.

You are a Pisces.

You are an Aquarius.

You are a Leo.

You wonder what will happen when you die.

You are afraid of the dark.

You write in all capital letters.

You have been told you have nice handwriting.

You have had a song written for you.

You have had a picture drawn of you.

You have curly/wavy hair.

You are wearing a watch.

You are wearing flip flops.

You wouldn’t date someone who smoked.

You know someone with the same birthday as you.

You are a morning person.

You are a night owl.

You slept in past 10 am today.

You have big plans for next weekend.

You are thinking of someone right now.

Your job is stressing you out.

You don’t have a job.

You have never had a job.

You were fired from your last job.

You know sign language.

You will usually try something at least once.

You have been swimming in the last month.

You are pessimistic by nature.

You have taken a ballet class.

You have taken karate.

You have taken gymnastics.

You wish on shooting stars.

You wish at 11:11.

Your birthday has already come this year.

You have been in a relationship that lasted longer than a year.

You aren’t over your ex.

You have gone after someone you knew was bad for you.

You have let someone use you.

You were/are a teenage mom.

You are an otaku.

You are a cosplayer.

You were named after someone.

You like your name.

Your last drink was water.

You have visited somewhere said to be ‘haunted’.

You have skipped school just because you didn’t feel like going.

You have taken medicine when you ‘feel a headache coming on’.

You are self-conscious about your body.

You have a hangover

You have a pet fish.

You have had a Jehovah’s Witness show up at your house.

You have godparents.

Your parents are still married.

You have step-siblings.

You are the oldest.

You are adopted.

You have a triplet

You don’t want kids.

You want more than four kids.

You have a bad temper.

You have made out with a complete stranger.

You usually make the first move in an intimate situation.

You have broken your arm.

You have had to get stitches on your face.

You have had an MRI.

Your fingernails are painted.

You like to draw.

You like to sing.

You can play an instrument.

You keep a lot of secrets from people.

You don’t think people would accept you if they really got to know you.

You don’t trust people easily.

You borrowed something you really need to give back to someone.

You drive a car older than a 2002.

You have lost a friend you never thought you would.

You know a child who died of cancer.

You know a teenager who died in a car wreck.

You have done something illegal in the past 24 hours.

You have cut your hair in the last week.

You wear glasses.

Your favorite season is Autumn.

Your favorite color is orange.

Your favorite animal is a dolphin.

You last rode in a car with a relative.

You last rode in a car with a girl/woman.

You last rode in a car with the person you are dating.

You regularly watch Asian dramas.

You love Chinese food.

Your best friend is older than you.

You have to go to school/work tomorrow.

You answered every question truthfully.

#{ hc: axl }

2 notes · View notes