#I will miss saying you have American Next Top Model hips | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bxthharmon · 3 years

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Pink Champagne (1) - Benny Watts x Reader

Words: 2154

Series Warnings: Drinking, substance and alcohol abuse, addiction, smoking

Pt. Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, smoking

A/N: idk how regular updates will be and idk where tf this is going but here we are lol

“masterlist”

“You’re a woman.”

The twelve year old looks up at the speaker, her mother, apprehensive. She does not consider herself as a woman, not yet anyway. Besides, the older woman was drunk - but then again, when wasn’t she?

“Not only that, you’re a pretty woman, with a kind heart. You’re just like I was.” the mother props her head up with her hands, elbows on the table as she faces her only daughter. “Men will use you. They will hurt you and bring you down and they will break you because they can. Don’t let them. Don’t let them hurt you, be strong. You have brothers, and they are strong, but not like me and you are strong. They fight with their fists and think with their dicks. Us? We fight with our words and think with our brains. Keep your head up, don’t let them push you around.” the women, staring at each other in a conflicting sense of understanding and resentment, stay silent. The mother, resenting her child for still having the opportunities that she missed, and adoring that her daughter could still be something. The young girl, resenting being told how to live her life, but adoring the fact that her mother cared enough to tell her things like this.

The mother, always the first one to break, stands, stretching, then reaching for another bottle.

Paris was everything that was expected. Y/N shopped and drank and fucked in that oddly cinematic way that everything in Paris happened, wasting two months of her life partying. She did a photoshoot for a new advertising campaign for a fashion house she is the ambassador for, and as always, got bored. After six weeks, she wound up in the same position she had been in so many times before, stocking up on months worth of wine, then finishing it within two weeks. After two months in Paris, she lay on top of the covers of her bed, wondering if she should have taken Beth up on her offer. She hadn’t spoken to any of her American friends since she left, and of the people she had seen in person, she knew that they had no connections to her American friends, so she felt safe.

Out of alcohol and cigarettes, she considered sending the door boy to get some, or even going herself, and decided to do neither. It was at this point that she realised that she had eaten a sum total of four things in two weeks, all of which were snacks, and was drinking herself to death. She decided that she wanted French toast and that overly fancy Columbian pressed coffee from the cafe down the road. She would get cigarettes on the way. So she dressed and left, greeting the surprised door boy on her way out. She bought her cigarettes, ate her French toast, drank her coffee, then considered her next move.

London was out of the question - she’d only just remembered that she’d sold her apartment. That left New York, Los Angeles or Beth’s offer of Kentucky. Los Angeles never ended well, and she didn’t want to get dragged into anything by her manager. Kentucky or New York? She would have to call Beth to decide.

So she traipsed back to her glamorous apartment and dialed Beth’s number, letting it ring out a few times before giving up. So Beth wasn’t at home, was she just out, or in New York? She knew the only way to find out would be through Harry or Benny. She chose Harry. Things between her and Benny were… well, she didn’t know what they were.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am though - you never call.”

“Phone calls are so much hassle.”

“More hassle than seeing people in person?”

She paused, unable to outwit him, especially given the hangover she could feel creeping up on her. “Is Beth in Kentucky at the moment?”

“Beth? No.” he answered, “Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She doesn’t have any tournaments, so New York, why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why didn’t you just call Benny?”

“Don’t worry, thanks though.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Bye.”

“Bye?”

She slammed the phone into its holder, sighing loudly.

She’d always known she would have to see Benny eventually, but even after over two months since that night, she wasn’t ready. Besides, what was to say he wanted to see her? She slumped down into the armchair next to her phone, surveying her room and realising that he had been right - so had Beth - her drinking was getting out of hand. She stood with determination, picking up clothes from around the room and stuffing them into her wardrobe, which was already overflowing, and picking up all the bottles she could find to fill a couple of large paper bags. When she was done, the room felt cleaner, and she dragged the two paper bags out of her apartment and pushed them down the rubbish chute. She returned to her apartment, rummaging around to find a bag in the depths of her wardrobe. Once she had, she carefully picked out clothes, knowing that once she was back in America, the press would be all over her. She had clothes at Benny’s anyway, but she hated travelling without a suitcase - it made her feel bare. Before she left, she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and straightened herself out, checking that she was definitely wearing shoes and that her outfit all matched.

She carried her suitcase down with a little struggle, gave a couple of euros to the door boy for no reason in particular, and caught a taxi to the airport. The taxi driver, having recognised her instantly, seemed restless and kept telling her about how his twelve-year old-daughter wanted to be a model just like Y/N. She brushed it off, paying him well and buying the next flight she could at the front desk, rushing through customs to catch it. She tried to ignore the looks and comments she got as people realised who she was.

She didn’t sleep on the flight, instead ordering drink after drink, wondering what her mother would say if she could see her only daughter. Or Beth for that matter. She didn’t have to wonder what Benny would say, he had said it plenty of times before. When she left the airport, a crusade of reporters were awaiting her, and she had almost forgotten how the press could be. She persevered to a yellow cab, and let it take her to Benny’s. Standing outside, the harsh cold of autumn pushed her towards the door. She descended the steps, pausing when she reached the door, hearing four or five voices inside. Jesus, the whole gang was here. She steeled herself, knocking sharply and stepping away. The door opened abruptly, Beth appearing, at first confused, and then elated. She launched herself at Y/N, the two clinging to each other. Beth stepped back, scanning her friend over, and glancing towards the door. “You look more put together.”

“I don’t feel it.” Y/N admitted, hating the analytical look everyone seemed to give her these days.

“Why are you back here?” Beth murmured, her words kinder than they sounded, “I thought you were in Paris.”

“Well, I was. Then I ended up spending two weeks drinking myself half to death without leaving the room, and thought maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

“You can’t keep running from yourself, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“I know that.”

“Beth!” the two girls turned, “Are you alright out there? Who is it?”

Benny’s voice, so recognisable, turned into the actual person. He was standing, jeans, a black top and layered necklaces, shock registering on his face. Y/N, who hadn’t proper registered that she was seeing him until that moment, looked like she wanted a black hole to appear beneath her. Pink tinged her cheeks, embarrassment unfamiliar to her, and she stood up straighter, faking confidence.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Benny.” She glanced back at Beth, who looked away.

“Wait, is that Y/N?”

Arthur and Hilton appeared, and then Cleo, grinning with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been in Paris, eh?” she said, “Of course, you always seem to be there when I am not.”

“I wish you had been.” Y/N grinned, hugging Cleo tightly.

Benny, having come to his senses after the initial shock, stepped forwards, “A drink?”

Y/N looked at him pointedly, “You never have alcohol in this place.”

“But these three always bring some.” he nodded to the three stood next to her with drinks in hand.

“You not drinking at home really sucks ass.” Y/N groaned, concocting herself a makeshift cocktail with the ingredients she had to hand.

“You know, most people don’t usually have those in pint glasses.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not most people.” she took a lengthy sip, ignoring the worried glances that her friends shared.

“So,” she looked up from her drink with a bright expression, “what’s going on in the chess world?”

“Well, we’re training Beth.” Benny explained.

“What for? She’s better than all of you.” Y/N frowned, and Beth smirked.

“Paris.” Hilton clarified, the prideful chess players ignoring your comment.

“Let’s do a simultaneous!” Benny offered.

“Cleo, Y/N, are you joining?”

“You know we can’t play.” Cleo reprimanded, the pair of you sitting down near the game and watching with interest.

“All of our friends are nerds.” Y/N sighed, “Look at them!”

By the time Beth had beaten the other three chess players eight times, Benny gave up. He had decided that Beth could ‘do it’, but was also getting distracted by the fact that Cleo and Y/N had found his records and were blasting The Doors as loud as they could and dancing around his living room. When the game was finished, the apartment was filled with the sound of Soul Kitchen, and any ability to concentrate on the game was impossible. Y/N was standing on his coffee table, eyes closed, bottle in hand, hips swaying. Cleo had her arms in the air, swaying with the rhythm, and the two girls seemed so lost in the music that the four surveyors were almost scared to interrupt. Y/N, murmuring the familiar lyrics, took a swig of the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag, only then noticing that her friends had stopped playing. “Join us!” She laughed, reaching over, grabbing Beth’s arm, pulling her up onto the table, and trying to get her to dance. At first, the woman only swayed, but found herself dancing more excessively. Cleo took the task of dragging the boys in, and soon the party of six were all laughing and dancing. The song began to draw to a close, when Alyssa turned to Benny, “Got any of The Beatles?”

He pointed to the stack of records, preoccupied with trying to stop Cleo from spilling her drink. Y/N found the Abbey Road album and the dancing picked up as the apartment began to fill with cigarette smoke and Y/N retrieved some whiskey. She drank straight from the bottle, and continued to dance, pushing off the gently guiding hands that Benny was attempting to provide. At some point, Cleo, Arthur and Hilton took their leave, and Beth turned the music down, leaving Y/N with her bottle and cigs as she joined Benny in surveying the drunken girl.

“I haven’t seen her like this in a long time.” Benny observed, and Beth sighed.

“She tries to hide it from you, she knows how you feel about it.” Beth explained.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

Beth looked back at her friend, “She’s worse than I was.”

Benny scoffed a little, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Wait,” Beth raised an eyebrow mockingly, “You, Benny Watts, wanting to help someone? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“That’s different.”

Benny sighed, “Where are you going to sleep now that she’s here?”

“I can find a hotel?” she offered.

“Not this late. I’ll sleep on the blow up, you two sleep in my bed.”

“Okay.”

Beth walked up to Y/N, gently prying the bottle from her hand, Y/N turned to her, taking her in with wide eyes - she was always childlike when she was drunk. She watched curiously as Benny began to pump up the blow up bed, and Beth turned the music off. She let Beth sit her down on Benny’s bed, pulling her own clothes off and replacing them with one of Benny’s shirts while Beth helped Benny get all the leftover bottles in the bin. By the time Beth was back in the room, Alyssa was passed out on the far side of the bed, curled up into a tight fetal position. Beth lay down next to her friend, the familiar scent of alcohol conflicting her in both comfort and disgust.

#the queens gambit #the queen's gambit #beth harmon #elizabeth harmon #benny watts #benny watts x reader #benny watts x you #benny watts x y/n

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sabraeal · 3 years

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In Plain Sight, Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Written for @k-itsmaywriting‘s birthday! I hope that, despite how weird the world is right now, you have an amazing day!

Shirayuki understands how this is supposed to work. She’s seem movies after all-- Witness, of course; Sister Act 1 & 2, if only because Opa thought Whoopie Goldberg was a national treasure and Oma thought she was too young to be watching Ghost; and Our Lips Are Sealed about eight times on video cassette, since she’s old enough (and Opa resisted DVD long enough) have both VCRs and wholesome Olsen twins content as a part of her childhood.

(Her favorite formative twins were Annie and Hallie from The Parent Trap; they were red-headed, just like her, and one of them had a British accent. She’d been devastated to find out that not only were both of them American, but they were also only one girl. She’d watched Double Trouble to console herself)

In any case, she knows how this goes, at least narratively. She lays down in this amazingly comfortable bed, stares up at the ceiling in a tense yet melancholy fashion for hours, and dreams in plot-relevant flashbacks. Extra points if they reference the crime she witnessed.

The problem is: she didn’t. She’s just the unfortunate collateral to her father’s personal redemption. All the life ruining without ever being part of the A plot.

There’s an upside though: the second she hits that firm cloud of a mattress, she’s out like a light.

Absolutely nothing wakes her, but Shirayuki jolts into consciousness anyway, as unpleasant as any false start. She expects to be confused; she’s not a graceful riser to begin with, and every morning in temporary housing, she’d bounce off three walls at minimum trying to find a bathroom that didn’t exist.

(Well, the bathroom did exist, it just didn’t exist where it should, which was down the hall to the right, and was compounded by the door being in exactly the wrong place too.)

Instead, she knows exactly where she is. Knowledge which is quickly followed by the low-key, seething resentment for the man who put her here.

She groans, lifting her head from the pillow. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s just--

7:00, her alarm clock says. Tuesday, her brain provides after a long moment.

She should be getting up, habit told her. Getting her morning fix of avocado toast and orange juice with Paul Newman’s face stamped on it.

There’s worse ways to start your day than having a fine pair of eyes smiling at you, Oma would say.

What can I say? Opa’d grumble back, flipping through the paper. It’s impossible to compete with Butch Cassidy.

Her fingers curl into the sheets. There’d be none of that today. Agent Jiang-- Obi’s assistant had gotten her Simply Orange instead. A small mercy. It’s hard enough to be someone else when there’s still so much her clinging to the edges.

It’s tempting to linger in bed; she’s always been a morning person, up with the birds, but maybe Claire isn’t. Maybe Claire likes to stay up late and sleep in, sleeping past the three alarms she sets for herself. Maybe she likes to have waffles for breakfast, straight from a box, and drinks pomegranate juice. Maybe she doesn’t bike into the lab at eight because--

She groans. Because Claire doesn’t have a job. A thing that will have to change soon, since Claire has to pay for this house.

There’s a great deal of compromise that happens between bedside and bathroom; habit insists she needs to be fully dressed, ready to greet the day, but everything else--

Well, she’s not going anywhere is she? There’s no reason she couldn’t wallow in her pj’s all day

Standards, habit insists. But those belonged to Shirayuki, not Claire. Claire has no job, no friends, and nothing to do on a Tuesday morning besides--

Oh no, the recycling.

The bin is nearly two-thirds her height, but with only one day under her belt, it’s already overflowing. Good thing she’d looked at that brochure when it slipped out from between the takeout menus.

She shrugs her hoodie a little tighter, pulling it down over her leggings-- habit and hedonism settled on exercise wear as a happy medium-- and grips the handle, tugging it out the opening garage door, right into the fresh Texas morning--

And promptly throws her hoodie back into the garage. She might need that with the downright frosty temperature the house is set to, but oh, she was not going to cover her skin out here any more than necessary. Even now, she’s starting to sweat in impossible places beneath her leggings.

Hooking her palm back around the handle, she tugs the bin down the drive. Her gaze fixes to the pavement-- the last thing she needs is to trip right over herself on her own driveway taking out the trash-- and she doesn’t look up until she hits the sidewalk. It’s a struggle to get it to sit right-- these are proper curbs, white poured cement with squared edges meant to puncture cheeky tires; one of the wheels catches in a gap and refuses to budge until she hip checks it out onto the next slab.

She’s damp at this point, skin dewing with giant drops of sweat she’s tempted to shake off like a dog, but--

But Martha Kino has an arm slung along their fence, holding a tall glass of iced tea that makes her mouth water just to look at.

“Oh, um, good morning!” she calls out with a weak wave. “I didn’t, um, see you there.”

It’s only when Martha slides her gaze to her that she realizes her neighbor hadn’t been looking at her at all. Her mouth curves into a knowing smile at the sight of her. “Good morning, honey. You here for the show?”

Shirayuki blinks. “The show?”

“Mm-hm.” Martha takes a long drag from her straw, ice clinking against the glass. “Here it comes now.”

Shirayuki tracks her line of sight right across the cul-de-sac, squinting at half acre of immaculately trimmed, completely invasive Bermuda grass. Their front garden is well-kept, as well; thickly mulched with giant hibiscus blooming blood red against pristine stone facade.

Oh, and there’s a man as well. That’s probably what Mrs Kino is looking at.

He’s tall. No, tall is an understatement; he’s a giant, six foot four at least with shoulders to match. He’s trimmed with the same military precision as his lawn, clean shaven with an undercut that could scratch glass. Heavy brows draw sharply over his nose, forehead rumpling as he tears a box right down the fold--

Ah, well, all right. It’s not doing much of anything for her, but the Vitruvian man’s more ideal cousin ripping up boxes definitely counts as a show. Halfway through, he grabs the hem of his shirt, mopping his brow, and ah, hm, he could definitely have made money as an anatomical model. His rectus abdominis are, ah...very defined.

“Is he--” Shirayuki searches for the words-- “from around here?”

“Oh, him?” Martha’s gaze doesn’t stray for a second, not even as she sips at her tea. “That’s Scott. Aspen’s husband. They just moved in a few weeks ago.”

Shirayuki glances around the neighborhood. Seems like more than a few of her neighbors hope they’ll never leave either.

“Quite the pair, those two,” Martha hums. “She’ll be at the luncheon. I know you two will just get on like houses.”

More like houses on fire if she mentions she’s seen her husband’s floor show. “Oh, right. The um, luncheon.”

Mrs Kino grins as Scott hops back inside, out of this heat, just like she’s dying to do. “By the way, he mows the lawn on Sunday, just before lunch.”

“Oh, um, great.” She’ll be sure to miss it. “Can’t wait.”

It’s too early to bake cookies.

There’s not a baked good on earth that tastes as good two days later as it does fresh out of the oven; Shirayuki knows that down to her toes and bones, but still--

Stress baking. It’s a thing. And she doesn’t have to make anything right now. She could get all the ingredients together, just to make sure she has them. And then...just not do anything.

She can. Definitely. Absolutely. She’s Claire now. Claire probably doesn’t even like chocolate chip cookies.

Oh gosh, who is she kidding? Only monsters don’t like chocolate chip cookies. What next, Claire doesn’t like brownies? Apple pie? Snickerdoodles?

It’s a slippery slope, not liking things. Best to just keep it simple and eat everything, that’s what Opa always said at the church potluck.

The morsels and brown sugar already sit out on the counter when her phone lets out a piercing ting. She’s half tempted to ignore it; she’s having a contentious battle with the ten pounds of King Arthur flour that’s tucked away in her cabinet-- what was she thinking?-- and she refuses to show any fear in the face of baking supplies but--

Ting. No one knows her number. Well, no one except the government.She settles back on her heels with a sneeze. The government probably doesn’t take kindly to being left on read.

Her hands clap against her thighs, flour misting into the air as she leaves two partial prints right over the helical print. She frowns, plucking at the fabric, nose wrinkling as more powder burst into the air. Ting.

“I’m coming,” she mutters, stumbling over to the island. “I’m coming.”

Sugar Daddy i got just what u need pumpkin check ur email

The corners of her mouth dig furrows into her cheeks as she clicks on the notification. It’s the only message in her inbox, aside from the ubiquitous Welcome to Gmail spam and a few coupons for Banana Republic and a couple of other retailers. They’d taught her about this at orientation; they couldn’t do much about an empty inbox, but everyone had at least a few mailing lists they’d either forgotten to opt out of or regularly used.

Still...what about her said Banana Republic? She glances down at her spandex-clad legs. If they were going to go for a too-expensive clothing line, they could have at least sprung for Lululemon.

Ah, but that wasn’t the point. Marshal Jiang-- Obi hadn’t texted all...that...to show off some spam. Sitting at the very top of her inbox is a Cornell email address-- Cornell-- with an attachment.

Dear Claire, the message reads, We’re so sorry to see you go, but I’m glad we’re able to keep in touch. Of course we kept the copy of your old CV. Good luck to you in all your endeavors.

It’s signed by some professor; not high profile enough for her to have heard of, but she doesn’t doubt that he’s real, someone a curious party could look up on Cornell’s directory. Well, at least for the next six months.

The Columbia alumna inside her writhes in agony. Cornell. She doubts it’s a coincidence.

Me Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?

Not that she’s very, um, up on the specifics of such a relationship, but she’d been under the impression that sugar...children?...were supposed to be fully reliant on their sugar parent. Her mouth pulls thin. Already she’s thinking about this far more than she’d ever hope to.

Sugar Daddy a good daddy makes sure his baby can take care of herself ;)

This declaration is followed by a stream of emojis, ending with an eggplant and a peach, and she just-- doesn’t need to know. She wipes away the sweat that beads at her hairline-- from embarrassment, of course-- and downloads the attachment.

Me I’ll take a look. Thank you.

She sets the phone back on the island, face down, and glares. He can’t possibly be like this to everyone. People would complain. They wouldn’t just let him insinuate that he-- that they--

Ting.

Sugar Daddy good girl

All right. Maybe they would.

Shirayuki doesn't get homesick.

She’d been the first brownie to leap out of her car at summer camp; Opa barely had time to lurch into park before she was traipsing across the field, backpack slung over her shoulder and duffel bag dragging on the grass. Freshman year, she moved into the dorm by herself, pressing kisses to wrinkled cheeks as she lugged her suitcases onto the train; she’d almost forgotten to wave from the window.

But as soon as she lays down in bed, the lights snuffed out and the world still, it hits her. Just a soft roll of her stomach at first, the barest itch on her skin, like wearing a wool sweater on a spring afternoon. It’s fine; too much to ignore but nothing that would keep her up too long.

It doesn’t stay that way.

Her stomach clenches, tears pricking at her eyes, and it’s everything she can do to just roll onto her side, letting the chills wrack through her body. She shivers so hard her teeth chatter, and this-- this isn’t the gentle ache of nostalgia her books prepared her for. This is an illness, plain and simple, like when she caught norovirus in eighth grade can could hardly do anything but lay on the bathroom floor and wait for the next wave to begin.

This isn’t her, she isn’t like this, she doesn’t get like this, but-- but--

Before she always knew her home was waiting for her; she could leave but Oma and Opa would always keep the front lamp on, waiting for weary travelers and last minute bookings.

It’s different now that there’s no home to come back to.

7:00, her alarm clock says. She watches it tick over, like she has for every hour before it.

She must have slept at some point; it’s impossible that she’s lain awake, staring at the clock for eight hours. But that doesn’t make her any less tired, and so when her alarm starts up, beeps cutting through the quiet white noise of the air conditioner, she reaches out and slaps it off.

Shirayuki may not sleep in, but Claire is certainly warming to the idea.

