#scuffed farah

[lululandd]

🐸✨FROGGIE FARAH✨🐸

🐸💀 ghost 💀🐸 || 🐸🧼 soap 🧼🐸 || 🐸🚁 gaz 🚁🐸 || 🐸🥥 price 🥥🐸 || 🐸👑 könig 👑🐸 || 🐸💖 rudy 💖🐸 || 🐸⭐ alejandro⭐🐸 || 🐸🦿 alex 🦿🐸

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 6

Summary: Rory arrives in Urzikstan, meets Gaz for the first time, and reads Price to filth

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, mentions of manipulation, smoking, flirting, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamic, war criminals in love

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.2 k

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 0430 - US Army Base, Urzikstan

The last rumble of the plane's landing gears hitting the tarmac stirred Rory from her less than restful sleep, her eyelids shooting open as the juttering skid of screeching rubber and bouncing shocks caused the shell of the plane to creak around her. Her body clock was completely rattled and left her playing catch up across time zones – that three and a half hour difference could be the straw that broke the camel’s back if a soldier wasn’t prepared. Unfastening her seatbelt, she stood up once the aircraft finally came to a full stop, stretching out her sore back and shoulders after being trapped in the same cramped position for hours. Every bone and joint crunched and popped like rice cereal. Twelve years of this shit and it wasn’t getting any easier on her body. Scooping up her duffel and swinging it over her shoulder, the weight of it cut into her with the heft of a butcher’s cleaver through tender meat. The shoulder injury she had received in Russia never had properly healed, an uncomfortable reminder of the not so distant past and what she was fighting for. 

Weaving through the crates, she stood at the top of the ramp at the tail end waiting for it to lower with the all clear from the crew and pulled out her pack of smokes from the pocket of her fatigue pants, slipping a cigarette between her lips. Amber lights inside started to blink, strips on the ramp lit up shortly after and the loud clank and boom of mechanisms lowering the ramp began to whirr. Cupping her hand around her lighter, shielding the flame from the gust of air blowing past her as the hull opened like a gaping maw, she lit her cigarette and made her way in a steady march down towards the ground below. Her feet back on solid earth with that unwelcome crunch of sand under the tread of her boots. 

“Morning, Sergeant.” Kate stood there on the edge of the tarmac, Rory’s only welcoming party member, her arms crossed over her chest. Unease . She could read it all over the American’s face. Looking like a slapped backside, lips twisted into a grimace, eyes weary – it didn’t take a genius to know that something was wrong no matter how cool a facade the CIA Station Chief wished to present. “You look like you could use this more than I could right now,” Rory said, passing her cigarette to the older woman without hesitation.

Laswell accepted the gift of nicotine and placed it between her lips. “Much appreciated.” Taking a long drag, she breathed out a heavy sigh full of smoke and frustration. “Things didn’t go as planned with Sulaman.” Leading her back towards the base, Kate had that no nonsense look about her as she moved with steady steps. A shock hit Rory like a bucket of ice water being poured down her back and her jaw clenched in response, she needed to know just how bad the situation was. Preparation was key when entering a shitstorm like this. “ Meaning ?” “AQ and their supporters attacked the embassy last night; breached the containment on Sulaman. There were significant casualties, including the ambassador. Alex and Farah are headed to a position to flank the escape route now. Price and Garrick arrived back here roughly an hour or so ago.” “Fucking hell,” Rory muttered, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck, scuffing her boots as she walked. “Quite the time for my arse to arrive, eh?” “Would’ve liked to have given you a proper welcome.” With a brief half grin, Kate handed the cigarette back to her.

In the darkness of pre-dawn, the burning orange tip glowed like a torch as Rory inhaled, unwavering even with the breeze that ruffled through her hair. This was a mess that needed to be scraped off, cleaned up – and fast. Shrugging it off, she continued her even pace with Laswell. “Please, as if I need the bloody pomp and circumstance,” muttering around the cigarette in her mouth, readjusting the strap of her bag. “Just let me get settled and acquainted with the place and I’ll be all yours.”

Giving her a quick squeeze of her upper arm, Kate leaned in, voice kept low. “John is –”

“In a foul fucking mood, I presume?” Tipping her head to the side, Laswell pursed her lips slightly. “You could say that, yeah.” A very careful way of saying he was absolutely fuming but was keeping it under his carefully controlled guise of stoicism. Rory knew well enough that John wouldn’t have let someone like ‘The Wolf’ get away without a reason. With the Captain, it was dead or alive, escape was rarely ever an option and certainly not one given lightly. He must have been forced to cut his losses, preferring to live to fight another day, but she could already imagine the sting that decision left in his gut. She rolled her eyes to the heavens with a heavy sigh and raked her fingers through the roots of her hair before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the few fading embers left to drift out and die in the sand.  “I’ll see to him first then.”

Behind the barracks – out of sight, out of mind – she found John leaning against the wall shrouded in smoke, thick grey clouds of it spilling from his lips masking the furrowed brow and darkened stare while he stood with his arms crossed, looking out over the grounds of the base. Broad shoulders locked in a hunch, nostrils flared – oh yeah, he was definitely pissed . She dropped the stealth and moved so as not to startle him, her steps heavier to alert him to her presence. Her gaze dragged over him, noticing the tenseness in his body. He always carried his burdens physically, it certainly made it easier to know when to tread lightly. “Figured I’d find you somewhere you could be alone but still have your eyes on everything,” she whispered softly. Price said nothing, his eyes shifting to glance sideways, his face blanketed by shadow under the brim of his boonie hat with only the orange glow of his Villa Clara burning to give away his position. It was still dark, the deep navy sky scattered with a million white specks, scenery bathed in silvery moonlight before the sun would finally crack the horizon. “Perfect for brooding out here, eh?” she teased gently, moving closer to lean beside him on the wall, brushing her arm against his. 

A low grumble followed by the puff of smoke was all she was going to get from him. Should have known better than to try and lighten the mood right now . It was always a 50/50 toss up as to whether it would work, but it was the least she could do rather than letting him stew inside his head. “Saw your plane come in,” he said between clenched teeth, chomping down on his cigar. “How was the ride?” “Bit shaky.” The toe of her boot dug at the blue tinted sand, drawing stripes into it. “Nothing I’m not used to though.”

Nodding, he shifted his shoulders against the cement wall as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other having stood in one spot for too long. “Laswell told you what happened, yeah?” John’s voice was rough, hoarse. Too much time spent barking out orders while under enemy fire, his throat left to pay for that. “Yeah,” she breathed, resting her hands behind her back, pressing her fingertips into the abrasive texture of the wall, nails digging at the little divots and chalky imperfections in the construction. “Yeah, I’ve been made aware.” “Fuckin’ cock up,” he snarled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and we’ll sort it.”

The ridges in his brow creased, every line in his face deepening as his nose wrinkled and his lip twisted as he growled, “We had ‘im, Ror.” His finger curled around his cigar as he pulled it from his mouth, punctuating his words with a stabbing motion. “Right fuckin’ there.” Rubbing a gloved hand down his face, he sighed and looked up at the sky. 

Hazel eyes followed blue as he stared at the twinkling stars slowly fading while the sun worked to rise. Out here, away from the city lights and the pollution, every constellation was clear. A beautiful sight when you weren’t in fear of being shot at, bullets whizzing past like angry wasps, it gave a person the opportunity to truly appreciate them. Moments like this in a warzone were rare, even if it was merely the quiet before the storm. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Rory rolled onto her shoulder, turning to face him as she peered under the brim of his hat to look up at his steely eyes. His gaze flickered over to her, blue depths made especially icy after the failure of the hand-off of The Wolf. “Just once –” he grumbled.

A huffed laugh slipped from her as she rested her weight against the wall. “You’re preaching to the choir, my darling.” Pulling the hat from his head, John brushed his hand back and forth through his hair, roughing up the short lengths. “They were organized, AQ’s banner is bigger than just Sulaman. Has a piece of work as his right hand man too – the Butcher .” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Just lucky you weren’t there, sweetheart…” Her gut clenched at that, he was saving her the gory details which meant it was something he knew would have likely triggered her – women and children begging to be saved more than likely. She rested her hand on the back of her neck, something to keep it busy, to hide the tremor that still clung there. “Well, it’s not exactly like you’re without your assets too, eh?” Lifting her brow as she offered him a small grin, Rory tried to change the subject. “Speaking of – when do I get to meet this Sergeant Garrick?”

“That’ll have to wait. Ordered him to get some rest.” “But of course you didn’t take your own advice.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, sarcasm dripping from her words, “Surprise, surprise.” “Bugger that.” He took another pull of his cigar, looking at her from under his heavy brow. “Can’t sleep, waitin’ on word from Farah.” Rory nodded, giving a little hum as she looked out at the horizon in the distance, musing on the exploits of the commander of the Urzikstan Liberation Force. “She’s an impressive one, that one, isn’t she?” 

