#Chase bar caddy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Eye for an Eye: 6 [Finale]

Masterlist

Warnings: non/dub con sex (intercourse), violence, blood and alluded death.

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: It all comes to an end.

Note: So we’ve come to the end and we’ll see what happens to our reader and our mob boss. Hope you guys enjoy. Feels good to tick another fic off the list. <3 Let me know what you think with a like, reply, or reblog!

You crossed your arms as Steve stood with his back to you. His shoulders were tense, his hands planted on the table. It was just the three of you; Steve, Bucky, and you. It wasn’t long ago the room was full of men in suits as they gathered around their leader on the eve of a vital operation. And now they had gone to prepare.

“For the last time, you can’t.” He shook his head as he pushed himself away from the table. “How exactly do you expect to get through this on that?”

You looked to your ankle as he turned and pointed to it. The swelling had gone down and while you kept it wrapped, it was better than it was. You didn’t need the crutches anymore though you tried to keep the weight off of it. You huffed and looked up at him defiantly.

“Do you really think you can just leave me behind?” You hissed. “Christ, Steve, we’ve come this far; I’m not letting it end without me.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.” He tossed his hands up. “A week ago you’d never even shot a man.”

“And now I have. And if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t still have your best man,” You nodded at Bucky who yawned at the argument without concern. “My ankle’s fine. It’s healing and I can aim a goddamn gun.”

“Oh, yay, you can walk and hold a pistol, exactly what I look for.” He spat.

“You think I’ve done all this work to sit here and wait for word?”

“I think you talk a big game but I dunno if you’re ready to really see Charlie dead. You hesitate, even for a second, and it’s life or death.”

“I won’t. Trust me. He put a hit out on me. I got more integrity than that. If I wanna see him dead, I’ll see to it myself.” You insisted as you stood. “He turned his back on me a long time ago, that I could handle, but then he tried to shoot me in the back and that’s something I won’t put up with.”

“I know how ya feel, sweetheart,” He sighed. “But you let those feelings get in the way and… it all goes south.”

“I’m going. You can strap me down but I’ll find a way out,” You sneered. “I don’t need your permission.”

Steve scowled and shook his head. He rubbed his neck as he turned and paced back and forth. He stopped and looked back to you as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Fine. But you stay with Bucky. Close. No running ahead, no falling behind. You stay with him.”

“Great, the girl who can’t walk and the man with one arm,” Bucky mused as he leaned back, “Very intimidating.” You both glared at him and he raised his hand defensively. “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

“Thanks,” Steve rolled his eyes. “You keep an eye on her. We don’t want a bloodbath, we just need Charlie.”

“I’ll do my best, boss,” Bucky shrugged. “But me and you both know how this one is. She’s not one for listening.”

“I’m done taking orders,” You said. “I spent years listening to Charlie and what good did that do me? If it gets us Charlie, I have no problem listening; but if I get the chance, I’ll do the job myself and no one’s gonna stop me.”

“Goddamn it,” Steve swore as he ran his hand over his hair. “You’re stubborn as a horse, you know that? But I just can’t decide if that’s your greatest asset or flaw.”

“Depends on the day,” You grinned. “So, it’s late. We should rest. We got a long day tomorrow.”

Your boot was tight around your injured ankle. It wasn’t as obvious as before but a pang would jolt you every now and then. Steve was right, you knew it; you shouldn’t be running around on it, but what was a sprain to the possibility of the day. It could be the final battle or the beginning of an even bigger war.

You stood in the large archway of the dining room as you watched the flurry in the lobby. Steve would go ahead with his men and sneak onto the dock. Strange’s men would arrive shortly after to unload the first container as others waited in the second. Charlie’s men would see the usual haul but not the ambush that awaited them. You would be without along with Bucky and Stark, watching for the arrival of the fourth boss; your target.

You looked down at the holster on your belt; empty. You toyed with it and turned back to the high-ceilinged dining room. Steve approached as you did; the same anxious grimace shadowed beneath his beard. He chewed the inside of his lip as he held out a pistol, hand-grip first.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” He warned. “And only aim at what you mean to shoot.”

“I know, I know,” You took it and weighed in your hand.

“Safety’s on. Right here.” He pointed to the gun. “Ammo.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cartridge. “You stay outside. You shouldn’t need more than that.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” You countered as you tucked the gun into your holster and took the cartridge. “I’ll have Bucky.”

“He can’t babysit you with bullets flying.” Steve shook his head.

“Babysit me?” You frowned.

“I don’t mean it like that, I… can you blame me for being worried?”

“I’ve made it this far. I shoulda been dead in that kitchen, then back in that bar… Let’s hope that luck holds.” You slipped the cartridge into your pocket and zipped up your leather jacket. “You got your bases covered.”

He sighed and scratched his jaw. “I don’t think you realize…” He paused and looked away.

“What?” You touched his arm softly and stepped closer. “Realize what?”

“I can’t lose you.” He lowered his voice as he looked back to you. “I… Well, sweetheart, I think I just might love you.”

“Love?” You scoffed. “It’s been a week.”

“Yeah? This life is fast and I don’t like to drag my ass.” He brought his hand up to touch your cheek. “I don’t think, I know. I love you.”

“Don’t… it’s the nerves.”

“You don’t have to say it; you don’t even have to feel but I do,” He rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone. “So, yeah, I don’t wanna see that pretty little head hurt, or worse, so please, stick by Buck and don’t go chasing Charlie like the mad woman you are.”

You smiled wryly and rolled your eyes. “I’ll do my best.” You said. “But get back to me about the whole love thing when this is all over.”

“Oh, I will,” He leaned in and kissed you. A lingering kiss which lasted a bit too long. “I definitely will.” He pulled his hand back and checked his watch. “Go on, find Buck. We gotta head out.”

It was painfully quiet. The tinted windows added to your sense of blindness. Steve was inside with his men, Stark’s, and Strange’s. Charlie’s had crept in the back ten minutes ago. Their boss was no where to be found.

You were sat low in your seat along the street. Just another car in the line of parked vehicles. Bucky was in the driver seat, his gun resting against his thigh as he watched lazily. Stark was a few cars back watching with his protege, Peter. You wiggled your foot anxiously as you awaited any sign of conflict within.

“It’s not our job to worry about what’s goin’ on in there. It’s our job to watch for Charlie and give ‘em the heads up.” He reached over and grabbed your knee to still your leg. “We got surprise on our side. Timing. Foresight. They knock off Charlie’s men, use his phone to lure the weasel in himself, and that’s it.”

“Too much can happen. If we see him, we should just finish it ourselves.”

“Out here in the street in the middle of the morning, yeah?” He grumbled. “I see why Steve likes you; you’re just as hotheated.”

“Tell me you don’t wanna pay him back for that,” You gestured to his arm. “You barely seem the forgiving type.”

“Don’t claim to be, but I’m patient and smart,” He adjusted his gun against his leg. “You take one step out of this car, I swear…”

“Look, I already learned that lesson,” You kidded. “And it still hasn’t healed.”

He chuckled and turned back to his vigil. You watched quietly, your fingers tapping on the vinyl of the door. Your stomach fluttered as you tried to imagine what was going on within. And then the sleek black car appeared; not far from your own. Bucky nudged you and you slid down lower in your seat as he peered over his shoulder.

“That him?” He nodded to the car and you confirmed it wordlessly.

He held his gun close as he kept his eye behind you. You heard a car door and then another. Bucky had his finger ready as he tracked the two figures past your car and you looked up just as Charlie headed for the station. You reached for your gun and Bucky stilled you with an elbow.

“Wait.” He hissed. “Get your phone out. Let him know Charlie’s not alone. And keep an eye on that caddy that just pulled up on the other side.”

You glanced at the side mirror and found the car he alluded to. You reached to your holster and this time he didn’t stop you.

“I just gave Stark a heads up,” He said. “We don’t move first; we wait for them.”

“More waiting?” You huffed.

“Better than running face on into a bullet,” He returned. “Now, Steve can handle Charlie. They got his men taken care of, they’re expecting him… it’s good.”

“It’s not fair,” You said. “I should be there. I should get to watch him grovel.”

“You let your emotions get into it, and you get hurt so settle down and keep a watch on that blue monstrosity.” He growled.

“So he did ask you to babysit me?” You muttered.

“As much as he kept me out here so I didn’t get in his way. I’m useless without both arms, really. Only do so much with a gun, ya know?”

“Shhhh,” You hushed him and wiped your palm before slipping your gun free. “They’re on the move.”

He looked back and tightened his grip on his own weapon. He pressed himself to the seat as three men closed their doors and strode down the street, their hands readied just above their belts. Bucky tapped your knee.

“They get to the curb, get out, get your gun up,” He whispered. “Keep on the other side of the car and I’ll be on them. Follow, don’t get ahead of yourself kid.”

He reached to his phone and quickly typed off another message. He looked into the mirror and nodded. “Stark and the kid are ready.”

He opened his door first and you did the same. You rounded to his side as he crept along the walk. You limped as you struggled to keep up with him and glanced across the street as you sensed movement. Stark and his boy mirrored your movement up the pavement.

Bucky stopped at the last car and tucked away his gun. “Keep that pistol pointed at them. Even if you think you’ll hit me, you fire if it goes south.”

You gulped and he turned back. He tiptoed out from behind the car and Stark did the same, Peter not far behind. The three men edged toward the dock building with their hands on their hips as they neared the door. There were surprised grunts as all three were grabbed seized from behind.

Bucky brought his thick arm around the first while Stark knocked the second in the skull with the butt of his gun, and the third cried out as Peter kicked his knee and proceeded to strangle in a perfect mimic of the first. There was a brief struggle, the sound of metal on pavement, and finally the dull thud of bodies. You looked down as your hand shook, your pistol held up without thought.

“Get over here,” Bucky hissed as he turned back to you and the other two dragged the bodies away and hid them around the corner. “Keep watch out here,” Bucky ordered as they returned and you neared. “Get your men to start searching every car on the block.”

Stark raised two fingers and several car doors opened and closed as several figures emerged from them. He pointed up and down the street and they swiftly. Began to walk the line of vehicles. Bucky nudged you and waved you inside.

“Keep that handy,” He nodded to your pistol. “We gotta find Steve but we don’t know if Charlie’s caught on yet.”

You followed the henchman. He slowly shifted open the large metal door as he looked both ways before waving you in. You kept close behind him, his shoulders broad enough to keep you hidden. He paused at the first corner and listened before he turned to look at you.

He motioned forward and carried on down the next hall. Not far before you reach the back doors which were better described as gates; grated and rusty. They were slightly ajar and voice rose from without; familiar and not entirely welcoming. Bucky kept his gun ready as he led you onward and peeked out into the dockyard.

He sighed and lowered his gun as he gestured for you to do the same. He waved you outside into the sun; dozens of men gathered around one. Strange and Steve stood with pistols aimed at Charlie, a bullet already in his hip as he gripped it with a bloody hand. You brushed past Bucky and approached the center of the crowd.

You raised your gun as you approached Charlie’s back and an awe seemed to overcome the men. You aimed at the back of his skull as you emerged from the bodies and Steve looked up to catch your eye. He shook his head and Strange frowned at the sight of you.

“No, not like that,” Steve said. “He’ll die like a coward but he won’t be killed like one.”

Charlie turned his head slowly. His own gun was under Steve’s foot and Strange looked down his long nose at his nephew. He glanced between you and the blonde boss and nodded.

“If I might interject, I think blood takes precedence over whatever grudges you hold against him,” Strange said. “So I think that would be up to me.”

“He tried to lift a couple kilos from you, he tried to kill me,” You snapped. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t get to pay him back for those years he stole from me.”

Steve was quiet as he considered. He stared at Charlie who shook his head and groaned as he gripped his hip tighter.

“I always knew that bitch was too much trouble,” Charlie grumbled. “Let her do it. She’s right, it was fucking miserable and I’ll be more than happy to be done with her. Even like this.”

Steve turned his pistol in his hand and lunged forward to knock Charlies across the jaw. You stepped back as the dark-haired mobster fell over and spat blood onto the dirty pavement.

“Keep it up and maybe I’ll trade this…” Steve held up his gun, “For something sharper. More tedious.”

“Give her a while,” Charlie spoke thickly as his tongue sounded swollen. “She’ll wear on you too.”

You rounded him and stood beside Steve as you kept your gun aimed at the man you’d deluded yourself into loving; if it ever was that. “Like this?” You asked. “Look him right in the eye, huh?”

“No,” Strange interjected. “This wasn’t the deal, Rogers.”

“Deal was we get him,” Steve returned. “The end’s the same.”

“You promised me,” Strange insisted. “You let her pull that trigger and this ain’t just about two sides any more.”

Steve sighed and tucked away his pistol. He reached and touched the nuzzle of yours. He pushed softly until you lowered it. “Safety on,” He said. “He’s not yours anymore.”

“What--?” You let the gun fall to your side. “He was gonna kill me.”

“Blood’s blood,” He said. “Whatever you had, it’s over. Is it so bad that someone else sees to that?”

You grimaced and turned to him. He looked down at you and exhaled. He was pleading with you. In front of his men, in front of the man who was once his rival, in front of the one he had prevailed against. You could take the victory as it was or you could dive headfirst into another war. You closed your eyes; you were tired. You nodded slowly and holstered your gun.

You turned to Charlie as you opened your eyes. He was back on his knees, cradling his jaw as the wound at his hip wept. You gave a bittersweet smile. It didn’t feel so much like winning now; looking down at the man you had once laid beside. It felt like your own foolishness staring back at you. The blood of wasted years stained his clothes.

“Goodbye, Charlie,” You brushed your hand against Steve’s and peeked over at Strange. “He’s all yours. I’m done with him.”

You left with Steve. The ride was silent. You stared out the window as the buildings rushed by though you barely saw them. The adrenaline was gone. You were tired; deflated. It was truly over. Charlie was gone.

But were you free?

You didn’t look at Steve until he pulled up to the house. The palatial yard created by the curved driveway. The gates closed behind you and clicked in your head. It was nicer than Charlie’s; he was nicer than Charlie.

Well, they were entirely different, weren’t they? So… what were you afraid of?

Steve was quiet too. He took your hand and led you inside. A few of his men would follow to secure the grounds but he had found a new hive in the city, until the bar was rebuilt. And there was no need left for a whirlwind; the skies had calmed.

You let go of him as you entered as your soles scuffed against the marble. You went to the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cabinet; and another which you tilted in his direction. He nodded and shrugged. You placed them both on the counter and searched around the liquor fridge hidden just beneath. A bottle of rye.

“You okay?” He neared as you poured. “Charlie, he…”

“I’m not sad,” You corked the bottle and pushed a tumbler in his direction. “I stopped being sad that day he left me in your bar in nothing but a sheet. I’m… listless; lost.”

He took the glass and drank. He wiped his lips and leaned on the counter beside you. “I don’t want you to be trapped here. Not like before so… if you wanna go, I won’t stop you.”

“Really?” You raised a brow and he bowed his head in acquiescence. You thought and took a swig. “And what about all that before?”

“All what?” He asked.

“Love?” You said quietly. “Is that how you really feel? Even now? After?”

“More than before.” He smiled and slid his glass away from him. You finished yours and he took it from you. “And whatever you decide, I’ll still feel it. I’ll still love you. You’re not some moll I found in a kitchen; you’re the most gorgeous woman on earth and you introduced yourself with the barrel of a gun.”

He pressed himself to you, your body between him and the cool marble top. He brought his hand up to frame your face as he smiled.