Her notebook sits open on the island; neat, looping script stretches across the page, straining the boundaries of the blue lines that contains it. She’d done her homework yesterday, combing through job sites to find the most likely candidates. There’s five on her list right now, ranked according to preference, and oh, is Shirayuki glad she had the gumption to do this before, because this morning she feels like roadkill being scraped off the blacktop.

Still, she worries at her lip as her laptop boots up, peering over her list. In the cold light of the morning, five seems too few, but...desperation hasn’t set in yet. She’s allowed to still have standards.

Wrapping her hands around her mug, she glances at the next page: another list. No, a set of instructions. Edit CV. Write cover letters.

Shirayuki groans. Even with the bullet points she left for herself, composing cover letters is a circle of hell all its own. With only three hours of solid sleep under her belt, it’s an insurmountable hurdle to getting hired.

“Right,” she murmurs, hooking an ankle around a stool and pulling it under her. “Editing it is.”

She clicks on the pdf Obi sent her, scrolling down and--

“Oh no.” She rears back from the screen, heart pounding. “No, no. There’s got to be a mistake...”

“Hey, baby,” Obi’s voice rumbles through her speaker. It’s thick and warm and would be utterly distracting if she were in any less of a crisis. “A little early for a b--?”

“What happened to my papers?”

“Uh.” All the suggestion in his tone evaporates. “What?”

“My papers.” Her hand grips the phone so tight it creaks. “They’re gone.”

His end goes silent. Silent enough to make that weird click, like the line’s cut out, and she pulls back to check--

“Someone stole your passport?” He laughs, incredulous. “Some sort of luck you have, Miss. Barely had it for a day and already you’ve gotten your identity stolen.”

She blinks into the barren air of her kitchen. “What?”

“You know,” he hums, too amused, “I picked out a cute house in the suburbs for safety, and here you are, getting robbed. Did you leave them in your car? Or did you just go out--”

“N-no!” She’s honestly half tempted to say what car, until she remembers the tasteful mid-sized SUV in the driveway, the one she’s still been calling the girlfriend car in her head, and realizes-- it’s hers. She’s the girlfriend.

Except she’s not. At all. Which is fine! She doesn’t even want that! If she’s still thinking about what his mouth feels like as he wraps them around his words, then--

She really can’t be thinking about this right now. “I mean my papers! I just looked at my CV and it’s a page!”

He hesitates, though not enough for the line to click again. “Isn’t that long enough?”

“CVs aren’t resumes,” she informs him patiently, pen twisting between her fingers. “They’re dick measuring contests--”

Her teeth snap around the words, but oh, it’s too late. They’re already out there in the aether, and he’s laughing.

“Now there’s something I didn’t think I’d hear out of you, Miss.” He doesn’t need to sound so pleased about it.

“It’s something my old PI used to say,” she mutters. Oh, Garak would be so proud of herself if she knew. “It’s not very polite, but she’s not, um, wrong.”

“I’m sorry the US government made you under endowed.” His words practically rattle as he says them. “It’s not the size that matters, Miss, but how you use it.”

“Obi,” she huffs. “All the work I’ve done for the past ten years of my life now is attributed to my birth name and my birth name only! According to this CV I have the same level of experience, but less papers than an undergrad! And you can’t tell me that any of these are searchable on PubMed.”

And none of them are first authors, is what she doesn’t say. It’s a petty thing to worry about when her entire academic career is functionally extinct.

“Hm.” His fingers drum quickly on a table. Desk? It’s strange not knowing anything about the man who is her only lifeline. “I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t want to be, um, alarmist, but I can’t get a job with this.” Her hand shakes as she scrolls down her screen. “No one is going to hire a post-doc with a one page CV.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. There’s a plan for this, somewhere.” She can feel his grin when he says, “You can’t be the first academic who’s had to go into hiding.”

She smiles, despite herself. “Considering some of the conferences I’ve been to, I can believe it.”

“Besides, you could always apply to pharmaceuticals.” The very word is like a donkey kick to her gut. “The pay’s supposed to be better--”

“I can’t work for Big Pharma.”

He hesitates. “You...can’t?”

“Obi, they make little old grandmas pay eight hundred dollars for insulin!” She presses a hand to her chest. “Banting and Best didn’t sell the patent for one dollar so that people could get gouged by--”

“I get it, I get it,” he assured her. “Preaching to the choir. But as a safety, I’m sure you could find one that isn’t stealing candy from babies.”

She huffs. “I doubt it.”

He rasps out a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do. As I said, can’t be the first PhD on the lam.”

Her mouth twitches. “Just yours?”

“You are certainly some kind of education, Miss.” He hums. “Give me a day. See what I can turn up.”

“You have two,” she informs him magnanimously. “I have the luncheon tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” She doesn’t need to see him to know he’s lounging, smug like a cat post-canary. “Looking forward to joining the neighborhood’s Ladies’ Committee?”

“Ha ha,” she drawls flatly. “Very funny.”

He is unnervingly silent on the other end.

“You’re kidding, right?” Her voice certainly does not fill with a nervous quaver. “You guys don’t have things like that around here.”

Obi hums, humoring her.

“W-what would they even do?” She picks nervously at the sticker on her laptop, prying up part of NVIDIA. “Plan potlucks? Organize the Neighborhood Watch? Cotillions?”

She doesn’t know how he makes his grin so palpable over 4G. “Looking forward to your debut, Miss?”

Shirayuki scowls down at her screen. “I think I’m firmly up on the shelf, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I have cookies to make.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #witness protection au #ans #i wanted SO BADLY to get to the ladies lunch this chapter #but a lot of the lead up in here got too long #and in the interest in cutting it at a place that made sense #it all got moved one chapter over #BUT it is almost to where the true conceit of this fic arrives #always a nice place to be

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nerdzzone · 4 years

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Light After Dark: Chapter Two

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Note: I was planning for this to be longer so I’m sorry if this is a bit of a boring chapter, but I figured something is better than nothing and it gives some more insight into Brooke’s life. The next chapter shouldn’t take me as long as this one did so don’t lose hope! And a big thank you for every like and reblog of chapter one!

______________

April. 17. 2020

Considering I was anxious and restless before injuring my ankle, the few days after were fairly close to absolute hell. I couldn't put much weight on it, not enough to walk on, so I was stuck on the couch with my foot raised up on the ottoman unable to hobble away from my mother's fussing. She felt guilty for forcing me out of the house the day I got hurt and therefore felt she needed to hover and fret around me all day to make up for it. I mean, it was nice to have someone bring me drinks and snacks whenever I needed them, but for the most part constantly being asked if I was alright and the endless fluffing of cushions was suffocating.

There was a reprieve though on the fifth day after my injury. For once, during the evening, everyone was off doing their own thing and I had the living room to myself. I had a full glass of wine, a bowl of popcorn and I was enjoying the peace and quiet. It was just the break I'd needed and I was feeling fully refreshed as my movie finished and my sister flopped down on the couch next to me.

"Hey, Cassie," I greeted her, but was met with a simple grunt in response. "Where's Molly?"

"I sent her out to the garden with Mum," She sighed. "I just got off the phone with Luke."

I shot her a sympathetic look before nodding my head towards the bottle of wine on the table.

"Pour yourself a glass," I instructed. "You look like you need it."

She nodded, quickly dragged herself off the couch and headed to the kitchen before appearing moments later with a glass in her hand. Once she'd poured herself some wine, topped mine off and settled in, I resumed my questioning.

"Is Luke doing alright?"

She sighed again and took a large gulp of her drink before nodding.

"He is, yeah," She assured me. "It's just hard. He misses us, Molly in particular of course, and he's down about all the horrible things he's been seeing. So like, he's fine, but he's not. He's struggling emotionally, I can tell, but he doesn't want to talk about it when I call. And I'm so worried about him. They don't have enough PPE, supplies are dwindling, as if his job just isn't dangerous enough at times like this."

Her words came out in practically all one breath as she toyed with the necklace around her neck, one that Luke had bought her just before we left London. Her grip on the wine glass in her hand had me worried she would snap the stem, but my heart really went out to her.

"He's going to be fine," I assured her, knowing my lack of expertise on the subject would really do little to comfort her. "Luke is responsible and cautious. Even if they don't have enough protective equipment, he won't go running into a situation that isn't safe. He knows what he has to lose if he gets sick, he'll do anything to make sure he gets back to you safely at the end of all this."

"I know, I know," She took another swig from her glass. "But it's not always in his control and I know him well enough to know he wouldn't ignore someone who needed help just because he didn't have the right protection."

"But he'll take whatever precautions he can," I insisted. "He loves you more than he loves the job."

"I know," She repeated with a sigh. "It's just hard being apart for so long. I really miss him."

"I know you do," I smiled sympathetically. "I can't even imagine how hard that must be, but if we all just stay home and away from other people this whole mess can't go on forever."

Cassie shot me a suspicious look with a smirk on her face.

"That's the most positive thing I've heard you say since we got here. Are you feeling okay? Did Dad slip you some good painkillers?"

I tried to swat at her from my side of the couch, but my elevated ankle restricted my movement.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "Being the tortured, mopey one is my thing. I'm just trying to stop you from stealing my aesthetic."

"Your aesthetic?" Cassie raised an eyebrow at my word choice. "You sound like a wannabe teenage Instagram model."

I giggled, realizing it was true.

"What can I say?" I asked in a very bad valley girl american accent. "I like totally have to keep my followers happy or I won't get any likes."

She stared at me blankly for a moment before she burst out laughing.

"That was horrifying," She informed me. "Please, never do that again."

"Oh, you just wait," I teased. "Only a few more years until Molly discovers the world of likes and followers..."

She cringed at the thought.

"A few? I'm hoping for at least ten..."

"Ten?!" I laughed at her optimism. "Maybe five, but I seriously doubt she'll stay off social media until she's seventeen."

"I didn't have Instagram until I was twenty-four."

"Only because it didn't exist," I scoffed. "If it was around when we were teenagers, you would have been all over it."

"But we didn't so I can still hold that over Molly's head when she starts insisting she needs it," She smirked as she reached for the bottle of wine on the table. That was when she noticed that Man of Steel was on the TV. "Oh my god, are you watching his movie?"

I felt my cheeks up as I realized she'd caught me, but I tried to play it cool.

"I've never seen the whole thing," I shrugged. "It was on Netflix so I figured I'd give it a go, it wasn't because he's in it."

"Oh, I see," She nodded as she filled her glass and poured the last splash into mine. "It's just a coincidence that after being carried around in Superman's arms, you're suddenly interested in watching his movie."

Her words were dripping with sarcasm, but I just rolled my eyes.

"He carried me out of necessity," I reminded her. "And I told him he didn't have to."

"How was it out of necessity if he didn't have to?" She smirked. "And then he just had to have your phone number, was that out of necessity too?"

I tossed the last few kernels of my popcorn at her, but she just shielded her face as she laughed.

"Asking for my phone number was clearly out of politeness," I informed her. "Since I haven't heard anything from him."

"Didn't he message you that night after you met?"

I nodded, but felt a familiar disappointment.

"He did," I confirmed. "And we chatted a bit, but I haven't head from him since."

"Well that was only, what? Four days ago?" Cassie pointed out. "That's not long enough to give up hope, he's probably just busy."

I raised an eyebrow at her suggestion.

"Busy doing what? We're in the middle of a pandemic, no one can go anywhere or do anything."

"People still have commitments," She reminded me, frowning at my pessimism. "And mum says he hasn't been home for ages so he's probably got a lot of catching up to do with his family."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides," She started, a smirk replacing her frown. "Why do you even care so much?"

"I don't!" I lied. "It doesn't even matter. Nothing could happen between us anyway with all this going on. He's just nice to look at so it was nice to daydream for a moment."

"Of course something could happen! My friend met a new guy on a dating app since all this started and she seems really happy with him."

"Have they even met yet?"

"No," Cassie admitted sensing my skepticism. "But you have met Henry so you don't have that issue!"

"But we wouldn't be able to get within six feet of each other for potentially a few months," I resisted. "And even when we can get closer to each other, kissing or whatever might not be allowed until there's a vaccine so what’s the point?"

"Ooh, ‘or whatever’," Cassie wiggled her eyebrows, her low alcohol tolerance clearly showing. "But seriously, if things start easing up in a couple months then kissing a man might not be so dangerous."

"I have asthma," I reminded her. "Kissing a man could actually kill me."

She tossed her head back and groaned at my stubbornness.

"Well by the time you're able to, you might not even want to. But you won't know unless you send him a fucking text."

As she was speaking, the door to the back patio flung open and a tiny, but very loud voice filled the room.

"Mummy said a naughty word!"

My niece, Molly, screamed as she flew through the door.

"She did!" I agreed. "That wasn't very polite of her, was it?"

"No!" Molly shook her head, dirt that had been smeared in her hair falling to the floor from the motion. "Naughty words hurt people's feelings!"

"They do! My feelings are very hurt."

Molly frowned at that information as she put her dirty little hands on her hips.

"Mummy, you need to apologize."

Cassie rolled her eyes as she turned to me and I smirked.

"I'm sorry for using a naughty word and hurting your feelings, Brooke," She said reluctantly. "But I stand by what I said. You don't have to wait for him to make the first move."

"The first move?" Molly questioned, her face lighting up. "Are you playing a game? Can I play?"

I laughed at her enthusiasm as her mother and I shook our heads.

"No, sweetie, we're not playing a game," Cassie told her. "And you can't do anything until we get you all cleaned up! Shall we go run you a bath?"

Molly looked disappointed, but nodded her little head.

"I got really dirty helping Nana plant some plants..."

"I can see that," Cassie smiled. "Let's go wash it all off."

I smiled as they left the room, leaving me to my thoughts. I went back and forth on whether I should message Henry and was just about to pull out my phone to maybe write a draft when my parents came through the door Molly had just appeared in. Taking it as a sign to not do what I was about to do, I locked my phone and put it back down.

"Hey, sweetie," My mum smiled at me. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine," I assured her. "And honestly, my ankle's a lot better. I can hobble around enough to look after myself."

"I know, but you don't need to while I'm here," She insisted. "I never get to dote on you girls much anymore, it's been nice having an excuse."

"I know and I appreciate it, but I'm fine."

My mom nodded and kissed my head as she walked past on her way to the stairs that Cassie had just chased Molly up.

"Just shout if you need anything," My dad added as he followed her. "Goodnight, kiddo."

The days were getting longer so I hadn't realized it was almost eight o'clock already. I shouted my goodnights before putting the empty wine glasses in the empty popcorn bowl, scooping up my phone and limping into the kitchen. Once the dishes were tidied away, I went up to my room and quickly changed into some pajamas before getting comfortable on my bed with my foot elevated once again.

I set my laptop up next to me with something mindless playing on Netflix before turning my attention back to my phone. I opened my conversation with Henry, but I was at a loss for words. He was a world famous superstar. He worked with and probably dated some of the most attractive women in the world. Why would he want to hear from me?

I closed the conversation again with a sigh, wishing I had some more wine to relieve some of my inhibitions. I was just about to put my phone away in defeat when a stroke of curiosity hit me and I opened Instagram instead. I liked a few posts that friends had made before tapping on the search bar and tentatively typing Henry's name. A few fan pages popped up, but his account was there with that coveted blue tick. I felt a strange nervous bubbling in my stomach, like I was somehow infringing on his privacy, but it was there for anyone to see so I decided to scroll just a bit.

He didn't post much, but that made sense from what I knew of him. He didn't strike me as the kind of person who wanted everything in his life to be on display plus he was a pretty busy guy with all the movies and shows he'd been in lately. There were a few pictures of Kal, a few pictures of some baking and cooking he'd been doing, a few horses and some lovely selfies. One in particular caught my eye. He was wearing a rugby jersey and his hair was long with a slight curl. His jaw was strong and he looked incredibly handsome.

I clicked on it eagerly, hoping to get a better look, but my heart sank instantly as that little heart popped up. I'd liked it. A picture from six months ago. He would know I was creeping through his photos, it was such a rookie mistake! I cursed myself, quickly closing the app and tossing my phone onto the bed as if it never happened if I couldn't see it. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I suddenly remembered why I always felt like social media was much more suitable for the younger generations.

#light after dark #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x ofc

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myfairgunslinger · 4 years

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Title: Red Dead Revenge: Kiss of Death [Part 2]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC x John Marston

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Cursing

Summary: After Arthur saves a woman's life he takes her back to the Vanderlinde Gang where she can get the help she needs. Maeve recalls past events as she takes time to heal.

A/N: Hi guys! I’m back with a new chapter in this story. It took forever because I wanted it to be the best that I could make it. So hopefully it was worth the wait. We’re gonna be looking at Maeve at a time prior to meeting Arthur, also Arthur isn’t really in this chapter...I promise to make up for that in the next chapter! Also note about John, this story is set before his scars, so there will be no mention of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy none the less.

- Italics means the past

Chapter Two: I Know You

"No! No!" Her neck sliced open to flood out with blood. Cecilia's eyes were wide as they stared over at her daughter. Blam! Everett's body fell to the floor as he held his stomach trying to hold in his red gore. All she could hear was her own screaming only for it all to be silenced by the last gasps of life from her mother.

"Ahhh!" She screamed herself awake followed by a pained groan remembering the gun shot. Maeve went to sit up noticing she was not wearing her own shirt anymore. This one was a faded maroon color that served as an under shirt. The cut on her skin where her collar bone was had a bandage over it. She lifted the foreign shirt to see her waist and stomach were tightly wrapped in medical cloth.

"Do not ruin that wrap," a German accented voice startled Maeve. It was here she realized they were in a large tent, "Who the hell are you?" her voice was horse, layered with rudeness. The old man had pointed at her wound, "You had a gunshot. Lucky for you it hit nothing and went through you. It was only a matter of stitching up the hole."

Maeve stared at him saying nothing. He called her lucky when that was the last of what she was feeling, "I believe a thank you is what you say," the old man said to her shutting his book to stand up. Maeve still didn't say thank you, but asked again, "Who are you?"

He scoffed out, "Americans," then left the tent. She was confused while being alone until an older woman came in. Her dark, graying hair was piled on top of her head in a pompadour style, "Ah, you're awake, Miss Milley. Gave us a fright there," she placed a hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry, who are you? Where am I? How do you even know my name?" Maeve's head had so many thoughts running through it.

"Well, you have been unconscious for about a day and a half. Mr. Morgan brought you here after you'd been shot--."

"Who?" Maeve winced her eyes never hearing that name before. The woman let out a frustrated sigh then said out slowly, "Arthur, you owl! Said you gave him a bath?"

Maeve's cheeked reddened, letting out an, "Oh," his name was Arthur Morgan, "Where is he?"

"He's out on business. Anyway, he brought you to us and Mr. Strauss, the German fella stitched you up, I cleaned ya," and that explained the man earlier, "My name's Susan Grimshaw, that's Mrs. Grimshaw around camp."

Maeve went to stand up, but stumbled a bit. Mrs. Grimshaw caught her and helped her stance, "Easy now, what's the hurry?" Maeve took her steps outside the camp, "I have to see where I am," she pushed the flap back to be met with a scorching hot sun beaming down on her. Maeve held a hand up to block out some of the light but it was a failure due to how much it flooded over her.

"New Austin, just outside a town called Armadillo," Mrs. Grimshaw filled her in while passing her a white over-shirt to wear. Maeve slipped it on looking over at the older woman then around the camp site, "Who are you people?" _______________________________________________________________

"Outlaws...every single one of you?" Maeve was walking with Mrs. Grimshaw along the outskirts. She had filled the newcomer in on who Dutch Van Der Linde was, what he and Hosea believed in and along with a majority of the camp.

They were different than other gangs, sure they robbed people but at least they weren't going around murdering fine folk for the hell of it. Mrs. Grimshaw named off who ever she saw passing by in the camp. There weren't that many people, "That Irish bug, is Sean. Stay clear of him, he thinks he's a womanizer."

Maeve made a face that could be read as, 'Don't have to tell me twice.' Maeve saw a small boy, toddler age, running by, "Children are here too?"

"Child, that's little Jack. He stays with his mother, Abigail. We all watch after him," Maeve was about to ask where his father was, but as her eyes followed the boy she saw him go embrace a woman. The sight alone caused Maeve's eyes to well up and her throat swell. Mrs. Grimshaw saw, "Miss Milley?" She couldn't take it or hold it in, Maeve walked off, out of the camp as her tears fell down her face. She was so curious and wondering where she was that it distracted Maeve enough to forget why she was here in the first place.

She collapsed into the dirt, sobbing out from all her heart ache. Maeve's hands gripped the hot sand between her fingers, screaming out from either the heat or grief, it didn't matter. Mrs. Grimshaw came over to her, "Get out of the dirt or you'll reopen your stitches!" Maeve was still crying, hunched over. She didn't care.

"Maeve! Maeve please," she tried again, "You gotta get up!" Maeve's hand came up to cover her face, "They're gone..." she whined out, "Ma, Pa....gone!" The older woman placed a hand on the woman's back, "That may be, Miss Milley, that may be. But you are still here. And you need to get yourself out of the dirt." Maeve sniffled, tears dropping on the earth.

After a moment Maeve started to stand up with the aid of Mrs. Grimshaw, "There you go, let's get you back in the tent to get you cleaned up." As the older lady started to lead her back, only Maeve had noticed that there were people staring over in her direction. Her eyes glanced over the faces of these unfamiliar people until they met with a pair of dark eyes belonging to a man with long, stringy hair. That wasn't a stranger. 'I Know You'

Mrs. Grimshaw had cleaned off Maeve as she sat there, telling the woman what happened to her family, "That's a nasty thing and you have my deepest of sympathies, Miss Milley," she threw the rag over her shoulder then said in a soft manner, "It's not easy dealing with loss, and it sure as hell never should be when it comes to loved ones. But trust me when I say, your parents wouldn't want you to be like this. They would want you to be strong. And surviving all of that, a gunshot wound...well I think you might just be a fighter Miss Milley."