With a slight smirk, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Do I have to be worried that you’re gonna get tired of me with her around, darlin’?” John asked, shooting her a half-joking accusatory look. Quick to give him a playful smack to the arm in return, she snickered at his jab. “Oi! I’ll have none of that. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, remember?”

John wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in against him, fingers gripping at the side of her, thumb rubbing small circles against her hip. “That’s right, my girl.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he rested his chin atop her head, eyes scanning their surroundings. “No one else for ya, but me,” he murmured into her hair in a low gravel. “Says the man who wasn’t even there to greet me as I got off the plane,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t think I’m forgetting about that, I'm not letting you off easy.” Pulling away just enough to look down at her, his hands wrapped around her arms, his head lowering to meet her gaze. “I’ll make it up to you later, shall I?”

“You better,” she said with a cheeky grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight. “Love you, prat.”

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle as he exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth away from her, his fingers combing through her silky hair as he held her tighter against his body. Ensnaring her in his embrace, pressing her against his bulk as he laid another kiss on her forehead. 

Hours passed and servicemen milled around as the base started to come to life with the rising of the sun. Under a large tent with several long tables and chairs, Price and Rory sat together eating breakfast, chatting and laughing. Their forks poking at scrambled eggs, strips of bacon being torn and savored as they sipped their coffee – couldn’t trust Americans to make a proper cuppa, after all . Cutlery scraped against their trays between conversation when a clearing throat and a pulled out chair broke the comfortable air between the couple. “Sir, any word?” Gaz asked, settling into the seat beside Rory, giving her a friendly little nod. Judging by that introduction, Rory could only assume John had failed to mention to his newfound sergeant that she was even coming at this point, keeping his cards close to his chest, and here she was, some random stranger in fatigues.

“Not yet,” Price said, motioning towards the female sergeant at the table. “Garrick, I’d like you to meet Sgt. Rory Sinclair of the SRR,” he rumbled. “She’ll be joinin’ us for the rest of the mission.” Deep brown eyes fell on her, the young sergeant’s expression softening towards her as she extended her hand for him to shake. She had always painted an unassuming picture, especially when compared to someone like Price. The guise of the ‘Lamb’ still held, despite the world trying to swallow her whole and the innocence having long since faded from her. 

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Gaz replied, treating her to a charming smile as his hand wrapped around hers, grasping it in a firm shake. His hand was softer than John’s, less wear and tear from years of service, fewer calluses and ingrained dirt in the lines of the skin. Still fresh faced with hope in his eyes – she had forgotten what that even looked like until now. “Oh, please, no.” She shook her head, smiling warmly. “None of the formality. I might sound like I have a stick shoved up my arse, but I assure you, that’s not me.” Their hands parted as they both turned back to their meals. “The pleasure’s all mine,” Rory added with a little nod. 

John hummed, “Don’t let the poncy accent fool you, Kyle. This one here’s as hard as they come,” he said, tipping his head in her direction. “Ain’t that right, Sinclair?”

Her attention steered towards the Captain, a smirk pulled at her lips as she cocked her brow. “Thank you, sir.” Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and glanced sideways at the new sergeant appraisingly. It was easy to tell he wasn’t a veteran like her and Price, he carried himself differently than they did – didn’t appear quite so cynical and world-weary, perhaps. He made her curious. “Where’d you serve, Garrick? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “I didn’t,” He said with a soft grin, his thumb tapping against the warm mug of coffee. “I’m not army, ma’am – CTSFO.” Gaz shifted his shoulders a little and tucked into his food. 

Rory tried her best not to show any sort of reaction to this tidbit of information, remaining straight faced as her gaze lifted to meet Price’s, gauging his reaction to her questioning. She couldn’t help herself, knowing it was better to reserve her judgements and that trusting John’s opinion was paramount, yet she couldn’t help the initial bug that wriggled in her ear. “Oh, Police …” She nodded to herself. “Right then,” she said, filling the awkward silence as she prodded at her food with her fork. 

It didn’t help that she had been raised with a healthy distrust in the police, her father being a criminal defense barrister meant that he spent a fair share of his time pointing out the flaws in evidence collection and questioning, pinpointing where things went wrong so his clients’ names could be cleared. It wasn’t fair to the Sergeant to immediately be painted with the same brush as other police officers, especially considering how quickly people were to show bias towards soldiers simply for serving - though in her case, she likely deserved those wide strokes of the brush. “Well, at least you’re used to the whole anti-terror side of things, not completely innocent to all this, eh Garrick?” “Seen my fair share of things, yeah.” His smile remained, not wavering despite her questioning – he carried a quiet confidence. “Piccadilly, now the embassy.” Gaz shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, ending her line of questioning. “It was his intel that led us to the house in Camden Town,” Price added. “You don’t say.” She glanced up at Price before redirecting her focus back to Garrick with a smug little grin. “Got something to prove then, yes?” “Just like you did.” John leaned his head down towards her, looking up at her through his creased brow in a challenge. 

She was pushing her luck and she knew it, slipping into her old routine of reading a person like they were a target she had strapped down to a chair to interrogate, rather than an ally. Zeroing in on the weak spots to tear them down, aiming for the jugular – an unnecessarily brutal reaction upon first meeting someone, but a natural defense she had built up over the years all the same.    “Quite right.” Rory grimaced and had the last sip of her coffee. “Well, nothing wrong with some new blood added to the team, yeah? Was in your position once myself. I look forward to working with you, Sergeant.” She stood up, collecting her dishes. “And if Price trusts you, then suppose I can too.” Patting Gaz’s shoulder, she moved away from the table to bring her dishes over to the dish pit bins. 

Walking away from the mess tent, she pulled the packet of cigarettes from her pocket and made her way over to the designated smoker’s section, tapping the carton against her thigh as she moved. Christ. she forgot how terrible she could be at making first impressions. It was no wonder her father had given up on trying to get her to meet his high society friends and associates, she had no bloody time for any of them and was too quick to nitpick at the flaws – not that she was any better. Pot meet kettle. 

Finding an empty patch of sand to stand in, she slipped a cigarette from the pack and brought it to her lips, pulling out her lighter next, following every step in the smoker’s ritual she had become tied to, the motions becoming just as much of an addiction as the shot of nicotine into her body with each puff. When the heavy crunch of boots – seemingly from out of nowhere – caught her off guard, the cigarette snatched away from her by large, rough hands. “Oi!” Turning to face Price looming over her, he blotted out the sun from the sky as he crossed his arms over his chest, her cigarette held firmly between his fingers. “What was that?” he rasped.

“What was what?”

Met by his stern countenance in response to her feigned innocence, her brows furrowed. “I was just trying to figure out why you picked him, is all. You always have a reason for everything. I was curious.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ror.” He shook his head and leaned down, further encroaching into her personal space. “Might not be a veteran like us, but he has it in ‘im. I can see it. That drive to make things right.” Eyes narrowing, she tilted her head and the cogs turned inside it. “No matter the cost?” His hands wrapped around the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, reacting with a bounce of his heels. “Eventually, yeah.” The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smirk. There it was . That little bit of pride that John couldn’t hide as it bubbled up to the surface, knowing he had Garrick right where he wanted him. 

If a person was to scrape off enough layers on anyone who worked in the world they did, eventually it would be found that when sufficient time was spent inside the life a rot would set in. Casual acquaintances, colleagues, family, friends, lovers – they all fell prey to the same form of thinking, every little nugget of information was a tool to be used. They could be someone that was trusted, and still the ability to exploit them existed in the back of the head. She knew John had a vault of secrets to be used against her, and in an act of mutually assured destruction she could promise the same thing about him – Laswell was no different. They were all in this same boat together, and now, Price had invited someone else to sink into this tar pit trap with them. “I know it wasn’t just his drive you chose him for, John. Every fucking soldier has drive and you’ve got the pick of the litter – there’s always something more. An eagerness, a hunger.” Rory pressed her finger into the thick material of his vest covering his chest. “That’s what you look for. And the fact that he doesn’t have years of military training under his belt? Well, that just means he’s all the more malleable, yeah?” Her self-satisfied smile painted her lips as her brow cocked. “The perfect little protege. He's a blank canvas to mold to your liking.”

“Ror –”

“Oh come on, John. Taking him under your wing, teaching him about how the world really works – or at least according to Captain Price, where the mission and its success is absolute. You've struck gold with this one, eh?” The sardonic grin grew on her face, knowing she had him dead to rights as he glared at her. “Tell me I'm wrong then. Acting mentor to someone who's none the wiser, who never had to go to war. You're in your element now, love.” 

Cold, mirthless blue eyes landed on her and she met him with her haughty smirk. His brand of intimidation had never struck the fear into her it was supposed to – he had other tools that worked far better in his arsenal. She was the rare soul who could stand up to John Price because she knew he was wrapped around her little finger in the end, and just like he had assumed all those years ago in the desert when they were alone together, she had learned to read him like a book despite that unknowable gaze and the things that lurked behind it. “You like the control, John. Always have. I knew that getting into bed with you – it’s no skin off my nose,” she said with a little shrug. “You like being the handler who knows what to say and do to get us all to follow your lead. You say ‘jump’, we say ‘how high’.” 

