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G, HUNT:

             she’s not interested in you.  gene’s face shifts from grumpy to even grumpier, if ever that was possible. and he grunts, downwards turned mouth twitching a little, he’s clearly annoyed    ——   zelda niles is talented when it comes to pissing him off.  “ you think you know me so well, you yank tart. you don’t.  detective inspector drake is NOT my type. “ it’s as if he’s trying to convince himself now though.  he shuffles a little in his seat,  his face scrunching up as he sniffs a little.  “ i prefer a woman in stockings who won’t try and put me in my place when i’m stuffing her pretty mouth with my six inches. “  six inches? oh, how he’s over compensating.  “ anyway, how do you know what drake wants? you act like you’re a bloody expert on women. you dykes are all the same. “ 

“See, you say six inches but I have this image in my head now of you with your wang in your hands. And it’s practically engulfed by your fist, which isn’t saying a lot, Mr Tiny Hands!” Oh, oh! She lives for this sort of teasing! It’s so easy when he is so transparent. In truth, what Zelda wants is to brag about how close she is to Alex. How they flirt when they are together, how unnecessarily close they stand to each other all the time, the needless touching of hands to arms or waists or hips, the way they steal kisses whenever they get a moment alone. Alex’s kisses have gone to Zelda’s head. “I am an expert on women. I love women, I am a woman!” She states it proudly. “Maybe she wants me.” There’s no maybe about it.

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G, HUNT:

“ so they were killed to somebody close to them.  did they have any other children or was  ELIZABETH  MASON  their only child ?  “  he glances down to the page lindsay had flipped too  ——  the morbid image of two people, man and wife, in bed beside one another with their  BRAINS painting the walls behind their heads causes his brows to raise.  but that’s all.  he’s a police officer,  a  DETECTIVE CHIEF INSPECTOR.  he’s seen a lot worse in his time as a cop.  he’s hardened to the gore.  “ look, don’t get me wrong denton, this is all very interesting but isn’t this  EXTRA  work for us ?  this lass in a YANK, this bloody CIRCUS happened in the states  …  why are we looking into it now?” though he does mumble something under his breath, a very low. “the yanks are bloody rubbish. “ as he flips over a few more pages. 

“ so, what’s next? we bring this bit of skirt in. how? is she in england or are we going to have to fly her over from america?”  he pushes the documents back towards lindsay and leans back into his seat again. his gaze never leaves her face, he’s still trying to suss her out.   “because i tell you for a fact that i will not be going over there.  gene hunt and the YANKE-DOODLE-BLOODY-DOOS do not mix.  it’s bad enough with the people of london, i’m not going there.” he’s put his foot down now, he’s sticking to his word. “you do realise how hard this is going to be to prove, don’t you? this was over ten years ago. if this - this mary jane frigging holland has been living her life for fourteen years without getting caught, she’s going to have  FIGURED  out how to deceive people like us, lindsay.  this isn’t going to be plain sailing … we’ve got our bloody work cut out.” his features are a little  SOFTER  than they were before, but he’s still wary about her.  he’d heard all sorts about  DI  LINDSAY  DENTON,  he didn’t know what to trust.  “ which means we’re going to be seeing a lot more of one another.  do you think you can handle that ? “  his arms cross over his chest.  “or shall we hope that this  femme fatale character carries a gun with her and end up shooting us both in the head ? ” it’s a stupid joke and one he has to clear his throat after saying. 

“ WILL YOU EVER STOP GRUMBLING ABOUT THE BLOODY YANKS? ” She wonders if his fixation with the YANKS started before or after ZELDA NILES showed up. But Lindsay’s wonder is fleeting. She doesn’t really care to know. Why would she? There is nothing about GENE HUNT which piques her interest. If anything, he has managed to do the opposite, as if any interest she may have had in him has turned inside out and shrivelled in on itself. 

“Have you forgotten Matthew Cottan and how well he covered his tracks? He had the whole of AC-12 fooled, but I caught him. Me. If a detective inspector can be caught, then so can this psychopath. Yes, Mason will be difficult to catch but it’s not impossible.” Lindsay takes back her file on the MASON CASE and flips it shut. She tucks it back into her bag and sits back, bringing her coffee cup to her lips. 