Maeve watched the woman leave the tent, thinking on what she had to say. What a strange place she was in. The flap was left open and she could see the only familiar face, peaking in but trying not to seem so obvious. John Marston. _______________________________________________________________ Maeve pulled at the collar of her blue, frilled shirt trying to get air to vent through the silk. She felt so confined in the outfit her mother put together for Blackwater's Tenth Annual Bird Shooting Contest. It was the one day that a lot of the residents, including Maeve, looked forward to since the town was still growing. The Winner gets one hundred dollars and a new bolt action rifle.

"Mama, do I really have to wear all this?" the young lady was fidgeting with her yellow skirt. Her mother was standing to the side of her daughter and smacked her hand away, "Yes, yes you do. I call it 'the Kimberly'. Do you like it?"

"Who the hell is Kimberly?" Maeve kept looking over to outfit through the mirror, trying to breath through the corset that was rather tight, "It's too hot...not to mention hard to breath. I might miss my shots."

Cecilia was picking dust off the shirt that had landed on Maeve between her putting on the new clothes and now modeling in front of the looking glass, "My daughter? Miss?" Cecilia let out an amused chuckle while taking out a riverboat hat to place on Maeve's head, "You've won the last four years--"

"Five, Mama," the daughter corrected while adjusting the hat, "Five. Anyway, when all the fine citizens of Blackwater see who the winner is, I want them to see she dresses her best," Cecilia stared at her, holding such pride.

Maeve made a lop-sided smile at her, "And then come find you for pretty outfits for themselves," she said watching her mother open up a bottle of fine brandy. Cecilia rises the bottle up for a moment, "What good is havin' a beautiful daughter if I can't use her for advertisement?" the woman took a swig from the bottle. She escorted Maeve to the door who had a cheeky reply to that, "Next ya know, daddy is gonna have me ride horses around town... Oh wait!"

Cecilia rolled her eyes, "Go get shootin', smart mouth. And don't get that outfit dirty!" she hollered.

"See you down there," Maeve started to walk down to where the contest was being held, rifle over her shoulder by the strap. She waved at some of the people there, residents Maeve's grown to know, especially from the previous years of her attending the contest. Some of the men would grumble under their breath upon seeing the girl, the one that was a spectacular shot and taking the win year after year.

Maeve took out a cigarette, lighting it up then inhaling a drag while standing alone on the outskirts of the group of people. She recognized most of these people, all except one man. Her eyes were drawn to this stranger, he had a dangerous look to his eye but it just intrigued her all the more.

He stared back at her, wondering what exactly was it that had this girl's eyes on him. The man sauntered over towards her, eyeing the rifle on her shoulder, "Also 'ere for the contest? Gotta say Miss, that corset won't make things easy."

"You must have a talent in observing the obvious, Mister..." Maeve tilted her head to him. He caught on to what she wanted, "Sorry Miss, hadn't thought to introduce myself. John Marston," he offered his hand to her.

Giving him a gentle smile, she took his hand to shake it, "Maeve Milley, Miss Milley if you're feelin' fancy," Maeve then raised her shoulders up, "Although I think you might be callin' me a 'son of a bitch' after today when I win. I know the others do."

Her mouthy answer startled a chuckle from him, she may have looked like little lady, but she had a roughness to her that he liked, "Nah wouldn't dream of it. Ain't that much of a sore loser."

Maeve smiled at him, wincing her eyes as the sun shined down on them, cigarette between her two fingers. Her posture was that of confidence, willing to take on anything. She was on top of her world, "Seein' as you're new to these parts; welcome Mister Marston." She brought the cigarette to her mouth to take a couple puffs before tossing it on the ground to step on it, "So you in town just for the contest?"

"Looks that way unless there's any other reason to stick around," his eyes stayed on her face, "Anything of note that would make passin' through worth wild?" Maeve moved to where they could face Blackwater and she pointed at some of the buildings, "Still a growin' town and in a few days they'll be another contest of sorts but I find them boring. No gun, no fun," she shrugged.

"I'll have to remember that saying," he half grinned at her, "What else?" John took out a cigarette of his own to light. Maeve raised her arm up to point down the main street, "Town Hall is up if you're the political type. A ferry is up 'n' runnin' that takes you all the way across Flat Iron Lake. Never been on it though." Her father had requested she never venture off too far from home or town for that matter. Her finger pointed to her work, "Then for a decent stay there's always the saloon. Decent is the key word to describe that place. Decent rooms, decent baths, and not very decent breakfast," her voice joked. John chuckled at her review, "Doesn't sound too bad."

There was a trumpet that notified all of the crowd that it was time to start the contest. Maeve turned her head to look over then back to John, "Well, nice meetin' you, Mister Marston. May the best shooter win," she gave a gentle wave to him.

"Yeah, good luck," he watched her go off to find a decent spot. Everyone lines up, firing off their rifles as soon as birds were released to fly out. Some of the contestants got at least one or two shots in. But all of the contestants paled in comparison to Maeve's score, all except the stranger John Marston. "Not bad!" Maeve would comment on his shots, "Not too bad yourself," he would say back.

By the third round the score had tied twelve to twelve, Maeve was reloading her gun while John was looking over at her, "Tell you what, you win this and I'll buy you a drink, if I win you buy me a drink?"

"Hmm tempting, but you don't need to win a contest to get my company," Maeve suggested as John smirked, "Okay what did you have in mind?"

"Blackwater Saloon at six o'clock. Win or lose," she cocked the gun, "What do ya say?"

John nodded, "Win or Lose? I say that sounds perfect."

"Okay, just be ready to lose," Maeve grinned getting ready to fire her gun. The final birds were released and the two shooters started to unload their rifles into the air. The winged creatures fell to the earth along with their feathers. Just as John had five more birds to his name, Maeve would get six, capping off the final score of eighteen, making her the winner once more.

"Our winner, for the sixth time in a row, Miss Maeve Milley!" the announcer belted out then gave Maeve a blue ribbon with the money and rifle. She had taken a picture, smiling brightly as the flash bulb went off. Maeve saw her parents cheering and yelling out which made her blush. Her eyes then looked over to see John, clapping for her too while some of the others were grumbling to themselves.

Maeve went over to John as he said, "Well, I'll never bet against a lady in a corset again. Especially one that even told me I was gonna lose."

"I'm usually right, Mister. It's a gift and curse," she gave him the money. He looked down confused, "What's this?"

"You shot just as good as me, and trust me when I say I have not had any competition like you in years. Maybe when I was bad at shootin', but now? Not one man comes close," she explained, "And if my feeling about you is right, then you need the money more."

"What's your feelin'?" he asked, curious to know her theory.

"Passin' through, so you're a little lost...don't know where to go."

He stared at her, "GO on." Maeve shrugged, "You're a wanderer. Nothing wrong with that in the slightest, just need a break now and again."

John still had the money, "I still can't accept this. You won it fair 'n' square." Maeve shrugged, not taking it back, "And I can do with it as I want. And I want to give it to a man that needs it. Winning the contest, it never was about the money," Maeve said to him, "I just like rubbin' this pretty ribbon in a man's face, that and the rifle. Fine gun this is," she said admiring the one on her shoulder.

John barked out a laugh, then put the money in his pocket, "All I can offer is my thanks then, Miss Milley."

"Thank you..." she then glanced back at her parents who wanted to talk to their daughter. "I gotta get, but I'll see you tonight?"

"You sure will," John took out a cigarette from his pocket, "Six o'clock." Maeve stepped back, with a grin, "Six o'clock.

______________________________________________________________

Maeve had spent most of her time in the tent, laying down on the cot rethinking the stormy night. She wasn't frightened so much, just becoming angry at the events, at herself for not doing more. It just kept eating at her, all the while she wondered when Arthur was coming back from his 'business'. The last thing Maeve remembers is Arthur trying to help her while she rejected him, yelling in his face hysterically. She had to apologize for not being in the right state of mind.

She got up to go check outside, to see if he had come back yet. The girl had to talk to someone about what she was going through. Maeve's eyes observed the camp before landing on John who was looking at her. Him. He knew who she was, or close enough. Why hasn't he said anything to her yet? It was time to settle this, Maeve started to walk over to John wanting some answers to how he's here. He was an outlaw that ran with this gang, it had her wondering how long he’s been on the run. When she really thought about it, Maeve didn’t know much about John at all.

When she was close enough, Maeve cleared her throat to get his attention. John had turned his head up to her, "Yeah?" Her heart started to skip a beat when he spoke, "Um...hi. It's been a while." He said nothing, making the silence unbearable enough for Maeve to keep going, "I know things didn't exactly end well for us...I said some things, you left," her voice was descending it's volume as it recalled old times, "I just wanted to say things have been looking down for me right now, but I am glad to see a face that I recognize."

Maeve's brown orbs stared at him, begging for him to talk to her. Or acknowledge he was here with her instead the crippling isolation that was overwhelming her. No, he didn’t do any of that. Instead John still was silent as he reached for his gun holster to put on around his waist.

Waiting impatiently, Maeve broke out saying, "Can you please say something to me? I’m wanna talk and frankly all I feel is crazy."

Taking in a deep breath, the man glanced at her face with his dark eyes, "Afraid you are."

Maeve's breath was still. He just told her she was crazy? "What?"

John shrugged his shoulder, "Never met you before in my life," he then started to walk off back towards the stew pot to get a bowl. Maeve stood there with watery eyes hoping she could have at least had someone to talk to, someone that knew her before the great loss Maeve suffered. He just brushed her off. Maeve felt her heart sink.

______________________________________________________________

Maeve came in to the saloon with a blue ribbon pinned to her frilled shirt. She was still wearing the outfit her mother dressed her in. Cecilia got a lot of orders for ‘the Kimberly’ after the contest that she had to go to the shop with some customers. Mrs. McCourt only wanted the best for her own daughter. Everett wanted to keep his wife company so he went with her to the tailor's. Maeve approached the bar, Lou noticing the ribbon said, "Again? Ya won again? I'm not surprised," he gave her a glass of fine brandy. She downed it then set the glass on the counter, "You betcha! Not without a challenger this year. Meetin' him in a bit."

"You mean tall, dark and standin' in the corner?" Lou pointed with his thumb. Maeve saw John with his hat tipped down over his eyes and she said to Lou, "That's him! How do I look?"

"Ridiculous."

"As opposed to always!" Maeve twisted the corner of her lips down. Lou shrugged, "Ehhh," the girl took off her riverboat hat, "Hide that for me. Also two whiskeys," then made her way over to John. He looked up at her and smirked, "Howdy, winner."

"Howdy...number two...That doesn't sound great either," They chuckled as Maeve gave him his whiskey, "Cheers," he said when they drank. Using the same hand that was holding the small glass, John wiped the side of his lip.

"So, Mister Marston, since you are a wanderer, where you from originally?" Maeve asked him rolling her glass between her fingers.

"Oh you know, here and there."

She tilted her head, "Here and There? Never heard of it. Tell me more," her voice was sarcastic. John couldn't helped but be humored by her wit, "You're sharp."

"And you're an enigma. I think I like that," she went to lean against the wall. John got closer to her placing a hand by her head to lean on, "Really now? Not many people would."

"Only cause every other folk 'round these parts is borin' as all hell. 'Cept Lou," her voice raised a bit so the bartender can hear. He raised up the glass he was cleaning to acknowledge her.

John made a subtle frown, but kept meeting her stare, "You don't like a quite, borin' life?"

"You do?" Maeve countered. John made a face that read as not minding the idea, then nodded, "I could use one." The girl smiled with amusement then pushed herself off the wall, "Have mine then." John reached out to grab her wrist to stop her from going too far. He was gentle though as he said, "You got a good thing, Miss Milley. I wish I had it."

"What's yours like?" she asked noticing that John was still holding on to her. He shook his head, "You wouldn't like it."

"You better not be some rancher's son that I've never met before. I will shoot you," he grinned at that, thinking of how pretty she was when saying it. He leaned in to peck her lips and to Maeve's surprise had her eyes open. As he pulled away, John gazed, hoping Maeve wouldn't slap him.

She was looking down at her boots, her cheeks reddening at his eyes, "You definitely like to live dangerously," Maeve tried to not look at him again while biting her bottom lip, "Look it's not that I don't like you...I do. But you did say you were passin' through."

John leaned in a bit, "I haven't passed yet, have I?"

Maeve rolled her brown orbs, "But you will. That's my point," John loosened his hand so she can have her arm back, then Maeve started to walk away, "Have safe travels, Mister Marston. It was a pleasure meetin' you."

John watched her leave the saloon then went over to lean on the bar. Just as Lou came over to give him another whiskey, the bartender said, "She works here, ya know."

"Why you tellin' me?"

"Oh no reason. She's pretty, ain't she?" John stared at the man listening to what he was saying. Lou glanced at John, "You look like you can use a bath too."

"Excuse me?"

"Get one in the mornin', will ya?" he nodded his head towards the direction Maeve walked off. John then understood what he was trying to tell him.

______________________________________________________________

Mrs. Grimshaw had given Maeve a bed roll, "You can sleep next to all the other ladies we have here. Should be some space by Miss Jackson and Miss Jones." Maeve unrolled it on the ground then went to lay down on it. It was not very comfortable down there, rather lumpy beneath the fabric. The sun was starting to go down when she saw a couple men ride in, one of them covered in mud, and Maeve looked over to see if one of them was Arthur. Neither were, "When is Arthur coming back?" she asked the woman.

"Hm? Oh he usually runs off and does his own thing sometimes. Don't worry, he always comes back. Excuse me. Mister Williamson? Why are you covered up in filth like a pig?" Mrs. Grimshaw then stormed off to go talk to Mr. Williamson. Maeve watched the interaction, Mrs. Grimshaw was that maternal figure in the camp that had an order to things. With a smack of her hand upside the larger man's head he went over to wash up in the barrel of water. Susan rolled her eyes and shouted, "Don't ever come in to my camp like that again or I'll have you thrown into the closest river or lake!" This was a woman that ruled her world. Maeve admired that.

"She's a pleasure, ain't she?" a blonde, busty woman said while smoking a cigarette. Maeve nodded, "Been helpin' me get settled, so yes. I'd say so." The woman chuckled softly as if she knew what was to come. She flicked ash off her burning ember, "Just wait. She'll get real lovely in a matter of days. Name's Karen Jones."

Another woman that had been quiet while folding some clothes raised her hand, "Tilly Jackson," Maeve glanced at them both, "Maeve Milley." "You're that girl Arthur rescued. Gotta say, that's something. Gettin' shot I mean, Never been," Karen said, "Was it a robber?"

Maeve placed a hand over her bandaged wound. She did not wanna start crying again, so she kept her answers short, "Yeah..." Karen took a final drag of her cigarette, noticing her expression. She stole a glance from Tilly who was still folding her laundry, Tilly's eyebrows rose up, as a warning for Karen to tread carefully.

"The bullet went through you, so that makes you lucky," Karen said just as Maeve got up feeling overwhelmed. There was that word again, the one that was supposed to make her feel better but did no such thing, "I'm not lucky. Stop callin' me lucky because I certainly don't feel lucky!" Maeve shouted then had stormed off to get out of there. Karen threw her hands up to Tilly in a frustrated manner, "What's her deal?" "She watched her parents die in front of her," Tilly hissed out in a whisper. Karen whispered back, "No one told me! How was I supposed to know?"

Maeve was walking towards the edge of camp where the horses were kept, looking over them all she saw Liability among them eating some hay. Maeve went up to old bay mare to pet her white mane, "Hey girl...you seem to be gettin' along with these guys." The horse exhaled loudly then pressed her nose to the girl's hand. "I know...it's just us now," Maeve spoke softly before reaching into her saddle bag to take out a brush. Her horse should have been much dirtier than it was, being out here in the desert could make anyone dusty, "Who's been takin' care of you, girl?" Maeve asked as if she was gonna get an answer.

"Me," Maeve turned around to see John standing there with a bundle of hay. He tossed it down and stepped closer to Maeve while she continued to groom the mare, "That's funny...Liability doesn't really let strangers near her."

"I'm-."

"You're what? A stranger?" Maeve lashed out in questions, "Do I know you? Can't recall your name, Mister," her eyes were burning a hole into him. John's gaze at her was not amused, but he said, "You done? I was hoping we could have a word."

"Why? What was wrong with earlier that you had to call me crazy?" Maeve stopped brushing Liability, "What your friends here wouldn't think highly of me? Make fun of you for talking to me? Was I such a bad person to you that you have to lie about knowin' me?"

"No--It's--," he took a breath to step closer, "Look...I wasn't the most open when we were--"

"You sure as hell weren't. Made me pry for any information on you," Maeve interrupted. John glanced over to look to the camp, "I didn't tell you somethings because I just...at the time I was lookin' for a new start and I met you--."

Maeve watched John find difficulty in forming his sentence, but he was taking so long, "What are you tryin' to tell me, John? What didn't I know when we were--."

"I'm married...unofficially?" Maeve's mouth dropped as he continued, "And I have a kid, I think?" Maeve shook her head in confusion, "Are you married or not? Do you have a kid or not? It's not that hard to know!" As she was shouting, John tried to quiet her by placing his hands on her shoulder, "It's... complicated."

She winced her eyes at him, "It's always complicated with you. Jesus, you were runnin' away from them then weren't you?" John sighed out, "It's a long story if you wanna hear."

"I don't!" Maeve hitched Liability to a stable post, "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff instead of listenin’ to you try and explain all your shitty lies, John!"

"Not tellin' isn't lying!" John defended.

"It ain't any better, neither! Christ John! The entire time you were with me, you had a wife and kid at-- out here?" She stared at him expecting him to try and defend that, only he didn't. John simply said, "Yes."

"You're horrible."

John gave a single nod, "I know...I wasn't expecting to ever see you again," he admitted to her. Maeve scoffed out, "Excuse me for being a giant inconvenience for you and your marriage or whatever you have."

"Maeve, please...just," his hand was on her wrist, not in a rough way, "I need you to understand that what I had with you...It was-- I shouldn't have used you like that when you were nice to me," Maeve watched him closely, wondering what all of their time was. He then said, "I need you to not tell anyone about me and you...at least until I've told my-- until I've told Abigail."

"You want me to lie for you now?" Maeve said to him. John nodded, "I know it's askin' a lot, but please."

She glared at him with those big brown eyes, "Not like it will be hard...I never knew you at all," Maeve pulled away from him, "Mae..." he said with a breath. The girl shook her head, "You wanna be strangers? Fine...let's be strangers. Just stay the hell away from me."

Maeve walked back to camp as John watched her. It was better for her if they lied like this. It was better that John let her go. Still, it hurt him having to do this due to the fact he was still fond of her. _____________________________________________________________

She threw her hair in a bun while walking into the saloon, "Mornin' Lou," she greeted the bartender as he was moving stools around, "Mornin' Miss Milley. Got someone waitin' on ya."

Maeve’s face made a pouted expression, "I just walked in!" she complained. Lou smirking, shook his head, "And he just paid! So get your pompous arse up there and scrub him clean!" Maeve tossed her coat over the bar and stomped upstairs. When getting to the door, Maeve knocked, "Need some help in there?"

"Yeah," Maeve rolled her eyes not paying attention to the voice then opened the door. She was expecting to see a naked man in the tub but instead, Maeve saw a fully clothed one standing by the porcelain, "John?"

"Howdy," he greeted taking off his gloves. Maeve shut the door behind her and was rather surprised he was still around, "Thought you were passin' through?" her head tilted to the side as she sauntered forward. John gave her a small shrug, "I did mention I would stay if there's any reason to stick around."

The corners of her mouth raised a bit just as she was arms length away, "Am I a reason?" John took off his hat and nodded, "You are. Do you wanna be?" he moved closer being inches from her now. Maeve bit the side of her bottom lip before standing on her toes to kiss John. His arms wrapped around her waist to hold her up as they deepened the passionate kiss. Maeve's hands were on the side of his face as he stopped kissing for a moment, "That a yes?"

Maeve laughed out in glee, "You're horrible!"

"I know," John, smiling brightly, pressed his lips to hers again.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/oc #John Marston #john marston/oc #red dead redemption 2.#rdr2

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Ananda Lewis

Ananda Lewis (born March 21, 1973) is an American television personality, model and social activist. She was an MTV veejay from the late 1990s until 2001, when she left the network to host her own broadcast syndicated television talk show, The Ananda Lewis Show.

Biography

Early life

Lewis was born on March 21, 1973, in Los Angeles, California. She is of African American and Native American descent, specifically of the Creek and Blackfoot tribes. Her name means "bliss" in Sanskrit. Lewis's mother worked as an account manager for Pacific Bell, and her father as a computer-animation specialist. Her sister, Lakshmi, is a physician. Lewis's parents divorced when Ananda was two years old, and her mother moved with her daughters to San Diego, California, to be near her own mother. Her mother took an extended trip to Europe to escape the pain of her failed marriage, leaving Ananda and Lakshmi with their grandmother. During her absence, which lasted less than a year, Lewis felt abandoned. She states:

It was like she nurtured me and carried me in her womb and then completely left."

Lewis often fought with her mother while growing up and rarely saw her father, who had remarried. Lewis and her grandmother also frequently "locked horns" while she was growing up.