Shaking her head, Rory mused over the fact that this man’s whole persona had become so intrinsically linked with his rank, the power dynamics that came with it, and the weight he wielded against others – herself included – yet at the same time, the more tied together they became the more she held him by the scruff of the neck over the fact that he wasn’t willing to see her harmed again, to ever lose her. “The feeling of success is strong, but being able to wield failure against someone, that’s all the more powerful, isn’t it?” She scoffed, the smile never leaving her face. “And here I thought you might have turned over an altruistic new leaf.” 

He cut the distance between them, hunching forward, their eyes locked. “Weren’t you the same as him? Gave you a shot and look at you now, my girl. Not a single soul in the world I trust more than you, and that’s sayin’ something.” She sighed, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she lowered her voice, “Well let’s hope you don’t decide to fall in love with him too then, eh?”

“Just you, my girl.” He smirked at her, all the lines on his face crinkling. “That honor’s all yours.” Gripping her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up to look at him as he slipped her cigarette back between her lips. Steely eyes narrowed, flicking from her lips to her eyes, drawing her in with his husky whisper, “Now, be a good girl, and stop pushin’ buttons. Clear?”

Rory’s breath hitched in her throat, but she maintained control of each little reflex and tic. “Yes, Captain . Crystal.”

Pulling the lighter from his vest, he flipped open the lid and held the flame to her cigarette tip, letting it burn and smoke. The glow reflected in his irises as he looked down at her, the predatory gaze lingering for a moment as the fire weaved back and forth as it flickered. “You’re lucky we’re on base right now, you know that?” He husked, flicking the lid shut on the lighter, staring at her for a moment longer than necessary before stepping away and leaving her to her cigarette. 

Now she definitely needed the fag.

[actualbird]

dghda agency trio as marbles (because i REALLY LOVE MARBLES, OKAY)

dirk gently (x)

yellow because Of Course, but this marble is also antique and a little scuffed at the edges. it’s been through some times, but is still bright. i like how the swirls of color and bubbles inside look like a universe, and how this marble also inexplicably looks like it knows something you dont.

todd brotzman (x)

picked for the dark blues and blacks. overall a dark looking marble, but with large splashes of brightness integrated into the color. looks like a marble that was completely black until touched by something brighter

farah black (x)

did i pick this marble just because it is gorgeous? maybe. but also i like how it’s cloudy, almost clear, but clouded by other things. the color is faint, as if trying to downplay itself, but overall a well put together and classy looking marble

[elijahwoodnot]

18 with brotzly?

(!!!!!!!!!)

18. “this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. of course, i’m in.”

“Dirk, what do you mean we have to wear…these?” Todd raised a pointed eyebrow and gestured at the two garments that Dirk was holding up triumphantly, a chipper grin plastered firmly onto his face as he extended one eagerly in Todd’s direction.Can’t we just–I don’t know. Do our detecting from the outside?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd.” Dirk shook his head firmly and extended the garment closest to Todd a little further. “We’ve got to go undercover. Otherwise we won’t have the same firsthand experience! And Farah will kill us. She entrusted this part of the case to us, after all!”

“I don’t think she said anything about actually attending the wedding.” Todd replied moodily, though he extended his hand to accept the proffered tuxedo, all the same.

“We’re not ‘attending’ the wedding at all.” Dirk admonished, already shrugging out of his coat and shirt. Todd averted his eyes politely, pointedly willing the flush he could feel spreading across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears down to a more manageable level. “Well,” Dirk paused. “Not as guests, at the very least.”

“Somehow that makes it worse.” Todd grumbled, glancing down to study the black bow tie (and when was the last time he’d had to wear one of those?) clasped between his hands. “Why do we have to be part of the waitstaff, again?”

“We very obviously weren’t invited!” Dirk cried, as if the answer were obvious, and huffed a small laugh. “And, no offense Todd, really, but some of us aren’t really…believable as the guests of a multi-millionaire’s wedding. Especially not one with such….murder-y tendencies as ours.”

Todd opened his mouth to argue, his brow furrowing indignantly, before he caught sight of one of his own, terribly scuffed and torn sneakers peaking out from beneath the fabric of his jeans, and let it fall back shut with a click. “Ma–maybe we should just wait until after the wedding to continue our investigation.” he attempted, well aware that the argument was useless even as he spoke it. “Wait for Farah, y’know? Start back up again in the morning.”

“And miss this opportunity?” Dirk strode forward so that he was back in Todd’s line of vision, his mouth spread into a wide, eager grin, the excited flush on his cheeks stark against the black of the tuxedo coat now settled firmly on his shoulders. “Come on, Todd!” he pleaded, the grin faltering a little, his eyes going wide and his mouth turning down into that pout he knew damn well could earn him almost anything he asked for. “It’s a  wedding!” 

“You–” Todd paused and furrowed his brow a bit, eyeing Dirk a long moment before continuing, slowly and hesitantly. “You’ve never been to a wedding before, have you?”

Almost immediately, Dirk’s cheerful expression faltered a bit more perceptibly, coming very close to cracking into something softer, more fragile, before it returned full force. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Todd was quick to assure, gripping at the tuxedo lying in his lap with renewed determination and sitting up a bit straighter (not missing how close Dirk’s face was to his, suddenly, and certainly taking note of how Dirk’s eyelids fluttered, slightly, at the proximity). “Okay.” he heaved a sigh, sounding more weary and reluctant than he truly meant it, at this point. “This is, by far, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” When Dirk went back to pouting, however, he was quick to tack on. “Of course, I’m in.” 

The almost blinding, dimpling grin he received in response was well worth it.

—

The evening was, predictably, a total disaster. 

Things had started out pretty well, Todd would concede. The venue was large enough to allow them to pass easily enough as part of the waitstaff to the guests, and as somewhat stiff and uncomfortable guests to the shrewd-eyed waitstaff (Todd’s ratty sneakers aside). Having arrived in the middle of the ceremony, they quickly made their way to the reception hall, each grabbing their own tray from the vendor’s table and hastening off into a corner to await the reception.

Which had been when things had begun rapidly sliding downhill.

As the guests had begun filing into the hall, all glittering in their finery, the two had waited patiently for their opportunity to do….well, to do something.

“What are we supposed to do again?” Todd had inquired on a whisper, watching warily from the corner of his eye as a majority of the crowd took places on the wide expanse of dancefloor.

“I–” Dirk hesitated, watching as the band began to tune up. “I don’t know. Something.” 

“You don’t know?” Todd hissed incredulously. “Don’t we–”

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupted from over Dirk’s shoulder, not a moment later a hand extending to grasp at his arm questioningly. Dirk’s eyes went wide, and he spun around to face the assailant; an elderly woman who was peering at them curiously. “Are you–” she began.  

“Dancing!” Dirk cried, swooping forward to grip at a startled Todd’s elbow and already beginning to drag him out toward the guests, who were seemingly gearing up for a spectacularly formal waltz. “We’re dancing. Goodnight!” he called to the woman, his voice rising in pitch.  

“What the fuck, Dirk?” Todd whispered, jolting a bit as the band began to play something slow and soft, the guests around them automatically filing into a clearly pre-rehearsed and elaborate dance. 

“I panicked!” Dirk replied, shooting him an apologetic look, his brow all twisted in worry. “I’m sorry!” 

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” Todd demanded, well aware of the stares that were beginning to fall on them as they stood motionless in the middle of the dancefloor. “This isn’t exactly subtle!”

“Oh, just!” Dirk bounced a little before leaning forward to wrap his arms firmly around Todd’s waist. “Waltz! Just waltz, Todd. Everyone knows how to waltz!” he giggled a little hysterically, already beginning to step forward and lead Todd in the dance.

“Dirk, I don’t know how to–Hang on.” Todd cocked his head slightly, his arms automatically reaching up to wrap tightly around Dirk’s shoulders as he was pulled haphazardly along. “You know how to waltz?”

“Now’s not really the time.” Dirk quickly murmured, shaking his head a little and glancing around nervously.

Todd huffed a bit. “Fine, but– what about the– the murderer guy?”

“The murderer…?” Dirk made a face. “Oh! The groom. Him. Well,” he shrugged a little. “He hasn’t done anything….murder-y quite yet! Maybe he’s taking a break for the night.”

Todd frowned. “That would mean we’re here for no reason.” he paused, his pulse jolting a little at the thought. “Dirk, we’re here for no reason. He’s–he’s gonna catch on and we’re gonna be–”

“Todd.” Dirk interrupted firmly, his arms tightening slightly around Todd’s waist (and wasn’t that an incredibly effective way to get him to go completely silent). “Just…calm down? For the moment? Maybe…” he paused, so long that Todd didn’t think he was going to continue, before murmuring. “Enjoy this?”

