#pull the wool over someone's eyes : what they were doing to carmen as they raised her believing stealing was a game

[youraveragecatastrophe]

I'm not over the symbolism with Black sheep's name. They took the daughter of "the Wolf" and tried to defang her by calling her a sheep, a docile individual who follows without asking questions.

And yet they called her a black sheep. A misfit, an outcast, one who stands out.

And she was : only child on the island, a promising thief before even starting her training, and eventually being "in a league of her own".

It's almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. Why were they surprised when the one they'd marked as different from the flock ended up rebelling against it completely?

[iamkatehardy]

You Rock My World (Tom Hardy x Reader) - Pt 1

Requests: @jenavecia : Yay!! Would you be willing to write about Tom and a insanely talented and famous rock star? Would love for her to be a bit temperamental with those around her and for him to know how to handle her. Smut and fluff are highly favored 😊 , @thisisjeany: Smut with Tom Hardy himself please. Nr 106 🖤,  Anon : "Lets Ruin The Friendship" with Tom Hardy please , Anon: Could you do one where Tom dates a singer/actress? Like doing press with her or red carpets or even like going to one of her concerts. I think that would be cute 😭 thank you!

Warnings:  Cursing

A/N: This is just a taste of what’s about to come! But I really wanted to share it, although it’s not long! Fluff and Smut will come soon! (Already working on it!)

 You Rock My World

The meaning of time off had been long forgotten by you. Since your band became worldwide famous and your songs became ubiquitous on the radios everywhere, awakening an almost unparalleled fever, you had been working fairly nonstop hit after hit, album after album, tour after tour. Despite being considered young in comparison to the biggest rockstars in the game, you had already earned every award possible during your career, but you felt like your potential didn’t stop there. You were one of the most magnetic, enigmatic, charismatic artists on stage, that was for sure, but you were also moved by an unmatchable passion for creation, which made you a damn genius composing, writing and producing.  When a proposal had been made for composing a movie soundtrack, you didn’t even blink; there was a special place in your award shelf, waiting to be filled with an Oscar and you thought it was the perfect opportunity to go for it.

It had been a long time since you last visited London. Although you had a house and a studio there, you rarely stayed in the same place more than a week, because of work. It was good to be back. You had studied and lived there for several years; even just the lights and the smell of the city brought memories of happy times. Your return hadn’t been planned all along, though; it had been just the result of the annoyance that the dozen unanswered mails and calls to the film director caused. Patience is not inexhaustible, especially when we are talking about temperamental rockstars.

When the director saw an Aston Martin V12 with tinted windows, in accordance with your extravagant taste, he remembered the emails and calls he entirely ignored in the previous weeks and imagined the hell would break lose, as soon as you stepped in the filming sites.

With a rather neutral expression on your face, you got out of the car, walking slowly to the studio.  Taking a deep breath, you dumped all your stuff on the table of the common room, before you placed the hands on your hips. At one point you saw an assistant and snapped your fingers a couple times to get her attention.

“I need to see the director.”

“He’s busy right now, but I’ll give him the message, miss.”

“Busy. Right.” – You paused, your brows furrowing, as you scratched the back of your head. – “I’m going to sit right there.” -  With a stiff gesture, you pointed to the sofa. – “If he doesn’t see me in five minutes, then the message you’ll give him is that he needs someone new to make the soundtracks, from scratch, because I’ll be taking the ones I’ve finished so far.”

The assistant swallowed hard and nodded, before disappearing in the hall.

With a sigh, you spread yourself across the sofa, taking your leather jacket off and displaying parts of your heavily tattooed body, earning you side looks from some of the people passing by. Your eyes followed every person who shot you a nasty look, glaring fiercely at each one of them.

The director finally joined you; the big cynical smile on his face made you want to break his teeth, even more than you did before.

“(Y/N), what a pleasure!”

“Oh, I bet it is…” – You took your time to get up and come closer. – “Listen,  I’m not a sybaritic, reckless , party animal, contrary to popular belief. Stop treating me as if I was a fucking careless junkie or something like that, because I’m not.  I had to move heaven and earth, to make time to work on this, so please, respect my time, my work and all the years of preparation I had on the Royal Academy; I’m not fucking around. The prejudice against people of my musical genre is too deeply rooted in those small minds… I know it’s easier to devalue me because of what I look like and your misconceptions of people like me than acknowledging the value of my work and the person I really am, but please, if we’re working together, at least try.”