Lewis struggled with a speech impediment, stuttering until she was eight years old. In grade school she earned a reputation for outspokenness; her comments provoked her teachers' ire or, less often, their amusement. In 1981 Lewis entered herself in the Little Miss San Diego Contest, a beauty pageant, and won. During the talent portion of the competition, Lewis performed a dance routine, which she had choreographed herself, to Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney's ballad "Ebony and Ivory." After her win, Lewis attracted the attention of a talent agent and began working in local theater productions and on television. In fourth grade she enrolled at the San Diego School of Creative and Performance Arts (SCPA), a public magnet school, where she remained for nine years. At the age of thirteen, Lewis began volunteering as a tutor and counselor at a Head Start facility. Lewis was inspired by the work and decided to become a teacher or a psychologist, with the goal of helping young people. However, Lewis's family urged her to follow a more lucrative career path specifically law. She majored in history at Howard University, in Washington, D.C., from which she graduated, cum laude, in 1995.

Personal life

Lewis has credited her mother, grandmother, and sister for providing her with a positive, supportive environment. By her own account, as she grew older she felt increasingly upset by her parents' divorce. In adulthood, Lewis has healed her rifts with both parents. Lewis was a good friend of singer and actress Aaliyah before her accidental death. She has six godchildren. In 2011, Lewis gave birth to a boy, her first child. She currently resides in the San Fernando Valley.

Career

Early career

Throughout college Lewis had volunteered as a mentor with the group Youth at Risk and at the Youth Leadership Institute. She was considering attending graduate school to pursue a master's degree in education when she learned that auditions were going to be held for the job of on-screen host of BET's Teen Summit. She states that the children she was working with that summer were the main ones pushing her to go to the auditions. She states:

The kids said, "You better go audition for that show. You don't have a job, and this job is almost over."

Lewis's audition would be a success and she became the host of Teen Summit. For three seasons she discussed serious issues affecting teenagers for a television audience of several million. The show's topical, debate-driven format enabled Lewis to follow her passion for helping young people, and use her skills she had acquired at the performing-arts school in San Diego. Lewis is known for having the courage to openly discuss taboo subjects without flinching. Her executives knew that this kind of gumption was the right stuff for a live show host," In 1996, on an installment of the show entitled "It Takes a Village," Lewis interviewed then-First Lady Hillary Clinton, whose book with that title had been published earlier in the year. Also in 1996 Teen Summit was nominated for a CableACE Award, and the next year the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) presented Lewis with an Image Award for her work on Black Entertainment Television (BET). Soon afterward the cable network MTV offered Lewis a position as a program host and video jockey. The thought of leaving Teen Summit was painful for her; indeed, several sources quoted her as recalling that she "cried for three weeks" while pondering her choices. In opting to move to MTV, the deciding factor was the possibility of greatly increasing the size of her viewing audience and, therefore, her potential for influencing America's youth.

Lewis hosted and VJed a variety of shows includingTotal Request Live, a daily top ten video-countdown show, and Hot Zone, which offered both music videos and Lewis's interviews of musicians and others. On one notable installment of The Hot Zone, she berated the rapper Q-Tip about the number of scantily clad dancers in one of his videos. In a reference to Lewis's broadcasting savvy, Bob Kusbit, MTV's senior vice president for production, told Douglas Century for the New York Times on November 21, 1999, "In the past our talent was sometimes just pretty people who could read cue cards. But when we brought Ananda to MTV, we decided we were going to do a lot more live television." MTV also called upon Lewis to host other, topical programs, including two MTV forums on violence in schools, which aired after the Columbine High School massacre and several memorial tributes for the singer Aaliyah, who perished in a plane crash in 2001. In 2001 Lewis earned another NAACP Image Award, for her hosting of the MTV special True Life: I Am Driving While Black.

In 1998, Lewis made headlines while at MTV when she announced, that she intended to remain abstinent for at least six months. She states:

I made the decision for selfish reasons, but I'm going public here because I realized I might be able to help other girls, too. I know the kind of drama that being sexually active brings to your life. I felt that if it was good for me to take a break, it might be good for other young girls, too. You see, I think I would be a whole different person if I hadn't had sex so early. Everybody was saying, "Do it!" but nobody ever said, "You don't have to do it". I think hearing that would have made a huge difference in my life.

Also during that period Lewis became a familiar presence at celebrity-attended events in and around New York City. "If you don't recognize the name Ananda Lewis, it may be because you're older than 23, or not a hip-hop star, or not a regular supplicant in the land of the velvet ropes," Century wrote at the height of Lewis's fame. "In the last year, Ms. Lewis has emerged as the hip-hop generation's reigning 'It Girl,' meaning she is not just an MTV personality but a woman whose looks and attitudes have made her perpetually in demand."

Later career

In 2000 People included Lewis on its list of the world's "50 Most Beautiful People." In 2001, Lewis decided to leave MTV in order to start her own talk show. The Ananda Lewis Show debuted on September 10, 2001, after much advance press in which Lewis was compared to Oprah Winfrey, the wildly popular talk-show host long considered to be one of the most powerful women of African American descent in television. Lewis continued to do special presentations for MTV after her show had begun. Lewis's series, which was syndicated by King World Productions, targeted women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-four by addressing such issues as domestic violence and breast cancer; it was billed as an alternative to the sensationalism and provocative offerings of Jerry Springer and Ricki Lake, whose talk shows were then dominating daytime ratings. Lewis's show aired on some WB and NBC stations before being canceled after one season. Her show's producers stated: "We started on a Monday and then there was the World Trade Center bombing the next day, and everything has become a mess since then," Roger King, the chairman and CEO of King World Productions and CBS Enterprises. Lewis then worked briefly for BET.

In 2004 Lewis became the chief correspondent on celebrity subjects for the nationally syndicated, nightly entertainment program The Insider, a spin-off of the popular Entertainment Tonight. In the spring of 2005, she interviewed Paris Hilton, Dylan Ryder, Don Cheadle and Ryan Phillippe (two of the stars of Paul Haggis's ensemble film Crash), and actress Dyan Cannon. Lewis herself has made guest appearances on several sitcoms.

In 2004 Ms. Lewis also appeared on the ABC network's reality show called Celebrity Mole: Yucatán. This reality series won an Emmy for Outstanding Achievement for Enhanced Television.

An avid animal lover, Lewis has served as co-host of the A&E television-network show America's Top Dog and as a spokesperson for the Humane Society. She has been known to frequently introduce her two pet chihuahuas to interviewers. She has also been a spokesperson for Reading Is Fundamental, a nonprofit literacy group.

#03/21

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tony-luvv · 6 years

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May 5 - No Pants Day

Warning: Cross-Dressing, Acceptance, Temptation, Bucky x Tony

Ao3 Link and Fanfiction.net Link

Tony waited for this day all year. May 5th, the day he could walk around without pants. Now for most, people would assume he walked around in his boxer briefs or something. Well...not quite. May 5th could fall on any day of the week really but most years he wasn’t so lucky to get this special day on the weekend. So a few years ago, he’d taken to wearing dresses and skirts. Technically they weren’t pants, nothing hugging between his legs. So if he was called to the office or into a meeting, he’d wear a business skirt or dress.

It certainly shocked the hell out of the board the first time he’d done it but at this point they were somewhat used to it.

Anyway, this year, May 5th was a Saturday, and yes, he was home all day...but this year he also had roommates. So a cute skirt it is!

Throwing open the doors to his closet he strode to the back where his special outfits were located. Tony has always enjoyed dressing up, so after awhile he’d taken to collecting all types of clothes and coming up with reasons to wear them. Today is a nice day, weather warming up which meant he didn’t need heavy clothing. He went with a black flared skater skirt that rested right at his belly button. The skirt stopped just shy of mid-thigh and looked good on him. He looked over his collection of tops and spotted one of his favorite band logos. A matching black tank crop-top had AC/DC printed across the chest. He threw it on and some black boots as a final touch before going to stand in front of the mirror.

Looking at his reflection he couldn’t help but pout, “What do you think FRIDAY? I feel like i’m missing something...” He spun back and forth, loving the way the skirt twisted to catch up with him.

“Maybe an accessory or two Boss, I’d say a black choker would really throw the look together.”

“Such fashion taste, have you’ve been talking to Jan again?”

“Only a little.” Tony laughed, he was so proud of his girl. Doing as suggested he grabbed a leather choker and attached it. Once it was on he went back to his accessories when he spotted them. Circular sunglasses, dark grey lens with gold outlining. Around the lens the metal frame stuck out a little with a small leaf pattern engraved along the side. He put them on.

“Okay FRIDAY, you think I’m ready now?”

He stood there in his little punk outfit, posing and modeling for the mirror and FRIDAY’s cameras.

“Magnificent Boss.”

“Well baby girl, don’t wait up.”

Leaving his room he made for the common area, it was coffee time.

When he walked in, jaws dropped. Surprisingly Thor was the first to recover, “What are you wearing Anthony?”

Of course Natasha was the only one that didn’t react like the boys did, instead she hid her snickers behind her tea cup. “Yeah Stark, where are your pants?” Tony glared at her through his shades, she knew damn well why. She was with him this same time last year!

“You know why Natashalie.” He pouted and then went to make a cup of his life juice.

That got Clint going though, he hated being left out. “Know what? Care to fill the rest of us in?”

“Well if you must know bird brain, it’s National No Pants Day.”

“So you wear women’s clothing instead?” Poor Steve, cursed to forever be confused by the 21st century.

“Well I can’t walk around in my underwear in public so I assumed the same with my new roommates. This is the next best thing.” The coffee pot dinged so he turned to make himself busy. He faintly heard Thor ask Natasha something before as they left the common floor.

In fact, he was so immersed in making his coffee he completely missed Bucky entering the room. The ex-assassin was sort of, maybe, his boyfriend. He wasn’t completely sure since they’ve only been on two dates but that was semantics. James entered the room, spotting Tony at the same moment Clint and Steve spotted him, it seemed like everyone froze (except Tony who was oblivious to the whole encounter). Bucky’s eyes greedily took in his outfit, hungry eyes trialing over his body and the skin exposed. When his smile turned shark like and predatory, the two blondes took off running. Fleeing the scene as fast as they could before they witness something they weren’t prepared to see.

The sound of scrapping chairs and running feet had Tony cluing back into his surroundings. He turned to see Clint and Steve retreating backs and then nearly bumped into Bucky who was standing right behind him.

“James!” He jumped, almost dropping his coffee mug. It was only Bucky’s fast reflexes that saved his favorite mug from a terrible demise. “Hi, um, g-good morning.”

James leaned in, morning voice deep and sexy, “Mornin’ doll. Wha’s got you all dressed up an’ pretty?” He’s cheeks warmed under Bucky’s heated stare.

“Oh, it’s a – well today’s…no pants day.” He kept looking down, unable to look his crush, man – person in the face. Embarrassment making him nervous and fidgety.

James stepped even closer, – how was that even possible, he was already so close! – right into his space and his metal arm curled around his exposed waist. The cool metal chilled his skin causing goosebumps to rise and make him shiver. “You look gorgeous like that baby doll. Is this the only time you wear skirts or will this become a regular thing?” Tony was freaking out, did James really like it or did he want Tony to stop? He was going to tell him, stuttering like the mess he is and tell him not often but James beat him to the punch. Leaning in close, mouth to his ear, “I really hope this becomes a regular thing.”

“I have more!” He froze, shocked that he just said that. Bucky froze too but for the only reason Tony wasn’t thinking of. While every negative response filtered through Tony's mind, James was trying his best not to pop a boner at all the sexy little outfits he imagined Tony could be hiding from him.

“Will you show me?” Tony jerked back to look up at James, eyes locking with Bucky’s grey-blue ones over the rims of his sunglasses. It was crazy, he’d only know the Winter Soldier for a few months and dated him a week or two but something about this man stole all his words. He swallowed the ball of nerves in his throat and nodded, making Bucky smile. The taller man leaned down, flesh hand tilting his head up and kissed him sweetly. “Lead the way doll.”

God he loved those lips, he pushed up for another kiss. Just a press of lips that made him smile. Then he grabbed the flesh hand off his face and used it to drag the other man to the elevator.

When they got upstairs Tony led him to his bedroom and to his walk in closet where he’d been not even an hour ago. “It’s all right here.” James didn’t let go of his hand but he did look over his wardrobe. Eyes scanning different dresses and skirts, matching tops to go along and…shoes.

“You have heels too?” Tony flushed again at the incredulity in Bucky’s voice. James quickly noticed and turned to him, squeezing his hand, “Hey, I was just surprised, I didn’t mean to sound rude or anything. Okay?” He even crouched down a little to get Tony to look at him.

He smiled and James smiled back, “Okay.”

“Will you model some for me?”

“Sure.”

Tony went about changing, he had a lounge chair in there so he made sure James was settled before he started. Modelling shows for his friends was pretty common occurrence for Tony so he actually had one of those wooden folded panels to change behind while James waited. He’s extremely grateful he got it now, otherwise he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle James watching him.

For his first outfit he put on thin strap gladiator sandal heels and a white long sleeve pencil dress. He flattened out the dress taking in a deep breath before moving around the barrier. His hands gripped the edges of his sleeves nervously as he walked closer to Bucky.

“What do you think?” Carefully, he spun around, letting James see every side of him.

“Whoa, damn Tony I think I have a new kink…” He stared, drinking in the sight Tony presented. The white hugging him beautifully and curved around his ass. It took all of Bucky’s self-control to stay in that chair and not jump Tony’s bones. The white looked good on him, making his tan skin stand out against the clean white fabric. Fuck his legs looked so fucking juicy– “Did you shave your legs?”

“Oh, well I did it once a long time ago. Haven’t stopped doing it since.” Tony leaned back a little, looking down his body at his hairless legs, “Is it too weird?”

“Honey I was born during the depression, died in a world war, spent years as a mindless puppet of a Nazi terrorist group and currently work part time as a super hero with the coolest metal arm in history. Nothing is weird anymore. If you like it than I like it.”

Tony had stood there listening to James, arms crossed as he nervously bit his lip. But by the end, he was smiling brightly down at the other man. Unable to help himself, he walked over, standing next to the lounge chair he leaned down to kiss this perfect man. Bucky’s hand came out, rubbing and caressing the back of his thigh. He leaned back, enough to look James in the eye when he whispered, “Thank you.”

After a few more shared kisses Tony went back to changing outfits. His next dress was a grey slash neck knitted dress and grey low top converse sneakers. With a little more confidence he came around the divide strutting. Making a show of swinging his hips and circling the room.

James squirmed in his seat, “Damn I’m going to have to start calling you kitten.”

Tony grinned, walking over to James he dropped down to his knees before the man and ran one hand up his leg. As best as he could, he looked up under his lashes and squeezed the calve in his hand, “Meow.”

Bucky’s entire body twitched and Tony jumped back laughing, “That wasn’t very nice kitten.” James was definitely pouting at him.

“I’m sorry but you literally set yourself up for that one.”

“Yeah, yeah, next please.”

For his next outfit he grabbed a floral fit and flare dress. The front covered his chest and sat higher, leaving little spaghetti straps to cover his shoulders and leave a lot of his back exposed. Like all the other dresses it stopped mid-thigh but this one held a cute white flowers over a dark purple background. He put heels on again, white ankle strap and open toed heels that went perfectly.

When he finished dressing he moved to the mirror instead of Bucky, twisting and turning like he did in his skirt this morning. James joined him at the mirror. “You really do look beautiful doll.” Tony blushed, loving how James complimented him. It made something warm flutter in his chest every time he spoke. Tony turned around, facing James head on. Blush be damned, “I love you.” Bucky looked at him, eyes wide in surprise and Tony found himself fumbling to explain, “I know we’ve barely dated and that things can’t be easy for you after everything but I really mean it. I love you James.”

A big solid body pushed him back into the cold surface of the mirror and kissed him. Lips angel soft and tongue sinful as hell as it devoured him, “God you are so beautiful and I love you too Tony. I love you so much.”

#luvvswrittng #luvv's holiday saga #may #winteriron #cross-dressing #tony in a dress #fluff

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anothergracekellyblog · 6 years

Photo

TIME magazine - January 31, 1955 Cover illustration by Boris Chaliapin

THE GIRL IN WHITE GLOVES

Almost every morning, a slim figure in a polo coat, leading a small black poodle on a leash, emerges from one of Manhattan's cliff houses on East 66th Street. The doorman gives her a cheery “Good Morning, Miss Kelly.” But outside, no head turns. For, in her low-heeled shoes and horn-rimmed spectacles, Actress Grace Kelly is all but indistinguishable from any other well-scrubbed young woman of the station-wagon set, armored in good manners, a cool expression, and the secure knowledge that whatever happens, Daddy can pay.

A few blocks away, Grace Kelly's name is emblazoned on two first-run Broadway houses, and the same face, without spectacles, makes husbands sigh and wives think enviously that they might look that way too, if only they could afford a really good hairdo. In Hollywood, producers fight over her, directors beg for her, writers compose special scripts for her. In an industry where the girls can be roughly divided into young beauties and aging actresses, Grace Kelly is something special: a young (25) beauty who can act.

A year ago, Grace Patricia Kelly was only a promising newcomer (generally thought to be English), who lost Clark Gable to Ava Gardner in Mogambo. Currently, she is the acknowledged “hottest property” in Hollywood. In Manhattan this year, the New York Film Critics pronounced her acting in The Country Girl “the outstanding performance of 1954.”

CAN’T TOUCH HER

Grace Kelly, with the lovely blonde hair, chiseled features, blue eyes and an accent that is obviously refined, is a startling change from the run of smoky film sirens and bumptious cuties. Said one Hollywood observer: “Most of these dames just suggest Kinsey statistics. But if a guy in a movie theater starts mooning about Grace, there could be nothing squalid about it; his wife would have to be made to understand that it was something fine - and bigger than all of them. Her peculiar talent, you might say, is that she inspires licit passion."

From the day in 1951 when she walked into Director Fred Zinnemann's office wearing prim white gloves ("Nobody came to see me before wearing white gloves"), the well-bred Miss Grace Kelly of Philadelphia has baffled Hollywood. She is a rich girl who has struck it rich. She was not discovered behind a soda fountain or at a drive-in. She is a star who was never a starlet, who never worked up from B pictures, never posed for cheesecake, was never elected, with a press agent's help, Miss Antiaircraft Battery C. She did not gush or twitter or desperately pull wires for a chance to get in the movies. Twice she turned down good Hollywood contracts. When she finally signed on the line, she forced mighty M-G-M itself to grant her special terms. Beamed a New York friend: “Here, for the first time in history, is a babe that Hollywood can't get to. Can't touch her with money, can't touch her with big names. Only thing they can offer her is good parts.”

STEEL INSIDES

She has managed to get the parts. In the short space of 18 months, she has been paired with six of Hollywood's biggest box office male stars - Clark Gable, Ray Milland, James Stewart, William Holden, Bing Crosby, Cary Grant. These seasoned veterans have learned to view with a jaundiced eye the pretty young newcomers assigned to play opposite them. Grace, as usual, was different. Says Holden, one of Hollywood's ablest pros: “With some actresses, you have to keep snapping them to attention like a puppy. Grace is always concentrating. In fact, she sometimes keeps me on the track.” Says Jimmy Stewart: "She's easy to play to. You can see her thinking the way she's supposed to think in the role. You know she's listening, and not just for cues. Some actresses don't think and don't listen. You can tell they're just counting the words.”

Outside the studio, Grace continued to disregard the Hollywood rules. She was friendly, but she refused to court the important columnists. Interviewers who tried to get her to open up came away swearing that they would rather tackle a train window anytime. One producer grumbled that she had “stainless steel insides.” She flatly refused to divulge even the standard data (bust, waist, hips). One columnist asked routinely whether she wore nightgowns. “I think it's nobody's business what I wear to bed,” she said coolly. “A person has to keep something to herself, or your life is just a layout in a magazine."

In the end, publicists had to content themselves with tagging Miss Kelly as “a Main Line debutante.” She is neither Main Line nor a debutante, but she is the next thing to both.

THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

In Philadelphia, the Kellys are about as conspicuous as the 30th Street Station, which, like many of the city's major structures, bears the credit: Brickwork by Kelly. Handsome, athletic John B. Kelly, Grace's father, the son of a farm boy from County Mayo, began business life as a bricklayer. Eventually, he parlayed a borrowed $7,000 into the nation's biggest brickwork construction company. One of his brothers was George Kelly, Pulitzer Prizewinning playwright (Craig's Wife); another was Walter Kelly, the famed “Virginia Judge” of the vaudeville circuits.

All the Kellys, says a friend, are “beautiful, physical people.” Father Jack was a champion sculler; Grace's mother (who is of German descent) was a model, later the first woman physical education instructor at the University of Pennsylvania. Father Jack, who still takes his athletics seriously, went to England in 1920 to compete at Henley. But the Henley committee ruled that he could not compete because he had once “worked with his hands" and was therefore not a “gentleman.” He went on to the Olympics, where he soundly thrashed the Henley winner, and triumphantly sent his sweaty green rowing cap to King George V of England with his compliments. The moment his son John B. Jr. (“Kell") was born in 1927, Jack resolved that he would win at Henley; he began training the boy personally at the age of seven. In 1947 Kell righted an old wrong done his family by going to Henley in the colors of the University of Pennsylvania and scoring an impressive victory for Penn and Pop.

CHURCH & ATHLETICS

Of the three Kelly daughters, Peggy was the oldest and a cut-up, Lizanne the youngest and an extrovert. Grace, the middle one, born Nov. 12, 1929, was shy, quiet, and for years snuffled with a chronic cold. The big, 15-room house in plain East Falls, across the Schuylkill River from the Main Line, was the meeting place for the whole neighborhood. “There was a lawn out back with swings and a sandbox, a tennis court and the usual things like that,” says Grace. Summers, the Kelly family had a house on the Jersey shore at Ocean City. As regularly as she marched the children to St. Bridget's Roman Catholic Church every Sunday, Mrs. Kelly marched them off to the Penn Athletic Club for workouts. "There's a certain discipline in athletic work,” says Mrs. Kelly. “That's why Grace can accustom herself to routine and responsibility.” Sister Peg organized home theatricals. "Somebody else always got the lead,” Grace recalls, without rancor. Even then remote and self-absorbed, Grace used to write poetry, some serious, some "little gooney ones” that showed a neat turn of phrase. Sample, written when she was 14:

I hate to see the sun go down And squeeze itself into the ground, Since some warm night it might get stuck And in the morning not get up.