“So, you wanna go, then give me a kiss goodbye, and if you wanna stay, I’ll take the kiss anyways.” He bent to kiss you and you welcomed him.

The ice that had formed over your skin cracked and you melted against him. You slipped your arms up around his neck as his hands crawled under your open jacket. He pulled the cotton hem of your shirt away from your jeans and his rough palms brushed over your sides. He felt around with one hand until he found your pistol. He freed it blindly and set aside with your glass, and then his own.

Between hungry kisses, he began to undress you. You lowered your arms for him to push the leather jacket down them and then raised them to untangle yourself from the cotton tee. You shoved his jacket back on his shoulders and he let it drop to the floor with a whisper. You nearly tore the buttons from his shirt and ripped his tie free with a growl. The floor was soon littered with your clothing and you were naked.

He lifted you in a single motion and your ass met the cold marble. You squeaked and pressed your lips to his again. You pulled him close and wrapped your leg around his hip to draw him close. He leaned in until his chest met yours. He dragged his lips across your cheek and down to your jaw sloppily. You pushed your head back and bared your throat to him. He nibbled at it and purred as you messed his golden hair.

He bent to kiss along your chest. The same flutter in your chest as that first night; stronger this time. Irresistible. You clung to him as he buried his head between your tits and his hand tickled along your thigh. As his fingers met your pussy you hummed and arched into him. He slipped inside and you gasped.

“Steve…” You breathed as you grabbed his hair and tugged his head back. “Don’t play with me…”

“Play?” He smirked as he stood straight and drew his hand away. “Isn’t it supposed to be fun?”

“Oh, very,” You pulled him to you and spread your legs wider.

He slid you to the front of the counter and you felt his cock against you. He pressed his lips to yours. You drew him closer and tilted your hips. He pushed into you slowly as he lifted you from the marble. You wrapped your legs around him and sank onto him entirely.

You rocked slowly as he kneaded your ass. He shoved a hand between you and felt around and found your clit. He began to rub as you moved against him. You moaned and ripped your lips from his. He purred as he nuzzled your neck.

You clawed his shoulders as you rode him. The heat gathered inside of you and bloomed all at once. You tossed your head back and cried out as the waves curled around you. You squeezed him between your legs and sped up.

He snaked his arm around you as he guided you. He lifted you easily as he slid in and out of you. His groans swirled in the air with your moans and filled the airy kitchen. Your voices echoed on the high corners and lent to the flames that licked at you. You came again and hugged him tightly as your body twitched in delight.

He pushed you back against the counter as he slammed into you. You gripped the edge of the marble as you panted loudly. He didn’t relent; didn’t let up. And you felt it; that dream you called freedom.

He grunted suddenly and spasmed as he rested you against the counter. He leaned on you as he slowed and caught his breath. His hot breath glossed over your cheek and he kissed you there. You shivered and ran your hand down his sweaty back.

“So…” He rasped as he pulled back to look you in the eye. “Was that goodbye?”

You brought your other hand to his beard and felt the soft hair. You smiled up at him and combed your fingers through his hair. You pulled him to you and hovered your lips just below his. “Hi.”

#eye for an eye #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #mafia au #mafia!steve rogers #mafia steve rogers #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #fic #series #au #dark!au #captain america

696 notes · View notes

floatingpetals · 5 years ago

Text

Bubble Baths

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, 18+ only, cockwarming, slight teasing

Word Count: 2000+

Request: “ ok so this is something i think about on the daily but I’m a terrible writer and I love your work but can I request a modern au! bucky x reader where reader works somewhere like lush and makes him a bath cocktail (bath bomb + bubbles and the whole shebang) maybe he asks reader to join and they do the do (-;” -Anon

A/N: So I legit had this ready up to the last few paragraphs and then I got sick and it’s like four days later. But I finally feel better after sleeping for nineteen plus hours. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy! Please reblog or let me know you think! Enjoy!

“Hey baby, I’m home!” Y/N shouted into their little apartment. She juggled the two heavy bags from one hand and to the other and kicked off her shoes before walking through her living room. She thought it odd when there was no response. Her boyfriend of two years Bucky was supposed to be home from work already, at least that’s what he said in his text from earlier. “Bucky?”

Walking into their living, Y/N stopped short at the sight of Bucky spread out face down on their bed. He was still in his dress slack and a pressed button-down shirt, looking like he just collapsed on the bed after kicking off his shoes when he came home.

“Babe?” She called softly, not wanting to wake him if he managed to fall asleep. He’s had such a rough few weeks with the merger and everything else, he’d need all the sleep he could get. There was a faint groan and his head turned to the side, smooshing his face against the comforter.

“Hey Y/N…” He muttered. Y/N set the bags on the floor before she crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed and gently pulled his hair free from his bun. He purred as she began to scratch his head, chasing after her fingers with a tilt of his head.

“Rough day?” She questioned. He nodded and whined low in his throat. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Eh,” he uttered halfheartedly. “I just want to sleep and never wake up.”

“Well, that’s not exactly an option.” Y/N giggled. She leaned over and pressed a kiss against the back of his head before she stood. Bucky let out another whine as she rose, rolling his head to the side as to watch her walk into the closet. “Tell you what, I stopped at Lush to get more face masks and bought a few bath bombs and their bath jellies.”

That cause Bucky’s head to pop up from the pillow, his eyes growing wide with excitement. Smells of soft calming lavender and fresh lemon sparked in his memory, causing a buzz of excitement to go through his body. The sight made the corners of Y/N’s lips turn up in a grin. She knew just what he needed to unwind from a long stressful day and had a feeling at the store that she should stop to grab a few essentials.

It started off because Y/N was an addict to Lush and all the products. Her skin was fairly sensitive and picky with what she could use, and her nose didn’t enjoy a lot of the heavily perfumed products that did work. She was willing to fork over quite a lot of money if it meant she was comfortable and clean. Of course, since she exclusively used Lush, she had the product everywhere.

When she and Bucky moved in together a little over a year ago, he found her not so secret stash of bath bombs and bath bars tucked away in the closet. He knew she’d take a bath at least once a week. Like clockwork, she’d disappear in the bathroom with her laptop, a glass of wine, and some chocolate or cheese. Probably some forty minutes later, she’d emerge looking like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, blissfully relaxed and happy.

Curiously, Bucky asked what all the hype was and wondered what it was like. Y/N happily set him up with a baby blue bath bomb called Big Blue and ran a soft clean-smelling bath jelly in a little metal strainer under the water as it filed their giant garden tub with the bubbles. She passed him a beer, some pizza and opened the laptop on the wooden tub caddy before giving him a kiss on the cheek along with an order to relax and enjoy. Since then, Bucky’s been hooked. Anytime he had a rough day, she would set up a bath and let him unwind in the warm bubbly waters.

“Why don’t I get a bath started and you can relax in the tub while I get dinner started.” She continued, bending down to dig through the bags to grab the black Lush bag. Bucky eyed the bag eagerly before his gaze darted up to meet her eyes. A soft blush rose on his cheeks, and despite being together for two years, he still got bashful asking her to do this. It wasn’t unusual for them to unwind together in the tub, Y/N comfortably leaning up against his chest while he held her tight. Sometimes though, they needed their own alone time. But today he wanted his girl there in his arms.

“Or. You could join me, and we can order pizza later?” He asked hopefully, fiddling with the edge of the comfortable. Y/N laughed.

“If that’s what you want.” She hummed. A sudden burst of energy hit him, and Bucky shot up and scrambled off the bed. He all but drug Y/N to the bathroom, who giggled the whole way. He started the tub while she set the bag on the sink counter and grabbed the caddy from their closet. As she turned around to lean it on the sink, Bucky was there behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She squeaked and flung her free arm around his neck to steady her feet. He chuckled low and leaned into a press a heady kiss against her lips. He pulled back with a dopey grin.

“Love you.” He mumbled softly.

“I love you too, baby.” She gently rubbed their noses together and giggled softly. They lingered for a moment longer, the sound of the tub filling the only sound between them before she started to pull away. Bucky whined in protest. “As much I love this, I need you to let go so I can make our bath.”

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled. Y/N patted his face gently.

“It’ll be five minutes. You can be patient till then, you big baby.” She teased and grabbed the things she needed from the bag. Bucky leaned up against the doorframe to the closet and crossed his arms across his chest with a sigh. He watched her move around and setting up the tub with practiced ease, grinning widely at how lucky he was. Not only did she love him unconditionally, faults and all, but she also didn’t tease him about his fondness for baths. He exhaled softly and went to grab the laptop.

“Want some wine?” He called over his shoulder.

“Nah, not tonight.” She called back. He nodded to himself and wandered into the living room where her laptop was left from the night before.

When he came back, Y/N had the tub off, the bubbles high, and the soothing smell of lavender filled the room. She had even stripped from her clothes and was wrapped up in her black robe patiently waiting while leaning back against the sink. The caddy was put over the tub while a candle was lit and sitting on the back of the toilet. She stood up and went over to grab the laptop from his hands.

“Go ahead, get undressed, and get in.” She motioned while she opened the laptop to look for a film. Behind her, she heard the rustle of clothes hitting the floor and the sound of water parting as he stepped in. He hissed low, the warm water a sharp contrast to the cool air. “Sorry, I might have gotten it a little too warm.”

“Nah,” He mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall and let his eyes close shut. He could feel the warmth soaking into his bones, the tension in his muscles melting away. “It’s perfect.”

Y/N giggled, setting the laptop on the caddy before she pulled the tie on her robe and tossed it behind her. Bucky peeked an eye open and watched as she stepped between his legs. He groaned low, instantly reaching out to grab her hips as she sunk into the warm bubbly water. She sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chest, following Bucky’s lead and let her eyes fall shut. Bucky nuzzled his nose against her neck and wrapped an arm around her waist while he reached over Y/N to hit play on the movie with the other.

Tracing the back of his hand that was wrapped around her waist, Y/N purred softy and nestled further into Bucky’s hold. The movement was innocent, Bucky knew that. But his body didn’t care. He had his very naked and very soft girlfriend’s backside plastered against his front. Of course, his body would react exactly the way it did. Bucky grunted and tried to shift his hips away, his cheeks burning. This wasn’t his intention for the bath. He just wanted to cuddle.

However, a sly smile grew on Y/N’s face at the feel of him coming to life behind her. Ignoring his obvious attempts to situated her differently against his lap, Y/N ground back. Bucky bit his lip and his hands flew to grab her hips with an iron grip. He snarled when she snickered and fought against his grip.

“Baby.” He hissed in a warning. Glancing over her shoulder, Y/N blinked innocently with a barely concealed mischievous look.

“What?”

“Stop that.” He grunted. Y/N raised a brow and placed her hands on his knees. Bucky’s muscles tensed under her tender touch, his breath catching his throat.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She purred softly. He snorted and tightened his grip in a warning.

“Y/N.” He groaned again when she became to trail her fingers down his thighs, using a delicate touch that lit his skin on fire. His cock twitched against her hip, quickly filling at her soft titter. She knew his secrets and had him wrapped around her little finger. She knew just where to touch, and she’d have exactly what she wanted.

“Bucky.” Y/N answered back with her a teasing whine. She titled her head back, her breath hot against his neck and nipped at his skin. With a breathy moan, Y/N rolled her hips and batted her lashes. “Please? I just want to feel you inside me.”

Bucky chuckled low, his resolve crumbling at her plea. He couldn’t help it. She was too pretty to say no to. He threw one of her legs over his hip and fisted his cock in a hand under her. Eagerly, Y/N sank down with a blissful sigh, throwing her head back as he slowly filled her. Bucky’s mouth fell open in a soundless moan and tightened a grip on her hips.

He leaned down and buried his face in her neck, letting her take a moment to adjust by peppering open mouth kisses against her skin on her neck and shoulder. Whatever frantic need he felt seconds ago melted away when he slid inside of Y/N, her familiar warmth and tightness helping him ease out the stress from his day. A quiet sigh passed through his lips and he wrapped his arms around her body. Y/N echoed his sentiments with a happy purr and sank back against his sturdy chest; her body adjusted but she was in no need for him to move either. They didn’t get chances like this often to just sit with each other and wrapped up in each other arms. They were moments few and far in between, but if it wasn’t for her addiction to Lush, they’d never discover these sweet bonding moments.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, listening to the steady beat of his heart behind her and the lull of the movie in the room in front of her. Bucky continued his tender kisses up and down her neck, savoring the peace and content he felt. Electricity would shoot up his spine whenever Y/N would shift to get comfortable, but neither wanted to ruin this moment. Taking in a deep breath he placed a tender kiss behind her ear.

“Love you baby girl.”

A slow smile spread on her lips, her heart fluttering in her chest.

“Love you too, Buck.”

1K notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Line of Duty Timeline: Can This Help To Solve the Jo Davidson DNA Mystery?

https://ift.tt/3s4cUyW

Warning: contains major spoilers for Line of Duty series 1-6.

You could say we’ve taken this too far. You could be right. You could also say that, for a Line of Duty fan attempting to solve the Jo Davidson family mystery, it’s useful to know that Tommy Hunter was 13 years old when Jo Davidson was born, making him more likely to be her brother than her father. Or that John Corbett was born two months after Jo Davidson, making it impossible for his mother Anne-Marie McGillis to also be her mother.

And then there are the real questions, such as: the day before AC-12 raided Hillside Lane Station in series six, it was Kate Fleming’s 35th birthday. Did she bring in doughnuts? Had Kate come in worse for wear from one too many glasses of white in Frederico’s with Jo? The people demand to know.

Taken from police records glimpsed on screen and episode scripts, below are the key dates mentioned in Line of Duty, in chronological order, right from the start. We’ll update as series six continues. Use it to bolster your theories and beat your friends in arguments. Carry the fire, team.

Prior to Series One

16th July 1963 Edward Gerard Hastings is born. Aged 2, sniffs out a ring of corrupt toddlers at his playschool 10th May 1965 Future OCG leader John Thomas ‘Tommy’ Hunter is born in Glasgow 12th April 1976 Lindsay Elizabeth Denton is born. With a fringe 22nd April 1979 Jo Davidson is born. Suspiciously 3rd June 1979 John Corbett is born to Anne-Marie McGillis in Northern Ireland 1982 19-year-old Ted Hastings joins the Royal Ulster Constabulary, one of two Catholic officers in his unit. Befriends a CHIS named Anne-Marie McGillis 18th April 1989 Anne-Marie McGillis is kidnapped by the IRA 23rd September 1985 Steve Arnott is born. Wearing a waistcoat 3rd November 1985 Kate Fleming is born. Crime doesn’t know what’s about to hit it 29th June 1989 Ted Hastings is injured in a pipe bomb explosion that kills a fellow Catholic officer, he suspects a deliberate attack and a cover-up conspiracy. He moves to England. ca.1990 A teenage Matthew ‘Dot’ Cottan starts working as a caddy for Tommy Hunter at the Edge Park Golf Club 1990s A group of 17 men including Tommy Hunter and CS Patrick Fairbank routinely sexually abuse the boys at Sands View children’s home 14th November 1998 Social worker Oliver Stephens-Lloyd is found murdered by the OCG after pursuing the Sands View boys’ abuse allegations. It’s made to look like suicide 21st March 1999 John Corbett joins the police service, aged 19 29th July 1999 Joanne Davidson joins the police service, aged 20 29th November 1999 Ryan Pilkington is born to mother Keely on the Borogrove Estate 2001 Anne-Marie McGillis’ corpse is found with signs of torture by the IRA 9th May 2006 Kate Fleming joins Central Police, aged 20 15th October 2007 Steve Arnott joins Central Police, aged 22 2005 A 15-year-old Lisa McQueen is admitted to a police programme for teen offenders

Series One (Unknown 2012)

– Steve Arnott’s counter-terrorism op is botched and CI Osborne demands a cover-up. Steve refuses and is recruited by Ted Hastings at AC-12 – DCI Tony Gates receives the Officer of the Year award and is investigated by AC-12 for manipulating his unit’s stats – OCG money launderer Jackie Laverty runs over her accountant. Her lover DCI Tony Gates helps to cover it up. She’s murdered by the OCG, who blackmail Gates to cover up a string of drug murders – DCI Gates gets a confession from OCG leader Tommy Hunter, delivers him to AC-12, then kills himself by stepping into traffic so his family receive a ‘line of duty’ pay-out November 2012 Deborah Devereux is arrested for assault against a neighbour, DI Buckells at Kingsgate Station has the charges dropped in exchange for sexual favours

Series Two (September – November 2013)

21st May 2013 DI Lindsay Denton terminates her pregnancy, at lover DCC Dryden’s behest 16th August 2013 DCC Mike Dryden is photographed by the OCG engaging in a sex act with underage victim Carly Kirk, who goes missing that day. To fake an alibi, Dryden takes responsibility for his wife’s speeding ticket issued that evening 5th September 2013 A police convoy transporting former OCG head-turned-witness Tommy Hunter is diverted by DI Lindsay Denton, then ambushed and three officers are killed 14th September 2013 Tommy Hunter and DC Georgia Trotman are murdered in hospital by bent copper DS Jeremy Cole September 2013 – DI Denton is charged with conspiracy to murder, remanded until the 18th of November 2013, released, then rearrested and sentenced to life, serving 585 days inside until her successful appeal.