After endless  hours of recording, Tom took a break, using the common room to sit and rest a little bit. He wasn’t sure of what going on, but he loved to witness the director, who had been making his life a hell from the very beginning, being kicked in the ass by you.

“(Y/N), it’s not like that…”

“Don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes. From this moment forth, I’ll be working here. Or in my studio, but in London, so you can’t ignore me anymore.” – You gathered up a massive pile of papers you had put on the table and gave it to him. – “Anyway, here are the sheets I have so far. Just let me know what you think, once you take a look at them”

The look of complete discomfort on his face was priceless; he obviously was no idea how to work with sheets, but he was also too proud to ask for the recordings and you were too annoyed to give them to him without hearing him politely asking. With another cynical smile, he left to his office.

“Fucking arrogant prick.” –Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the rest of your stuff from the table.

“Yeah, he is.” – Tom involuntarily answered, rubbing his face with his palms.

“So, it’s not just me? Thank you!” – You came closer, mockingly shaking his hand.

“I’m Tom, by the way.” – He gave you a warm smile and you could feel your own lips slightly quirking upwards in response.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” – Rolling your eyes, you chuckled. – “I know who you are, ok? But in case it’s not mutual, I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you. I’ve got work to do and I suppose you do too, so we don’t have time for further introductions right now, but you can always Google me, if you’re interested.” – You shrugged, giving him a teasing wink.

His mouth was slightly agape and his tongue moved slowly over his lips, dazed by your sassiness and beauty. Suddenly he got dizzy and tried to steady himself by grabbing the arm of the couch, taking a deep breath and looking at it as if it was a mile away; he was white as sheet and his trembling hands tried to clean the small beads of sweat that trickled down his temple.

“Are you ok?” – Squatting in front of him, you looked up into his face and he just nodded weakly in response. You rose and got him a glass of water with some sugar, then squatted in front of him again. – “Take this, drink slowly.”

Unable to say a word, he just looked at you with his big glistening eyes. He didn’t really want to show weakness, but he was unable to control his body at that moment; his shaking hands took the glass and he drank slowly.

“Maybe it’s your body saying you need some rest, it happens to me whenever I work too much.” – You sat before him, on the floor, rubbing his knee reassuringly and giving him a faint smile.

After he finished the water, you put the glass aside and took his hands, rubbing tiny circles with your thumb.

“Now… Exhale deeply.” – You exhaled completely, making a big whoosh sound with your mouth.

He shook his head with a few soft chuckles escaping his throat.

“I’m fucking serious; it will make you feel better!” – You never giggled, but this time you giggled to yourself, at the silly, sweet sound of his chuckles.

“Ok, ok, boss!” – Following your instructions, he exhaled loudly.

“Inhale through your nose, slowly, while counting until four.” – Rubbing his hands, you observed him tenderly. – “Great, now, hold your breath, counting until seven and then exhale as you count until eight.”

“This does feel good, actually.” – Hoping it would get rid of the strangling stress, he kept breathing slowly, in and out.

“Are you feeling better now?” – Tilting your head, you gazed into his face and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Yes.” – Before he opened his eyes, he took another long deep breath, squeezing your hands on his. – “Thank you.” – He nodded and blinked slowly.

“Do you want me to take you home?” – You got up, still holding hands with him.

“No, I don’t want to bother you any longer.” – He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb on your knuckles, giving you a broad smile. – “I’ll get a ride from one of these guys, if I don’t feel well enough to drive.”

“Is it because I like speeding? I promise I’ll behave myself, Mr. Hardy!” – You tried to keep a solemn face, but you couldn’t suppress the laughter for much longer.

“Actually, I like speeding too. I’m a little crazy, underneath this.” – He pulled a face and made a hush sign, with his finger over his delectable lips. – “I just don’t want to delay you.”

“Suit yourself.” - You raised your arms in the air in defeat and then gave him a business card, with a number written on the behind – “If you need anything…”

“What a subtle way to give me your phone number.” – He smirked.