Todd felt his eyes go wide, and he leaned back just slightly to take in the now sheepish expression overtaking Dirk’s face. “Dirk,” he hazarded, leaning back forward so that his breath could ghost over Dirk’s neck, and tightening his grip around Dirk’s shoulders almost imperceptibly. “Are you enjoying this?” he forced himself to continue past the nervous lump growing in his throat, daring to glance back up to meet Dirk’s gaze from beneath his lashes.

Dirk made a small, choked sounding noise, the skin across his cheekbones flushing a speckled pink, but made no effort to move away (much to Todd’s relief). There was a long silence, within which they simply studied each other, swaying slightly across the floor, in breathless silence, suddenly much closer than either had anticipated, before Dirk cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to reply. “Todd…” he began. 

Which was, of course, when the unmistakable sound of a muffled gunshot, followed blood-chilling scream, rang out from the end of the hall. 

The music cut off abruptly, and both Dirk and Todd turned simultaneously, arms still wrapped firmly around each other, to face the source of the noise. “Should we…?” Dirk trailed off, his gaze flitting between Todd and the crowd now growing crowd at the end of the hall.

“Later?” Todd replied, still a bit breathless. 

“Later.” Dirk agreed, nodding firmly. They both paused, exchanging a long glance in the heavy silence, before Dirk’s face split into a brilliant grin, and he surged forward, breaking each point of contact between them save for their hands, where he simply clasped Todd’s beneath his own with a small, private smile before hastening on toward the crowd.

Todd offered a small smile, squeezed Dirk’s hand, and followed doggedly at his heels.

send me a ship and a number and i’ll write you a small drabble!

[omegaplus]

# 1,662

Italians Do It Better 2017 Winners And Purchases:

During the summer and early Autumn, Johnny Jewel of Italians Do It Better announced a few free giveaways of damaged goods, first-come first-served. We at Omega WUSB had played a good amount of artists from their label since our beginning, thanks to our friends at Mix Tape Radio when they played Glass Candy’s “Warm In The Winter” (2011). So why not jump at the opportunity for free records from one of our favorite labels?  All of them, according to Jewel, were discs and vinyl records scuffed, creased, and cosmetically damaged inbetween transit from the pressing plants; so he gave those imperfect copies to those who e-mailed them with the lyric of the week. The Los Angeles label had many giveaways (including the occasional poster) and we managed to win five of them. Not bad for us and even better for Italians Do It Better, because when they just re-issued their once-vinyl titles on disc for a lower price, it prompted us to make an order with them.

In the past, we played many of the labels cuts and they became personal favorites of mine as they symbolized one great spring and summertime re-acquainting with a lost interest and watermarking one-of-a-kind memories. As mentioned, “Warm In The Winter” was the one that introduced us to the label and made us do a run of theirs. Then we found Desire’s “Mirroir Mirroir” (2009), which became one of our all-time personal favorites. Chromatics’ “Tick Of The Clock” (2012), Twisted Wires “One Night At The Raw Deal” (2009), Nite Jewel’s “We Want Our Things” (2010), Glass Candy’s “Digital Versicolor” (2007), and Mike Simonetti’s “The Third Of The Storms” solidified our first spring broadcasting season when we were getting into chillwave and synthpop. Mike Simonetti’s “The Magician” (2013) and Glass Candy’s “Redheads Feel More Pain” (2013) made a personal summer soundtrack more special than expected. Only one release we failed to get was Farah’s “Gay Boy” (2008) simply because it was unavailable. We’ll always remember that one. With all this signed, sealed, and delivered, it’s now time we catch up and fill in some holes in our label’s collection.

We were delighted receiving both packages in the mail in recent months without notice, stickered and even autographed by Jewel himself. We really liked that, which is why we made another order just so we feel that Los Angeles Italians’ magic one more time.

Chromatics Just Like You (clear / cobalt blue vinyl) 

Home motion picture soundtrack (clear red vinyl)

Symmetry Themes For An Imaginary Film 

Chromatics Kill For Love

Glass Candy B/E/A/T/B/O/X

Chromatics “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” (clear vinyl)

Desire II

Italians Do It Better After Dark 

Chromatics Night Drive

Twisted Wires Half Lives 

Italians Do It Better After Dark 2

[mattcullen]

Farah is overprotective of Derek, she had shown up unannounced to legatees because she wants to meet the people he's hanging around ("Where's Dexter?" "Who?" "That Dex boy you never shut up about it's so sweet have y'all kissed yet is he good to you?" "Oh MY GOD HES MY D-MAN" {dex heard everything and almost passed out}) but no one minds when she shows up cause she's so cool

alright lets fuckin do this

working title: Farah Nurse (eventually) ships nurseydex

Farah loves her dumb as shit baby brother, okay? The problem is, obviously, that he can be dumb as shit.

When he starts at Samwell she decides that, living in Boston, it makes sense for her to check up on him every now and again. Just to make sure her dumb, emotional, wonderful brother is thriving.

The first time Farah visits it’s mid-October and she’s barely managed to fit in her and Derek’s weekly skype calls since her promotion to sergeant and she misses him. She’s also worried about him. Derek was never that kid growing up, the one surrounded by tons of friends. So she spends most of the drive overthinking scenarios in which he’s isolated himself from everyone.

It turns out her fears are completely unfounded.

She arrives at the end of practice, most of the team either collecting stray pucks or already in the locker room. As she walks down the stairs towards the boards she sees her baby brother still out on the ice, mucking around with who she can only assume is Chowder, the goalie she’s been hearing about non-stop. She sees #11 skate up behind Derek to pull off his helmet and give him a face wash before squeezing him around the waist. She sees her brother fucking giggling as an older boy with a C on his jersey barks at them to get off the ice. She watches Derek skate up to his captain to offer an apology fist bump, more confident in his own skin that she’s ever seen him.

Farah has tears in her eyes before she even reaches the side of the rink. She hasn’t met any of the team yet but she already fucking treasures them. She spends most of their introductions mentally thanking each of them for loving her brother the way he deserves to be loved.

Well, everyone except for William Poindexter. Who makes himself scarce as soon as he realises she’s Derek’s sister. Who she’s already heard enough about to not particularly care for his brand of ignorance. Who honestly doesn’t deserve to know the wonder that is her baby brother.

As such, she becomes accustomed to their Nurse sibling skype calls turning into “Dex is so fucking ignorant”, “Dex is a small-town asshole, he just doesn’t get it”, “Dex is a dumb motherfucking white boy and I need him to stop”. Then, during Derek’s second year, she’s forced to adjust her views in response to a gradual shift, as her brother’s stories turn into “Dex took the Republican sticker off his laptop today”, “Dex apologised for the stuff he said last year”, “Dex came out to me today”. By Derek’s junior year she actively looks forward to hearing her brother moon; “Dex scored the most amazing goal last night”, “Dex got his septum pierced, it looks really um cool”, “Dex, uh, hm, Dex made out with some guy at the kegster last night, ah, yeah anyway”.

Farah decides it’s time to visit her dumb as shit baby brother again.

She doesn’t really bother knocking when she gets to the Haus anymore. The SMH have always been welcoming and since Derek moved in they insist she comes and goes as she pleases. However, her surprise visit does lead to Derek opening his bedroom looking less than thrilled to see her. She pretends to be put out by this, just for the sake of keeping up appearance.

“I know why you’re here, Rah-Rah. It’s fine, don’t worry about me,” he mutters, scuffing his socked feet against hers.

Farah crosses her arms.

“One: I don’t even get a ‘hello’ anymore? Rude. Two: I always worry about you. Especially when you’re in love with one of your best friends and won’t do anything about it so said friend goes and kisses other people. I swear, if I have to sit through one more ‘wow, Dex’s hair is so pretty, did you know his freckles go all the way down his back, I wonder if Dex likes rice-‘”

A resounding crash can be heard from the frogs’ shared bathroom before Farah can finish her sentence, followed by a deafening silence and then what is unmistakably Dex’s muffled cursing. Derek immediately goes ashy. Farah feels like an asshole.

“Shit, Der-bear. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know he was in there.” Fuck, there are tears in his eyes. Shit, shit, shit.

“It-it’s fine, I didn’t either. He-uh, must have been hangin’ out with Chowder.”

The bathroom is eerily silent. Derek’s hands are shaking. She needs to get him out of here.

“Let’s go get ice cream!” She suggests, loudly.

Derek sighs, “Farah, it’s January and it’s 7pm.” But he follows her as she turns to walk down the stairs.

Derek spends the rest of the evening sitting in Giovanni’s alternating between freaking out and being totally silent. Farah spends it feeling absolutely terrible and praying that this doesn’t fuck her brother up completely.