Line of Duty Series 5 Recap: Framing Ted Hastings

By Louisa Mellor

Line Of Duty recap: the story so far

By Louisa Mellor

Series Three (May to July 2015)

13th May 2015 Danny Waldron shoots dead his childhood abuser Ronan Murphy and instigates a police cover-up, later torturing Linus Murphy – another abuser – to death 1st June 2015 Danny Waldron is fatally shot by PC Hari Bains, blackmailed by the OCG 13th July 2015 Danny Waldron’s funeral takes place 17th July 2015 Lindsay Denton is murdered by DI Matthew ‘Dot’ Cottan, who attempts to frame Steve Arnott for the crime 18th July 2015 Dot sends an ‘Urgent exit required’ text to the OCG and is shot out of an AC-12 interview. Kate gives chase and Dot is killed saving her from an OCG bullet. She records his Dying Declaration giving clues to the identity of corrupt officers in league with the OCG

Series Four (March to May 2017)

11th November 2016 The dismembered corpse of sex worker Baswinder Kaur is found 25th January 2017 Leonie Collersdale, also a sex worker, goes missing 9th March 2017 Hana Reznikova is abducted as part of the OCG’s attempt to frame Michael Farmer for the Operation Trapdoor murders 17th March 2017 Roz Huntley hits her head at Tim Ifield’s flat and, thinking her dead, he makes plans to dispose of her corpse. She wakes up and in a struggle, accidentally kills Tim Ifield then attempts to cover it up by cutting off his fingers and disposing of his laptop and phone 4th May 2017 Hastings fatally shoots a ‘Balaclava Man’ attempting to extract and/or kill solicitor Jimmy Lakewell from AC-12 headquarters 5th May 2017 ACC Derek Hilton is found dead, supposedly a shotgun suicide but more likely murdered by the OCG. At a later date, Roz Huntley pleads guilty to the manslaughter of Tim Ifield and is sentenced to 10 years in HMP Brentiss Prison. Jimmy Lakewell pleads guilty to perverting the course of justice and is sentenced to HMP Blackthorn

Series Five (February to July 2019)

Late Dec 2018/Early Jan 2019 -Gill Biggeloe, working for the OCG, lies to John Corbett that Ted Hastings is the corrupt officer responsible for his mother’s death by the IRA. He records the conversation 22nd Jan 2019 Operation Pear Tree officially begins, implanting John Corbett in the OCG 15th Feb 2019 The OCG hijack a heroin shipment Eastfield Depot, murdering 3 corrupt police officers 23rd Feb 2019 PC Maneet Bindra is murdered by the OCG. RIP 27th Feb 2019 The OCG hijack a ballistics transport carrying firearms 4th March 2019 Lisa McQueen meets with DCS Hargreaves, whom she’s been blackmailing over his visits to an OCG-run illegal brothel 5th March 2019 The OCG raid the Eastfield Depot, John Corbett shoots Hargreaves dead 10th March 2019 Steve and Kate question Steph Corbett about John Corbett’s NI connections 12th March 2019 Ted Hastings visits Lee Banks at Blackthorn prison, John Corbett is murdered by Ryan Pilkington 14th March 2019 Patricia Carmichael of AC-3 interviews Ted Hastings over his alleged corruption after he poses as ‘H’ in an unofficial undercover op which results in the arrest of Lisa McQueen and the death of Miroslav Minkowicz. Lisa later makes an immunity deal and gets witness protection. Gill Biggeloe is found to be corrupt, arrested, and also ends up under witness protection Late March 2019 Operation Pear Tree is concluded, finding no link between police corruption and organised crime. God, give me strength! 27th July 2019 Ryan Pilkington officially joins Central Police

Series Six (October 2020 – ?)

10th September 2019 Gail Vella is murdered outside her Moss Heath home October 2019 DCI Jo Davidson is made SIO of the Gail Vella murder investigation 2nd or 3rd October 2019 Gail Vella’s funeral takes place 26th October 2020 CHIS Alistair Oldroyd phones his handler to say he heard ‘Ross Turner’ boasting of killing Gail Vella. Det Supt Buckells delays the operation to pick up the suspect until the next morning. 27th October 2020 1:23am: a burner phone found at PS Jatri’s home makes an outgoing call. Operation Lighthouse is diverted to an armed robbery, causing more than two hours’ delay. Terry Boyle is found at Ross Turner’s address at Beechwood House and arrested on suspicion of murder. The freezer formerly containing Jackie Laverty’s corpse is dumped 29th October 2020 CHIS Alistair Oldroyd is found dead 2nd November 2020 Farida Jatri requests a transfer from MIT. She is replaced by PC Ryan Pilkington. Carl Banks’ corpse is discovered at an industrial site, the prints on the knife match those of Alistair Oldroy 4th November 2020 AC-12 tries to raid Hillside Lane Station but are sent back, then return later to seize the Operation Lighthouse files, some of which are missing and later found in DSU Buckells’ car 8th November 2020 Ryan follows Jo to her home address on Croxton Street 10th November 2020 Kate and Jo go for a drink at Frederico’s Bar, followed by Ryan 11th November 2020 PC Ryan Pilkington attempts to kill Terry Boyle, successfully drowning PC Lisa Patel by forcing the police car into Edge Park Reservoir November 2020 A police convoy carrying witness Jimmy Lakewell comes under fire by the OCG. DI Arnott shoots a sniper. Lakewell is murdered in prison by OCG member Lee Banks. DNA deposits found at Farida Jatri’s home reveal that Jo Davidson is related to a significant nominal from a past investigation End of November 2020 AC-12 is due to be merged with AC-3 and AC-9, and Ted Hastings, mother of God, is due to retire

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Line of Duty continues on Sunday the 18th of April at 9pm on BBC One.

The post Line of Duty Timeline: Can This Help To Solve the Jo Davidson DNA Mystery? appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3tjUFG6

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

4 notes · View notes

whitewallwhispers · 5 years ago

Text

Boulevardier

(pronounced bou-levard-ee-ay)

2 ounces bourbon whiskey

1 ounce Campari

1 ounce sweet vermouth (preferably Antica Formula)

Lemon twist (for garnish)

Kingsman: The Golden Circle - Agent Whiskey x OC (Agent Vermouth) - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Fledgling Statesman Agent Vermouth’s career has started off more slowly than she’d like, and she finds herself confiding her frustrations to an unlikely ear.

Warnings: alcohol use, strong language.

Tag List: Open! Reply or DM me.

Three months. She’d graduated her training three goddamn months ago, and yet she still hadn’t been sent out on a mission. It was embarrassing. It didn’t matter that she’d been top of her class, apparently. Everyone else had gotten assignments already - Gin, Cognac, even St. Germaine.

And today she’d finally had enough of it.

She knocked on Champ’s door as hard as she could.

“Come in,” he called, sounding a little suspicious. She opened the door, setting her face in a hard expression so he’d know she meant business.

“Ah, Agent Vermouth. And to what do I owe a surprise visit from my favorite niece?” He was seated behind his desk, reviewing something on his laptop with a steaming cup of coffee and half-empty glass of something strong on either side of him.

“It’s been three months since I became a Statesman. Why am I still stuck filing paperwork?” She cut right to the chase. She was sick of waiting, sick of all the bullshit.

Champagne’s mouth opened to respond, then closed again as his brows furrowed in thought.

Trying to come up with an excuse.

“All of my classmates have been on multiple missions. I outscored all of them in training. Why am I being treated differently?”

“It’s…complicated,” Champ sighed. “Take a seat.”

“I’d rather stand, thank you.” She crossed her arms.

“That’s an order, Vermouth.”

Reluctantly she sat down in the plush leather chair opposite his desk with a huff.

“Look. You know it took me three years to convince your mother to let you begin training,” he began. That much was true - she’d hoped to join the Statesmen at 18, but her mother insisted she wait until she was 21. “She was steaming mad at me when I told her you passed with flying colors, and made me promise not to send you out onto the front lines straight away. She knows how hot-headed you are, and she doesn’t want you flying into missions blinded by naive overconfidence.”

“Last I checked my mother wasn’t a Statesman. Why does she get any say in what I do?”

“Because she’s my sister,” Champ said with a shrug. “And I don’t think she’s entirely wrong. You completed your training quickly and eagerly, but you were volatile, too. Took a lot of risks, made a lot of rash decisions. I figured that maybe making you study and log the case reports of other Agents might imprint a little bit of caution into you, teach you that subtlety is sometimes preferable to going in guns blazing.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Vermouth cried. “Tequila and Whiskey are our top Agents and they’re textbook guns blazing.”

“They’re senior Agents, they’ve been in this game a long time. They have the experience to handle themselves in those high-speed, high-risk environments. They weren’t always like that. It came gradually after years of missions. You approached your training already having that attitude. That makes it almost two times more dangerous to send you on assignments than your other, more reserved classmates.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She scoffed, but she had nothing to follow up with.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, but it’s for the best. You’ll get out into the field someday, I promise.” To his credit, her uncle did look sincerely apologetic.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he said with a nod.

Without another word Vermouth stood and swept out of his office, heading straight down the hall with one goal in mind.

The rec room was completely empty. Everyone else was out on missions, except for Ginger Ale, who was busy as usual with the Lepidopterist. It’d been a week since they’d found him and she’d barely left her station since.

Out of all the people who she could talk to right now, Ginger Ale was her number one choice.

Perhaps that’s what made her extra annoyed when someone else walked through the door.

Well, less walked and more strutted. He looked as good as he always did - sharp collared white shirt, black tie, grey wool suit jacket with leather patches on his broad shoulders. Even though he was wearing his stupid cowboy hat she could tell his hair was perfectly pomaded and groomed underneath, just like his stupid mustache was, too.

“Well if it isn’t our favorite little spicy sip of wine,” Agent Whiskey called, giving her his usual condescending once-over. Much to her chagrin he took a seat right across from her. “Champ’s got you tending the bar now?”

“No,” she snapped. “I just wanted a drink.”

“What’re you makin’, then?” He grabbed a toothpick from the garnish caddy and began to chew on it lazily.

“Long Island Iced Tea.”

“Phew,” Whiskey whistled, “you sure you know how to make one of those?”

“Well, I’ve made two already, so I’d say yeah, I’ve gotten the hang of it.” She finished pouring in the last of the liquor and gave it a quick stir.

“Come on now, sweetheart, if you’re already two deep don’t push your luck. Pour half of that out for me.”

She bit her bottom lip to test it. Goddamnit. It was completely numb. Maybe he was right, as much as she really hated to admit it.

“Fine,” she grumbled, grabbing another glass and filling it even with hers. She all but slammed it down in front of him.

“And a shot of whiskey, while you’re at it. I feel I have some catching up to do.”

“Why do you care?” She grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured him some all the same.

“Because it’s ungentlemanly to leave a woman to drink on her own. Especially in such large quantities.”

Vermouth rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything, opting to take a large swig of her drink instead. It burned her throat like hell but that’s what she needed.

“No need to stand there, come take a seat,” Whiskey offered, patting the stool next to him.

Begrudgingly, she obliged, though she sat as far away from him as possible to avoid breathing in his stupidly nice cologne.

Everything about Whiskey irritated her. He was arrogant, condescending, and full of himself. That was made worse by the fact that he earned it. He was by far the best Statesman, and he knew it. He fancied himself a smooth talker and figured that his good looks gave him the right to flirt with anything that moved. Sure, he was well mannered and could be sweet at times, but whether or not it was genuine was hard to tell. It was easier for Vermouth to assume it wasn’t.

“So, what’s got you drinking half the booze in this bar at three o’clock in the afternoon?” Whiskey asked, turning in his seat to look at her as he downed his shot.

“It’s…personal.” She avoided his eyes.

“Then why aren’t you drinking at home?”

“Because I have to wait to see who turns in mission reports tonight so I can get them ready for filing tomorrow morning.”

“You might wanna cut yourself off now if you have to be up and in early in the morning,” Whiskey advised. Vermouth rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Not instructing, just suggesting, sugar,” he answered, holding his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. “Seems like you’ve been on paperwork duty every time I’ve finished an assignment lately.”

“I’ve been on paperwork duty since I fucking graduated,” she mumbled, throwing back another long gulp.

“Now, I know it may seem like you’re given the short end of the stick a lot, but -”

“No, Whiskey. I’m serious. I’ve literally been the only Agent doing paperwork since I joined.”

He furrowed his brows and cocked his head at her. He seemed genuinely surprised.

“Then what about when you’re on a mission?”

“I haven’t been on one yet.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckled. “You’re trying to pull one over on me.”

She leveled him with a fierce glare. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

“Now how is that possible? If anything, shouldn’t you be getting special treatment from Champ?”

“I don’t want special treatment, I just want to be given a goddamn assignment,” Vermouth growled. She finished her drink in anger and moved to get up to make another.

“Slow down, darlin’, I mean it.” Whiskey took hold of her wrist firmly, keeping her in place on her stool. She briefly considered countering by using her other hand to hit him in just the right spot to make him let go, but she was too slow and her eyes telegraphed too much. Whiskey read her move before she could make it and grabbed her other wrist, too. “Don’t try to fight drunk. It’ll only land you in a mess every time. Take it from someone who’s learned the hard way.”

He smiled at her then, and for once he seemed warm and sympathetic instead of distant and smarmy.

“Your instincts were good, though,” he added.

“Fine. Just let me go.”

He paused a moment before doing so, turning back to his own drink. “So I’m guessing that’s what’s got you down here in the middle of the day?”

“Yeah,” she huffed. “I just tried to talk to Champ about it. He says he doesn’t trust me in the field yet.”

“I don’t think any new recruits should be sent out into the field by themselves,” Whiskey shrugged.

“Of course you’d say that,” she scoffed. “Just like you say Ginger Ale shouldn’t be either.”

“She’s too valuable as a techie. Half our missions would fail if she wasn’t stationed here.”