Little Grace went to the local Ravenhill convent school, then to Stevens School in Germantown. By the time she was eleven, she was appearing in a local amateur dramatic company. Turned down by Bennington (she flunked math), Grace got herself into the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York. From the first, her family was dubious about an acting career. “We'd hoped she would give it up,” says her mother. Snorts Father Kelly: “Those movie people lead pretty shallow lives.”

THE “CLEAN” WAY

But Grace knew what she wanted. To assure her independence, she got a job modeling, was soon making $400 a week posing for Ipana, beer ads, Old Golds. Photographer Ruzzie Green describes her as “what we call ‘nice clean stuff’ in our business. She's not a top model and never will be. She's the girl next door. No glamour, no oomph, no cheesecake. She has lovely shoulders but no chest. Grace is like Bergman in the 'clean’ way. She can do that smush stuff in movies - remember all those little kisses in Rear Window? - and get away with it.” A friend remembers her at this period as “terribly sedate, always wore tweed suits and a hat-with-a-veil kind of thing. She had any number of sensible shoes, even some with those awful flaps on front.”

She did TV commercials (“I was terrible - honestly, anyone watching me give the pitch for Old Golds would have switched to Camels"), doggedly made the rounds of summer stock (New Hope and Denver) and casting offices. “I've read for almost everything that's been cast. I even read for the ingenue part in The Country Girl on Broadway (left out in the movie ). The producer told me I really wasn't the ingenue type, that I was too intelligent looking.”

Then she read for the daughter's part in Strindberg's grim The Father. She got the part and won good notices, but the play lasted only two months. Grace went back to TV (“summer stock in an iron lung") to play in such varied offerings as Studio One, Treasury Men in Action, Philco Playhouse and Lights Out.

FIRST FAN

Once before and once shortly after she left dramatic school, Grace turned down $250-a-week movie contracts: “I didn't want to be just another starlet.” Now Hollywood reached for her again but failed to get a firm grip. Director Henry Hathaway gave her a bit part as the lady negotiating a divorce across the street from the man on the ledge in Fourteen Hours. But she refused a contract; she did not feel ready yet. She did accept a one-shot offer from Producer Stanley Kramer for the part of Gary Cooper's young wife in High Noon.

Fourteen Hours produced her first fan, a high-school girl in Oregon who started a fan club and kept Grace posted on new members. Grace thought it a hilarious joke. “We've got a new girl in Washington,” she would cry in triumph. “I think she's ours, sewed up.” In High Noon her finishing-school accent sat awkwardly amongst the western drawls, and her beauty made little impact. What was more, from High Noon determined Grace Kelly got her first real self-doubts about her planned progress. Says she: “With Gary Cooper, everything is so clear. You look into his face and see everything he is thinking. I looked into my own face and saw nothing. I knew what I was thinking, but it didn't show. For the first time, I suddenly thought, ‘Perhaps I'm not going to be a great star, perhaps I'm not any good after all.’” Grace hustled back to New York to learn how to make it show.

THE “TOO” CATEGORY

She was still learning (with Sanford Meisner at the Neighborhood Playhouse) when 20th Century-Fox called her to test for a role in a film called Taxi. Dressed in an old skirt and a man's shirt on her way to class, “I walked into Gregory Ratoff's office, and he threw up his arms and screamed, 'She's perfect.' In all my life, no one has ever said, 'You are perfect.' People have been confused about my type, but they agreed on one thing: I was in the “too” category - too tall, too leggy, too chinny. And Ratoff kept yelling around, 'What I love about this girl, she's not pretty.’” But the producer did not like her, and another girl got the role.

Director John Ford saw the test, however, and wanted her for Mogambo. Even then, Grace did not come running. When M-G-M offered her a seven-year contract starting at $750 a week, she demanded a year off every two years for a play, and permission to go back to New York, instead of hanging around Hollywood, whenever she finished a picture. She was only 22, and all but unknown. But M-G-M agreed to her terms. Says Grace: “I wanted Mogambo for three things: John Ford, Clark Gable, and a free trip to Africa.”

In Africa, Grace picked up a lot of film technique from Ford and developed a hero worship for Gable. Ford was soon predicting that she would be a star. For her performance as the cool English wife stirred to sudden and thwarted passion for White Hunter Gable, Grace won a “best supporting role” nomination for the Academy Award.

RESTRAINT & CONTROL

M-G-M still seemed uncertain about what to do with her. But Alfred Hitchcock, also impressed by the Taxi test, snapped her up for Dial M for Murder, then for Rear Window. Says Hitchcock: “From the Taxi test, you could see Grace's potential for restraint. I always tell actors don't use the face for nothing. Don't start scribbling over the sheet of paper until we have something to write. We may need it later. Grace has this control. It's a rare thing for a girl at such an age.” Director George Seaton adds: “Grace doesn't throw everything at you in the first five seconds. Some girls give you everything they've got at once, and there it is - there is no more. But Grace is like a kaleidoscope: one twist, and you get a whole new facet.”

Under Hitchcock's expert direction, Grace bloomed in Rear Window. As a sleek young career girl, she distilled a tingling essence of what Hitchcock has called “sexual elegance.” She was learning her trade. The way she walked, spoke and combed her hair had a sureness that gives moviegoers a comfortable feeling: she would never make them wince with some awkwardness of misplaced gaucherie. Exhibitors, who know a good thing when they see the turnstiles click, began dropping Hitchcock and Stewart from their marquees and advertised simply: “Grace Kelly in Rear Window.” In Hollywood, the stampede was on.

MORE THAN BEAUTIFUL

When the stampede started, Grace was in a bathing suit dutifully splashing around a Japanese bathhouse as Navy Pilot Bill Holden's wife in The Bridges at Toko-Ri (a movie that does little for Grace except establish the fact that she has a better figure than normally meets the eye). At about the same time, Paramount's producer-director team of William Perlberg and George Seaton got word that Jennifer Jones, scheduled to play the title role in their next picture, The Country Girl, had become pregnant. They asked M-G-M to lend them Grace. This time M-G-M said no. Grace still gets angry when she thinks about it. She went to her agent, says Perlberg, and told him: “If I can't do this picture, I'll get on the train and never come back. I'll quit the picture business. I'll never make another film.” Actress Kelly had her way. M-G-M lent her out to Paramount again, but this time jumped the price from the $20,000 charged for Toko-Ri to $50,000 and demanded that she give M-G-M an extra picture (her contract calls for only three a year).

The Country Girl was final proof that she is more than merely beautiful. The well-bred girl from Philadelphia is completely convincing as the slatternly, embittered wife of aging, alcoholic Matinee Idol Bing Crosby. She slouches around with her glowing hair gone dull, her glasses stuck on top of her head, her underlip sullen, resentment in the very sag of her shoulders and the dangle of her arms. She looks dreadful. Said Seaton: “You know that old cardigan sweater she wears? Well, a lot of actresses would say, 'Well, why don't we just put a few rhinestones here? I want to look dowdy, of course, but this woman has taste... and before you know it, she'd look like a million dollars. But not Grace. Grace wanted to be authentic.”

Bing Crosby, a little nervous himself at undertaking so exacting a dramatic role, was dubious about his untried costar and said so. But before the shooting was over, Crosby was telling Seaton, “Never let me open my big mouth again,” and talking of taking Grace out dancing.

BAGS PACKED

Hollywood is now eager to adopt Actress Kelly, white gloves and all, and is trying hard, with the air of an ill-at-ease lumberjack worrying whether he is using the right spoon. But Grace shows no interest in the Hollywood way of life, or even in having the customary swimming pool ("I don't swim that much"). Thus far, she has lived with a sister or a girlfriend in a furnished, two-room North Hollywood apartment, acting as if she considered herself on location, with her bags packed ready to go back to New York.

Young men who are eager to brighten her after-hours life come away baffled. “If she doesn't think a joke is funny," one complained, “she doesn't laugh." Wolves are discouraged when Grace briskly pulls on her glasses (her lovely blue eyes are nearsighted) and assumes her Philadelphia expression. Some suspect that she is, as Oscar Wilde put it, “a sphinx without secrets." Publicity men despair of her. “A Grace Kelly anecdote?” said a friend. “I don't think Grace would allow an anecdote to happen to her.”

A few of Hollywood's older, more sought-after men have concluded, from time to time, that they were just the boys destined to discover and unlock the real Grace. Each time, Grace has resisted unlocking, though whenever her father reads in a column of a new “romantic attachment,” the family gets alarmed. “I don't like that sort of thing much," snorts father Kelly. “I'd like to see Grace married. These people in Hollywood think marriage is like a game of musical chairs." When the gossips reported that Ray Milland was leaving his wife for Grace, mother Kelly hustled out to California to set things straight. Milland insists that he only took her to dinner once; Grace says nothing. Most recently Grace's escort has been Dress Designer Oleg Cassini, onetime husband of Gene Tierney and professional man-about-ladies. The Kellys deplore all such gossip-column romances. "I don't generally approve of these oddballs she goes out with,” grumps brother Kell, who is still national sculling champion and works for his father's company between workouts on the Schuylkill. “I wish she would go out with the more athletic type. But she doesn't listen to me anymore.”

Some of Grace's admirers fear that M-G-M may do to her what the studio did to Deborah Kerr - lash her down to "lady" roles and keep her there. Even after The Country Girl, the best M-G-M could think of was to assign Grace to Green Fire (which she did as her part of the bargain on Country Girl) and then offer her Quentin Durward. Grace, who sees the satin-lined trap as clearly as anyone, refused the Durward part after reading the script. “All the men can duel and fight, but all I'd do would be to wear 35 different costumes, look pretty and frightened. There are eight people chasing me: the old man, robbers, the head gypsy and Durward. The stage directions on every page of the script say, 'She clutches her jewel box and flees.’ I just thought I'd be so bored..."

RELUCTANT SCENERY

While waiting for M-G-M to think again, Grace retired to her three-room apartment in a huge, modern building in Manhattan (masonry by Kelly), where she lives alone with her poodle puppy, Oliver. Her amusements range from photography (she develops her own negatives, sloshing around her bathroom in the dark) to word games. A favorite game is one devised by Alfred Hitchcock when he met Lizabeth Scott and got to wondering what would happen if other people dropped the first letter of their names: Rank Sinatra, Scar Hammerstein, Reer Garson, Orgie Raft, Ickey Rooney. Four times a week she puts her hair up into a ponytail, dons a leotard, and goes off to classes in modern dancing and ballet. Wandering near Broadway, she avoided the Broadway theater where M-G-M publicized Green Fire with a huge poster of a bosomy girl in sexy green drapery with Grace's head but another girl's body. “It makes me so mad,” says Grace. “And the dress isn't even in the picture.”

Last week M-G-M's Production Boss Dore Schary summoned Grace to Hollywood to propose a new picture - a western with Spencer Tracy scheduled to costar. After two days of talk, Grace was still noncommittal; she would wait, she said coolly, until she had seen the completed script.

It is possible that Grace might yet win an Oscar for her Country Girl performance, and even M-G-M would have a hard time turning an Oscar-winning actress into a road-company Greer Garson. Furthermore, Actress Kelly is determined that that will not happen to her. Says she, setting her beautiful chin: “I don't want to dress up a picture with just my face. If anybody starts using me as scenery, I'll do something about it.” If all else fails, Grace could conceivably break her contract and return to television. Or she could try the stage, where acting talent counts for more, and the competition is tougher. She could always give up the whole thing for the role of wealthy young socialite. But if her studio mentors are wise, and if Grace is as wary as she has so far proved to be, the young beauty from Philadelphia may yet become an authentic jewel in Hollywood's tinsel crown.

#grace kelly #1955 #boris chaliapin #time magazine #vintage #sheila scan #sheila edit

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theartificialdane · 6 years

Text

Blue ain’t your color - Part 6

Dedicated to @talkaboutartassholes @imanationalphenomenon and the Vitan playlist <3

In which a date is arranged.

“You don’t seem fine.” Sutan gently rubbed his thumb back and forth, trying to make Violet relax, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what was different from the last time they had done this.

Sutan: Hey, are you awake?

Violet: Yes, why?

Sutan smiled and leaned back into his chair. It was a little after eleven, and Sutan was pretty sure he was the only person left in the office, not that he minded. His days often going by in a blur of everyone and their mother needing something, so it was nice to have the place to himself, giving him time to think, even though his thoughts wandered to a certain black haired woman.

Sutan: Dinner at Annisa tomorrow?

Violet: Can’t. Busy.

Sutan wrinkled his brow. Busy? It had been two days since Violet had practically snuck out at the crack of dawn, and even though they had texted, they haven't actually seen each other. Sutan stood up, getting a cigarette from his drawer before he opened the window, leaning out of it as he returned to his phone.

Sutan: Come on lovely eyes, I miss you. I haven’t seen you in two days. How hard is Fame riding you over there if you can’t go out?

Violet: I think the question is how you’re not busy, Fashion Week is in 18 days?

Sutan smiled. Fashion week was indeed in 18 days, as if anyone would let him forget it. Fame had uprooted the entire friend group, her hysteria about her autumn collection threatening to consume everyone until Bianca had told her to shut up, sit down, and eat her spaghetti.

Sutan: All sensible brands have already booked their models, even though I got a very interesting text from Raja yesterday ;) What department do you work in?

Sutan glanced over at his desk, the reason he was late laying in the stacks and stacks and stacks of portfolios he was pulling together for his darling sister.

Violet: Wouldn’t you like to know Mister?

Sutan: I’d love to know, thank you for asking.

Violet: Well keep guessing, because I’m not telling you.

Sutan laughed, Violet still holding out on him, the girl demanding to stay a mystery, but Sutan didn’t mind playing the long game. He stubbed his cigarette and closed the window, going back to his desk.

Sutan: Come over baby, please.

Violet: …. Fine.

***

“Okay so everyone listen up.” Sutan looked at his girls, Celia, Fo, Naima, Jaslene, Alison and Raven all sitting in a conference room at Elite, Sutan on the edge of the table, his glasses on, a huge stack of files in his hands. “That includes you Raven, don’t make me take your phone.”

Raven sighed but put her phone into her bag. Ever since she and Raja had gotten engaged, Raven had been glued to her phone, flashing her diamond all over the web.

“Thank you.” Sutan smiled, only just catching Raven rolling her eyes. Raven had a tendency to always toe the line, always push that little bit further, a habit she somehow still had even after years of working with him, but it was also that dissatisfaction and that fire that made her work as hard as she did, and kept his sister on her toes. “Now that I have your attention, I have the first batch of assignments and fittings for New York.”

The girls cheered, all of them excited. Sutan stood up, walking around the table as he gave every girl a file, Jaslene smiling brightly when she saw that he had booked her for Marc Jacobs, while Celia groaned as she realised that she had once again been handpicked for Adam Lipper. Sutan

“Now, does anyone have any questions?”

***

“Joseph? Your assistant said you’d be here.”

“Hi, I’m in here!”

Sutan smiled as he walked through the studio of fashion designer Joseph Altuzarra, the New York space one of his favorite to visit, the studio a perfect representation of the parisians sophistication Joseph mixed with american sexy. “I got you the measurements.” Sutan turned the corner, finding the designer and his team working on the shoe selection for the upcoming show. “and a caramel macchiato.”

“You got me coffee?”

“Of course, you’re my favorite Joseph.” Sutan smiled and handed the cup over, Joseph taking it with a grateful expression, along with the updated portfolio and measurements of Allison, one of Joseph’s favorite models to use.

“You know you could have emailed these, right?”

“I could.” Sutan sat down, taking a sip of his own coffee. “But if I had, who would show me your collection before it hits the runway?” Sutan glanced at his watch, Joseph clearly falling for his flattery. He still had a couple of hours before he had to meet up with Violet, so he leaned back, Joseph already rolling the first rack out, Sutan instantly eyeing a silver dress he knew Allison would look beautiful in.

***

“You’re late.”

It was the first words out of his mouth as he opened the door. He hadn’t meant to say it, at least not like that, but as he saw Violet stand there, it was the only thing he could think of, the woman almost two hours late.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” Violet was talking so fast Sutan could barely separate the words, not even looking at him as she apologized. “things just got so busy at work and then I couldn’t find a-” Sutan reached forward, grabbing the front of her dress and pulling her to him, kissing her until he felt her relax.

“You’re okay, I’m okay and we’re okay.” Sutan smiled, gently running a hand down Violet’s back. “Just call me next time, okay?”

Violet nodded, completely dazed as Sutan pulled her into his apartment and closed the door behind them.

“I… Umh… I brought dessert. Since I didn’t make it in time for dinner.” Violet smiled, a little shy as she held up the dessert box, which was clearly meant as an apology. It looked delicious, but Sutan wasn’t ready to let her entirely off the hook. He helped her out of her clothes, smiling at the amount of bags she had brought with her. Some of them made sense, like her handbag and the duffle he knew had her gym clothes, but what he didn’t get was the extra tote and the overnight bag as well. He still didn’t know exactly what Violet’s job was, but as he carried the bag his suspicion that she was from the fashion department grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s work stuff.”

Sutan laughed, totally caught in his act of trying to evaluate what was in the bag. “So it’s not your portal sex shop?”

“You asshole.” Violet smiled, and Sutan relaxed, the tension from earlier gone. “Do you want the cake or not? It’s a chocolate and hazelnut Louvre from Payard Patisserie, I even got us forks.”

“Of course I want it.” Chocolate was one of his faves, but as he stepped forwards Violet, smiling at the fact that she was no longer wearing her heels, the woman the perfect height now to overpower. “But there’s something I’d much rather have for dessert.” Sutan took Violet’s cheek in his hand, gently caressing her with his thumb as he tipped her head upwards, placing a tender kiss on her lips and Violet melted against his chest, letting him take her weight completely.

Violet gently broke their kiss, her voice only a whisper as she played with the buttons of Sutan’s shirt.

“What do you want for dessert then?”

“You, I want you, Princess.”

Violet looked up, meeting Sutan’s eyes, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her.

“Take me then, make me yours.”

Sutan smiled and picked Violet up as if she weighed nothing, making her squeal in delight, her legs around his hips as he carried her into his bedroom, cake completely forgotten.

***

Sutan’s bedroom was just as Violet remembered it; he kept it in a modern style with green and dark brown accents. As Sutan sat Violet down she saw something, a smile growing on her face. “Are those candles? Did you light candles for me?”

“If you had been here on time, there would’ve also been music.”

“Really?” Violet looked around, feeling a little bad until she got an idea. “Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down!” Violet smiled as she pushed Sutan down on the bed, quickly identifying his ipod, laughing to herself when she found one of the songs she knew. The tones of “Any Time, Any Place” started playing before Sutan realised what Violet was doing, which made him laugh in surprise, delight on his face as Violet walked out to the middle of the bedroom floor, her hips slowly swinging to the beat of the song.

Violet slowly pulled her work jacket off, revealing her arms one by one before she threw the jacket into the corner of the bedroom, raising her arms above her head as she danced for a while. She could feel Sutan’s eyes burning into the small of her back at how he was watching her ass. Violet undid her hair, shaking her head a little as the long black locks fell down ber back.

Even though it was late August it was still hot enough outside for Violet not to be wearing much, so she took her time, taking off her skirt, her hands slowly and sensually exploring her body, before she turned around, a smile on her face when she saw Sutan’s expression. She knew she was good at stripping, knew it with a certainty not many possessed, but right now, right here, performing for just one man made her feel sexier than anything else she had ever done. Violet grabbed her top, teasingly almost pulling it off before she put it on again, keeping eye contact with Sutan while she finally, finally removed her blouse, the song ending as Sutan reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her down onto the bed with him, their lips crashing together while the next number started.

***

“Fuck… How are you real!?” Sutan pulled back, his pupils completely blown before he dived down again, kissing Violet like a man desperate for air, Violet’s hands working on the buttons on his shirt, their hips grinding together to the same rhythm, Violet’s heel digging into the small of Sutan’s back.

“Please.” Violet gasped; she was aching, her panties completely soaked through, the warmth of Sutan against her only making it worse. “Please…”

***

“What do you want, baby?” Sutan smiled, moving his hips, letting himself rut against Violet, his trousers rubbing on the crotch of her soaked panties. She was so warm and delicious, so ready for his touch as she whimpered and tried to twist, working her body to get friction where she needed it most. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Sutan leaned down, kissing Violet’s neck, his body covering hers. “Take you good like I did the last time?” Violet nodded, closing her eyes, a small ‘please’ leaving her lips and Sutan smiled. Violet was a joy in bed, so utterly responsive to his touch, a little shy, but that wasn’t anything he wasn’t ready to peel from her, petal by petal until there was nothing left but raw and naked desire. “Want me to fuck your pretty pussy? Want me to fill you?”

“Yes.” Violet reached up, her nails digging into Sutan’s forearm, the sharp points hurting slightly, but he didn’t mind, not when it made him feel like a king to have Violet cling to him. “Please, yes.”

Sutan hummed and pulled back, Violet instantly getting his clue, her eyes opening and Violet reached behind herself, arching her back and unhooking her bra. She was gorgeous, and Sutan couldn’t help but make a show of getting undressed too, taking off his shirt, their eyes locked together as his hands went to his belt, Violet starring, her fingers forgotten in the wristband of her panties.