Eventually they have to head back. Farah can’t stay late; early shift at the station, Derek understands. She walks him back to the Haus at close to midnight, repeating mantras of apologies and promises that she’ll always be free to talk if he calls, even if she’s in the middle of taking down a perp. Derek snorts at that and finally gives her a small grin for the first time since she arrived at Samwell. Doesn’t make her feel like any less of an asshole.

She’s still thinking about his shaky smile as she approaches her car and sees a dimly lit Dex leaning against it.

“Uh, hey,” he mumbles. Astaghfirullah, he looks awkward.

Farah takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Dex. What’re you doing out here?” She shoots for casual, missing it by a mile.

Dex winces, then visibly steals himself.

“Were you joking?” He asks, bluntly.

The flat ‘what’ escapes her mouth before she can really process what he’s asking.

“Earlier, were you joking?” He repeats, the words sounding like they’re being ripped out of him. “When you said Nursey was in love with me, was it-is it true?” Dex continues to speak through gritted teeth but Farah can hear the edge of desperation.

“That’s not really for me to say,” she answers honestly.

Dex lets out a groan of frustration.

“Farah, please.” His voice cracks.

“Talk to my brother, Dex. I’ve already fucked up enough tonight. It’s time for you two to do this on your own terms.”

With that she sidesteps him and gets into her car. Over the sound of engine, she hears the frantic footfalls of Dex sprinting back towards the Haus.

***

She’s just pulled into her parking spot when she checks her phone and sees she has three new texts.

Derek ‘fuckboy’ Nurse:

[12:12am] Dex says you talked to him

[12:13am] Dex wants to talk to me now

[12:29am] Dex is a really good kisser

Farah just smiles into her scarf and sends back three eggplant emojis.

[ao3feed-brotzly]

Pray For The Rain

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mFjnRt

by cartouche

Todd's parents see in colour. They do their feeble best to explain to Todd the unknown concepts of red and purple and green. Todd can recite off by heart which colours match where, that bananas and lemons and daffodils are yellow while the sky and the sea and the scuffed shoes that he slips on to his feet are blue. Despite this they all remain in the same stubborn range of washed out greys, dull and boring and empty.

Words: 1589, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Todd Brotzman, Dirk Gently, Mentions of - Character, Farah Black, Amanda Brotzman, The Rowdy 3 (Dirk Gently)

Relationships: Todd Brotzman & Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently

Additional Tags: Soulmate AU, Non graphic violence, Grevious Bodily Harm, Angst, Fluffy Ending, First Kiss, I'm sorry if this hurts it hurts me too

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mFjnRt

[breha]

@princessparadoxical said: Always down for more Farah/Amanda 😉😉

Here’s an AU where Farah is a bouncer and the Rowdy 3 is a punk band Amanda is in: 

It was definitely Todd’s fault.

The Electric Spin was a club carved out of a gutted laundromat on the outskirts of town, the kind of place with no sign on its door or address on its website, but a packed house every night all the same. Amanda loved it: the neon piping in the ceiling, the black paint on the floor in the process of being scuffed back to white tile by hundreds of feet, the row of still-working washers and dryers behind the stage that they let the staff and bands use. Each one was named for someone famous who had played there, and they said that if you washed your gig jacket in one of them, it would be lucky forever. 

This is where Todd’s total dickwashery came in: Amanda had reached into her backpack to get her jacket and felt the frayed collar of Todd’s instead. Had he somehow mixed them up? Doing laundry at her house in the dark, maybe. That would be so Todd. Sure enough, when she pulled the jacket out, instead of her “No Spoons, No Masters” patch, there was Todd’s shitty Dead Kennedys pin. Amanda kicked the air, which hurt - her knees were not great today - and sat down on Martin’s guitar amp.

“What’s up and down, Mando?” Vogel asked. He squatted down next to her, bouncing steadily on the balls of his feet. 

She waved him off. “Nothing.” 

Suddenly, Cross, Martin, and Gripps appeared around her like they’d risen out of the stage floor. 

“Is something bothering you?” Cross said. “'Cause I’ll kick it. In the face!” He struck a karate pose and kicked the air to illustrate, complete with an enthusiastic “hiiii-yah!” Amanda couldn’t help smiling. 

“I’m fine. I just don’t have my jacket,” she explained. “I wanted to wash it before the show.” 

“Ah, you don’t need that luck,” said Martin.

“We’re already in the flow,” said Gripps.

Vogel nodded. “Word.” 

Amanda’s phone buzzed: Todd. She picked it up and walked over to sit on her drum stool. “Dude, did you take my jacket?” 

There was someone else talking in the background, so at first it was difficult to make out what Todd was saying. 

“Yeah - I mean, no, it wasn’t me. Dirk switched them. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. But I - look, I just need to - I have it and I’m outside but this lady won’t let me in and...honestly, I think she’ll punch me if I try to go around the back.” 

Amanda jumped off her stool probably faster than was wise. She ran to the front door and stuck her head out. There was Todd, looking sheepish with the jacket in hand as he argued with an absurdly beautiful girl. When Todd had said “lady,” Amanda had expected some kind of middle-aged person. This woman was Todd’s age or maybe younger, and everything about her was, well. All Amanda’s dumb gay brain could come up with was “symmetrical.” The collar of her button-up sat crisply over the lapels of her unadorned leather jacket, which led to her military-square shoulders and her regular, serious face. Even her hair, which rose around her head like a storm cloud, gave the impression that not a piece of it had ever been out of place, possibly out of sheer willpower on her part. Amanda suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about her eyeliner being uneven. 

“Hi,” Amanda said, or hoped she did. It might have come out more like “huh.” 

“Hello,” replied the symmetrical girl. “I’m filling in for Bud as bouncer until 8:00, and Mr. Park specifically told me not to let anyone in until the doors open for the show.” She spoke a little too fast, as if she’d prepared the words ahead of time and just wanted to get through them without fucking up. It wasn’t what Amanda would have expected her to sound like. 

“Yeah, but I’m just trying to give my sister her jacket,” Todd argued. 

The girl opened her mouth to speak, clearly about to restart a debate she and Todd had been having for who knows how many minutes, but Amanda interrupted. 

“Look, I’ll just take the jacket, okay? Todd doesn’t have to come in.” 

Amanda tried not to grin as the girl wrinkled her nose and considered this. 

“...Okay, fine.” 

“Yessss.” Amanda plucked her jacket out of Todd’s hand. “Thank you so much, dude. You’re my favorite brother.” 

She turned to go back inside, then, suddenly overcome with confidence - maybe from the luck she was about to get washing her jacket - she turned back. 

“Are you gonna stay and watch the band?” she asked. 

The symmetrical girl stared at her. “Me?” 

“Yeah, obviously you. Come on, we’ll give you a free t-shirt. I’m Amanda, the drummer.” 

In her peripheral vision, she could see Todd rolling his eyes. As if he had any flirting skills beyond bragging about being an a band. Ha! 

“Farah,” replied the girl, offering her hand for Amanda to shake. Farah. Amanda shook her hand, trying her best to look cool, then made sure to stick out her tongue at Todd behind Farah’s back before she retreated back into the club. It would be sound check soon, and they wanted to make sure things were loud to enough to damage everyone’s hearing permanently. 

**

Filling in at the Electric Spin had been an unexpected development. Farah and Bud had worked together on a security team about five years ago, and they still kept in contact to trade tactics and advice. He’d called at 09:00 to ask if she could help him out: his cat was sick, and he needed to take her to the vet, so he wouldn’t be able to make it to work until 20:00. After a few minutes of mentally adjusting her plan for the day, she’d agreed. Bud was her friend, maybe. You were supposed to be there for friends. Probably. 

The sad guy with the jacket had also been unexpected, as was his drummer sister with the chipped nail polish - Amanda. 

“Roll with the punches,” Farah muttered to the sidewalk. “Be ready for anything.” Even messy punks who offered you a t-shirt and invited you to their show out of nowhere. Farah could go to a punk show. She was cool. Cool and relaxed. Relaxed and cool. Definitely.

Over the last hour or so, the line outside the door had grown until it curved around the block out of Farah’s sight. Amanda’s band must be popular, she realized. Everybody wore jackets with studs and had various types of jewelry on - in - their faces. People laughed and jostled each other as they waited to get in, giving the line a party-like feeling in itself. The audience had been flowing steadily into the club since 7:30, and Farah couldn’t imagine that the place could hold that many more people. 

Farah checked her watch. Bud was two minutes late. Three minutes. Three and a half.

“Hey, sorry.” 

She turned and found herself staring at a black t-shirt. There he was, finally - all 6′6′’ of him. She took a step back so she could see his face without looking up. 

“Thanks for filling in for me, Farah. Anastasia’s fine, she just ate something she shouldn’t have and I panicked.” He shrugged his giant shoulders and looked sheepish. A lot of people were looking sheepishly at her today. Well, except Amanda, who had smiled as if Farah were an old friend. 

Farah put her hand on Bud’s elbow. “I’m glad Anastasia’s okay. I think I might stay for the show.” 