“Subtle? I don’t even know what that means, Tom. I think it was quite straightforward.” – Smirking back, you shrugged and turned on your heel, allowing your hair to flow freely as you left the room.

Tag List: @carmen-kray , @titty-teetee , @iv-nyc , @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland , @eap1935 , @ellar21 , @tiredoffeelinglost , @original-krays , @marvelgirl7 , @captstefanbrandt , @evilispretty-dead , @mollybegger-blog , @bignastyfan-nz , @scarrasco1325 , @miidailyinspiration , @haroldpain , @marvelslut16 , @willowick13 , @outofbluecomesgreen , @elemephstudies , @my-little-lucky-scissors , @overitall2018​ , @innerpaperexpertcloud​ , @matoki-darkpanda , @jay-bel , @tarjanisfrye , @tomfuckinhardy , @baliadelcuore , @sadgirrrl666 

[aelaer]

300

Tumblr’s algorithm picked up my last whumptober post and that unexpectedly rocketed me up to over 300 followers (welcome new folks, I haven’t had a chance to even look at y’all yet). But really it’s quite flattering. (I think at least 10% of them are pornbots, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

So I guess in uh, celebration/woohoo, I’m just gonna post snippets from my WIPs (outside of the whumptober ones as those are coming out in the next couple days) which… well, it’s something. :3 Yes it all has to do with Stephen, I’m going one-trick-pony mode right now and it’s a friggin blast.

This is long and has WIPs of art too, so cut cut cut bellllooww.

The farking Doctor Strange/Sherlock crossover that’s been at 80% complete since July and still has no title

However, before Sherlock got caught up into the cloak once again, he forced his eyes to the man’s hands. A lot could be discovered by someone’s hands.

And what hands they were. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of the ragged, and in some places hypertrophic scars on the back side of each finger. He quickly looked to the other hand; they were there, too. Clearly they were crushed in some sort of accident, but an accident that left him upright and without any hint of a limp. It was possible that they were caught in some sort of machinery, but both at the same time? Statistically speaking, a car accident was more likely. A car accident that damaged the bonnet of the car and crushed his fingers between the steering wheel and the dashboard, more than likely leaving permanent nerve damage. Unfortunate.

The age of the scars showed that they were healed over, but their nature made it difficult to determine how long ago they were received. With the overall lack of fading, however, it was likely that the damage occurred within the last few years. He could not see his palms and determine anything from there, but the callus upon his right middle finger determined which hand he wrote with. Or once wrote with, at any rate. His hands could certainly be worthy of further study, if only to attempt to determine their surgical history.

Upon his left wrist was, of all things, a wristwatch. He narrowed his eyes. It was a Jaeger-LeCoultre and it was not a counterfeit by any means, but it was not a model he recognized. It looked very similar to the Master Ultra Thin Moon only just released; was this an early prototype for a new model? Even as the question fluttered through his mind, he immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. There was clear wear on the band that spoke of it being worn for years, never mind the cracked face. 

Custom-made, he eventually concluded, though even that answer did not quite sit right with him. Regardless, it spoke of a man who had wealth— or used to, in any case. The wear and damage on the watch told a new picture now, but he seemed to still be connected to some form of influence. His clothing was of a very rich quality, and that was not including the unique cloak. Perhaps he was now connected with someone in the Greater Tibetan area, or someone of wealth in the Indian subcontinent. Or from there, at any rate. 

He let his eyes go up the length of the man’s sleeves. Cloth bands decorated the forearms of his otherwise seemingly-plain shirt, likely made of wool and hemp. He indulged himself and studied the embroidery on the edge of the cloak again. He received no further information concerning its origin and make beyond what he had already determined, but there was something about it that was absolutely enchanting.

But enough lingering; he finally turned his body to lay on his side and brought his eyes up to meet the bearer of this very odd ensemble of attire.

And he saw himself.

Within the Shadows (villain!AU) sequel that finalllyyy has a title, Inhibited Lodgings (I think this one is about at 85%! So soooonnnn)

When one of the nurses came in with dinner, Stephen hardly acknowledged him. The nurse set the tray on the overbed table and, after a quick, “Eat while it’s hot!” left the room.