“We don’t need to go anywhere. Mary Jane Holland is here. In London.” She doesn’t say that she knows exactly where. She doesn’t say that she has been following the woman for weeks now, learning what she does, where she goes; her unfortunately sporadic routine. “There’s many men I have to stomach being around on a daily basis. You’re not the first, Gene.” And she is sure that he won’t be the last. “And you, you must be used to working with women like me by now. No?” Of course she means ALEX DRAKE.

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*gene hunt just grunts in zelda's general direction tbh.* ( that's it. that's all he does. )

WHAT WAS THAT FOR? “Wow! You okay there, buddy? You need some water?” Zelda furrows her brows, then hunches her shoulders, arms out like a great monkey. “Big grumpy cave man need something! Can’t use words! Oo-oo! Will make loud monkey noises and maybe smack chest a little to communicate! Oo!” She mock drums her chest with her fists.

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i know for this past week i’ve been incredibly shit with replies and answering memes. i haven’t forgotten, i’m just the absolute worst (and keep hanging out by the pool).

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She was her father’s daughter but she’d inherited her mother’s black anger. It burned through her sometimes like a chemical fire, brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable.

Amber Sparks, from “The Cemetery for Lost Faces,” The Unfinished World: And Other Stories (via lifeinpoetry)

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When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy. Then send to the last ten people in your notifications anonymously 🌼

1. any book by sarah waters that has lesbians + a happy ending in it2. keeley hawes’ smile ???3. being left alone !!!!!!4. day dreaming which turns into a nice little nap5. my friends whomst i love dearly

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(dagny + zoe) ‘they want you to do another job.’

“ HMPH! THEY CAN FUCK THEMSELVES. ” If it was not an emergency, then she was not moving. And if anyone was to try it, then they would soon regret it. No one would, of course. These days she was less than friendly. Her face was sharp like her sister’s. The stress and the gravity of being a leader had gotten to her. Nowadays, she was militant even when she wasn’t training civilians on how to fight or defend themselves; even when she was here, with her Zoe, she was hard edges and cutting words. Dagny did not mean to be harsh, but, like so many others, this war had changed her. It had left her a little more callous, a little more dour. If only Adalwolfa could see her! How alike their scowls were. The same grimace! They could pass for twins these days. Brutus would have laughed at her if he was still alive. 

Dagny drags her feet along the floor of their bedroom. The bed lets out all kinds of creaks and groans as she shifts her great weight upon it, then stands. All of a sudden, their room feels smaller. Everything shrinks next to her, shrivelling up in fear of her sheer mass, her log-like arms and boulders for knuckles. She bore the same air as a provoked gorilla. “No more from Dagny. No more, not tonight.” Dagny looks at Zoe. She gives a single shake of her head, her eyes puppy-like. She wants to say: I am depleted! Her face twitches and she looks away, faint lines drawing across her forehead. Then she scowls. “One more job…”

@sidusignes [  MEME / OPEN  ]

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     killing eve sentence starters.           episode  1 – 2.

i fell asleep on both my arms.

what time did we leave last night?

it all ended when you and ___ sang ‘a whole new world’.

how are you so perky?

okay, from what i can eavesdrop on, a russian sex-trafficking politician’s been murdered in vienna.

you really earn your money, you know.

get me a croissant.

ugh, i’d nail a cousin to work with that woman.

turns out people are still murderous bastards on the weekend.

was there any cctv of the killer?

i imagine the girl is, erm, quite traumatised.

give me the rest of that croissant or i’ll fire you.

i’m feeling very fragile.

i can see you breathing.

were you scared?

did you think i was dead?

do you want to stay and watch a movie?

they want you to do another job.

i just want someone to play with.

that looks terrifying.

did we sing disney?

there’s a difference between thinking it was a woman and wanting it to be a woman.

i’m going to throw up. i suggest you do, too.

i just need to know if she’s aware of anyone who might want to harm her while she’s in the country.

your killer was a ‘small-breasted psycho’, apparently.

i was counting on you not having a life.

uh, how big are her tits?

i know you’re into assassins, but i refuse to talk about them in this way. they’re people too, you know.

she appears to have massive, pendulous breasts.

how would you kill me if you could?

i’d paralyse you with saxitoxin and suffocate you in your sleep, chop you into the smallest bits i could manage, boil you down, put you in a blender and then take you to work in a flask and flush you down a restaurant toilet.

do you want to have sex?

you should have been a spy.

you���ve been weirdly casual all morning.

i’ll give you twenty quid to shut up.