The inside of the club was humid and packed with people, the kind of crowd that made Farah reach into her jacket for her knife just to hold onto something solid. She edged her way towards the stage to get a better look at the band, which seemed about to start. There were four men - maybe; it was probably not right to assume - and, tucked in the back with her drums, Amanda. She looked completely at home, spinning one of her drumsticks in her hand as she laughed at something the guitar player had said. 

As much of a hush as could be expected fell over the crowd as the frontman stepped up to the microphone. He didn’t have an instrument, although he was, nonsensically, holding a wiffle ball bat. 

“We are the Rowdy Three!” he screamed. “Let’s get rowdy!” 

Farah tried to yell to the person next to her - there are five of them! - but Amanda’s drums drowned out her voice.

It was unlike anything Farah had ever experienced. The band was a wall of noise that lifted her up and carried her away. They seemed not to care about anything as plebeian as genre; they were punk one moment, funk the next, and, for one memorable song, genuinely classical. It turned out the wiffle ball bat was for punting various objects into the audience, mostly hats and small stuffed animals. (Farah was certain she also saw at least one dildo that almost hit somebody in the eye.) She danced until she could barely breathe, and she felt, for the first time in a long time, not afraid of anything.

**

After the first set, Amanda pulled her hair into a ponytail and wandered over to the bar for a beer. She kept an eye out for Todd and Dirk, but, knowing them, they were probably either arguing or making out in a corner somewhere, neither of which she felt much like getting in the middle of. Someone pushed a side door open, and a gust of cool air blew over the back of Amanda’s neck. Man, she wanted a cigarette. The adrenaline of performing was still buzzing through her body, and her hands shook slightly as she pushed open the door and reached into her pocket for her lighter. 

A few other people were smoking in the alley, and there, leaning against the wall by the trash cans, was the lovely bouncer from earlier. Farah. She had one of the hats Martin liked to bat into the crowd in her hand. It was Amanda’s favorite of the bunch they’d bought from the secondhand store that afternoon - green with the words WOMEN WANT ME, FISH FEAR ME embroidered on the front. Farah seemed slightly bemused by it. 

“So, what do you think of the music?” Amanda asked, and Farah jumped in surprise. Amanda exhaled a cloud of smoke and grinned at her. 

Farah smiled too, and Amanda’s stomach jumped a little bit. She had an asymmetrical smile. Her hands moved in wide circles to emphasize her words. “It’s - it’s awesome - it’s brilliant. Your organizational structure and artistic personality make no sense, of course, but I had - fun. Thanks for asking me to come.” 

Amanda laughed. “You’re so weird.” 

This made Farah frown. “No, I’m not.” 

“I mean that in a good way.” 

“Oh.” 

They both looked at their shoes. Then Amanda said “Listen - ” at the same time that Farah said “I should - ” 

“You go first,” Farah said. 

“Do you want to go get a milkshake after this? I know a really cool 24-hour diner and I think you’re really cool so. You should go...there. With me.” Amanda tried not to visibly cringe at her own utter awkwardness.

Farah smiled again, apparently not noticing. “Yeah, okay.” 

**

Amanda smelled like cigarettes or incense or maybe both. She let Farah listen to her favorite Bikini Kill album with her headphones and talked about her brother and her friends a lot, but didn’t seem to think it was weird that Farah didn’t have anyone to talk about except her fish. 

“Dude, you have a betta fish? That’s so cool. Aren’t they, like, really aggressive?” 

“They’re misunderstood.” 

Farah felt Amanda’s hand slip into hers and realized that she was probably fucking up her entire schedule for tomorrow by being out this late. She also realized that she didn’t much care. For once, she felt like going with the flow. 

[ronijashworth]

Creative Inspiration: Content We Enjoyed this Autumn

The internet is bored of graphs. Let’s show them what else we’ve got. 

Following on from our post this summer, where we talked through a range of exciting new content, from peace tributes to social adverts, we now turn to what has got eyeballs on a brand this Autumn.

There’s lots of talk in the industry right now about off-site ranking factors beyond links, and especially those related to brand. Take this post from Sistrix, this deck from Malcom Slade, or this post on Moz from our very own Tom Capper. At Distilled, we feel a combination of link building and social activity is what gives a brand its best chance online, and that’s reflected in the pieces I’ve selected below.

In addition, I’ve tried to look beyond the tried and tested format of interactive data vis, to some of the more exciting formats that SEO and marketing teams at successful brands are exploring right now.

Here are some exciting finds I stumbled across:

1. Can you spot the hidden egg? - Bloom and Wild

Source: Bloom & Wild

There seems to have been an influx of a particular type of picture quiz. Companies by the dozen getting mainstream press and social attention with a simple static image. No interactivity, no data, no research, no complex build, just one illustration. Work with an illustrator with a distinctive style (like in this Lens Store example), to create a memorable picture puzzle for your client.

2. Mo Farah, Smile - Nike

Source: Nike

It is great to see a poetry trend taking place in advertising. The rhythm and story that binds the concept together in this ad that came out at the end of the summer for Nike. Mo Farah stating that ‘Just because he smiles, it doesn’t mean it’s easy.’ The video starts with candid footage as though shot by Mo Farah himself, this instantly grabs an audience's attention, we feel like we are viewing an Instagram story perhaps, it makes us inquisitive what glimpse will we get into this hero’s life. The stripped back shot depicting him up close and personal, joking around, this pulls us in. I have also seen poetry used for campaigning and more hard-hitting topics here with spoken word artist Hollie McNish, the rhythm and pace helping hold my attention for the full 04:40.

3. Lateness excuse generator - Dave TV

Source: Dave

When you’re crushed up against another commuter on the arduous journey to work, anything that even slightly entertains you or helps you escape the reality of the daily grind sticks in your mind. Recently Dave’s lolz ads have been tickling me. Dave does a great job of understanding that what they sell is "being amused", not TV shows.

4. Branded in memory - Signs

Source: Signs

Banner printing company signs.com, have studied how logos we see everyday are remembered, by asking people to draw them. Over 150 people drew logos like Apple, Adidas and Burger King. The hand-drawn logos were then plotted on a scale from most to least accurate. It turned out that IKEA was the easiest to remember and Starbucks the hardest.

5. The Uber Game - The Financial Times

Source: Financial Times

The Financial Times created a walk through multiple choice game to test how you will fare in the gig economy. An isometric illustration style was used to create wonderful city scenes. You are given choices such as which type of car you will buy, what sort of phone plan you sign up to, with the decisions affecting how much money you are able to make.

6. You are what you listen to - Nicc Johnson

Source: Nicc Johnson

Medium launched this long format piece that looks at how the music you listen to can match certain personality types. This is a detailed study, with quite a lot of information to consume before you reach the reward.  I am a dance music fan, which apparently means - I am creative and outgoing but not gentle! Yikes! I feel the depth of research here helps to make the conclusions much more believable.

7. Beautiful goalposts from around the UK - Michael Kirkham

Source: Michael Kirkman

Posted in the ‘sport’ and ‘football’ categories on the BBC, this photo series of goalposts around the UK, conjures up memories of simpler times. Sometimes white painted lines on cracked brick walls, or flimsy frames with scuffed holes dug into public parks, where the goalie has skidded over and over again.

8. This is a generic Millennial ad - Dissolve

Source: Dissolve

Sometimes advertising trends are so overused they become a cliche. Stock footage site Dissolve, has poked fun at clips of millennials riding bikes together into sunsets, Instagramming their food, and having rainbow coloured hair; whilst simultaneously demonstrating the wealth of on-trend imagery they have. Or perhaps challenging their clients to think outside the box with their ad narratives in the future.

9. Default Man - Grayson Perry

Source: Penguin

To help advertise his new book ‘The Descent of Man’, publishers Penguin have created a game that highlights some of the books themes: that men are often so busy trying to achieve that they believe to be masculine success they often forget the important things e.g. friendship, love and compromise. The game is just the right length, and is easy enough to complete. It borrows well-known mechanics from Super Mario, means it is easy to pick up and navigate straight away.

Santa brand book - Quiet Room

Source: Quiet Room

As we head towards Christmas I’m always reminded of this piece from 2013 by branding / tone of voice agency Quiet Room. This tongue and cheek set of brand guidelines for ‘Santa’ mocks how pernickety and overwhelming brand guidelines can sometimes be. A great piece of content marketing for themselves.

What content have you enjoyed lately? Let us know in the comments.

from Digital Marketing https://www.distilled.net/resources/creative-inspiration-content-we-enjoyed-this-autumn/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[davidrsmithlove]

Creative Inspiration: Content We Enjoyed this Autumn

The internet is bored of graphs. Let’s show them what else we’ve got. 

Following on from our post this summer, where we talked through a range of exciting new content, from peace tributes to social adverts, we now turn to what has got eyeballs on a brand this Autumn.