“Fuck…”

Sutan realised he had stopped, his belt open and his fly down, but with Violet looking at him like that, her skin glowing in the candle light, he had no choice but to change the plan. He had to taste her, had to eat what was so clearly offered to him. Sutan grabbed her hands, moving them away and started kissing his way down Violet’s chest, skipping past her breasts, his lips dancing over her stomach until he could grab the edge of her panties with his teeth, a smile on his lips as Violet gasped. She wasn’t the only one who had a surprise up her sleeve, and he would gladly show her all his tricks, after all, if you wanted to keep a lady in your bed, you made her come hard, and you made her come often. Sutan pulled her panties down, the scent of her filling his nose as he kissed his way up her her, his hands quickly discarding the silk material, when he noticed that Violet had gone completely quiet.

Sutan looked up at her, his lips connected to the inside of her thigh, and he realised something was very, very wrong. Violet was still, her eyes scrunched together, her lips sealed shut. “... Baby?” Sutan ran his hand over Violet’s stomach, all of her muscles tight, trying to catch her attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine, keep going.”

“Just do it!”

Sutan’s thought were interrupted as Violet snapped at him, and he dropped her leg before he even realised when he had done, moving away from her completely.

“Hey, hey.” Sutan moved up the bed, laying down next to Violet, propped up on his elbow so he could see her, her eyes wide and almost a little frightened. He reached out, taking a chance as his hand landed on her stomach once again. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to with me…” Sutan watched her, shame and discomfort clear on her face, and he hated it.

“I’m sorry.” Violet smiled, a small, apologetic smile, as if she had done something wrong. “I just don’t…” Violet gestured vaguely towards her legs, “I don’t like it very much.”

Sutan let out a breath of relief. He leaned down, gently and carefully kissing Violet’s lips, her body fully relaxing as they were back in territory she was comfortable with. Sutan had realised pretty early on that few things turned him on more than a woman who was happy about being with him, the fact that both him and Raja had been ugly all through high school only making it that much more of a joy when they got scouted to model in LA and he started to get attention. Sutan loved showering a woman in gifts and attention, but nothing had ever made his stomach turn more than when he realised that a girl in college had slept with him, only because she wanted him to take her to his agency. It was the reason he never slept with models, the idea of it too close to comfort, and Sutan liked his image, treasured it and treasured his girls trust. He broke the kiss with Violet, looking at her face.

“Don’t ever apologize.”

“But I ruined the mood..” Violet bit her lip, her pearly white teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip, and Sutan felt his cock twitch.

“You haven’t ruined anything lovely eyes.”

Sutan moved his hand lower, smiling happily as Violet gasped her cunt still hot and wet. He rubbed the pad of his index finger over her, spreading her wetness, playing with her. “Nothing is ruined, lovely eyes, nothing at all.” Violet’s hand was so thin and dainty, her fingers barely the size of his pinky, and he knew his own hand had to feel so much better. Sutan dipping his fingers into her. Violet moaned, and Sutan smiled. Oh he would have so much fun teasing her, taunting her and working her right back to the edge where she would have no choice but to beg, Violet so beautiful when she begged, but then, she surprised him, Violet grabbing his wrist.

“Not like that.” Violet eyes where closed, her fingers covering Sutans as she moved, showing him what to do, her cheeks pink, her brow furrowed in concentration, her pointer finger moving back and forth, Sutan following her lead as she showed him exactly how she liked to be touched. She was gorgeous, and when she finally, finally, finally released him, Sutan went in with all he had, using his hand on Violet until he was cramping, tears running down Violet’s face from yet another orgasm.

#galactica #blue aint your color

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antmfunny · 6 years

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4. Skateboring

The ladies get their first piece of Tyra Mail, which includes the words “chill” and “glide.” Rio is afraid they’re about to go hang gliding. Brendi K [the K stands for Klairvoyant] expects they’ll be ice skating… even though it’s summertime in Los Angeles.

We don’t get to hear Rhiyan’s prediction, which is a shame because later in the episode we learn she thinks she’s really good at it! She can’t figure out the Tyra Mail’s “glow” clue but insists she usually knows, at which point Kyla calls out, “You usually know? It’s the second one.”

Oh, Kyla. That’s the kind of call-a-bitch-out I can respect. Too bad she got yada yada yadaed throughout the rest of the episode.

The models arrive at the challenge, where STACEY MOTHERFUCKING MCKENZIE is waiting. I’m so pleased she’s back. Not only is she fun, but damn, she really can still serve some catwalk.

Erin says the competition’s got nothing on her walk, even though Stacey’s critique does not reflect that. The real standout is Jeana, who genuinely impresses me, which is saying something because I could give a crap about modeling.

The worst walk is definitely Liz, who sways her body back and forth as she stomps with an unsexy pout. Stacey calls her a “hot wreck” in need of a lot of work. Remember last episode when the real judges were living for Liz’s messy stumble? Thank goodness we finally have someone professional enough to assess her honestly.

Stacey also gives special attention to Ivana, who lacks confidence in her walk. Whilst boosting her up, Stacey dubs Ivana “Black Marilyn.” Do we really need an African American Marilyn Manson, though? (Don’t @ me with corrections, I’m kidding.)

Then it’s on to the real challenge - the ladies will be walking in Baja East clothing around a skate park with a bunch of sk8r bois pulling tricks around them. Stacey said the skateboarders were the “hottest” in Venice, but I think I speak for everyone when I say - why couldn’t they have recruited amateurs?

Anytime I visit that beach, I see a bunch of teenagers eating shit after trying to show off and it makes for much more compelling viewing than this show. If only we could have some skaters that’d miss their tricks or accidentally collide with the models, now that’d be entertainment!

Instead we have to settle for the supposed “drama” of two girls missing their marks. Black Marilyn Manson forgets to walk to the edge and pose (Harvard will be so disappointed) and Brendi K [the K stands for Klutz] takes a giant step rather than walking back down a ramp more safely.

You know the show was desperate for a real fall because they show this clip three times as if taking a max two-foot leap were some shock. This is Venice Beach, where people on drugs roam around naked. Let’s keep some perspective.

Before Khrystyana takes her turn, the designers tell her not to walk with her hand on her hip, and Law Roach stresses she shouldn’t walk that way ever. Khrystyana then walks with a hand in her pocket, which essentially looks like her hand is on her hip, and then ends her walk with a big pose:

A hand on each hip! She doesn’t listen and no one cares because they give her the win anyway. But good for her because I like her.

5 Funniest Moments of America’s Next Top Model Cycle 24 Ep. 2

#ANTM #america's next top model #Top Model #Cycle 24 #Khrystyana Kazakova #Khrystyana #Stacey McKenzie #Brendi K #Ivana West #Ivana #Baja East #Liz Williams #Liz #Rhiyan #rhiyan carreker #Kyla #Kyla Coleman

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welldresseddadblog · 6 years

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Welcome to the 12th instalment of the “Garmsman Dozen” question and answer session. The response so far has been tremendous. Did you miss earlier ones? There are links at the end of the page.

This week we welcome to the Garmsman Dozen Iain Trickett from Great Britain!

Who are you, where do you live and what interests you?

My name is Iain Trickett, 31, and I am the head honcho at TRiCKETT England… Well, I am the only honcho actually. I live in Accrington, Lancashire where the pies are plentiful and the skies are grey. When I’m not making clothes or thinking about clothing, I am found looking at Californian Tattooists, researching British subcultures, listening to hip-hop and walking my dogs.

Thinking back to your childhood, what were your most memorable or favourite clothes?

From a very, very young age, I was obsessed with sportswear and in particular training shoes. My mother was really into trainers and bought me my very first pair of Nike Air Jordans at the age of 4. As my interests developed I become interested in sporting apparel and the performance, however, the two items that set me off on a voyage into fashion or clothing were the Newcastle 1995-97 home shirt by Adidas and the LA Gear Gretzky One street hockey trainers.

First, the Newcastle shirt was just beautiful. The team that wore it was one of the great ‘could’ve been’ teams and the period that the shirt was introduced was a great period for sportswear design. The shirt featured a granddad collar, alternate mesh and solid polyester black and white stripes, piping on the three stripes and the infamous Newcastle Brown Ale logo. This item proved that football shirts were just for the pitch, but also fashion items that would be worn after the turnstiles closed.

The Gretzky shoes were something that I imagine went into a metaphorical sportswear landfill. Manufactured by the now defunct LA Gear, these shoes were unlike anything I had ever seen before. I used to visit Florida quite regularly with my parents as my mum had a great Aunt that lived in Clearwater. Most days were spent sat outside, basking in the sun. For a child under 10, this isn’t the most fun you could have, so my dad bought me copies of Sports Illustrated and other American sports magazines to keep me occupied. It was world unlike any I had ever seen and one person who stood out was a Canadian fellow wearing a pair of black and white boots with a #99 on the side. I later learned that this was the great Wayne Gretzky, who had just made his unpopular switch to the LA Kings. The boots themselves were pretty unremarkable, mesh and leather mixed together with some traditional hockey skate laces and the great one’s signature and number on the side. The shoes themselves were by no means a piece to keep in the memory of the sporting collector, but for me, it represented a gateway to a world I have never seen before.

How would you describe your style today, and what are your influences?

When I was younger, I used to listen to DJ Shadow, I always admired how he could take bits and pieces from all over the place and put it all together to create one coherent piece. I am not for a minute saying that what I do compares to the great Shadow, but I would say that I like to be influenced by all kinds of things. I am obsessed with Italy and Italian elegance, for me it isn’t necessarily having a suit made entirely hand in a tiny Sartoria down a backstreet in Napoli, or that weird sprezzatura thing that was cool a few years ago, it is more about being comfortable in your skin and having elegance with it.

I think I will always be obsessed with footwear and I believe dressing from the feet up, you can never go too far wrong. So if I had to describe my style it’s footwear-obsessed, sports-fan, who likes his pasta al dente and his top button done up… that probably makes no sense.

Most garmsmen will have a few “grail items” in their collection. Not to out you, but if your house is burning, which garments do you grab?

I think if my house was burning down, I would think about my new kitchen that is just about to be put in and whether the plinth heater would’ve been worth it in the winter. After a pause, I would make sure that I have my original deadstock pair of Nike Air Jordan Is. They are in a size 10, the original banned colourway and are just waiting to be worn. My plan was to wear them at my wedding, but not being married, they are just waiting for that perfect moment… Maybe my debut in the Accrington Observer.

Are you budget-conscious or spendthrift? Are you a single-shot shopper, or go large and buy bulk? Where are you on slow-fashion and buying less?

I think for many people, getting dressed in a morning is pretty stressful. We are at a point in society where we buy more, have more options and dress much more casually than our parents and certainly, our grandparents do/did. I would like to think that I am the kind of person that buys what I like and for the most part, that tends to be from smaller brands. I do like the idea of buying less and just buying a couple of very expensive suits, but truthfully, I am just not sure that works in the 21st Century. I’d love to be able to turn up to ASDA in Accrington wearing my Rubinacci suit, selecting which bananas best represent who I am, but chances are, I would probably get asked if I worked there. I do think we should make an effort to buy from smaller brands because owning one, I can’t stress to you how many different people are impacted by your £30 you spend with them, rather than oiling a huge conglomerate that doesn’t really care.

Having a large collection of clothes can lead to changing outfit on a daily basis, but if you were going to wear a single outfit the next two weeks, what would it be?

I genuinely believe that you can’t go too far wrong with a varsity jacket (either loads of patches or none, there is no middle ground), a really nice white t-shirt (no curry stains), very, very dark selvedge denim (listen, I am not a denim geek, it is just nicer to wear and everyone likes to see a flick of selvage on their turn-ups) and just a pair of very white leather trainers. In this outfit, you are a bit casual, but at the same time, who wants to be wearing a navy blue suit everywhere they go?

What are your best tips for buying?

If there is one thing that I have learned over the years of buying and designing clothes it’s buying stuff that fits. I know that seems like an obvious thing to say, but it really does help. I went through a phase of wanting to dress like a skinhead, the look is so incredibly iconic and its a really clean aesthetic. However, I know, now, that my shape doesn’t suit that style, I am very, very broad and not well endowed in the shin department so I just end up looking like a square in more ways than one. So my advice is, get something you feel comfortable in and then take it to a tailor, it’s their job to make you look good.

Big lads, don’t buy baggy stuff, you just end up looking worse and for goodness sake you don’t need shoulder pads in your jackets, go get them taken out. Napoli is great for many things, but in particular for making the natural shoulder in suit jackets cool. Forza Napoli Sempre.

Anyone that buys clothes will have made mistakes, what is your most memorable bad buy?

I have been lucky enough to work with Patrick Grant of E. Tautz and Community Clothing fame. One of the more famous items of clothing that he has in the lineup is the field trousers. A wide legged pair of kecks (that’s Lancastrian for pants) that are based on trousers that Naval officers would in the ‘40s and ‘50s. They look very elegant when worn with converse and swish from side to side in almost a hypnotic way. They look great… That is until you are wearing them in TESCO in Accrington only for an old man to say ‘Thas looks like a pillock in them ‘owd lad.’ I nodded in agreement, sadly I am not built like a model and the 42 rolls at the hems did nothing for the shape.

Do you have any style icons, historic or current?

I like to pinch bits from lots of peoples style, so I am sorry if this turns into a massive long list.

Sid Mashburn – his shop and Southern (American) charm are something that you always feel like he is wearing. One of the only two men I know that can wear white jeans convincingly. He also likes Italian tailoring and American football, so he is OK with me.

Alessandro Squarzi – A chap who can seemingly throw on any old thing and look absolutely amazing, I much preferred him with a shaved head, but that is probably because I am follically challenged. He is also the second person I admire who can wear white jeans convincingly.

Lino Ieluzzi – Milan just wouldn’t be the same without this bloke, great hair, great suits and great labradors. I literally don’t know what else you could want from life.

LeBron James – LeBron has literally made wearing his trousers too short in the leg his trademark. Obviously being a basketball player there isn’t much ready-to-wear that would fit him in the leg, but he always manages to produce a certain air of elegance about him.

My Uncle Peter – Only ever wore a rugby shirt and chinos. Every. Single. Day. I admire anymore who has an almost cartoon character-like wardrobe and sticks to it.

My mum and dad – Both have very different views on clothes and how to wear them, but both are passionate about what the put on and that is really all that matters.

Does your interest in clothes influence other aspects of your life?

Clothing does mean a great deal to me and I think most subcultures like to dress up. Be it new Romantics, skinheads, Teddy Boys whatever, I don’t think you can be into clothes without liking the things around it. However, my obsession with all things American and Italian pretty much means that I spend any free time I get there. Whether it is seeking exceptionally old shops in Italy or finding a brand new trainer shop in LA, travelling for clothing and discovery of the cities and towns is, for me, the best part. The internet has so many great uses, but it has slightly killed this adventures. However, there are still a few hidden gems that are on the list, that I am not telling you about!

How do you see your style evolving going forwards?

I think style is the appreciation of beautiful things. I always used to get caught up with the notion that style had to be something of the moment or it had to be something that was a set of rules set by other ‘stylish’ people. I think style is the word we use just for the stuff we like. Sometimes the stuff we like makes us cool and other times it can make us very uncool. However, I think as long as we are appreciating beauty whether that is food, art, clothing, whatever that can only improve our style. I hope my style evolves and my interests develop, I have an insatiable appetite for learning and I can’t see that changing.

Do you have a good style or garment based story?

When I was much younger, I absolutely loved Bape (a Bathing Ape), my friend and I were obsessed with this picture of the Notorious B.I.G wearing a camouflage jacket with ape’s head floating around in it. On the front placket it had A BATHING APE in bold lettering, so we set about finding out where we could get it. To cut a very long story short, we found a tiny shop in London where Bape was sold. We pooled all our money together for the tickets, bunked off school, bought the jacket, came home, feeling like we really had achieved something only for my dad to be waiting on the platform when we returned. I still don’t know to this day how he found out and whats even worse is that I never really wore the jacket much that me and my pal bought together. He was Blackburn Rovers fan. Says it all really.

Thank you for your Garmsman Dozen Iain!

Iain’s website is at trickett-england.co.uk and his Instagram is @trickettengland

Did you miss the first Garmsman Dozens?

Jon from Great Britain

Shaun from Scotland

Klaus from Germany

Roland from Italy

Daniel from Sweden

Enoch from the USA

Even from Norway

Kris from Belgium

Michael from Great Britain

Liam from Great Britain

Lee from Great Britain

PS: If you have suggestions for participants, let me know. Or have your mother suggest you, if you’re a bit keen to suggest yourself. My email is WellDressedDad (@) gmail.com

The Garmsman Dozen #12: Iain from Great Britain (Trickett_England) #trickett #garmsmandozen #mensfashion #madeinengland #accrington #lancashire #mensstyle #menswear #sportswear #vintage #retro Welcome to the 12th instalment of the "Garmsman Dozen" question and answer session. The response so far has been tremendous.

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hetmusic · 7 years

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Dot to Dot: Stand Together | HumanHuman

This week the music industry has been rocked to its core. The attack on innocent audience members during Ariana Grande’s concert at the Manchester Arena was a senseless tragedy and the city of Manchester are still very much feeling the effects. Many bands and artists across the UK and beyond have postponed shows out of respect for the victims and many more have come together, united by music, hope and love, to carry out gigs as planned and even spontaneously announcing fundraising events in support of the victims and their families.

One such event that will proceed is Dot to Dot Festival, who gave the following statement:

“We are shocked and saddened by the terrible tragedy in Manchester. Our thoughts go out to all those affected. From ongoing discussions with venues and relevant authorities, and in solidarity with the resilience of the amazing people of Manchester and the power of live music, Dot to Dot Festival will be going ahead this Friday. Dot to Dot is a festival about bringing people together and enjoying a day out watching live music. We have taken stock and thought deeply about whether it’s appropriate for us to go ahead in the light of what’s happened – and we have decided we will hold the event. We can’t forget what’s happened, but we don’t want to let fear and hate stop us.”— Dot to Dot

This Friday, this highly regarded new music festival will commence. More than a platform for the best who’s who on the emerging industry radar, Dot to Dot has become a show of solidarity, a way to say that we are not a defeated and we will not forget either.

Whether you’ll be heading to Manchester on May 26th, Bristol on May 27th or Nottingham on May 28th, we would like to recommend a few of our favourite acts.

Bad Sea

Night And Day, Manchester on May 26th, 5:45pm

Thekla Top Deck, Bristol on May 27th, 2:30pm

Red Room, Nottingham on May 28th, 7:45pm

Who are they? Dublin-based duo Ciara Thompson and Alan Farrel met through a popular dating app and although they abandoned any chance of romance, they did pursue a creative partnership.

Why should you see them? Bad Sea’s refreshingly classic approach can be heard in their precious trio of singles, “Solid Air”, “Tell Me What (I Mean)” and “Over My Head”. Each one is breath-taking and the pair must also be commended for their bare-faced sound on latest single “Over My Head”, but as we hear on “Tell Me What (I Mean)” Farrel and Thompson are also partial to those fuller, Americana rock sounds.

Cosmo Pyke

Band On The Wall, Manchester on May 26th, 6:15pm

02 Academy 2, Bristol on May 27th, 3:15pm

The Bodega, Nottingham on May 28th, 6:00pm

Who are they? Hailing from Peckham, this 18-year-old is a songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, skater and model.

Why should you see them? While Cosmo Pyke was raise on an enviable diet of blues, jazz, hip-hop and neo-soul, his own fuzzy, relaxed songs are less about following genre lines and more about going with the natural flow. Tracks like “Great Dane” paint with “spacey, beautiful, and lazy” strokes that produces a realist image of everyday life in East London.

Honeyblood

The Albert Hall, Manchester on May 26th, 5:00pm

02 Academy, Bristol on May 27th, 5:45pm

Rock City, Nottingham on May 28th, 5:00pm

Who are they? Noisy garage rock duo from Glasgow with a pinch of shoegaze.

Why should you see them? Over the years, the band’s line-up has taken a few different forms, but these days it’s all about the wild guitar playing of Stina Marie Claire Tweeddale and the ferocious drumming of Cat Myers, plus that wonderful middle ground where the pair’s vocals meet. Honeyblood have also been on an extensive tour across Scotland, Ireland and England over the past two months, so you can be sure on one tight set this weekend.

Kudu Blue

The Peer Hat, Manchester on May 26th, 8pm

HY Brasil Music-Club, Bristol on May 27th, 8:45pm

Stealth Live Room, Nottingham on May 28th, 3:45pm

Who are they? Eclectic sounding band from Brighton with four members Clementine Douglas, Owen Crouch, Tom Peterson and Creeda Kirkman.

Why should you see them? Over the past two years, Kudu Blue have had regular spots at hometown festival The Great Escape and this year their heading out to Dot to Dot to deliver their unique combination of electronics, alternative-pop, R&B and dance to new audiences. If you after an energy boost this weekend, get down to Kudu Blue’s show for dynamic tracks like “NGFM” and “Sugar Lemz”.

Liv Dawson

Band On The Wall, Manchester on May 26th, 7:15pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 3:00pm

Rock City, Nottingham on May 28th, 3:00pm

Who are they? At just 18-years-old, Liv Dawson is one of the most promising, emerging R&B talents on the circuit right now.

Why should you see them? Don’t be fooled by this singer-songwriter’s young years, as this artist has displayed a sophisticated self-awareness through her increasingly noted R&B-pop singles and live sessions. Dawson’s super power has to be that voice, it’s every bit Destiny’s Child in its youthful tone and wise aura. She’s also fresh from a performance at The Great Escape’s Vevo dscvr stage, which always seems to be on point with picking up the year’s rising acts.