“But she doesn’t want to be just a technician. What she wants should matter. You’re the only asshole who votes against her being active.”

“Like I said, I have my reasons.” He seemed nonplussed by being called an asshole straight to his face, and it irritated Vermouth that it hadn’t gotten a reaction out of him. Especially since he deserved it.

“Whatever. Bring me your paperwork before you leave for the night. Preferably before midnight.” She pushed herself away from the bar and strode from the room without a backwards glance. She’d had enough Whiskey for one day.

Tequila came through around seven. Gin at nine. It wasn’t until eleven thirty that a knock came at her door and she saw Whiskey through the window.

“Come in,” she sighed, immediately turning her attention back to her work to avoid looking at him.

“Sorry it took so long, sugar, your Long Island knocked me on my ass for a good hour or two. How you managed to down three is beyond me.”

As if.

“Save it, Whiskey. Just give me your files and go. I’m tired.”

“I figured you might be. That’s why I brought you this.” He placed his tablet to her right and a steaming mug of coffee right beside the one she was working on. “Bit of cream, no sweetner, just how you like it.”

That got her attention. Vermouth looked up at him quizzically. Suspiciously.

“How the hell do you know that?”

“There’s not much to do in the break room other than people watch,” he answered simply.

“…thanks,” she said at last, taking a sip. “It’s…good.” Vermouth did her best to keep her voice flat and unimpressed, but she was taken aback that Whiskey had noticed something about someone else - about her, in fact. He usually didn’t seem to give her or her classmates the time of day.

“Now I’ll get out of your hair,” he said with a nod. “Goodnight, sweetheart, don’t stay up too late.”

“Right. Night, Whiskey.”

With that he turned and left her office, giving her one last look before quietly shutting her door.

Huh.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

9 notes · View notes

peachy-blinderss · 6 years ago

Photo

One of Us Part 4

Part three here!

Tommy Shelby x Fem OC

Word Count: 3505 Angst, fun times, fluff, a huge heaping pile of cheesiness, you get a bit of everything with this one lucky you 😂

*Photo is not mine*

Source

Warnings: Swearing, binge drinking, nsfw at the end (very brief). I think that should be it.

Sorry it took so long to get this update out. I have been enjoying my break from college at home with my family and friends who I don’t see often because I go to school about three hours away from home. I have really really been enjoying my break and letting myself relax for the first time since the summer.

I’m pretty happy with how this turned out, so I do hope you enjoy it. I hope I caught all the typos. If there are any glaring mistakes, please let me know. As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think!! Thank you for all of your support. I am in awe of how many people support my writing. It means so much to me.

xx Lex ❤️

You’d been ignoring him for weeks. Your quiet mornings spent together were a thing of the past as you were too embarrassed to face Tommy after you realized your feelings for him. The fear of rejection too strong despite Arthur’s reassuring words. You were a proud woman who refused to be made into a fool. Repressing your feelings was what you did best. Feelings make you weak, and the lifestyle you lead wasn’t for the weak you reminded yourself as you came in later and later each day.

At first Tommy approached you worried something was wrong. He was shocked by the cold indifference aimed at him. Not one to dance around the truth he asked you if you were ok. Your hands instantly began to sweat with his question.

“I’m fine Tommy,” you said quickly, eyes focusing intently on the letter in front of you. You hoped you would look busy enough for Tommy to get the message and go away. You prayed he didn't notice the blush on your cheeks.

He laughed at your response.

“Cadence, if you’re fine why can’t you look at me when I talk to you lately? Why don’t you come in early anymore?” He finished quietly.

His gentle tone almost broke your resolve. Hearing Tommy Shelby almost sound hurt made your heart ache. You never wanted to hurt him. Regardless, you refused to look at him. Instead you began to flip through the stacks of paper on your desk. Tommy was growing increasingly annoyed with each paper you flipped. His fingers on your chin stopped your flipping instantly.

“Can you just look at me please?” He said firmly, fingers gently turning your face to his. As strong as his tone was, he’d never try to hurt you. Begrudgingly, your turned your eyes to him.

“What has gotten into you Cadence?” he questioned, “You aren’t acting like yourself lately.”

Stubborn to the last, you still refused to meet his gaze for fear he’d see the feelings you held for him in your eyes. Tommy Shelby would never see you as anything more than his kid friend. No matter how much Arthur told you otherwise, you knew it was true. You’d seen the kind of women Tommy kept in his company. They were all beautiful, elegant, and poised. Things you’d never associated with yourself.

It was then you decided to lie. You couldn’t get hurt if you hid the truth. Tommy couldn’t break your heart if he didn’t know it was his to break. You were so naive. You let out a sigh as you began to speak.

“I just don’t have the time anymore, Tommy,” you said still refusing to look at him, “I am exhausted and getting up every morning so much earlier than I have to takes more energy than it’s worth. I stay here so late every night trying to get as much done as possible, and waking up so early leaves me drained. The costs outway the benefits. You’re a businessman, you should understand that.”

With that Tommy’s fingers dropped from your chin. You turned your eyes back to the papers on your desk. Despite your best efforts, you caught yourself side eyeing him for a reaction.

“I see,” Tommy said as he quickly turned on his heel and walked back into his office. If he was upset he didn’t show it. If only you knew how each one of your words felt like a bullet to his heart.

You wanted to slap yourself. Everything you said was such a lie. You lived for your mornings spent with Tommy. Yes, you were exhausted, but the thought of hearing his quiet laughter and seeing his eyes light up as he smiled motivated you to get out of bed each day. Those quiet moments together brought peace into your life you hadn’t felt in years. Your easy conversations reminded you of your childhood together. You didn’t feel so damaged when you were around him, and you finally felt human again. He helped keep the demons at bay, but those bastards always had a way of ruining everything. Just as you were almost out of their clutches, they pulled you right back to them and reminded you of where you belonged. They reminded you that you didn’t deserve to be happy. You weren’t good enough for him they whispered over and over again into your ear.

Your head was louder today then it had been in a long time, so you threw yourself into the paperwork on your desk hoping it would quiet your mind.

Before you realized it was time to go home. Glancing at the clock you realized it was well past seven in the evening, and nearly everyone in the office was gone. Only one office remained occupied, and it’s occupant was one you wanted to avoid most. Or so you told yourself. You quickly gathered your things, and headed out the door towards the Garrison. You were going to get drunk tonight. No you were going to get belligerent. After the day you had you sure as hell needed it.

As you walked into the Garrison you were greeted by the normal crowd. Low ranking blinders, and factory workers milled about. Scanning the crowd, you noticed John at the bar ordering a drink. Just who you wanted to see. John always made you laugh even when you couldn’t find a reason to. You quickly slide up next to him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Hello John Boy,” you said teasingly.

“Oi Caddy girl, I knew you’d come to your senses one day and profess your love for me,” he grinned while pulling you into his side. “I reckon my brother wouldn’t like to see you kissin’ up on me like that though.”

You immediately tensed in his arms. You knew he was only joking, but the thought of Tommy made your heart ache. You reminded yourself that he was something you could never have. John instantly noticed something was wrong so he turned you so you faced him fully.

“What’s wrong Cadence? You have been acting awful strange lately.”

You laughed lightly at his words, amazed at how easily all the Shelby’s could read you.

“It seems like everyone’s asking me that these days John Boy,” you sighed out.

The silenced lingered as you turned towards the bar to order a drink. Gin would do tonight you thought ruefully. Once you were handed your drink you downed it at once. You were eager to numb your mind.

Unlike Arthur, John wasn’t the type to press you for information. Since starting work at the company he noticed a few changes in you. You were smiling, and laughing more. You were even wearing lipstick again. You were acting like the old Cadence, the Cadence who hadn’t seen the horrors France had to offer. The change was nice but just as quickly as it started it was gone. You weren’t laughing as much, and you suddenly stopped wearing lipstick. He knew this had to do with Tommy, but he also knew better than to press you for information when you weren’t ready. Instead John offered you a smile and a glass of gin as he lead you back into the snug.

Hours had passed and you were absolutely shit faced. The room was spinning behind John as you looked at him. Despite this you downed another glass of gin and continued to listen to the story John was telling. It was then that you noticed Tommy was in the snug with you. You swore you saw him staring at you, but decided it must be the alcohol telling you lies. You turned away quickly, thanking god your cheeks were already red from the booze.

“And then Aunt Pol is chasing this poor girl down the stairs with a broom with Arthur running half naked behind the both of them trying to get to Pol before she takes this poor girl’s head off,” he gets out between laughs.

His story had everyone in stitches. You were laughing so hard that you were hunched over onto John. The harder you laughed the faster the room began to spin. You placed your hands on the table to steady yourself. Despite the logical part of your brain begging you to stop you decided that another glass of gin was exactly what you needed. You poured yourself another glass, spilling most of it onto the table. You drank it quickly, loving the path of fire it left in the back of your throat. You began to giggle to yourself as the room spun even faster. It was then you decided that you needed the toilet. You tried to stand but the spinning room made it very difficult. After a few tries you finally were able to stand yourself up. Unfortunately for you you knocked into the table and almost tipped it over. John and Arthur both reached their hands out to steady you.

“Whoopsies,” you slurred out a giggle, “Lemme go I need to piss.”

With a few hiccups you began your trek, knocking into a few walls on the way.

About fifteen minutes had passed and you still hadn’t returned. In a panic, the Shelby boys ran out of the snug to look for you. The didn’t have to look far because they quickly found you passed out in a booth. Luckily for you, the bar had cleared out long before. You and the Shelby’s were the only people left in the Garrison. Arthur quickly sat down beside you and attempted to shake you awake.

“Bird wake up, it’s time to go home,” he said while shaking your shoulder.

You only mumbled in response.

“Birdie come on you need to go home and sleep in your own bed,” he tried to shake you awake again.

You tried swatting him on the shoulder only to miss completely and hit your hand on the table instead. You were too drunk to feel the pain, your hand was numb.

“ em fine Arth,” you slurred quietly, “jus’ leave me here em’ comfy.”

Ignoring you he pulled you out of the booth and onto your feet. You swayed in your heels. If it weren’t for Arthur’s arm around your waist you surely would have fallen over. Arthur began to walk you towards the door when suddenly you felt Tommy’s hand on your shoulder. Normally his close proximity to you would have had you in a tizzy, but you were too gone to care.

“I’ll take her home Arthur, give her to me,” Tommy said.

Arthur only nodded in response, shifting your weight onto Tommy. All four of you began your drunken journey home.

“Em really fine Tom. I can make it home meself,” you hiccuped.

Tommy shot a disapproving look your way.

“Sure you are Cadence,” he said while tightening his grip on your waist.

After a while you and Tommy parted ways with Arthur and John. The longer you walked, the drunker you seemed to get. It wasn’t long until all of your weight was on Tommy, and you were slouched into him. A more sober you would have been mortified to have seen how you buried your face into Tommy’s neck. Thankfully you were too drunk to feel any shame. By the time you got to the entrance of your flat Tommy was practically dragging you. Tommy silently cursed when he remembered you lived on the third floor. When you saw the stairs leading up to your flat you shook Tommy’s arms off you and attempted to climb the stairs yourself. You only made it up one stair before you crashed into the wall. Tommy shook his head at you.

“Love, will you please stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Even in your drunk state you picked up on what Tommy had called you. He had never called you love before. Your stomach being to feel fuzzy, and this time it wasn’t from the liquor.

“You called me loveee,” you singsonged while grabbing Tommy’s cheeks in your hands and squishing them together. If only Tommy’s enemies could see him now.

“Am I your loveeee Thomas? Do you loveee me?” you hiccuped while swaying on your feet.

At this point you had both of you arms haphazardly thrown around Tommy’s neck. When you talked to him you had to crane your neck back in order to see his face causing both of you to sway on your feet. You were too drunk to notice the blush that dusted Tommy’s freckled cheeks. Though Tommy found your inebriated state very endearing he knew he needed to get you to bed quick. He knew letting you walk yourself up the stairs was not an option, so with a shrug of his shoulders he grabbed you before you could protest.

Suddenly you were in Tommy’s arms. You let out a quiet shriek of surprise, and hit Tommy lightly on the shoulder which he found quite amusing.

“Put me down now Thomas, em fine. I can walk fine. I am a strong woman, I can take care of meself,” you slurred while poking him in the chest with your pointer finger.

“I know you can Cadence, I know,” he said quietly but did not set you down.

Deciding to let Tommy win this one, you gave up and snuggled into his chest. He smelled like the woods after rainfall mixed with something darker, something more sinful. You buried your face into his neck once again, and began to doze off. You had a terribly long day, and alcohol always made you tired.

By the time Tommy reached your flat you were fast asleep. He could feel your gentle breathes against his neck. Having you in his arms felt so right. He sighed in longing wishing this moment could last forever, but he knew it couldn’t.

“Love, it’s time to wake up. You need to sleep in your bed not on me, eh?” He said while shaking your shoulder gently. He knew setting you on your feet would wake you up instantly, but he wanted you in his arms a little bit longer. You began to stir at the sound of his voice, but you refused to open your eyes. You were too comfy.

“But em comfy Tom, don’t wanna,” you said while snuggling deeper into his coat.

Tommy’s heart lurched at your action. You looked so small and peaceful snuggled into his chest. He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. He was so captivated by you. Alas, the sensible part of Tommy swatted at the loving haze surrounding him and urged him to pull it together. Reluctantly Tommy shook your shoulder again earning a agitated groan in response. Deciding it would be easier to let you be he asked for your keys.

“Purse,” you mumbled while holding the arm it dangled on right in front of his face.

Before you knew it Tommy was kicking your door closed with his foot and you were inside your tiny flat. Tommy began to walk you towards your room. Your voice stopped Tommy before he could open your door.

“Why’re you so nice to me Tom?” you said against his neck.

“You’ve always been so good to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Yer a good man Tom,” you kissed his cheek lightly.

Tommy tensed under your lips. You kissed his cheek and the other Shelby brother’s all the time, so you were confused by his sudden discomfort. When you opened your eyes you realized your lips were on his neck, not his cheek. You giggled in response, too drunk and too shameless to care.

“Whoopsies. Sorry Tom lemme try again, I missed,” you giggled out. This time you kept your eyes wide open as you pressed your lips to Tommy’s warm cheek.

“Cadence you need to get to bed,” he said quickly, pushing open your door and walking you to your bed.

He finally set you down your bed. Instantly you began to take off your clothes before Tommy could stop you. In your drunken state you somehow got your dress stuck on your head. The fabric muffled your giggles.

“Fucking hell Cadence, what are you doing?” he sighed out while quickly covering your body with a blanket. Tommy Shelby was many things, but willing to take advantage of a drunk girl he was not. He quickly turned to your wardrobe and grabbed the first set of pajamas he could find. Before he turned back to you, he covered his eyes with his hand and threw your pajamas at you. He quickly turned around and headed towards the door.

“Get some sleep will you?” he said before slipping out the door.

The sound of birds chirping woke you the next morning. They were too loud. You wanted to open your window and shoot them off their branch just to get them to shut up. The sunlight coming in through the cracks in your curtains hurt your eyes before you even opened them. Everything was too bright. You put your pillow over your face and groaned into it. Before you knew it you began to remember the night before. You groaned again as you remembered how ridiculous you acted. Your eyes shot wide open and you whipped the pillow off your face when you remembered going home with Tommy. The quick movement made your stomach lurch, and you again felt that fuzzy feeling in your stomach. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t love that gave you that feeling this time.

You quickly got up and ran to the washbasin sitting atop your dresser. You began to empty all the gin you drank last night into it. Groaning you went to fetch some water to clean yourself up. You were never drinking again.