There’s lots of talk in the industry right now about off-site ranking factors beyond links, and especially those related to brand. Take this post from Sistrix, this deck from Malcom Slade, or this post on Moz from our very own Tom Capper. At Distilled, we feel a combination of link building and social activity is what gives a brand its best chance online, and that’s reflected in the pieces I’ve selected below.

In addition, I’ve tried to look beyond the tried and tested format of interactive data vis, to some of the more exciting formats that SEO and marketing teams at successful brands are exploring right now.

Here are some exciting finds I stumbled across:

1. Can you spot the hidden egg? - Bloom and Wild

Source: Bloom & Wild

There seems to have been an influx of a particular type of picture quiz. Companies by the dozen getting mainstream press and social attention with a simple static image. No interactivity, no data, no research, no complex build, just one illustration. Work with an illustrator with a distinctive style (like in this Lens Store example), to create a memorable picture puzzle for your client.

2. Mo Farah, Smile - Nike

Source: Nike

It is great to see a poetry trend taking place in advertising. The rhythm and story that binds the concept together in this ad that came out at the end of the summer for Nike. Mo Farah stating that ‘Just because he smiles, it doesn’t mean it’s easy.’ The video starts with candid footage as though shot by Mo Farah himself, this instantly grabs an audience's attention, we feel like we are viewing an Instagram story perhaps, it makes us inquisitive what glimpse will we get into this hero’s life. The stripped back shot depicting him up close and personal, joking around, this pulls us in. I have also seen poetry used for campaigning and more hard-hitting topics here with spoken word artist Hollie McNish, the rhythm and pace helping hold my attention for the full 04:40.

3. Lateness excuse generator - Dave TV

Source: Dave

When you’re crushed up against another commuter on the arduous journey to work, anything that even slightly entertains you or helps you escape the reality of the daily grind sticks in your mind. Recently Dave’s lolz ads have been tickling me. Dave does a great job of understanding that what they sell is "being amused", not TV shows.

4. Branded in memory - Signs

Source: Signs

Banner printing company signs.com, have studied how logos we see everyday are remembered, by asking people to draw them. Over 150 people drew logos like Apple, Adidas and Burger King. The hand-drawn logos were then plotted on a scale from most to least accurate. It turned out that IKEA was the easiest to remember and Starbucks the hardest.

5. The Uber Game - The Financial Times

Source: Financial Times

The Financial Times created a walk through multiple choice game to test how you will fare in the gig economy. An isometric illustration style was used to create wonderful city scenes. You are given choices such as which type of car you will buy, what sort of phone plan you sign up to, with the decisions affecting how much money you are able to make.

6. You are what you listen to - Nicc Johnson

Source: Nicc Johnson

Medium launched this long format piece that looks at how the music you listen to can match certain personality types. This is a detailed study, with quite a lot of information to consume before you reach the reward.  I am a dance music fan, which apparently means - I am creative and outgoing but not gentle! Yikes! I feel the depth of research here helps to make the conclusions much more believable.

7. Beautiful goalposts from around the UK - Michael Kirkham

Source: Michael Kirkman

Posted in the ‘sport’ and ‘football’ categories on the BBC, this photo series of goalposts around the UK, conjures up memories of simpler times. Sometimes white painted lines on cracked brick walls, or flimsy frames with scuffed holes dug into public parks, where the goalie has skidded over and over again.

8. This is a generic Millennial ad - Dissolve

Source: Dissolve

Sometimes advertising trends are so overused they become a cliche. Stock footage site Dissolve, has poked fun at clips of millennials riding bikes together into sunsets, Instagramming their food, and having rainbow coloured hair; whilst simultaneously demonstrating the wealth of on-trend imagery they have. Or perhaps challenging their clients to think outside the box with their ad narratives in the future.

9. Default Man - Grayson Perry

Source: Penguin

To help advertise his new book ‘The Descent of Man’, publishers Penguin have created a game that highlights some of the books themes: that men are often so busy trying to achieve that they believe to be masculine success they often forget the important things e.g. friendship, love and compromise. The game is just the right length, and is easy enough to complete. It borrows well-known mechanics from Super Mario, means it is easy to pick up and navigate straight away.

Santa brand book - Quiet Room

Source: Quiet Room

As we head towards Christmas I’m always reminded of this piece from 2013 by branding / tone of voice agency Quiet Room. This tongue and cheek set of brand guidelines for ‘Santa’ mocks how pernickety and overwhelming brand guidelines can sometimes be. A great piece of content marketing for themselves.

What content have you enjoyed lately? Let us know in the comments.

[anthonykrierion]

Creative Inspiration: Content We Enjoyed this Autumn

The internet is bored of graphs. Let’s show them what else we’ve got. 

Following on from our post this summer, where we talked through a range of exciting new content, from peace tributes to social adverts, we now turn to what has got eyeballs on a brand this Autumn.

There’s lots of talk in the industry right now about off-site ranking factors beyond links, and especially those related to brand. Take this post from Sistrix, this deck from Malcom Slade, or this post on Moz from our very own Tom Capper. At Distilled, we feel a combination of link building and social activity is what gives a brand its best chance online, and that’s reflected in the pieces I’ve selected below.

In addition, I’ve tried to look beyond the tried and tested format of interactive data vis, to some of the more exciting formats that SEO and marketing teams at successful brands are exploring right now.

Here are some exciting finds I stumbled across:

1. Can you spot the hidden egg? - Bloom and Wild

Source: Bloom & Wild

There seems to have been an influx of a particular type of picture quiz. Companies by the dozen getting mainstream press and social attention with a simple static image. No interactivity, no data, no research, no complex build, just one illustration. Work with an illustrator with a distinctive style (like in this Lens Store example), to create a memorable picture puzzle for your client.

2. Mo Farah, Smile - Nike

Source: Nike

It is great to see a poetry trend taking place in advertising. The rhythm and story that binds the concept together in this ad that came out at the end of the summer for Nike. Mo Farah stating that ‘Just because he smiles, it doesn’t mean it’s easy.’ The video starts with candid footage as though shot by Mo Farah himself, this instantly grabs an audience's attention, we feel like we are viewing an Instagram story perhaps, it makes us inquisitive what glimpse will we get into this hero’s life. The stripped back shot depicting him up close and personal, joking around, this pulls us in. I have also seen poetry used for campaigning and more hard-hitting topics here with spoken word artist Hollie McNish, the rhythm and pace helping hold my attention for the full 04:40.

3. Lateness excuse generator - Dave TV

Source: Dave

When you’re crushed up against another commuter on the arduous journey to work, anything that even slightly entertains you or helps you escape the reality of the daily grind sticks in your mind. Recently Dave’s lolz ads have been tickling me. Dave does a great job of understanding that what they sell is "being amused", not TV shows.

4. Branded in memory - Signs

Source: Signs

Banner printing company signs.com, have studied how logos we see everyday are remembered, by asking people to draw them. Over 150 people drew logos like Apple, Adidas and Burger King. The hand-drawn logos were then plotted on a scale from most to least accurate. It turned out that IKEA was the easiest to remember and Starbucks the hardest.

5. The Uber Game - The Financial Times

Source: Financial Times

The Financial Times created a walk through multiple choice game to test how you will fare in the gig economy. An isometric illustration style was used to create wonderful city scenes. You are given choices such as which type of car you will buy, what sort of phone plan you sign up to, with the decisions affecting how much money you are able to make.

6. You are what you listen to - Nicc Johnson

Source: Nicc Johnson

Medium launched this long format piece that looks at how the music you listen to can match certain personality types. This is a detailed study, with quite a lot of information to consume before you reach the reward.  I am a dance music fan, which apparently means - I am creative and outgoing but not gentle! Yikes! I feel the depth of research here helps to make the conclusions much more believable.

7. Beautiful goalposts from around the UK - Michael Kirkham

Source: Michael Kirkman

Posted in the ‘sport’ and ‘football’ categories on the BBC, this photo series of goalposts around the UK, conjures up memories of simpler times. Sometimes white painted lines on cracked brick walls, or flimsy frames with scuffed holes dug into public parks, where the goalie has skidded over and over again.

8. This is a generic Millennial ad - Dissolve

Source: Dissolve

Sometimes advertising trends are so overused they become a cliche. Stock footage site Dissolve, has poked fun at clips of millennials riding bikes together into sunsets, Instagramming their food, and having rainbow coloured hair; whilst simultaneously demonstrating the wealth of on-trend imagery they have. Or perhaps challenging their clients to think outside the box with their ad narratives in the future.

9. Default Man - Grayson Perry

Source: Penguin

To help advertise his new book ‘The Descent of Man’, publishers Penguin have created a game that highlights some of the books themes: that men are often so busy trying to achieve that they believe to be masculine success they often forget the important things e.g. friendship, love and compromise. The game is just the right length, and is easy enough to complete. It borrows well-known mechanics from Super Mario, means it is easy to pick up and navigate straight away.