Matt Maltese

Band On The Wall, Manchester on May 26th, 8:15pm

The Louisiana, Bristol on May 27th, 4:30pm

The Bodega, Nottingham on May 28th, 7:00pm

Who are they? London-based musician Matt Maltese with a notable gift for writing timeless, piano-led, blues ballads.

Why should you see them? As one of three artists selected for HumanHuman’s Showcase last year in Antwerp, we can guarantee that Maltese is truly a talented performer. His voice beckons from an era of golden age jazz fingers, while his songs themselves are sparsely lit and question meaning in everything and anything. Do not miss.

Miya Folick

SWX Room 2, Bristol on May 27th, 5:15pm

Rescue Rooms, Nottingham on May 28th, 3:15pm

Who are they? The Oakland-based artist whose music spans riot grrl, punk and indie-rock.

Why should you see them? “Trouble Adjusting” is a real gift from Miya Folick, as it was written and recorded to capture the magic of her live shows. Safe to say we wouldn’t be disappointed if any gig contains as much energy, fantastically fun melodies and full-blooded drums and guitars as this single does.

Nilüfer Yanya

Soup Kitchen, Manchester on May 26th, 5:45pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 2:00pm

The Bodega, Nottingham on May 28th, 3:00pm

Who are they? London singer-songwriter in her own groove of indie acoustica, jazzy blues and new wave shimmer.

Why should you see them? This twice featured artist has managed to rise from a handful of demo songs to the blogosphere’s indie music sweetheart with recent releases like “Golden Cage” and “The Florist” being highly praised across the Internet. In the live realm, Yanya performs with the same intimate sense of delicacy that comes across on the recording, just check out this out take of this 21-year-old musician playing her cover of Pixies’ “Hey” for NTS Radio.

Parcels

Soup Kitchen, Manchester on May 26th, 9:45pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 9:00pm

Rescue Rooms, Nottingham on May 28th, 12:30am

Who are they? Purveyors of disco for the modern age.

Why should you see them? This Berlin-based Australian band are a pretty rare find. Not only do they look like they took a Delorean from the height of ‘70s glam-rock, but their sound also takes many cues from a past where disco grooves were essential to any good night out. While, watching their set, it will be absolutely impossible not to dance (or bop or foot tap or ever so subtly nod your head) to “the slick musicianship, the rapturously rhythmic, Nile Rodgers-worshipping guitar,” as The Guardian put it.

Pinegrove

Old Granada Studios, Manchester on May 26th, 8:15pm

SWX, Bristol on May 27th, 7:45pm

Nottingham Trent University, Nottingham on May 28th, 8:15pm

Who are they? With a various combination of musicians, this New Jersey band creates uncomparable and emotional left-field Americana.

Why should you see them? This isn’t the first time we’ve recommended Pinegrove as a must-see act. Last year, the Brooklyn-via-New Jersey outfit built around two central figures Evan Stephens Hall and Zack Levine was on our list for the new music extravaganza SXSW and now the American alt-rock band are hopping the water to give UK fans a taste of their singularly brilliant live renditions. There’s an abundance of live sessions out there (such as NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert) to wet your appetite over the next few days.

Pixx

Gullivers, Manchester on May 26th, 6:30pm

The Louisiana, Bristol on May 27th, 6:30pm

Stealth Live Room, Nottingham on May 28th, 10:45pm

Who are they? Pixx is the moniker of Surrey musician Hannah Rodgers.

Why should you see them? Pixx first popped up on our radar around the time of her debut EP, Fall In, which was accompanied by a string of eerie, elemental music videos perfectly suited to her modern New Romantics style. Since then, the artist has become bolder in her style, songwriting and seemingly her live shows too. One thing to listen out for would be her cover of Joe Jackson’s 1979 single “It’s Different For Girls”.

Tender

Ruby Lounge, Manchester on May 26th, 6:15pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 8:00pm

Rescue Rooms, Nottingham on May 28th, 4:15pm

Who are they? Self-described as “dark grooves with room to breathe,” pair Dan and James create everything at home in their North London basement.

Why should you see them? Two years after Tender’s first appearance on HumanHuman and the initially anonymous project are beginning to drop the veil further as they approach the release of their debut album, coming this summer. On first LP single “Erode”, the self-sufficient deliver that R&B vibe, minimalist guitar work and luscious electronics that we’ve loved all along. Hopefully more album tracks to be heard at their festival sets.

Tom Grennan

Ruby Lounge, Manchester on May 26th, 9:15pm

02 Academy, Bristol on May 27th, 4:45pm

Rocky City, Nottingham on May 28th, 6:00pm

Who are they? Solo artist Tom Grennan strikes the balance between acoustic songwriting, bluesy lyricism and indie-rock frontmanship.

Why should you see them? The charismatic songwriter possesses a mighty blues vocal and knack for lyrics that permeate your soul and stay there. It’s something that translates wonderfully into his live versions of “Sweet Hallelujah” and “Something In The Water” and if the word of The Independent is anything to go by, the backing of a full band adds “more weight to his music but [doesn’t] distract from his great charisma or that astonishing voice.”

Vagabon

Gullivers, Manchester on May 26th, 5:30pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 4:00pm

The Bodega, Nottingham on May 28th, 4:00pm

Who are they? Finding her feet in New York’s underground rock scene, Lætitia Tamko, continues to wow with her anthems for weird girls.

Why should you see them? You only need to listen to Vagabon’s “The Embers” to be convinced that this indie-rock heroine is well worth going to see this weekend. Her songs vibrate with indignation and ferocity. Throughout all of them, Tamko unleashes biting lyrics with that sweet, unassuming vocal which contrasts against the punk-rock instrumentation.

Yellow Days

Soup Kitchen, Manchester on May 26th, 6:45pm

Thekla, Bristol on May 27th, 6:00pm

Rescue Rooms, Nottingham on May 28th, 6:15pm

Who are they? George van den Broek is the young songwriter-producer featured in our 20 Under 20 list for his incredible debut EP, Harmless Melodies.

Why should you see them? Reminiscent of King Krule and Only Real, Yellow Days is a relative newcomer and yet since the release of debut “You Are Nothing That I Can’t Get Over”, this 17-year-old has punctuated the new music consciousness. The turning point came with “Your Hand Holding Mine” when listeners woke up to van den Broek’s wonky, lo-fi strings and synths with a gravelled, left-field soulful vocal rich in mature emotion. Surely not one to miss out on.

https://humanhuman.com/articles/dot-to-dot-2017

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mfmagazine · 5 years

Photo

Tiffany Hines

Article by Diane Walsh

Photo by Annette Navarro

If you haven’t noticed Tiffany Hines on either the LA or Toronto entertainment scene then you haven’t been paying, enough, proper attention. She’s hopping amazing! Appearing all over the place, on multiple popular TV series not only as an actress but also as a singer - AND - she can dance. Tiffany struck me as someone with a real nice, down-home attitude. A person, modest about her talents and accomplishments, yet worthy of being a role model for young women. On top of that…nobody can help but notice she’s gorgeous to boot! The ‘total package’ as we [*WINK*] occasionally, annoyingly-crass-journalists, explete, from time to time when we see a gem. And a diamond in the rough Tiffany sure is. You star in the new CW TV-series, Nikita, as Jaden’ What does she mean to you? Tell us Jaden’. Most people will see her as the mean girl at first, but to me she is so much more. What makes her interesting is that in the beginning she comes across as a tough girl, but as we get to know her we discover she also has this vulnerable side. The tough exterior is all she has ever known. She relies on that to protect the real Jaden underneath that has never felt love and acceptance and wants it more than anything in the world. When I first read the pilot it really intrigued me how hard she is at first, but how fiercely she tries to cover up her feelings for Thom. I was like, oh... I see you Jaden... I get you. And what we can expect from the series?

As the show progresses, we will get to learn more about each of the characters. Who they were before they came to Division and how they ended up there. And of course we will learn more about Michael and Nikita's past. You can definitely expect more action, and you can expect more writing that continues to keep you guessing. I constantly find myself reading scripts with a bag of popcorn, flipping feverishly through them and going "What?! That did NOT just happen!" [Laughs] I hope you all enjoy watching it as much as I enjoy making it for you! It’s sweet that Nikita is being filmed in Toronto. How do you like TO by the way?

At first I was a little apprehensive about living in Toronto. I am a country mouse through and through! So being surrounded by all this concrete and all these buildings in downtown Toronto, instead of trees and yards was a bit of a change for me. But now I absolutely love it. I love exploring the city. And I'm proud to say I am becoming very streetcar and subway savvy. This from the girl that takes a cab in NYC to go three blocks because I'm scared I will get lost! [Laughs] But yeah, Toronto is great. I love filming here. The people are amazing, there's amazing Canadian destinations I can see on my days off...and the Poutine, Tim Hortons Coffee, and Ketchup chips are addicting! Are your Canadian fans any different from your American ones?

I think all my fans are great! It's flattering to know I have them in both countries as well as the rest of the world. I am just really grateful for all their love and support, because without them I would never be able to keep doing what I love. I want to share as much of this journey with them as I can. How did you enjoy playing in the romantic-comedy movie, Perfect Combination, alongside Christian Keyes, Angell Conwell, Kareem Grimes, and Ayo Sorrells?

We had such a blast shooting that movie! From day one we felt like the best of friends. We had so much fun on set, but everyone was so professional and determined to make a great film. As shooting continued, we actually became a family. In this business you are constantly on the go and often it's hard to keep those relationships going after you wrap the film. I feel so blessed that now so many of them are my closest friends. Even the Executives of Tri-Destined Studios who produced the film are like family and keep in touch! I feel so fortunate to have had that experience, and I truly love each of them dearly. Any favorite brand promotions that you’ve done or would like to do in the future? Old Navy again perhaps?

I really enjoyed my time with Old Navy. I am also a huge video game playing geek so I think it would be cool to do promotions for a video game company like Activision or EA Sports. And since I love beauty products and makeup, I think it would be interesting to promote a beauty or makeup line. But the one rule I live by is, that I really have to be passionate about something, and truly BELIEVE in a product if I am going to promote it. Grey's Anatomy, Heroes, Criminal Minds, Miss Guided – this is getting to be quite a list! You must be very proud. And also – of your role as – Allysha, in the film, The Winged Man, which, I understand, was honored as the Official Selection in the Rhode Island Film Festival, LA Short Film Festival, and Big Bear Film Festival.

I am so thankful to have been in projects that have allowed me to work with and learn from so many brilliant and talented actors and actresses so early in my career. Working with people like Chandra Wilson, Tamara Taylor, Emily Deschanel, Jesse Williams, David Boreanaz, and so many more, has really been inspiring for me and has taught me so much about my craft. Playing Allysha in the Winged Man from Esperanza Productions was such a beautiful experience as well. It was such an honor to be able to participate in a project penned by Oscar nominee Jose Rivera. And I don't think there was one person, whether it was cast, crew, or producers who were not touched after participating in that film. We were all so thrilled when something we had worked so passionately on, was recognized by such respected film festivals. You as Kelly Hawkins, lesbian student, on ABC Family's Lincoln Heights is a stand-out. Why do you think that is? Along with, you, as Layla, on CSI?

Well my role as Kelly on Lincoln Heights is probably one of the most controversial roles I have ever played. In the episode I kiss one of the lead actresses. I think a lot of people were shocked at that episode. But I was happy that ABC Family pushed the envelope like that. I think that television and film is a representation of all us...our culture...who we are, and all of the experiences that make us human. I was proud to be part of something where I was representing the voice of a group of people who in the past have been seriously underrepresented and misrepresented in T.V. and film. Playing the role of Layla in CSI: Crime Scene Investigation was also very different from my other roles, because I got to sing. I played this girl who was about to win an amateur national televised singing contest, and the CSI team has to find out who murdered her. It was exhilarating and fun to incorporate both of my loves, singing and acting, into my work at the same time. A lot of people don't know that I sing and were surprised I actually did all my own singing in that episode. Of course, you’ve got to tell us about your character ‘Michelle Welton’ on Bones and ‘Lacey’ on Lie to Me. What’s that like?

One of the things I love the most about being an actress is the vast different people you get to be. I am basically getting paid to do now, what I did as a kid for free... play make believe! Michelle is a young and sweet impressionable 16 year old. She is the adopted daughter of Detective Camille Saroyan (played by Tamara Taylor) on Bones. I love playing Michelle because on the one hand she is so sweet and has a good heart, but on the other hand she is a rebellious teenager who is trying to discover who she is as a woman. My role of Lacey on Lie to Me is completely different from my role of Michelle on Bones. She is a hardened 25 year old woman who has had a rough life and makes her living as a porn star. I love putting on various different hats like that and not limiting myself to just being a character that is the mirror image of myself. Part of the reason I love acting is because I get to be so many different people from one day to the next. In any other field, I would probably be considered certifiably insane and locked in a padded room. But as an actress I get praised for it. I love working with the cast of Bones! It is one of the most fun sets I've ever had the privilege of filming on. Bones is a popular series. Why do you think it is?

I think there are a lot of reasons why it is popular. First off, the writing is amazing, and secondly, the two leads David and Emily are great at bringing those beloved characters to life. Lastly, I think that everyone on the show, from the cast, to the crew, to the producers really have amazing chemistry together and work so hard from week to week to continue bringing a quality story to life. I feel so lucky that their family opened up their arms to me. That amazing chemistry that spans across the entire family is infectious and you can see it in every scene and in every show of theirs that you watch. What’s your favorite TV series? Apart from the ones you’re in, of course!

True Blood! I AM SO ADDICTED! I think Alan Ball is a Genius! I am a huge fan of the books by Charlaine Harris. I read often, and it is very rare that I love a television or film adaptation as much as I love a book that I've read. But Alan is brilliant because he keeps even the fans of the books on the edge of our seats. I never know what's going to happen, and I am completely hooked. Also since I love music, of course my other favorite show is Glee! I can't get enough and my iPod is filled with all their music. Is Glee up your street somewhere in the future, do you think?

I definitely wouldn't turn down the offer if it came. I think anyone that did would be crazy! I don't know one actor/singer that wouldn't want to be on Glee...myself included. In your past, you’ve won several dance titles. What are your dance fortes and what’s your favorite sound to dance to?

I love every form of dance. I started out clogging, and some of my favorite types of dance I used to compete in are ballet, tap, jazz, lyrical/contemporary, musical theatre and hip hop, but I also dabble in salsa and meringue. Next I would love to learn the various ballroom styles and African dance. My favorite music to dance to is any kind of music that stirs up a strong emotion inside me. The emotion starts within in me, and then comes out in my dancing. To me, dance is emotion put into motion. Who are your role models?

I find inspiration from anywhere and anyone. Some of the people who are my role models are celebrities, some of them are the women in my family, some are close friends of mine, and some are people I have never met, but I have heard their stories and it touches me. Some of my favorites are My Grandmother, Angelina Jolie, Michelle Obama, and L.Y. Marlow of the Saving Promise organization that is fighting to end domestic violence. There are so many others, but if I named them all here now, this interview would take up hundreds of pages! [Laughs] Out of the big-name people you’ve worked with - Katherine Heigl, Ellen Pompeo, Loretta Divine, Hayden Panatierre, Kim Kardashian, Thomas Dekker, Tracy Thoms, and Jesse Williams – what stands out for you?

Every single big-name person I've ever worked with, cared less about being a big name than they did about bringing 150 percent to the table and doing a great job. At the end of the day, it is all about the work... doing not just good work, but great work. One of the most eye opening lessons I learned while working with so many brilliant actors, is that I don't have to be the best, but I do have to be better than I was the day before. If you focus on that, the sky's the limit. Great lesson! You play violin and piano, and you sing and you dance. Can you talk a bit about your musical background and your goals in this area?

When I was in the fourth grade I wanted to play the piano, but my mother said it was too big to fit in her house, so we went with the violin instead! [Laughs] I was kind of a natural at it, and from a very young age I started writing my own songs and even wrote a symphony that my elementary school orchestra performed. I also was one of the youngest kids admitted into the youth orchestra program at Florida State University when I was 10. Music, singing, and dancing has always been a huge part of who I am as long as I can remember. One of the first movies I ever saw was Singing in the Rain. I was pretty young when I saw it, maybe 5 or 6. But I will never forget when Debbie Reynolds did her Good Morning dance. I used to try to sing and dance like her and I would get so frustrated that I was too little to tip the couch over like she did during the routine! [Laughs]... As far as singing goes, when I got older, I also sang and performed in a couple bands in my hometown of Cincinnati and even recorded a few songs on my own. I really miss that side of the performing arts and eventually I would like to make my way back to it. Previously, you’d co-written some original songs and (I’m told) you still dabble in song-writing. Did you want to say a wee bit about your also being a vocalist, and your future aspirations?

I really miss my music, but I know it is only a matter of time before I get back to it. I still keep a notebook under my bed and write songs all the time. I really believe that everything happens for a reason. I feel so blessed and grateful to be working as an actress right now, so for now I am focusing on that. But when the time is right for my music, I know that it will happen too. For now, I am just going to continue writing and when I can, I will go back to the studio and start recording again. You were born in Cincinnati but grew up in Tallahassee, Florida. What do you love most of Cincinnati and Tallahassee? Is there anything you hate, like people asking you about WKRP in Cincinnati and if you’ve ever met Loni Anderson! Or if you like alligators!

My favorite things about Cincinnati are Skyline, Graeters Ice Cream, Kings Island, and WEBN Fireworks. Tallahassee was one of my favorite places to live because it had that southern hospitality feel to it. It's the kind of place where one second you could be talking to someone in line at the grocery store, and the next second they are inviting you over for homemade lemonade on their porch. I feel so blessed to have grown up in such amazing cities like Cincinnati and Tallahassee. I think it's funny when people ask me about WKRP in Cincinnati. I mean, the show was airing before I was even born, yet people ask me all the time if it is a real radio station. [Laughs] For the record, WKRP is a fictional radio station. But I think it's cool that a show that has been off the air for so long has been able to put Cincinnati on the map like that. As far as Loni Anderson goes, I haven't met her, but if I ever got the chance to, I would want to ask her if she likes Cincinnati and what she thinks about Cincinnati Skyline Chili. I am NOT a big fan of alligators... But that's probably because when my family was living in Tallahassee, one of them ended up in our backyard pool and scared the living hell out of me at a very young age. If I ever see one again in person that up close and personal I would probably crap my pants. Do you return to your birthplace in Ohio?

Yes. I still have a lot of close friends and family living in Cincinnati. I try to get back as often as I can. Especially for big holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. After spending time in Ohio and Kentucky, and then Los Angeles when your career starting taking off – how did that feel? Any thoughts on the California-LA experience?

I absolutely love living in LA. I feel like I am in one of the biggest creative playgrounds in the world. There is so much to learn in a city like that, that embraces the arts. It was definitely scary for me to leave my hometown for LA. I had to give up everything I knew, and drive all the way across the country to this strange land where I didn't know anyone, on a whim and a prayer that things would work out. It is the hardest thing I have ever done, but I am really glad I did it, because now I absolutely love where my journey has led me. I have learned so much about life and my craft after living in California, and I can't wait to learn even more. Do you like Facebook? Do you tweet?

I am so grateful to all my fans and all the support they have shown me, so I try to Facebook and Tweet as much as possible. Without their support I wouldn't be able to do what I love, so I think it is only fair that I share that journey with them. I try to reach out to all my fans as much as possible via twitter and my Facebook Fan Page. Lastly, I got to ask…what do you like to do for fun?

For fun, I do anything and everything! Some of my favorite things to do for fun are making up recipes and cooking for my friends, playing video games, reading sci fi and mystery novels and of course, my new favorite pastime... reading comics.

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

Show Me (Part Three)

This is looks like a long update, but it's less than 3000 words, but with them “texting” it takes up a lot of room lol. Mind the cut! If you missed Part One and Two, catch up on the MASTERLIST Bucky is the cutest flirting, and Steve is already in love with him! Tiny bit NSFW at the end!

Enjoy this update! *********************

~~Monday~~~

<From:Steve> -- back to school man

<To: Steve> -- how many weeks left?

<From: Steve> -- about six till Christmas break, but I'm not taking the whole month off. Really hitting it hard so I can finish up before the holidays.

<To:Steve> --what classes?

<From: Steve> -- stupid ones I missed while playing ball. Political science. An extra math class. Accounting. And like a beginner business course that fell through the cracks somehow. Math is fine but political science is just stupid. Why do I need to know this? I barely passed high school civics

<To: Steve> -- barely passed? I got your all American ass a solid b

<From: Steve> --my bad.

~~Tuesday~~

<From:Steve> -- girl in my class just asked if women could be successful politicians or if that is a glass ceiling that has yet to be broken

<To: Steve> -- Condoleeza Rice? Senator Clinton? Barbara Mikulski? And if we are reaching… that girl from Alaska. Palin. She really asked that?

<From: Steve> -- the teacher didn't even have an answer. Just kind of looked at her and kept right on lecturing. -- I forgot how smart you are. Why did you go after art again?

<To: Steve> -- because I'm a free spirit, didn't want the man to keep me down --that wasn't a gay joke. I'm a total bottom. Definitely want the man to keep me down.

<From: Steve> --I'm dying man, don't send me that when I'm in class!

<From: Steve> --bottom huh?

~~Thursday~~~

<From:Steve> -- sorry about that man. Yesterday was killer. So busy. I hate these classes. I'm so close to being done but it still seems like far away

<To: Steve> -- why are you sorry? It's not like we have to talk every day.

Bucky hit send and chewed his thumbnail nervously. Less than a week of Steve texting him and he was already all butterflies and nervous every time his phone rang. He hadn't heard from the blonde all day yesterday and had been too stubborn to text him first. And had hated every second of it.

<From: Steve> --.... does it bug you? We used to text all the time I guess old habits die hard. It's nice to talk again right?