Glancing at the clock you realized it was around noon. You cursed to yourself. You wanted to be at work by nine. While it was a Sunday, and your day off, you wanted to go in to finish some of the work you were unable to get to the previous night. You also knew Tommy would most likely be there as well, and you needed to talk to him. You knew you couldn’t ignore him anymore, especially after last night. You needed to come clean. You hated to admit it but being in his arms felt right. He made you feel safe. You had to tell him.

Despite this, all you wanted to do was hide under your covers and never face Tommy again. You cringed when your remembered kissing his neck. You began to pace around your room, trying to build the confidence to get dressed and head to the betting shop.

“Cadence, you need to stop this. When have you ever been scared of anything before? You have been to bloody war for christ’s sakes, and you’re letting some man get you in such a tizzy? Get yourself together, you can do this,” you told yourself.

You were dressed and out the door before your confidence could fade away.

Before you knew it, you were at the betting shop. You let yourself in with the key Tommy had given you weeks before. Sunday was the only day the shop was closed. It’s the holy day, Thomas. Some of us do go to church you know. You smiled at the memory of Polly telling Tommy off.

You unlocked the shop, and made your way towards your desk. You smiled when you noticed the light in Tommy’s office was on. No one else was in today besides the two of you. As you got to your desk and took off your coat you noticed a faint groaning coming from inside Tommy’s office. Instantly worried that something was wrong with Tommy, you flung the door to his office open without knocking.

You heard the moans before you could process what you were seeing. Tommy was fucking some woman from behind over his desk. You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You hoped they didn’t see you as you scrambled to close the door before they noticed your presence. Unfortunately for you, you knocked into the door causing it to bang against the wall. The noise stopped Tommy mid-thrust. His eyes snapped towards the door, instantly meeting yours.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you rushed out before slamming the door shut and running out of the office.

You heard Tommy quickly following behind you so you didn’t stop to grab your coat. You were absolutely mortified and could not face Tommy after what you just saw. You didn’t stop running until you were back to your flat.

Once inside, your legs wouldn’t take you any further so you sat on the floor in front of your door. How stupid you were to think Tommy would ever want anything to do with you. You put your head in your hands and cried.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #john shelby #arthur shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peak blinders fanfiction #tommy fic

107 notes · View notes

just-another-busy-fangirl-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Dean x Reader One Shots - Smut

On Purpose Have My Pie and Eat it Too - Drabble Crackle Not in My Bar Welcome Home Fight For It - for @avasmommy224 Deeper Examination Lonely Cabin (Holiday) Perky and Plump (Holiday) How I Wanted You A Little Less Breath - Drabble Looks Damn Good in a Suit Chase Backfired, Part 2 Nice and Tight (Demon!Dean) Take Care of Myself Incredibly Distracting Upside-Down Unexpected Show

Dean x Reader One Shots - Fluff

Kiss Me Bright Lights - teen!Dean Sweet Star-Crossed Misnamed Thanks Mom I Have No Idea Scavenger Hunt Christmas Light Extravaganza (Holiday) Permission Surprise Less Than a Year I’ll Play if You Play Fast Runners So Much Gained

Dean x Reader One Shots - Angst

Nightmare Could Have Been Me - for @mrsbatesmotel53 As Long As You’re Mine - with @falling-for-fandoms Glad You Didn’t Often? Awry Fall Secret

Dean x Reader One Shots - Other/All/Mixed Genres

Firefighter The Boss Milk Leading Man Nerdy - Drabble, for @luci-in-trenchcoats Sick Shifter Six Weeks Cuffed (sequel to Sick Shifter) One More Week (flangst) Backfired

Dean x Reader Series

Perfect World (word count: ~20k) You have been hunting with Sam, Dean, and Cas for a while, but once you turn 30 you’re torn between loving Dean, wanting out of the hunting business, or just continuing on through life with the boys. Something unexpected happens that turns your entire world upside down. How will the Winchesters and Cas handle it, and will anything ever feel the same again?

Invisible (word count ~39k) Cursed as a child, you have lived your entire life invisible and alone. When deaths start happening in your town, the Winchesters come rolling in to investigate. What will happen when Dean is the first one who has been able to see you since you were a kid? Will Sam believe that you’re real? Will Dean believe you when you tell him you haven’t killed anyone? And why, after all of this time, is Dean Winchester the only one who can see you?

Solstice (word count: ~13k) The reader is on a cruise to Alaska - her graduation present from college - when she finds out that she is to marry someone of her parent’s choosing. Can a stranger on the ship help her find happiness and escape her family’s expectations?

The Interview (word count: ~3.5k) You have an interview with Dean Smith at Sandover Bridge and Iron.

Wild (word count: ~7.4k) Sam and Dean come across you and your pack on a hunt. Will Dean let you go when they realize that you aren’t a killer like your family? An A/B/O Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader mini series. Fifteen Years (word count: 4.6k) Y/N never expected to get herself into such a mess, let alone have someone from her past save her life fifteen years later.

Christmas Magic (word count: 13.5k) When the reader is in a serious car accident, she learns that she must help a local mechanic save his autoshop before she can move on to the afterlife. Can she help him and his family save the shop? When she gets close to the family, will she be able to let go and move on?

Dean x Donna

Who Even Goes Camping? - Drabble, light smut Home Cookin’ - One Shot, smut (Holiday) Cupcakes - One Shot, fluff Ring Ring - One Shot, smut Intense - One Shot, smut Danger - One Shot, smut, Demon!Dean Definitely Doing That Again - One Shot, smut After the Case is Over? - One Shot, smut adjacent Cocooned - One Shot, ABO, fluff Sam Was Right - One Shot, ABO, smut

Dean x Other

Urges - Dean x Benny x Cain - One Shot, smut Surprise Thank You - Dean x Bela - One Shot, smut On the Couch - One Shot, smut - Dean x Sam x Jody x Donna Fast Learner - Dean x Krissy - One Shot, smut Make Me Forget - Dean x Jo - One Shot, smut The Mark - Dean x Cain - One Shot, smut Natural Moment - Dean x Gabriel - One Shot, smut Locktober - Dean x Gabriel - One Shot, smut Perfect As It Could Be - One Shot, mostly fluff Hidden Silk - Dean x Claire - One Shot, A/B/O, smut Lies and Betrayal - Dean x Crowley, angst The Caddy - Dean x Jimmy, fluff You Need a Break - Dean x Gabriel, ABO, fluff

Dean Winchester Headcanons

#masterlist

53 notes · View notes

allen-tiller · 5 years ago

Text

Ghosts of the Barossa: The North Kapunda Hotel

The North Kapunda Hotel was built in 1848 by the North Kapunda Mining Company. ‘The Northern Arms Hotel’ as it was then called, was a small single-story hotel situated on Franklin Street Kapunda, the first publican was a man named John Bickford.

James Crase: 1879 - Photo SLSA: B76601

In the early 1850s the hotel was sold to a local butcher, James Crase. Mr Crase was a wealthy local man with big dreams for the town of Kapunda. He also had big plans for his newly purchased hotel. His first step in changing the hotel was a rebranding from the Northern Arms Hotel to The Garland Ox Hotel. In 1865, Crase invested heavily in his hotel, expanding the basement area, and building the second story of the hotel, which also linked the previously built miners quarters at the rear (now referred to as the “Hallway From Hell”, but once known as the Bachelors Hall). The new hotel featured the most expensive kitchen in Australia at the time, located in the basement, which now also had living quarters and a rainwater tank. Upstairs now contained a living area for the Crase family, a new meeting room known as The Commercial Room, and hotel and display rooms for travelling salesmen. Crase also built a new two-story building at the rear of the hotel that could house banquet dinners and roller skating, as well as a small bowling alley. Mr Crase sold the hotel in the early 1880s, but not after dealing with much controversy, with members of his staff caught selling alcohol outside of hours, prostitution, and gambling in his establishment. Later owners were also caught doing similar things, and in 1923, under the ownership of Mr Pearce, the hotel lost its liquor licence for a year. To survive, the downstairs and rear accommodation served as a brothel.

Basement North Kapunda Hotel 2009: Photo by WISPA Paranormal

The Hotel has seen numerous deaths in its 165 plus years of service, including scissor grinder Martin Jansen who choked to death in the ground floor Parlour. Henry Binney Hawke, a very well respected man in Kapunda, who died in the billiard room of the hotel after suffering a heart attack. Joseph Caddy, a local music teacher and a politician who died of natural causes in an upstairs bedroom. In 1912 Mr Henry Fairclough, publican of the hotel for 14 years became very ill, and by November of that year had been confined to his bed as his condition worsened. On Monday 17 November 1912, Henry Fairclough lost his battle with illness and passed away in the upstairs bedroom he shared with his wife. Dennis Horgan, was publican of the hotel from 1913 until 1919, then again in 1925. Horgan died from a heart attack in the hotel in December 1925 in an upstairs room he shared with his wife. Other deaths reported include that of servants, at least two young prostitutes, a travelling salesman, and at least 3 young children. The North Kapunda Hotel was featured in the 2000 Documentary “Kapunda: Most Haunted Town in the Western World”, in episode 7 of Haunting: Australia, and in 2015 gained international attention when tourism website Travel MSN listed it as the 8th most haunted bar or pub in the world!

The hotel has numerous ghost stories, too many to cover here – so here are a few of my own personal experiences from investigating and visiting the hotel from 2009 until now.

I had many ghostly experiences in the hotel after tours and on private investigations, but the most memorable for me happened one night after a tour. As the last guests were leaving. Karen and I were doing our “after-tour” walkthrough, to lock up the hotel and make sure no-one had been locked inside. As I went to close the tour room door, I turned and saw a young girl, I would estimate around 7 years old, standing in the hallway looking at me. She didn't appear “ghostly”, she looked like a real little girl, except her clothing was very old, much like a pinafore, similar in style to the clothing actress Shirley Temple would've worn near the beginning of her movie career. My first instinct was that someone’s child from downstairs had somehow gotten upstairs. The girl suddenly turned and ran towards room 1, a room we have now dubbed “The Nursery Room”. I quickly followed, knowing she was trapped as I had just locked from the outside the only other exit door to the rooms she was running toward. I made my way down the hallway, into the Nursery Room, the Dressing room and back into the Drawing room, to find no-one in there at all. I checked the windows, locked from the inside, I checked under the bed, nothing. This ghostly young girl did not glow, she was not misty, nor did she have any of the other attributes we associate with spirits or ghosts. She looked as real as my wife who was waiting for me at the top of the stairs in case the girl came back that way – it was an unusual encounter, but not the last time I would encounter this little girl. The Nursery Room proved to have other spirits. One spirit manifested and was witnessed by a young man, who during the evening, had thought it would be funny to jump out and scare other tour guests, little did he know, the spirits were about to do the same to him. As he came into the Nursery Room the back way through the Drawing Room, he stepped through the threshold of the Nursery Room door and witnessed a partially manifested spirit of a woman standing behind the door. This young man had been sceptical all night, but this incident changed his whole perspective. It was also in this room a man was groped by a ghost on the backside, which also happened to another gentleman in the Hallway to Hell, one of the flirtatious prostitute spirits perhaps?

The Commercial Room on the first floor also proved to have several spirits, although these ones are passive, and at least one seems to be a residual haunting and not an intelligent haunting. It was in this room the tours originally started, and on one tour, a guest pulled me aside to let me know a man had been standing next to me the whole time I had been speaking. She described him as wearing a suit, about the same height as me, very thin, and amused and puzzled as to why I was standing in the hotel talking about ghosts. It was in this same room on another night, a young woman witnessed the spirit of a man, standing in the far corner facing the wall, looking rather morose and staring at an old tapestry that has hung on the wall for over a century. Another spirit was that of a man who has been witnessed standing in front of a window looking out into the Main Street below, transfixed by what he was looking at. In his right hand, he was continuously opening and closing a pocket watch chained to his inner pocket. On a tour, a young lady who went into the Commercial Room and witnessed this apparition, but it wasn’t until she entered the front bar and saw the mural of Sir Sidney Kidman it dawned on her who she had just seen!

During the filming of Haunting: Australia, paranormal guru Gaurav Tiwari and I set up several ghost hunting devices given to us by Jason Dickson of Apparition Technologies. We placed REM Pods (a device that emits an electromagnetic field from an aerial, that if a spirit comes close to, will set off a warning alarm and coloured lights) as well as voice recorders, EM Pumps (a device that emits a very strong electromagnetic field thought to attract spirits) and Vibration Detectors in the downstairs hallway basement, a large side room that was once bedrooms, originally for the cooks, but eventually used by prostitutes. Whilst standing in the basement, a room once used to store dead bodies, kegs of rum and kegs of beer, we began to ask if there was anyone present who wished to communicate with us. It didn’t take long to get an answer. I was standing where I could see into the downstairs hallway to watch if the lights on any of the devices were turning on, all of the sudden, I saw a young girl, no more than 7 years old, walk into the dimly lit hallway, and into the doorway of the room Gaurav and I were standing in!