Santa brand book - Quiet Room

Source: Quiet Room

As we head towards Christmas I’m always reminded of this piece from 2013 by branding / tone of voice agency Quiet Room. This tongue and cheek set of brand guidelines for ‘Santa’ mocks how pernickety and overwhelming brand guidelines can sometimes be. A great piece of content marketing for themselves.

What content have you enjoyed lately? Let us know in the comments.

Creative Inspiration: Content We Enjoyed this Autumn was originally posted by Video And Blog Marketing

[dillenwaeraa]

Creative Inspiration: Content We Enjoyed this Autumn

The internet is bored of graphs. Let’s show them what else we’ve got. 

Following on from our post this summer, where we talked through a range of exciting new content, from peace tributes to social adverts, we now turn to what has got eyeballs on a brand this Autumn.

There’s lots of talk in the industry right now about off-site ranking factors beyond links, and especially those related to brand. Take this post from Sistrix, this deck from Malcom Slade, or this post on Moz from our very own Tom Capper. At Distilled, we feel a combination of link building and social activity is what gives a brand its best chance online, and that’s reflected in the pieces I’ve selected below.

In addition, I’ve tried to look beyond the tried and tested format of interactive data vis, to some of the more exciting formats that SEO and marketing teams at successful brands are exploring right now.

Here are some exciting finds I stumbled across:

1. Can you spot the hidden egg? - Bloom and Wild

Source: Bloom & Wild

There seems to have been an influx of a particular type of picture quiz. Companies by the dozen getting mainstream press and social attention with a simple static image. No interactivity, no data, no research, no complex build, just one illustration. Work with an illustrator with a distinctive style (like in this Lens Store example), to create a memorable picture puzzle for your client.

2. Mo Farah, Smile - Nike

Source: Nike

It is great to see a poetry trend taking place in advertising. The rhythm and story that binds the concept together in this ad that came out at the end of the summer for Nike. Mo Farah stating that ‘Just because he smiles, it doesn’t mean it’s easy.’ The video starts with candid footage as though shot by Mo Farah himself, this instantly grabs an audience's attention, we feel like we are viewing an Instagram story perhaps, it makes us inquisitive what glimpse will we get into this hero’s life. The stripped back shot depicting him up close and personal, joking around, this pulls us in. I have also seen poetry used for campaigning and more hard-hitting topics here with spoken word artist Hollie McNish, the rhythm and pace helping hold my attention for the full 04:40.

3. Lateness excuse generator - Dave TV

Source: Dave

When you’re crushed up against another commuter on the arduous journey to work, anything that even slightly entertains you or helps you escape the reality of the daily grind sticks in your mind. Recently Dave’s lolz ads have been tickling me. Dave does a great job of understanding that what they sell is "being amused", not TV shows.

4. Branded in memory - Signs

Source: Signs

Banner printing company signs.com, have studied how logos we see everyday are remembered, by asking people to draw them. Over 150 people drew logos like Apple, Adidas and Burger King. The hand-drawn logos were then plotted on a scale from most to least accurate. It turned out that IKEA was the easiest to remember and Starbucks the hardest.

5. The Uber Game - The Financial Times

Source: Financial Times

The Financial Times created a walk through multiple choice game to test how you will fare in the gig economy. An isometric illustration style was used to create wonderful city scenes. You are given choices such as which type of car you will buy, what sort of phone plan you sign up to, with the decisions affecting how much money you are able to make.

6. You are what you listen to - Nicc Johnson

Source: Nicc Johnson

Medium launched this long format piece that looks at how the music you listen to can match certain personality types. This is a detailed study, with quite a lot of information to consume before you reach the reward.  I am a dance music fan, which apparently means - I am creative and outgoing but not gentle! Yikes! I feel the depth of research here helps to make the conclusions much more believable.

7. Beautiful goalposts from around the UK - Michael Kirkham

Source: Michael Kirkman

Posted in the ‘sport’ and ‘football’ categories on the BBC, this photo series of goalposts around the UK, conjures up memories of simpler times. Sometimes white painted lines on cracked brick walls, or flimsy frames with scuffed holes dug into public parks, where the goalie has skidded over and over again.

8. This is a generic Millennial ad - Dissolve

Source: Dissolve

Sometimes advertising trends are so overused they become a cliche. Stock footage site Dissolve, has poked fun at clips of millennials riding bikes together into sunsets, Instagramming their food, and having rainbow coloured hair; whilst simultaneously demonstrating the wealth of on-trend imagery they have. Or perhaps challenging their clients to think outside the box with their ad narratives in the future.

9. Default Man - Grayson Perry

Source: Penguin

To help advertise his new book ‘The Descent of Man’, publishers Penguin have created a game that highlights some of the books themes: that men are often so busy trying to achieve that they believe to be masculine success they often forget the important things e.g. friendship, love and compromise. The game is just the right length, and is easy enough to complete. It borrows well-known mechanics from Super Mario, means it is easy to pick up and navigate straight away.

Santa brand book - Quiet Room

Source: Quiet Room

As we head towards Christmas I’m always reminded of this piece from 2013 by branding / tone of voice agency Quiet Room. This tongue and cheek set of brand guidelines for ‘Santa’ mocks how pernickety and overwhelming brand guidelines can sometimes be. A great piece of content marketing for themselves.

What content have you enjoyed lately? Let us know in the comments.

from Marketing https://www.distilled.net/resources/creative-inspiration-content-we-enjoyed-this-autumn/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[lululandd]

made ghost’s phone bg from the comic and im making more for the other guys (theyll have different poses so itll take a min)

hope yall are interested :3

[lululandd]

⤷ ❝ haunted ❞ headcanons 

the base is haunted lmao

im procrastinating a könig painting so my brain comes up with random ideas. rudy's part is mandatory to read im afraid, bcause it’s the preface. no pairing in this one, just silly headcanons of how each of them would react to actual ghosts.

141 + LV + ULF + laswell + könig + graves

rudy has a sixth sense—mans legit scared of ghosts lmfao—and hated the 141 base. would complain and groan if alejandro says he has to go there. one time they were chilling cleaning out guns and an old man walks past them and the hair at the back of rudy's neck just shoots up.

"did anyone feel that?"

everyone just shrugs. asks him for clarification. he mentions seeing an old man passing by and then it clicks for everyone else in the room that it wasnt their ptsd or personal things they were going through, it was legitimately ghosts.

soap now realises that the disappearing people he sees in his peripherals aren’t just a figment of his imagination. after rudy’s discovery he would ask random people he was with if they could ‘see them too’ and most of the time the answer would be yes. if they don’t turn their heads to take a closer look, that is.

gaz would always ask anyone—privates, sergeants, lieutenants, captains—to accompany him if he has to go anywhere secluded, and they have to verbally agree. one time he asked a non-verbal sergeant and thought they really didn’t like gaz because of the ignored questions and the general unhelpfulness. the realisation only comes much later, when he went to shake their hand, and it just…went through. poor boy lost sleep the next three nights.

price has known for a while about the presence of ghosts but ignores them. he recognises some of them from his folders, from the photos in family homes that he has to visit over the years, from the memories he had of the battlefield. he won’t go to the third floor bathroom though. would rather piss and shit himself in the courtyard rather than go in there again. nope.

laswell knows from price. she had asked him who was the new young private that didn’t salute as they both walk past.

“just keep walking, kate.”

she immediately understood.

ghost now realises the young private that he thought resembles tommy could actually possibly be tommy and would sometimes speak aloud when he’s alone and can feel his presence. the vision doesn't follow him outside the base and he doesn’t know if he’s relieved or distraught over the fact.

graves scoffed at the audacity of these grownass men trying to scare him with childish pranks, until one particular night his footlocker opened itself and boy did he immediately remember his sunday mass prayers.

alejandro cannot see them, but knows they are there because he could feel the static in the air if they appear close to him. he is happy he can’t see because of the stories rudy have told him. about people in their own base with disfigured faces and bodies.

farah knows all the protection prayers so they don’t bother her. honestly they’re tame compared to the djinn’s she encountered back home. everyone feels so much safer near farah because they dont see anything for once.

alex calls farah lmao. mans can’t see them just like alejandro but every hair on his body stands up and if he gets agitated enough his stump would start hurting because he’s so tense and thats where he would call for farah. she taught him some prayers to ward them off but since he’s not of the same faith it sadly doesn’t work. good try tho.

valeria yells at them. when she was held captive she would see people in her container even though it hasn’t been opened in a while. she cusses them out and she would like to think it works because she never sees them again.

poor könig followed one into a corner when he was new at the base. he asked for directions and this private graciously led the way instead of just pointing where to go. it wasn’t until soap grabs him harshly by the upper arm and lead him to the correct way that the scot told him about the hauntings. he now also asks for verbal confirmation before following anyone anywhere. he has never felt his hand sweat that much before.

[lululandd]

✨ claudia doumit ✨

the prettiest gorl in the worl (´꒳`)♡