so what if it is a woman anyway? i don’t care if it was an alien.

you could get in a lot of trouble if i was a serious man.

our job is weird but it’s also boring.

we should have brought her some chocolate or something.

oh my god! somebody help me!

if they fire you, you’d better drag me down with you.

i’ve been looking for an excuse to call ___ a dick-swab for years.

just don’t tell them everything - you’ll sound like a nutter.

well… that one could have gone better.

the most important thing, is that four people are dead, and it’s all your fault!

you’re a dick-swab.

just to be clear, you’re fired.

she’s highly skilled, as of yet, untraceable, and, frankly, she’s starting to show off.

buy some milk, or he’ll think you’re having an affair.

i can give you anything you want!

i’m not very good at ‘how are you?’ etc, so i’m just going to dive in.

you seem to know a lot about female assassins.

i mean, if she’s not killing me, then, frankly, it’s not my job to care anymore.

she’s outsmarting the smartest of us and, for that, she deserves to do or kill whoever the hell she wants.

this is an unofficial official tap on the shoulder.

you’re intuitive and you make insane suggestions.

it’s like i’ve walked into the inside of my brain.

sorry about the smell, he lives on the internet.

letting yourself into my apartment and drinking from a tiny cup doesn’t make you intimidating, by the ay. it’s just rude.

so she slit her own throat and killed four other people? slip of the hand?

why are you being naughty?

this one has asthma. you know i like the breathy ones.

do you have any interest in why you are asked to do what you do?

i had quite a heavy period last week but other than that, i think i’m okay.

i shot him twice in the heart and watched the spark drain from his eyes.

if you ever want to talk anyone, or – i just wanted to make sure you were alright.

you have to prove the bastards wrong!

’m not denying your theory, but you have to be open to the possibility that what you have here is a series of random attacks that you are loosely hanging together with a pretty ribbon.

it’s best that you bring in your own toilet roll or it just disappears.

i thought you were just being a monkey dick about not being the boss.

i don’t know what a monkey dick is.

if it was someone with enemies, they would have owned up to it. or been exposed for at least one of these kills by now.

well, that was disturbingly easy.

tragically, he’s already at the pub.

i just wanted to apologise for calling you a dick-swab.

god, i’m a knob.

did you think i was asking you out-out? no! oh my god! no! i wasn’t asking you out. no.

what you both did today was massively insensitive.

i don’t have to tell you. you just have to trust me.

okay, we can fight. but you will get tired, and i will get bored, and you don’t like it when i’m bored.

if i kill you, they will just send me another one.

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I got my results back for another of my university modules and got two first’s! like wow, what the fuck bruh thank you. And now I’m considering doing my master’s degree...

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E, O'Galagher:

SHE LOOKS AROUND THE ROOM. Noticing how everyone was already occupied, the girls in suits standing near them in anticipation, waiting to do what they were told. It’s something she never saw before, but she must confess that it’s quite titillating to see how these women can embrace their sexuality in such a manner in a place like this. Being a dominatrix herself she was well known in the ways of dominating someone fully, like some of these girls are. She could pick out the ones who would need more work done on them out in just a glance, they had a different air about them.

Eileen radiated dominance and confidence herself, as does the other woman she is talking to, dominance and quite a bit of arrogance, she supposes she couldn’t blame her, she had been around aristocrats enough to know that they were raised that way.    “ Thank you. ”    She nods and takes a seat herself. Eileen wasn’t going to tell the other woman everything about herself, she did that with no one, she makes sure that there is always a mystery to her. No one really knows where she grew up, she makes sure that her Irish accent can’t be heard as she speaks.

Eileen’s eyes lock with Diana’s, a small playful smile on her lips,    “ There is much to tell about the life of a madam and dominatrix, what would you like to hear about the most? ”

“ OH I AM SURE --- ” drawls Diana, her eyes raking over Eileen’s long neck the same way a lion might graze its stare over the warm, supple flesh of its food. “How long has it been for you?” Diana asks, adding, “All of this, what you do, I mean. What made you start it up?” 

Diana swigs her lime twisted gin and swashes it, letting it soak into her pink gums, her fat tongue, her pallet. She’s an ugly woman if the light hits her from the wrong angle, but she holds herself with such pomposity, and speaks with such a languid tone, that she is, to most young women, alluring in the queerest sense that there was.

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Ibiza (2018) Directed by Alex Richanbach