Without hesitating (or thinking) I chased after her to find out who she was. She ran into the hallway and turned left into the arched hallway that led to the former basement bedrooms, an old decrepit room with damaged floors and no ventilation. Gaurav was following quickly behind. There was nowhere for the girl to escape too, but she was not to be found in the room. Whilst standing in the room, we noticed a small window that looks into a smaller room, which in turn has a doorway back into the hallway. Gaurav noticed some movement, so we ventured back into the hallway. At this point, the cameraman’s batteries failed so he radioed back to central control to get a go-fer to bring down a fresh battery for him. As he did this, Gaurav who had turned to look back into the bedrooms noticed a large shadow jump across a doorway, which startled him enough to drop a few swear words! We re-entered the room, whilst Mick, our cameraman waited in the hallway, just as we entered the bedroom, Mick heard our REM pods going off and thinking it was the runner with the battery turned to say thanks, only to notice no-one there! In the next few minutes, things really picked up. Gaurav and I raced into the hallway to see all our REM Pods and Vibration meters lit to full, every light in the basement, including our torches and camera lights suddenly drained completely and we were left in the total pitch black. At the same time, Mick got a call over his headset to get the hell upstairs as the producers thought Ray may have had a heart attack in the Hallway to Hell. The three of us, in pitch black, found our way out of the basement hallway, and onto the stairs that lead back up to the ground floor hallway, only to find the metal bar doors locked. Just as we got to the top we saw Field Producer Lucy Connors and a camera crew walking backwards. Ian and Rayleen passed us supporting Ray and were heading into the beer garden. I tried the metal-bar door again, and suddenly it unblocked, and we were free of the basement! We followed them outside not knowing exactly what had happened. Ray was very pale and did not look good, he was crying and slouched over. Ian performed an exorcism on him. Ray was vomiting and pale and looked very unwell, but not long after Ian started his exorcism, Ray suddenly looked a lot better, got up, and left the beer garden to go back into the break area and away from the hotel. As Ray left, Rayleen was very suddenly and very vocally saying the Lord’s Prayer at break need speed, as she was overcome with whatever had just left Ray. Gaurav performed a cleansing ritual on her, and soon she too left to go into the break room and recover, with Ian following closely behind to make sure they were both OK. This left Gaurav, Robb and me standing in the beer garden wondering what had just happened. Without hesitation, Robb told Gaurav and me to go upstairs and find out what was going on. Considering neither of us are psychics, it probably wasn’t the smartest move, but we're paranormal investigators, right? Fearless to the end and go where Angels fear to tread. To lighten the very heavy feeling the hotel now had upstairs, Gaurav and I began to crack jokes about just how tough and manly we are. We then entered The Hallway to Hell, which felt very different from how it did earlier in the night, much more foreboding, but much more “alive”. It took only a few seconds for things to start to happen, within minutes of being in the hallway I witnessed a full-bodied apparition of a woman dressed in a period dress that I could only describe as from the “Victorian” era. The Dress was black and lacy, the woman was very white in the face, red full lips, but had a very sad look to her demeanour. She walked backwards into room 11, and I released a number of swear words in disbelief of what I was seeing with my own eyes!! (the edit on television was a few seconds, in reality, my swearing probably went for a few minutes).In the next half-an-hour, Gaurav and I experienced 3 gunshot sounds, they were clear and very, very loud. The first, in room 11, was right after seeing the mysterious woman disappear into the room, it came from the air in the centre of the room and echoed throughout the room. I suggested later during our reveal filming at the Old Kapunda Courthouse, that the noise may not have been a gunshot at all but could have been the sound of what psychics and mediums call a “portal” snapping closed as the spirit returned to her own realm. We heard the next shot only a few minutes later in room 12, which is the room in which Ray was partially possessed and fell to the floor. At the time we didn’t realise his voice recorder was still in the room recording. Later we would find out Ray had captured an EVP of someone saying, “hates blue eyes”, it also contained the gunshot sound we heard in the room. As we re-entered the hallway, I heard footsteps, so we turned to look in the direction they came from, as we did so, a stone was thrown at us. Next, we entered room 13, where we thought the footsteps had gone, only to hear another, and the loudest of the gunshot noises for the evening. This is also around the time Gaurav took a photo that he claimed later, looked like a shadow person standing on the stairs leading out of the hallway. In the reveal, I declare that I cannot see what he was talking about, and I honestly could not at the time see anything resembling a person in his photo, but a few months later, after filming, I would see for myself a shadow person in the Hallway to Hell right where Gaurav had claimed to capture his photo. As a side note, the Haunting Australia episode featuring The North Kapunda Hotel rated first place on Foxtel as the most viewed show the night it was broadcast, beating “The Walking Dead” and other popular shows – so on behalf of all of the cast – thank you to each and every person who watched the episode and supported the show. Another very important thing that happened whilst filming Haunting: Australia which was never aired, occurred to my wife Karen and to “psychic bad-boy” Ian Lawman. Ian was in the basement under the front bar when psychically he picked up on a poker game being played. He described the gentleman running the game and even got his name and a few attributes associated with him. My wife worked in the hotel in 2009, and knew the name of the person as a former publican, but didn’t know anything about him. So, Karen made a phone call to her former boss who ran the hotel in 2009 and asked her if she knew anything about this man, who was named “Charlie”. As it happened, she did know him, and confirmed everything Ian said, even down to his description, his dog and the poker games!

Karen was subsequently interviewed as a witness for the show, in a portion that would have confirmed Ian's psychic abilities, that was for reasons unknown to the cast, entirely cut from the episode, which was a great loss for the viewers as it would have proved that Ian does actually have psychic ability (even if he is a scaredy cat and runs from some of the ghosts!) I may at some point reveal more about ghostly goings on in the North Kapunda Hotel, perhaps in a book.

2 notes · View notes

morgansmornings · 6 years ago

Note

ship meme Jayden and Beth

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor:

It was hard to tell who’s clothes belonged to who. Red, greens, and blues clashed with pastel and paisley. Skirts and jeans tossed about being left where they landed. Fabrics of all sorts scattered and making a collage of colour across the dark brown floor that was standard within the dorms of the campus.

“Beth…. Have you seen my green shirt?”

Wha kine?

“The green spaghetti strap. I want to wear it for my date tonight.”

A pause, the shift of an over sized sweater being pulled around tawny slender shoulders.

Nooo…

“Are you lying?”

Nooo…

“Are you lying about lying.”

Mebbe…

A sigh.

“Blue one it is then.”

forgets to run the dish washer:Neat freak. Organized. Dishwasher always running both us stairs and down stairs to keep up with the health standards.

At least that was how it usually was.

But there were times that the Janissary couldn’t be assed to use Forces or Correspondence to poke one stupid button. It was usually after covert missions where she had the hardest time having the will to do much of anything but breathe. During those times she had given Beth permission to make sure that the mountains of leftovers found homes in the bellies of those that needed it most.

On this night however, Jay was not as bad off as she usually was. No, this night she was just tired. Prue was off digging into a rumor to see if it was something that she could deal with at a later date or not. So she had the brownstone to herself. Finally a moment to unwind. To come down from the soul crushing pain that was both inflicted to her prey and that she received herself.

She pulled the dishwasher open, taking a cup from the top rack and poured herself a healthy amount of cold coffee. She reached up and scratched the back of her feeling the grime clinging to her skin. Taking a long pull she immediately turned and spit the mouthful out.

“God… Damnit.” She held back the sudden urge to gag as the taste of dish soap.

“I love her… I love her so much Andy…” Jay whipped the back of her hand across her lips. “One of these days, I might strangle her.”

Though it wasn’t Beth’s fault. She did wash the dishes. She just forgot that the dishwasher was there to make things easier. pumps gas for the car:“Onna d’ese days, I’m gonna do it.” Beth said curling her legs under herself to rearrange the knitting supplies she had brought with her.

“I’ll let you pump gas into the Caddy the day you can see over the wheel kid.” A ball of yarn bounced off the door. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle. With all the powers Beth had it was a miracle she was still the same sweet tiny and innocent soul in the world. Jay was certain that Beth could achieve peace among the others and bring the Wyrm to heel and purify whatever had driven it off the deep end.

There was some mumbling that Jay chose not to make out because they wee already behind their, her, schedule. It was going to be a long drive to the east coast. Sure Jay could have gotten tickets, but there was not enough tranquilizers to put Beth to sleep long enough to fly that distance. Which is why there was a cruise bound for Hawai’i waiting for them in California. drives when they’re going somewhere:

“And then when we get there… Beth are you even listening to me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” That was the moment Jayden pulled over into a parking lot. She knew Beth wasn’t paying attention. That much was obvious by how she was leaned against the passenger door with her chin propped on a delicate palm. Green-hazel eyes were glazed over not yet realizing that they had stopped. Jay reached over and took Beth’s hand in hers, tugging gently.

“Hey Tiny Dancer?”

“Huh?” The Hawaiian turned to look at her best friend over many lifetimes. “Did we stop?”

“Figured we could stretch our legs. And after…” Jay shrugged a shoulder and pulled her hand away leaving the keys in Beth’s hand.

“But ya alw-”

“I’m tired.” She wasn’t. “Not safe for me to be behind the wheel Tiny Dancer.”

A light began burning that settled whatever worry had come over the Janissary.

“Copy d’at Rubba Ducky.”

rearranges the furniture:It was mapped out clearly in her mind. To the point that she could walk around with her eyes closed and not once drop, trip, kick, or stumble over anything. Every item had a place and every item was kept just so. Even when she cleaned. Some called it obsession. Other called it a well maintained lifestyle.

So when Jayden opened the door and dropped her keys to the floor she knew something was wrong. Looking around her living room, pool table, and most of the bedding from her guest and master bedroom was strewn about. Cushions and fabrics lay draped up over each other and her staircase leading up to the master bedroom floor had been turned into a keep of sorts.

“Beth?”

“D’e no be a Beth. Bu’ Lady WiggleWag an’ her fai’ful sworn hound Bitestwice.”

“Don’‘t forget me!”

“An’ Lord Noah of da far off lands to the South.”

“Beth.”

“Have ya tribute ta lay before mah noble feet?”

“Beth!”

“Wha?!”

“Next time, just text me when you plan on babysitting.” Jay shook her head shrugging out of the leather coat she was wearing. Next came the heeled boot. “But if the Lady, Noble Knight, and High guard dog would allow, the council hath sent me, a humble peasant to bring tribute of cake and cocoa.”

There was a moment of muttering, hushed giggles, and the soft bouf of Prue before she was answered.

“Da lord bide ya welcome, stranger. As long as d’ere be ice cream.”

“But of course.”

falls asleep with the TV on:Beth had always had a hard time sleeping. The Sandman kept away from her and when he did come, so did the Night terrors. Which is why Beth was always working strange hours at the hospital. Or going on late night ride alongs with Luc. But on occasion there was a movie night.

And this time, the soft sounds of Beth’s little voice spoke along with Inigo Montoya as he advanced upon the six fingered man. She mimicked his elegant moves with her own hands. Thrust. Parry. Block, slash, parry. Her slender form twisting on the recliner only once nudging the familiar once.

She turned to take Jay’s hand to find the younger woman asleep on the other recliner. one foot thrown over the arm, her head lolled off to the side and one hand still in the mixing bowl of Popcorn and M&Ms.

“Good Night Jay. I mos’ likely kill you in da mornin’.” gets to use the bathroom first:Pulling herself up and out of the chair every joint she had creaked and popped as protest. Shuffling more in the style of a zombie rather then a human being she headed upstairs for the master bathroom. One hand ran through her hair to push it from her face. She could already smell the coffee which meant Prue had set it up before the sleep over ended.

Rounding over the last step she could hear her shower going. A raised brow, a deep frown, and one arm crossing over her chest to scratch the back of her shoulder. The Janissary pushed the door open with a yawn. Sitting on the counter, a toothbrush moving with far more vigor than was humanly possible at this early time of the morning. “Dude, did you even sleep?”

“MMM!!”

“Sorry. Knock first I know. But you’re dressed and a nurse. This isn’t the first time another woman has walked in on you.” “Mmm!” A finger waved way too close to Jay’s face for comfort.

“Alright downstairs it is. But I’ll remember that the next time you have to piss.” Jay moved just fast enough to dodge the tube of toothpaste. But not the bar of soap that came right after. decides the temperature for the ac/heater:“Beth… it is 89 degrees. How can you be cold?”

“Please?”

“Oh.. My Gods okay! Fine!” Jayden flipped the switch for the seats heating coils built into the Cadillac. “Now flip the vents on your side so I can run the AC.”

“But d’at doesn’t..”

“Ah! Tch!” A hand puppet came up from the steering wheel. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m hot. Driver gets control that was the deal.”

“Okay, but ya have any kine blanket?”

A pause. A sigh.

“For the last time… NO!” sets up holiday decorations:When Christmas comes to town

The lights were strung over all the windows. Garland hung from the banister and the pegs for the stair case. Gingerbread wafted through the air. The Polar Express was playing just loud enough that the girls could sing along.

And all the dreams of the children

Flour coated the front of Jay’s apron, while steady hand folded the shortbread batter together. Small feet galumphed around chasing the clicking of sharp nails. The youngest chuckled at the panicked look in betrayed dark eyes.

“Don’t look at me, you promised.”

Once lost will all be found

“Traitor!” A pathetic whine came as the Hawaiian grabbed Prue from behind, with the over sized sweater.

“Gotcha!”

It took several moments for Beth to bend in ways that would have been painful to others to get the familiar into the human made sweater. It was just this side of Ugly Christmas sweater. The soft fabric all hand woven from well kept and happy Angora Rabbits.

That’s all I want when Christmas comes to town

leaves the lights on:Prue panted hard and heavy. She was struggling to stay up right but it was hard to do with a gaping hole that the burglar left as a parting gift. The storm raged outside and had knocked the power out a few minutes before hand. Limping across the wooden floor she collapsed not but three feet from the entrance.

“Jay!” Beth’s voice echoed down the hall from the stairwell. At least that is what Prue assumed as she let out a whine.

“Beth! Hurry! She’s been shot!” Jay all but sobbed as she dropped to her knees and began petting the dog’s head.

“I..”

“Beth please!”

“Get da flashlights!” Jay nodded and turned on her phone’s light. She was speaking in half words and muted cries of heartbreak. Soon she started getting the mag lights to help illuminate the apartment. Soft but firm hands covered in some kind of gloves started prodding at the wound. Prue whimpered and yowled, but was not willing to snap out.

“Jay, ya need for get me some candles.” Beth’s voice was a salve to adrenaline fried nerves.

Minutes, hours it was hard to tell but the power came back on and Both Beth and Jay were sitting on the floor near the couch. Jay’s eyes were bloodshot while Beth’s were sympathetic. Even though all the lights were on, neither moved to turn off the flashlights or put out the candles.

uses the bathroom with the door open:Beth always had the door closed when she went to the bathroom. It was habit. In through the door, turn, close, lock. When she was done it was unlock, open, and leave. Between the Admiral and her brother it was just a habit that had been instilled into her at a young age.

So imagine the heart attach she had the first time that she came back from class to find their shared bathroom wide open. And a nude Jayden backside pointed towards her. One strong leg propped on the bathroom ledge with razor in hand.

“I’m sorry!:

“Oh hey kid. Was wondering where you ran off too. Can you do me a favor and grab me my underwear. I left them on the dresser.”

“I…” Beth learned and then made Jayden promise to never again, leave the bathroom door open after that. fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber):

Beth reached as far as she could while keeping Jayden pinned onto the couch. It would be the best, fastest, and the least amount of explaining needed. Jay however was of the opinion that He was a last resort call. Plus it wasn’t like he wasn’t already there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to interrupt the squabbling.

“I said no.”

“But he’s good.”

“No. I am not letting that happen.”

“But d’ats my phone.” Jay put her hand in Beth’s face to try and push her away.

“Ow! Stop with the biting!”

“Den gimme da phone.”

“No! I’m not calling Clint!”

“Good thing I’m standing right here then. Things would get a little awkward if the pipe keeps leaking and you both fall on the floor. Might give the next person the wrong impression.”

“HOW?!”

“I texted him before ya took my phone.” Beth said with a victorious tone as she gave a sun-bright smile.

This Meme: Accepting.Honorable Mention: @brooklynislandgirl and @multi-mused

#answers from a goat.#Dear Anonymous #Danke Anon!#brooklynislandgirl #Honorable Mention:#multi-mused #Crossing the Streams l Crossover

4 notes · View notes

ajl1963 · 2 years ago

Text

Chase Specialty Line - Cocktail & Drink Accessories

For this installment about the Chase Specialty Line, Driving for Deco will look at some of the company’s cocktail and drinking accessories. Chase Iced Drink Cups, Old Fashioned Cocktail Cups, Muddlers and the Cocktail Mixer and Spoon. From the collection of the authors. Liqueur Set (1935 – 1939) The Chase Liqueur Set. From the collection of the authors. This attractive set consists of six…

View On WordPress

0 notes

carrioncrowned-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

The Ghosts in the Garden

a @hannibalcreative #ForBothOfUs collab with @electrarhodes

Read on AO3

The first time Hannibal notices something amiss it's all to do with his favourite baby-blue and passion-flower striped shirt. When he wears it Will always looks at him as though he might be god. And then usually proceeds to follow the look up with some quite decent worship.

“Will? Have you seen the belle-blue pinstripe?”

“Laundry”

“I've looked there. There's no sign”

Hannibal comes into the kitchen and looks over to where Will is sitting grumbling over the most recent speculation from TattleCrime.

“Will? The belle-blue?”

Will looks up at him,

“Did you send another recipe to Freddie, Hannibal? We talked about this. I thought we'd agreed?”

“Will? The shirt?”

Will pays slightly better attention, Hannibal standing in the kitchen dressed except for his shirt. It's an appealing sight.

“I still don't know. Sorry. Want me to help you find another? You know? In the bedroom?”

He grins and at first Hannibal is still too distracted to really register the dropped timbre of Will’s voice and careful survey.