<To: Steve> --literally couldn't bug me less. Text all you want

Steve grinned when he read the message, and refused to think too hard about why it made him so happy.

******************* ******************* “James, darling.” Natasha called from the front of the shop, and Bucky stood quickly, wiping his hands on his pants and tucking his phone into his back pocket. He had been texting Steve all day in between clients, trying to help him with a paper that was due that weekend.

“What's up?” Bucky stepped next to Natasha at the counter, resting a hand easily on her lower back. She moved closer to him, curvy hips resting against his, and he sent the man in front of him a glare, until the guy backed away a few steps.

“No harm.” The guy said, putting his hands up and Bucky snorted. Most of their customers knew Natasha was a badass who didn't take crap from anyone. A select few however, mostly first time customers, just saw a pretty redhead showing too much skin and assumed the girl could be intimidated. That was never the case, but Natasha made a point of calling Bucky, who sat at six foot, or Clint, who looked like he was fresh out of prison, anytime she was uncomfortable.

“Thank you.” Natasha turned and rubbed his chest gently once the man had left. “He was an asshole.”

“S’no problem.” Bucky smiled down at her.

“So tell me about your golden boy.” She bent back over the counter, trying to make a list for their next shipment of gear and ink.

“Not much to tell.” Bucky settled his lean frame on the counter next to her, propping his back against the wall.

“Well…” the redhead drew the word out, the cap of her pen tracing her lips suggestively. “You've been texting him non stop for almost two weeks now. Has it progressed past political science questions and the occasional joke?”

“Not really. But what else would we talk about? And stop that, that's distracting.” Bucky knocked the cap out of her fingers and she gave him a wicked smile.

“Oh I feel like there's so much you and the Captain could talk about.”

“It weirds me out when you call him that.” But Bucky smiled. “He's pretty straight, Natasha. Trying to hit on him would make things weird. I mean we've joked and maybe flirted a little I guess, but really it's just nice to be talking again. He was a pretty big part of my life for a while.”

“Right. Until the infamous blowjob.” Natasha over enunciated the word, her pouty lips catching on the ‘b’s.

“Thanks for the reminder.” Bucky rolled his eyes, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when Natasha put her hand very high on his thigh. “Easy Tasha. I know we are touchy feely but come on.”

“James, darling.” She nearly purred, moving in close. “Just because he claims he is straight doesn't mean he doesn't want you. You're gorgeous. Long black hair,” she brushed it off his shoulders with one hand, squeezing his thigh with the other. “Pale blue eyes. The way your accent comes through whenever you're anything but perfectly calm.”

“Hey.” He interjected, then blushed, since he had just proved her point.

“See?” She actually giggled, and Bucky blushed harder. “Even the way you blush. So delicious. I am perfectly wonderfully happy with Clint. And I know you are perfectly wonderfully attracted to only boys, but darling even I want to take you for a drive. I can't imagine your Captain America feels any differently, whether he thinks he's straight or not. Those kind of labels don't really apply when it comes to being attracted to someone like you.”

She tapped her nails, which were damn near on his crotch, lightly on his thigh and turned and walked away.

Bucky slumped against the wall in relief, raking his hand through his hair. He might not be into women but dammit she wound him up.

“Hey man.” Clint’s voice made him jump and he shook his head quickly, started to panic. “Nope. Don't do that.” Clint shook his head. “She's just like that. Fucking man-eater. Doesn't matter if you're into the d or not. You've lived with us long enough to know how she is.” Bucky choked out a laugh and Clint smirked at him.

“Come on. Let's go get some pizza.” He let his hand rest on Bucky's waist as they walked out, and Bucky just smiled.

***************

~~Thursday~~~

<From: Bucky> -- ugh man nearly tore my arm out of it's socket trying to lift a box. Some days it's like I will never get my whole strength back

<To: Bucky> -- lift with your knees, not your back. Or jacked up shoulder in your case.

<From: Bucky> -- thanks for that. My god you're helpful.

Steve laughed out loud reading the texts. The girl next to him in class sent him a dark look and he shrugged in apology.

<To: Bucky> -- show me

<From: Bucky> -- show you what? My fucked up shoulder?

<To: Bucky> -- yeah. I'm sitting in math class, so humor me. And watch your language

Steve waited a few minutes.

<To: Bucky> -- or not. Just do something to entertain me man I'm dying here.

His phone buzzed before he even finished sending the second text and he flipped over the message quickly.

It was a picture message, a side shot of Bucky’s arm and shoulder. Completely covered by a sweater.

Steve hid a grin behind his hand when the next text came through.

<From: Bucky> -- nice boys don't send skin pics Steve. What are you trying to pull here? Asking me to show you like you think this is a peep show.

<To: Bucky> -- sorry. Polite boys like me don't actually know how to ask nicely for skin pics or whatever you degenerates call them

<From: Bucky> -- say please you all American twat, and maybe I'll send you something good.

< To: Bucky> -- twat? Seriously? --please. Show me

Almost instantly a second picture message appeared, one of Bucky shirtless, still twisted to the side to show his bruised and swollen shoulder, but not far enough that it hid his muscled torso. Steve’s mouth went dry, and before he even realized what he was going, he was tapping his phone screen, zooming in.

<From: Bucky> -- I got the tattoos to cover the puncture wounds and scars. Natasha did most of them for me

Steve zoomed out, to look again at Bucky's shoulder instead of trying to drool over all that skin.

Bucky had a red star on his left shoulder, that was several inches across, and then several smaller, darker red and black stars made to look like they were falling from the big one. It was interesting work, and covered most of the messed up skin but Steve could still see a few scars branching out, looking red and angry from the strain of whatever he had been lifting.

<To: Bucky> -- I like them. The tattoos. The muscles. Whatever. It all looks good.

<From: Bucky> -- yeah they hide the ugly at least. --Hows class? --Are you hitting on me?

<To: Bucky> -- does it count on “hitting on you” if it's over text? --class is the worst.

<From: Bucky> -- show me

Steve raised an eyebrow, then angled his phone and took a selfie with finger guns raised to his temple and eyes rolled wide.

<From: Bucky> -- don't get brains on that shirt I like it

<To:Bucky> --k I'll take it off first

**************** ****************

~~ Sunday~~

<From: Steve> --college was a terrible idea. The idea of a weekend is a totally foreign concept these days. Can't tell you the last time I just chilled out on a Saturday

<To: Steve> -- yeah should have stuck with the modeling. Pays better. More days off

<From: Steve> -- I never modeled Bucky

<To: Steve> -- maybe you should have. You would have made a killing

<From: Steve> -- modeling huh what like GQ?

<To: Steve> -- nah. Cowboy Quarterly maybe. You're big and brawny. Slap a cowboy hat on and no one would know you're terrified of horses

<From: Steve> -- they are giant, Bucky. And I can't believe you remember that, it was like one time I screamed. Horses are giants, you would have been scared on top of it too.

<To: Steve> -- big ol corn fed mother fucker like you scared of riding a pony? Come on steve.

<From: Steve> -- language man

<To: Steve> -- tell you what. You go wrangle yourself a mustang and I'll stop swearing for a month. Go on. Hop on something and ride it big boy.

<From: Steve> --i feel like that was sexual

<To: Steve> --it was absolutely sexual. Look at you, getting my gay jokes. You’re coming along nicely captain. --what are you doing today? I'm working on a new back piece for Natasha

<From: Steve> -- show me

Bucky took a shot of Natasha, who was laid out topless on his table, face down because Bucky had been working on just the outline of a Gothic Cross on her ribs. He angled the camera to show off her red hair, the dips and curves of her back, and just barely the rise of her ass. Steve would appreciate that. He sent it, and sat back down to finish her outline.

“Did you just snap a picture of my ass and send it to your lover?” Natasha asked, sighing when Bucky rubbed her lower back comfortingly.

“No. He wanted to see your tattoo.”

“I bet he'd rather see yours.” Clint commented from where he was eating a sandwich near be door.

“Mmm that's a good idea.” Natasha agreed and Bucky rolled his eyes. ”Send him a picture, James, I bet he would love it.”

<From: Steve> -- looks good man. They both must trust you to do all their work.

<To:Steve> -- yeah we all work on each other. Natasha did mine, i'm working on hers and Clint’s, and Clint is doing one of hers on her front.

<From: Steve> --show me?

<To: Steve> -- I feel like as open minded as Natasha is she would frown on me taking pics of her chest and sending it to a high school friend.

<From: Steve> -- no. Yours. -- not interested in seeing hers. --show me yours.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. That was definitely new. Steve not interested in a woman.

Steve thought for a minute after sending the text. It was true. He didn't really have any interest in seeing Natasha's chest tattoo, even if the shape he had seen in the first pic would have made him drool six months ago. No, he would much rather see Bucky’s tattoo.

And he was starting not to care that he preferred it like that.

It took a few hours to hear from Bucky again, but it was worth it.

An unknown number sent most of a body shot of Bucky first, and Steve raised his eyes. He was up against a wall, shirtless, arms braced above his head, and every lean muscle in his back and shoulders was in display. Even from that position he knew without a doubt it was Bucky. All long limbs and dark hair and perfect shape. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, staring at the small screen. This was…good. Too good. So good.

A second picture showed up, this one actually from Bucky, a close up of the tattoo on his lower back. In script that looked like it had been done in a thin paintbrush was a string of Russian letters and Steve tipped his head in thought. He had forgotten Bucky spoke Russian.

<From: Unknown> -- hey man this is Clint. I work with Bucky. You're welcome for the first picture. He doesn't know I took it! He was like, take a picture of my tattoo and i was like, stick your ass out a little more it looks better that way. --he’s pretty, but gullible so he believed me. -- enjoy the hell out of that pic --you’re welcome

Steve laughed out loud. Bucky had talked a lot about his roommates, and this seemed right in line with what he'd heard about Clint.

<To: Bucky> -- I forgot you spoke Russian. What does it mean?

<From: Bucky> -- loosely translated it means ‘hindsight is 20/20.’

Steve went back to the picture, admiring the unique strokes, and trying not to feel guilty for admiring the strong lines of Bucky's lower back, the dimples visible just above his pant line.

<To: Bucky> -- hindsight? is that another one of your gay jokes? Haha

<From: Bucky> -- what just because it's right over my ass it can't be some deep thought provoking phrase?

<To: Bucky> --is it?

<From: Bucky> --I guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh? -- especially since to even see the tat my shirts gotta be off and you've gotta be pretty up close and personal in my space.

Steve knew that Bucky was joking. He knew he was. But that didn't stop a soft groan, as he pictured it. Up close and personal with Bucky. *********** Steve woke up at nine pm when his neighbor's shitty car started up with a rumble and bang, as he headed off to his night shift. He groaned and hauled himself off the sofe. Class came way too early to be sleeping on such an uncomfortable couch.

Of course he couldn't sleep right away, because that's just how life was, so he tossed and turned for almost half an hour before giving up and reaching for his phone. Scrolling through his messages, he started typing a text to Bucky. He'd always been a night owl in high school, maybe the habit had carried over.

Before he hit send though, Steve hesitated, then swiped to the picture of Bucky from earlier, from his roommate.

He tapped the picture, pulling it to full screen, and let himself stare.

“You're so beautiful.” A memory flashed through his head and he groaned a little, hips moving restlessly on the bed. “I want you. Let me make you feel good.”

“Bucky.” Steve slid a hand slowly into his jeans, pushing them farther down his thighs, ghosting over his hardening erection.

“You taste so good.” Blue eyes. Red lips. Dark hair. “Steve you taste so good.”

“Shit.” Steve squeezed the base of his cock, stroking up and over the tip, hissing at the pressure and he kicked his jeans off all the way, spreading his legs.

“Come on, baby, you're going to make me feel like I'm not doing a good job.”

He could almost hear Bucky's soft voice, hear that adorable accent that had been so strong that night.

Holding himself firmly, Steve reached down with his other hand to cradle his balls, just the right amount of pressure to make his eyes roll back. Quickly stroking now, from base to tip, dragging his calloused thumb over his slit, and tugging gently on his sac, Steve pictured Bucky up against the wall. Arms raised above his head, hips cocked out. Steve could feel it. Those wiry muscles twisting against him, how Bucky's hair would feel slipping through his fingers. “God.” Heat built at the base of his spine, and Steve took a deep breath. Scrambling for the bottle of lotion on his nightstand, he poured it over his hand and cock, and leaned further back, sighing in relief at the slickness. Warm. Wet. Bucky. Steven jerked his cock frantically, his orgasm approaching too quickly, but he was too worked up to slow down. How would Bucky feel under him. Around him. Crying out for him. Hearing his name roll off Bucky's tongue, pushing that soft voice to screaming. “Bucky!” Steve came with a howl, his cock spurting white and hot across his fist and stomach. “God. Goddamnit.”

He came down from it slowly, panting, wanting to curse, wanting to scream.

Fuck. Bucky I want you.

*******************

@catpuppy1 @sharkcougarhawksnakescorpion @dare-me-to-give-up @sepiawren @hausoffro @my-gift-isyou @chrys-1029 @junostarkromanoff @saint-vincent-victory @kaitlynnjbell @kalexalove @mikaklik @cookiesandpinot @lunasage96 @romanianmalfoy @foreverforgotten101 @buckys-soldier @ilovethings-somuch @whathappensat3amstaysat3am @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @that-random-psycho @no1subject @cristaliscris

#Steve rogers/Bucky Barnes #stucky #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #clint barton #Natasha #college au #flirting #texting

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doctortdesigns · 7 years

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The latest looks from Simplicity and New Look have been posted to the Simplicity site. On the whole there aren’t a lot of general clothing patterns I’m too excited about (they are mostly simple silhouettes that focus on the recent boxy ruffle trend), but for cosplayers and costumers this release is an absolute goldmine. Let’s take a look:

8380 – Cynthia Rowley. I actually really like this dress, even though it has a fairly simple style and asymmetric neckline. Pockets are always great, though it may need some extra length if the model photo is any indication. The peplum top is also catching my eye here as well.

8382 – Learn to Sew. Pretty simple sack dress. I can see it being very easy to wear for summer, and very easy to sew, though I don’t find it particularly interesting.

8375 – Pattern Hacking. This is Simplicity’s latest line, where the envelope has one pattern and teaches you how to change it. There seems to be accompanying tutorials on their YouTube channel. Most of these seem to be fairly simple styles, though I will say that I could see this dress/top pattern being a popular choice because of it.

8376 – Pattern Hacking. More simple looks.

8377 – Pattern Hacking. I’d actually be tempted on this cardigan if I didn’t already have pattern in this style.

8378 – Pattern Hacking. Possibly the mist interesting of the line, as this one adjusts not only the length but the shape of the trouser pattern as well. Could be really interesting and informative.

8379 – Easy to Sew. Interestingly draped potato sack dress. It isn’t my style, but I could see this being a popular and easy summer sew.

8383 – Easy to Sew. Another style that is pretty basic, but on trend with the open shoulder and ruffle sleeves.

8384 – I actually sort of like the lines on this shirtdress. The deep-V neckline is pretty flattering.

8385 – More tops that are super on trend. I don’t think I need them in my collection, but these styles are probably the most on-trend for summer.

8386 – Easy to Sew. I actually really like this pattern collection. The white top especially. Definitely one that I need to add to my summer sewing list.

8387 – We’ve had similar styles in the past.

8388 – Moving the ruffle trend to the bottom half. Personally I find the skirt looks a bit bulky and heavy.

8389 – Easy to Sew. Nice simple elastic waist pants variations, should one need elastic waist pants.

8390 – Easy to Sew. The front pants with dart shaping in the back. Definitely has a “I’m so totally on vacation right now” vibe going on.

8391 – I’m sort of obsessed with the nautical inspired shorts in this pattern. Even though I know I have Burda pants that are super similar. But I think I need this pattern anyway, because I’d probably wear that simple t-shirt too.

8392 – Mimi G. Mimi G. expands into the exercise realm. I’m not sold on the skirt/leggings thing (it looks restrictive to motion) and the sports bra looks… unsubstantial. The mini hoodie is cute, but I don’t know how absolutely practical it is.

8394 – Mimi G. A vintage inspired look from Mimi G. Not something I’d want to wear, but I can see it being popular with those who like to go for all the vintage inspired patterns.

8393 – A nice simple wardrobe pattern. I could see all these pieces being completely practical, if not entirely exciting. But, as many of us learned from the Wardrobe Sudoku contest, simple plays well with others. So, I’m going to say this would be a great pattern to make a lazy days summer wardrobe with.

Assorted Kids styles. The dress/romper (8395) is pretty cute. Lots of American Girl branded stuff this time too. I’m thinking the AG bag pattern (8400) could be a great way to get kids into sewing, and some of the bags do look large enough to use for school.

Crafty Stuff. The giant cat pillows (8403) are more than a little adorable. Like, a lot. The American Girl doll clothes (8397) are pretty cute too, especially those shorts!

8396 – “Cosplay” Dress. The description and styling are clearly meant to interest those in cosplay, but really, it’s just a dress. I see what you did there Simplicity. Trying to get the cosplay community buying your wider collection of sewing patterns. Anyway, even if you aren’t a cosplayer, this could be a nice princess seamed dress. Personally, I’ve got a lot of those in my collection already, but this one does have nice lines.

8404 – Disney Cosplay. The New Belle costume for adults. Looks like a great interpretation. Love the attention to detail on the skirt. I’m really loving the costume licensing, so that the companies can recreate looks, rather than skirting around the issue by changing one or two things.

8405 – New Belle for kids and dolls. Adorable.

8406 – Classic Belle. I love this, I want this, I need this. Totally my child hood right here. Looks like I’m going to be buying a lot of Belle at the next pattern sale.

8407 – Classic Belle for kids and dolls. All the Belles. I’m going to be getting all the Belles.

8411 – Obviously referential to the amazing Highlander costume, this American Duchess pattern also holds up to historical snuff. The inclusion of some critical underpinnings is great too. Definitely joining Belle in my basket.

8409 – An Arkivestry Steampunk pattern. Half the time I love these, and half the time I leave them. I think this in one I can leave. Though there is plenty of great detailing on this pattern, it just isn’t something I need for my costuming in the near future.

8408 – Another Arkivestry steampunk pattern. I do actually really love the vest details here, so this one might follow me home on my next pattern sale run.

8410 – MangoSirene. A new partner with Simplicity, MangoSirene is a popular cosplayer. They have teamed up to create their own version of the popular Pokemon Go! game design. That cropped jacket is still totally adorable. I still totally need one.

100501 – MangoSirene. This is another MangoSirene cosplay pattern, those this one appears to be an online (and possibly convention) exclusive. The blazer looks great though – nicely fitted with really classic lines.

The other summer release that came out simultaneously is New Look. Like Simplicity, I find most of the lines and styles to be quite simple.

6507 – Popular shoulder ruffle looks. I’ve gotten enough of these with Burda. Could be a good option if you want a really simple ruffle dress look.

6506 – I really like the button back dress (the model version) but it looks like it would be a total pain to get on or off. Hmmmm. Probably a pass.

6509 – Interesting cut-out romper Not sure it’s for me (I’ve got so many others I’d rather make), but ventilation could be fun on a hop summer day. The great thing is that the rest of it is so covered it really won’t need a shirt or anything under it, though, presumably, you could do that and have an interesting peek-a-boo contrast at the waist.

6510 – Simple shift dress. Nice a lightweight looking, but nothing really exciting style-wise. Would look great under a jean jacket though.

6511 – Giant ruffle peplum top. I’ve already got wide hips, so this inverted triangle look would be doing me no favors.

6512 – This is actually another fairly trendy looking pattern. I’ve seen lots of this style of dress being promoted for summer this year.

6513 – Top with some interesting pin-tucks. Could be nice for those who like this aesthetic.

6514 – Some long, lightweight cardigans. These also seem to be quite popular this season, and there are some interesting options here that allow for color blocking and other creative additions.

6515 – Some variations on pants/culottes for summer. Nothing wrong with them, but nothing overly exciting either.

6516 – A toned down ruffle skirt. Must say I much prefer this to the other the top ruffles from Simplicity, though neither is really my personal style.

6517 – Fairly simple tunic/dress/pants wardrobe pattern. Also looks like it comes with a scarf?

6518 – I can’t tell if this is supposed to be clothes or pajamas? Anyone? Thoughts?

6519 – This tie-front dress and blouse could be cute, or it could look like a rumpled disaster (as evidenced by Burda’s fabric choice in their latest magazine). I’m voting possible yay here, though, since I am getting the Burda, I don’t know that I will need both patterns in my collection.

Kids. Nothing I’m super excited about here, but these do look like simple styles to make for those who will rapidly outgrow them.

And that’s it! On the whole I’m not overly excited by the majority of everyday where in this release, but, then again, I’m not overly excited by the general trend that have been happening lately either, so there’s that. The cosplay looks are bang-on and I want them all. New Look usually has 1-2 looks I go for, but this release feels like a miss to me. What do you all think? Is the release so late in the spring/summer game that we’ve already committed ourselves to other ruffly designs? Or are these looks fairly dull? See any must buys? And what are we thinking about Simplicity’s new Pattern Hacking line? And which of all y’all am I going to have to beat away from those Belle patterns, because I know that pattern drawer is going to be empty when I get there and I am not going to be happy ’bout it. Feel free to discuss in the comments!

Simplicity and New Look Summer 2017 #sewing #Simplicity #NewLook #patterns #summer The latest looks from Simplicity and New Look have been posted to the Simplicity site. On the whole there aren't a lot of general clothing patterns I'm too excited about (they are mostly simple silhouettes that focus on the recent boxy ruffle trend), but for cosplayers and costumers this release is an absolute goldmine.

#New Look #pattern #sewing #Simplicity

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