Stephen ignored it. He continued his obsessive perusal of the tablet, shaky fingers managing to steady enough to click link after link after link.

Stark came in an hour later and the tray was still untouched. He quirked his brows up. “Y'know Doc, if you don’t eat, Doctor Cho is going to be very stern with you and you’ll feel terrible after that.”

He raised his head from the tablet at the sound of Stark’s voice, blinking. “What?” He then looked at the tray of food. “Oh… right. I forgot that was brought in.” He looked at the now stone-cold chicken and broccoli with a small grimace.

“I’ll have them make you another plate. Send that info up, FRI.” Stark sunk into one of the chairs beside the bed. “What has you so distracted, anyway?”

Stephen turned the tablet around to show him his screen, which had a list of all the Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard 200 for all genres in 2011. “I only considered yesterday that there might be differences in music between my reality and this one. A check to see if my favorite artists existed here turned into something of a full day project.”

Stark was clearly interested. “No kidding. Did you find any differences?”

“Dozens. In some ways it’s amazing that it’s only that many across hundreds of artists and songs, but I cannot imagine not having Rocky’s training montage paired with ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ ”

“I know I’ve seen a couple of those films, but I couldn’t tell you the name of any training song off the top of my head,” he said. “But I’d probably remember a song with that name.”

He nodded. “Exactly! I can live without the 'Macarena’ and 'Kung Fu Fighting’, but that song made that sequence legendary.”

Stark’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything particularly good from your reality that you found missing?”

“I’m still debating if losing all of Journey’s discography is worth never having to hear 'Don’t Stop Believing’ again.”

Time Travel Pseudo!villain Stephen aka Freakin Carmen Sandiego (yes, this is gonna happen. But it’s not happening until those two above are completed, and it’ll be written concurrently with the rest of the villain!Stephen series, as I suspect it will be on the longer side. The outline’s 4 pages long…)

He walked over and crossed his arms as Bruce replayed the video; it was definitely a better quality than the pixelated mess of everything else he’d seen so far. Even with the high-definition, though, the man’s fully-black outfit made him difficult to see against the night sky, and his face was completely covered by what looked like both a mask and hood. He’d be all-but-invisible without the glowing lights all around him. A gasp suddenly ran through the crowd, and the camera swiveled to look at the Palace of Westminster, now bereft of the tower. A few shouts then broke through, and the camera footage swung back to the night sky, but the man was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Tony asked as he leaned over Bruce and pressed both the replay and mute button.

“Uh, according to witnesses, after Elizabeth Tower vanished, he darted under the bridge— probably at the end with the screaming there— and disappeared.”

“I thought that was Big Ben,” he muttered, pressing replay again.

Bruce shook his head. “No, Big Ben’s the bell in Elizabeth Tower. I knew someone in college— British— who got rather annoyed over that misnomer. Really annoyed, actually.” He made a face to himself.

Tony, however, was busy squinting at a bit of the footage he had paused. “Does it look like he has a sort of— something— on his chest?”

The physicist leaned in and squinted alongside him. “Yeah. I’d say it almost looks like one of your arc reactors, but I don’t think your arc reactors do this.”

“But it could still be a power source,” Tony answered. 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered. “It looks almost like he’s pulling from it.”

“That makes no sense, but a lot of this alien tech is nothing like anything that exists on Earth right now. I’d be interested in figuring out how it works.”

Bruce continued to peer at it. “So would I,” he said. “If you can keep it from S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to do so.”

Tony makes a face. “They have the scepter to play with. They can have it when I’m done.”

“You’re going to have to catch him first,” he pointed out.

“Pshh, after Loki, this’ll be easy-peasy. We’ll have him caught within two days.”

ARTS (just the two Stephens for now)

I didn’t have time last weekend to work on digital Stephen, but he’s still a lot farther ahead than when I last posted here sooooooo. (I won’t have time this weekend either, so… he’ll come sooner or later).

Annddd I figured out what my ugly yellow corner square is gonna be. I’m doing fan art for a fan fic like a real nerd. Bringing out the prismacolors again. Right now I’m still in the ‘messing around with line art’ phase. I plan to do this while I’m at tabletop gaming on Sundays.

And that’s that for WIPs. Now I need to go work on ficlets.