“I'm supposed to be in the City in forty minutes. I can find a shirt. I just wondered… oh. In the bedroom? That's… thank you Will. Your assistance would be much appreciated”

Will slides off the kitchen bar stool.

“That's the fourth thing this month you’ve mislaid”

Hannibal frowns. It's true. He pauses just for a moment, what was that? Was that? Laughter?

“It's good Hannibal. Really. It's. Good”

“But not excellent?”

Will sighs. Of all the things he might have guessed of course it's his cooking that Hannibal gets just the tiniest bit insecure about.

That cute little tum? Not a blip. The silver glints in his hair? Nuh uh. The murder and mayhem across three continents and the rabid chase after them? Nada. Even the fact that Will sort of, ok, did actually, chuck them off a cliff? Once past the recuperation, and the deep and meaningful conversations, and the resumption of certain, ahem, intimacies, not a people sausage! But even the teeniest hint of anything other than total praise and adulation about breakfast, lunch and supper and everything in between? Well for goodness sake you'd think the world had ended.

Hannibal watches Will’s face as he takes another mouthful.

“It's just a little, I'm not sure, salty maybe?”

“Salty?”

“Yeah. Briney. Not just because it’s sea food. Sorry. It's very good though. Really. And the vegetables are perfect”

He wishes he hadn't said a word as soon as he's opened his mouth as the plate is whisked away from him, mournfully he manages,

“I was enjoying that”

Hannibal takes a mouthful from Will’s plate and promptly rushes to the sink and spits it out.

“That's appalling. You can't eat that! I'll make something else. I don't think even the vegetables can be saved”

Will watches rather wistfully as Hannibal scrapes his lunch into the compost caddy. Sighs. Resigns himself to a wait, although if it's an omelette that's ok. Hannibal makes great omelettes on the fly and if he's pissed he whisks extra hard and they're all frothy and light. And usually this translates into other frothy and light things later on!

Hannibal though considers, what on earth is going on? He didn't oversalt it. He's still pathologically careful about what he puts in his body. He hears, yes, for sure this time. A little laugh. Tinkly. And then another giggle, slightly deeper.

In the garden Will stretches out on a blanket on the lawn and enjoys the sun’s warmth across his chest and arms. Perfect. Glass of lemonade. Cloudless blue sky. Small plate of nibbles. The sound of Hannibal humming to himself as he tends to some bit of the garden.

He notes a slight change in the tempo and mood of whatever it is that Hannibal is humming. Not so much cheerful G major and more miserable as sin B minor.

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal doesn't answer at first, so Will, a little reluctantly, drags himself up. And follows the sound of the now definitely mournful dirge.

“Hannibal? What is it? Did the deer get in the root vegetables again? Or is it the rabbits? I could trap a few if you like? They won't hop fast.. oh, what's that?”

“I think someone has been in the garden”

“Yeah. I think you're right? What is that?”

“It's some sort of vegetable. Well. Installation? Maybe?”

The two men regard the display. A human figure set before them on one of the garden benches like one of Hannibal's elaborate murder tableau, but this one made entirely from fresh vegetables.

“What's that eggplant doing? Is that meant to be?”

“I think it is. Will. I hate to ask. This isn't an elaborate, and may I say very pretty, piece of your work is it?”

Will puts his head to one side,

“Well, so you think that maybe I got up in the night came out here and picked veg for an hour or two and made them into a murder veggie bestie in the garden for you to find? Sorry Hannibal. Not my design”

“Someone's though?”

They look at each other then. Definite laughter.

“Did you hear that? Or am I hallucinating this time around?”

“Unless it's the whole folie a deux thing? I heard it too”

Hannibal looks around and ventures,

“Hello? Are you listening?…”

On the wind there's just the faintest whisper,

“Oooh. It's the man on the phone…”

And then an answering laugh.

Back indoors in the kitchen Will and Hannibal look at each other.

“I think I was in the sun too long.”

“I think it was something we ate last night”

“I really don't think..”

“Nor do I. It can't be”

“She did come with me to Sicily”

“You didn't say so before!”

“I thought I was hallucinating her. You know. After..”

Hannibal nods. Whilst there might be a certain amount of scar aftercare and nuzzling and other related activity, they don't usually directly discuss the events of the evening it occurred. Painful for both of them. Albeit in different ways.

“Why now though?”

“Maybe? Maybe she just misses us? I mean. It's been a while. Perhaps she got lonely? Wanted people to talk to? Hang out with?”

“She's not alone though?”

“The other laugh?

“Indeed.”

“I've got an idea about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Oh.” He sighs, yeah, he has an idea. “I'll see if I can talk to them later”

“Really? You rather than me? Do you think it's possibly someone I know?”

“I think so. I think they're messing with you more than me. So. Maybe. Well. I'll ask. I've a good idea”

Later, the same evening, Will sits out in the garden on the bench where the murder veggie bestie had been displayed. He takes a slow drink of his glass of wine. He'd never really been a fan but slowly, slowly, Hannibal is converting him. He smiles down into the golden green depths. A cool green drink for the end of a cool green day. Thinks of all the things that Hannibal is converting him to, over time.

“Hello ladies”

“Hello Will”

It's still a whisper. But it's there. And it's real.

“How you doing then?”

“Alright thanks”

“The shirt was a nice touch. You know it's his favourite”

There's a small snicker,

“He thinks it's his ‘pulling shirt’”

“I'm sure he does”

“He doesn't really need it does he?”

Will sighs, oh these two, they know him so well. Even after all this time. Especially after all this time. After all, he always could ‘see’, even if he has to have seen them alive before he can ever see them dead.

“Maybe lay off the grub though? That would have been a really nice meal”

Abigail giggles,

“But the food is the most fun to mess with!”

“I understand”

He pauses,

“I liked the murder vegetable man. I thought he'd get it straight away. What with the slicing and all. Actually that eggplant was good in parmigiana, so, thanks for that. And by the way I can hear you pouting”

Bev sighs,

“Damn. You ate his eggplant. Will that is some fucked us metaphor right there!”

“I know. It's true. But you know how it is, right?”

Both the women smile and nod, if he doesn't look directly at them he can just make out their ghostly shapes shimmering in the late evening daylight. What's left of it, and left of them.

“Still keeping out of the bedroom?”

“We did agree. Though the wardrobe is still fair game? Is that ok?”

Will smiles, they've got good ground rules. And really, these two keep all the others away. A sassy comment from Bev, a baleful look from Abigail? No one wants to risk it. Only Franklyn had tried. Grabby even in death. Fair enough. Probably. Will has a little shudder. Cheese folk indeed. For once he'd actually sympathised with Hannibal. Yeah. That's should have told him something right off.

“The wardrobe is all fair game. Hey. Did I mention it? There's an especially hairy green tie which Hannibal loves. Any chance of a little accident?”

“The one with the egg yolk weave? Because even I wouldn't be seen in it, and I'm dead already!”

“That's it. So. Maybe?”

“Sure Will. We're still here for you”

“Not everything on his terms then?”

“Dead right”

THERE WE ARE! @electrarhodes was a champ and delivered this gorgeous little fic to me extremely quickly, it just took me a while until I had the time to sit down and work on my part because I decided to do three collabs almost two days into a three day event oops. This was extremely fun though, I hope we get a longer collab event next time around!

#ForBothOfUs #Hannibal #Hannigram #murder husbands #fanart #fanfic #Will Graham #Hannibal Lecter #Beverly Katz #Abigail Hobbs #ghosts #mystery #traditional art #watercolor #my art #collab #electrarhodes

112 notes · View notes

junker-town · 6 years ago

Text

Rory’s return to the top of golf, Tiger is stuck in the middle, and other Players thoughts

Five thoughts on Rory, Tiger, Rahm, and the weekend at TPC Sawgrass.

The Players Championship’s return to March finished with a hall-of-fame winner and a frenzied final round. It’s not a major, but it is an event that stands alone at one of the best and most instantly recognizable venues. Rory McIlroy has been the bHere are five thoughts from the weekend at TPC Sawgrass.

1. The anticipation of a Rory approach

The first attribute we cite with Rory’s game is his driving, and with good reason. He is the best driver of the golf ball in the world. He leads the Tour in strokes gained off-the-tee and hits it mind-boggling distances. His game is obviously about so much more than power, but if you have to pick one trait that is cited first as a signifier of his premier spot in golf, that’s it.

When he’s cooking, however, it’s the approach shots that are always the most fun to follow. The drives are reliably there, but when he’s dialed, the approach shots are what generates the anticipation and tension. This not necessarily unique to Rory, but it’s been the case throughout his career. It was the case when he won the U.S. Open on a soft Congressional. It was when he won his PGA Championships. It definitely was the case when he won the British Open, where he hit two approach shots into par-5s during what is arguably the greatest hour or two of golf in his career.

The driver does so much work for Rory and puts him in all these great spots with massive advantages. But the approach shots are the moments when you edge onto your seat with the ball in the air, the moments that feel so determinative, and the moments when you most often see Rory in full flight.

The one example of I’ll pluck from his Players Championship win, and one that will stay with me the longest, is his second shot into the 16th hole on Friday. This felt like the stretch when Rory put the pedal down to ensure he’d be a contender near the top of the leaderboard all weekend. It was a perfect 4-iron distance and Rory hit the perfect 4-iron, with the stimulating shot tracer there to pick it all up as it sailed over the water and drew back to the front of the green. These are the few seconds of payoff that make golf worth watching.

EAGLE for @McIlroyRory. He's 1 back of the lead. #LiveUnderPar pic.twitter.com/TNJV04AMq3

— PGA TOUR (@PGATOUR) March 15, 2019

The next day, a crazy attempt at this green resulted in his ball bouncing into the water. On Sunday, a 9-iron from the rough resulted in the clinching birdie. What he called his best shot of his entire year so far was an approach shot, a pured 6-iron from a fairway bunker that put him back in the lead on Sunday. The driver will always be there, and it’s the club that makes it all possible. But when he’s on, Rory is the most fun player to watch in golf, and the second shots are where we so often see why.

2. Weighting the “growth” stuff

The coverage of golf excels at overblowing personal growth narratives that probably have less to do with the outcomes or success and failure of an individual player. Sergio Garcia “found peace” and was centered, until he didn’t and hauled off on a bunch of greens. Rory has final round demons, until he doesn’t because his wedges or putter or whatever club come through for four rounds, not just Sunday. So much time and energy is put into discussing unprovable and intangible ephemera that’s not counted on the scorecard.

Rory is beloved by the media and fans because he does so often brilliantly articulate how he’s feeling or who he is beyond the golf shots. He sounds like a real human being, a smart one, and not some golfing automaton. This Sunday, he dropped a line about how much had changed in his time at The Players, from his first time missing the cut 10 years ago and then getting thrown out of nearby bars in Jax Beach for being underage. It’s not much, but he’s relatable at least for a second.

The larger narrative around Rory at the moment is how he’s not letting golf define who he is as a person. It’s not media-created, but from Rory’s own words over the last year and throughout this successful start to 2019. He preached it again on Sunday night, telling Golf Channel he’d shoot 65 and be happy for the day or a 75 and be sad for the rest of the day in whatever else he was doing with his life. Now, he tells us he’s separated the two — the golf life and who he is as a person away from his successes and failures on the golf course.

It’s catnip for the narrative-loving media. Rory has undoubtedly gone through a stretch of real self-reflection over the past year or so. He is one of the few players you can reliably assume has put actual thought into talking about who he is and how he’s feeling and is not just spewing it out there to fill uncomfortable time talking about something more than his golf shots. How much weight we assign it for explaining those good golf shots is a separate matter.

3. The mind of a middling Tiger

On the matter of the unprovable and unknowable intangible stuff, the idea of Tiger Woods as “just another guy” on the PGA Tour is a fascinating concept to monitor this year. He’s played four events, made four cuts, looked “fine” throughout, and never sniffed actual, real contention on the weekend. Tiger is obviously the biggest draw in the history of the game and it’s impossible for him to quietly do anything and be “just another guy” in the field. This is more about where he slots on leaderboards and not all the hype and scrutiny from the outside.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Tiger after a missed putt at No. 10 on Sunday.

It feels odd to say for a 14-time major winner that played the greatest golf ever seen, but the 2018 season was a comeback where each start, whether it was the Valspar Championship or the Masters, was an accomplishment. By the end of the year, when he’d made a handful of starts and stayed healthy, a win, any win, whether it was a major championship or a random limited field party in a far-flung corner of the globe, would be a triumph.

Now we’re in year two after we’ve seen him make a full season of starts, win, and stay healthy. What’s he chasing now at these non-majors and how do continued early tee times on the weekends affect him? How much can he gain, both personally and from those measuring and scrutinizing on the outside, from playing Bay Hill or another WGC or even The Players? That’s not discounting those events or what he personally gets out of them. I’m legit curious.

The reps matter as he gets ready for the four events that can still seriously alter the final view we take of his career. Does another win or top five at Bay Hill or the WGC Match Play do that? He will say it is all part of a #process as he readies for the majors, but playing each weekend completely out of contention cannot be fun for the most maniacally competitive golfer in the game’s history.

Tiger is older and his body is patched together and he’s never going to approach his peak golf. Maybe just making the starts and staying healthy is still the accomplishment in year two of the comeback. He can still obviously be great and probably will be this year. It may just come in shorter bursts. He may be more consistently a top 30-40 player on the leaderboard instead of somewhere in the top 10. How does he handle sustained runs of playing-out-the-string weekends at events that can have minimal impact on the larger view of his career?

4. Rahm’s regret

Sunday at The Players brought manic leaderboard movement and a flurry of absurd highlight shots in the final three hours. The most compelling play, however, was not a good shot but rather a horrible one that followed an intense caddie-player conversation.

Jon Rahm’s rapid ascent to the very top of the world rankings has come with fantastic golf, entertaining eruptions and tantrums, and some puzzling on-tilt decisions. Sunday’s round included his worst mistake yet, one that Golf Channel’s postgame compared to Jean van de Velde at the end of the night. Rahm tried to pull off a 1-in-10? 20? shot at a critical time on the back nine and playing from the final group.

Rahm tried to play an 8-iron from the sand, that needed to draw some 30 yards against a hurting wind, and carry 220 yards around trees, over water and another bunker. His caddie, was, uh, strongly against it.

A pivotal moment @THEPLAYERSChamp. This conversation between Jon Rahm and his caddie. He was leading at the time. pic.twitter.com/hWQGNwcu9Z

— PGA TOUR (@PGATOUR) March 18, 2019

It’s an example of the rapid improvements in production of these events and another argument for mic’ing up the players. It may be uncomfortable at times, but the entertainment product is better.

There will be overreactions to this obstinate Rahm moment. Is this a sign of “needing to mature?” Will he ever get it? It was just a horrible decision, but also one that makes Rahm far more interesting to watch than some other young superstars. The golf shots are great, but the volcanic activity, caution-free approach, and high-wire tension are redeeming. He doesn’t need to change to win. He may just win less than he should.

5. Word salad

A fun game to play all weekend was listening to how they broadcast and Tour reps would characterize The Players as something of great importance that is not officially a major championship. I heard broadcasters call it a “mega-event,” one of the biggest events, the first of a championship season, the ultimate paradox, the purest test, an unparalleled test, the gold standard, and the biggest event of the year ... so far ... in golf.

I’m sure I am missing many other examples but the arbitrary categories we’ve assigned to events, including majors, puts the Players in a position that can have the hypemen and broadcasters tied up in knots. It is an amusing game of framing and branding to listen for during the championship.

0 notes

cupnoodle-queen · 8 years ago

Text

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 7 Change Hands

1,978 words Oooh look, an important plot development! *rubs hands together* Tagging inspirationals/baes @nifwrites @themissimmortal @blindbae <3

The drive back to HQ was tense. Cam leaned against the passenger window, her breath fogging the glass as she rubbed blood from the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her black undershirt. The gash had clotted for the most part but the spot above her eyelid was refusing to let up. She wiped the glass of condensation.

Cam learned early on that driving in a vehicle with Gladio in such close proximity was the worst thing to exist. More than anything despite how little she knew the man, there was nothing else she’d rather do than reach over and stroke the tattoo feathers of his forearm, following them up and around his back, where the rest of it hid beneath his black tank top. She blamed it on the Astrals; It was all their fault.

Gladio glanced at her while driving a straight stretch, running his palm back and forth over the steering wheel. He contemplated keeping his mouth shut, letting the drive be silent, but decided against it. “Your eye hurt?”

Cam kept staring out the window. “Not really. Shoulder does.”

Gladio sighed. “Right, sorry ‘bout that.” He stole another glance. “Why the hell were you taking on that thing by yourself, anyways? You don’t seem well-equipped enough to -”

“Excuse me?” Cam looked up at him, her eyebrows angled. “What do you mean, well-equipped? I took that thing down with one handgun, if you don’t recall.”

“I-I mean like-” Another look. She was so plain, so ordinary. So, civilian. She didn’t belong in this business. He groaned. “You, haven’t been hunting for very long, right?”

Cam tried not to take offense to his prying look. “No, what of it?”

“Why this one?” Gladio grabbed the hunt flyer in his right fist, waving it. “Why a red? And with a gun? You’d be better off with swords or even daggers for that kind of asshole.”

“Well sorr-y for not being a weapons expert,” Cam flushed with annoyance. “I killed it though, right? So your argument is invalid.”

“Psh, you got lucky and you know it.”

“You really know how to put a damper on things, don't you?”

“Good, maybe you won’t do it again.”

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?!”

Gladio’s hands tensed on the wheel. He accelerated a bit, but eased off the gas once he noticed the change in speed. “Just...why put yourself in that kind of danger?”

Cam frowned. “What do I have to lose?”

“Uhh, your life for one thing.” He focused on the road, the telltale winding turns near HQ coming up. Almost there. “Unless that’s, you know, not important to you…”

She never considered herself the kind to let life go just like that, but since Nolan’s death she did feel less safe, less attachment to the living. The most attached she felt was to the man in the driver’s seat, but that was the doing of stars and not her own. “No, it’s important to me. Sorry, just a bad day, err week perhaps…Month...I don’t know.”

Gladio didn’t pry as he exited the tunnel and into hunter HQ, pulling into an open spot near the first aid shack.

Just as she hopped out of the Jeep Greyson was on her, pulling her into a rib-crushing hug. “What the hell, Cam?! You went on a hunt by yourself?!” He leaned back from her, his eyes bulging at her cut. “Goddammit, are you alright?”

Cam exhaled, stepping back and rubbing her sore shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just getting it checked out, if you’ll excuse me…”

She ducked into the large shack, Gladio exceptionally close behind her, closing the door in Greyson’s face. Cam could hear his voice faintly from outside, “alright, I’ll wait here then…”

The clinic reeked of rubbing alcohol, though the distinct metallic tang of blood hung in the air. A younger man in a suit covered by a stained lab coat looked up from a magazine as Cam entered the office. “Eyy, just closed down for the night sweet-cheeks, ‘fraid ya gonna need to come back-”

He sat up straighter as Gladio came into view. “Oh ehh, evenin’ Mr. Amicitia, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gladio stepped next to Cam. “Think she needs stitches, or something.”

Dino got up from his desk and circled around it towards the two of them, his face crinkling when he caught sight of Cam’s wound. “Aye, he rough ya up, dollface? Lemme take a look at ‘dat.”

Cam closed her eyes as he prodded her face, gently separating the cut where it had begun to scab over, checking the depth of the wound. He hummed and ho’ed. “Eh, kinda shallow. Definitely gonna scar, though. Sorry hun, least you’ll intimidate the fellas.”

He reached over to a small caddy, opened it up and pulled out some iodine, wetting a gauze pad with it and taking care to clean the cut without disturbing the skin as he dabbed along the gash. Across from Cam, Gladio leaned against a cabinet full of medical supplies, his expression indistinguishable. Whether lost in thought or just really interested in watching Dino work, Cam couldn’t tell.

Dino soaked up the antiseptic with a clean pad before applying some strips of suture tape to the bad spots. When finished he leaned back, admiring his handiwork. “There ya go, doll. Good’as new.”

Cam offered a bleak smile and thanked him before her and Gladio left the clinic. As promised, Greyson was outside waiting for them. “Fuck, Cam. I’m sorry, I-”

“You won’t be training her anymore,” Gladio announced, his shoulders rolling back a bit. “I’m taking over.”

Greyson seemed taken aback. “B-beg your pardon?”

“If you'd've trained her with proper weapons instead of cop outs she might’ve walked away without a scratch.”

Woah. Cam gaped at him while Greyson’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey, we were getting to those eventually, she had to start somewhere!”

Gladio scoffed. “Fair enough, but I’ll take it from here-”

“Perhaps I can decide on my own instead?” Cam interjected, crossing her arms. It wasn’t like her to delve head-first into conflict, again something influencing her with it but she steeled herself, sighing and looking at her dead fiance’s best friend. “Greyson, thank you for helping me get this far, I really appreciate it, but I think I have a lot to learn from him.”

She turned to look at Gladio, his eyes...hopeful? It lasted but a brief second, but it was there, just long enough to give her resolve. “Alright, your turn I guess.”

Gladio nodded and stepped back, heading towards the bar. He spoke over his shoulder. “Meet me when you’ve collected your bounty. You owe me a cold one.”

Cam felt genuinely good about herself, the mark on her hip seemed to inject confidence into her bloodstream as she watched Gladio walk away. Greyson’s question pulled her from her thoughts. “What did you hunt?”

Cam whipped her head back to him and smiled, retracting somewhat at the sting of tension against her cut. “Naga.”

His eyes turned into saucers, gaping. “You what?! No fucking way....”

“Yes way.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket, opened it up to the photo gallery and showed him the trophy kill. Greyson’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, Cam! You took that down by yourself??”

“Yep,” she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug. “Three clips in total. It doesn’t like being shot in the face.”

“No shit,” Greyson shook his head with a massive grin. “Nolan would be so proud of you.”

At the mention of his name Cam frowned for a brief moment, though she knew he was right. Nolan would have been proud of her, finally standing up and having a fighting chance. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Cam left Greyson and went to collect her earnings, an impressed Dave almost not believing she did it by herself, but he’d counted out the gil and made a side comment about underdogs and betting oh her more often. “Good to see that flyer finally gone from the hunt board,” he mentioned, rubbing a stubble-dusted chin. “You’ll be making a name for yourself in no time.”

“Just doing what I can,” Cam shrugged.

“All we ask. Anything helps.”

She stuffed the couple thousand gil in a tight wad and shoved it deep in her pocket before stepping inside the bar.

It was a busy night, the damp air outside keeping everyone indoors. Cam located Gladio easily, her mark finding him before she even caught sight the man and she headed towards him. He wasn’t alone, though she was glad to see Steph was nowhere to be found.

“Heya, Cam!” Prompto slid along the booth seat to give her a spot. “Heard you’re really shooting for the stars, eh?”

“Yes, rather impressive a feat you managed to pull off.”

That voice, it was uncanny to a fault. The man who spoke however, was not. “Have we met?”

“If I’m right in assuming,” he began, adjusting his dark shades, “You sold me some beetroots at market, in Lestallum.”

Cam’s eyes widened, realizing the three of them were the same group of friends from that day two years prior. They were missing one, though...She didn’t touch on that. Might be fresh wounds. “Good memory.” She looked him over once more, deciding he at least seemed to be a familiar face, though not in the same condition. “You didn’t um, have those scars though…?”

A heavy sigh. “Correct.”

Prompto took an opportune jab at the three of them. “Sheesh, you guys trying to start a club or something?”

The three of them shared perplexed looks. Prompto groaned. “Uhh, your left eyes? I look like a sissy next to you three.” He left to grab the next round, not before Cam slipped him a hundred gil.

After introducing herself properly to Ignis, she shuffled into the booth and leaned against the wall. She was tired, but something kept her going. The proximity to her soulmate if she had to guess. Cam was buzzing, her knee bouncing and tapping the table as she spoke up. “So, what’s on the agenda for training?”

He rubbed the underside of his dark beard, scratching at it. “Couple of hunts to get warmed up, then I’m showing you how to duel. Best way to get your reflexes up.”

Cam’s eyebrows hiked up. “Duel? Really?”

“Yes, really,” Gladio leaned back in his seat as Prompto returned with four frosty beers. He nodded and thanked him and took a swig. “Sparring with a partner will help you better than any daemon could because you’re matching up with one of your own species.”

“Brutish way to phrase it,” Ignis chided, “though accurate.”

Cam had already begun peeling the label from her beer bottle, fraying the paper edges as she looked up at Gladio. “Alright, what do I need?”

“Use some of that small fortune you just got paid and buy yourself a short sword.” He paused, considering something. “Make that two short swords.”

“Two? That-”

“Gladdy, hun?”

Cam’s skin crawled, the melodic voice ice against her ears. Steph was approaching their booth, a strange lilt to her expression that made her look both sinister and innocent at the same time. She couldn’t trust it. Steph spoke again. “Gladdy, you didn’t text me that you got back. What’s the big idea?”

Gladio sighed, but seemed apologetic. “Sorry, babe.” He rose from his seat to put his arm around Steph. “Cam, this is-”

“We’ve met,” Cam stopped him. She noticed the daggers in her tone so she forced some sensibility in her voice. “Nice to see you.”

“All the same.” Conceited, above her.

Cam’s side flared up. She left her barely dented beer on the table and bid them goodnight, storming out of the bar for the second time that evening.

#gladio soulmate AU #gladiolus amicitia #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #ffxv soulmate AU #chasing suns #chapter 7 #angst #soulmates #gladio #ignis #prompto

45 notes · View notes

barredux · 7 years ago

Photo

Bar Redux Presents Fave Flicks July's faves picks are Caddyshack and Happy Gilmore Caddyshack- From opening lines to final credits, this uproarious golf-themed classic will keep you rolling with laughter. Featuring some of Hollywood’s truly great comedic talents, Caddyshack is the story of a young caddy at the Bushwood Country Club, the wealthy and eccentric members who play there, and a single-minded grounds keeper who’s declared war on a rampaging gopher. Starring Chevy Chase, Bill Murray, Rodney Dangerfield and Ted Knight. Directed by Harold Ramis. Happy Gilmore- All Happy Gilmore (Adam Sandler) has ever wanted is to be a professional hockey player. But he soon discovers he may actually have a talent for playing an entirely different sport: golf. When his grandmother (Frances Bay) learns she is about to lose her home, Happy joins a golf tournament to try and win enough money to buy it for her. With his powerful driving skills and foulmouthed attitude, Happy becomes an unlikely golf hero -- much to the chagrin of the well-mannered golf professionals. Films screened on the patio for Free food and drink available at Bar

#free #filmscreenings #barredux #nocover #patio #nola #bywater

2 notes · View notes

blackkudos · 8 years ago

Text

Sam Lacy

Samuel Harold "Sam" Lacy (October 23, 1903 – May 8, 2003) was an African-American and Native American sportswriter, reporter, columnist, editor, and television/radio commentator who worked in the sports journalism field for parts of nine decades. Credited as a persuasive figure in the movement to racially integrate sports, Lacy in 1948 became the first black member of the Baseball Writers Association of America. In 1997, he received the J. G. Taylor Spink Award for outstanding baseball writing from the BBWAA, which placed him in the writers' and broadcasters' wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1998.

Upbringing

Lacy was born on October 23, 1903, in Mystic, Connecticut to Samuel Erskine Lacy, a law firm researcher, and Rose Lacy, a full-blooded Shinnecock. The family moved to Washington, D.C., when Sam was a young boy. In his youth he developed a love for baseball, and spent his spare time at Griffith Stadium, home ballpark for the Washington Senators. His house at 13th and U streets was just five blocks from the stadium, and Sam would often run errands for players and chase down balls during batting practice.

In his youth Sam witnessed racist mistreatment of his family while they watched the annual Senators' team parade through the streets of Washington to the stadium on opening day. Sam later recalled what happened after his elderly father cheered and waved an "I Saw Walter Johnson Pitch" pennant:

"Fans like my father would line up for hours to watch their heroes pass by. And so there he was, age 79, out there cheering with the rest of them, calling all the players by name, just happy to be there. And then it happened. One of the white players—I won't say which one—just gave him this nasty look and, as he passed by, spat right in his face. Right in that nice old man's face. That hurt my father terribly. And you know, as big a fan as he had been, he never went to another game as long as he lived, which was seven more years. Oh, we've come a long way since then. But we've still got a long way to go."

As a teenager Sam worked for the Senators as a food vendor, selling popcorn and peanuts in the stadium's segregated Jim Crow section in right field. Lacy also caddied for British golfer Long Jim Barnes at the 1921 U.S. Open, held at nearby Columbia Country Club. When Barnes won the tournament, he gave Lacy a $200 tip.

Lacy graduated from Armstrong Technical High School in Washington, where he played football, baseball, and basketball. He enrolled at Howard University, where in 1923 he earned a bachelor's degree in physical education, a field he thought might lead him to a coaching career.

Lacy played semi-pro baseball after college, pitching for the local Hillsdale club in Washington. He also refereed DC-area high school, college and recreational basketball games, while coaching and instructing youth sports teams.

Early career

While in college, Lacy began covering sports part-time for the Washington Tribune, a local African-American newspaper. He continued writing for the paper following his graduation, and also worked as a sports commentator for radio stations WOL and WINX in the early 1930s.

He joined the Tribune full-time in 1926, and became sports editor shortly thereafter. In 1929 Lacy left the paper for the summer to play semi-pro baseball in Connecticut while his family remained in Washington. He returned to the paper in 1930, and once again became sports editor in 1933.

During his tenure Lacy covered Jesse Owens' medal-winning performances at the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, the world heavyweight title fights of boxer Joe Louis (including his victory over Max Schmeling), and the rise of Negro League stars such as Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson and Cool Papa Bell.

In 1936 Lacy began lobbying Senators owner Clark Griffith to consider adding star players from the Negro Leagues; in particular, those playing for the Homestead Grays team that leased Griffith Stadium for its home games. He finally gained a face-to-face meeting with Griffith on the subject in December 1937. Griffith listened but was not keen on the idea, as Lacy later told a Philadelphia reporter:

"I used that old cliché about Washington being first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League, and that he could remedy that. But he told me that the climate wasn't right. He pointed out there were a lot of Southern ballplayers in the league, that there would be constant confrontations, and, moreover, that it would break up the Negro Leagues. He saw the Negro Leagues as a source of revenue."

Lacy also wrote that Griffith voiced concern that the fall of the Negro Leagues would "put about 400 colored guys out of work." Lacy retorted in a column, "When Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, he put 400,000 black people out of jobs."

In October 1937, Lacy broke his first major story when he reported the true racial origins of multi-sport athlete Wilmeth Sidat-Singh. Syracuse University had claimed Sidat-Singh was of Hindu and Indian heritage, when in truth his widowed mother had remarried, to an Indian doctor. Prior to a football game against the University of Maryland, Lacy revealed Sidat-Singh had been born to black parents in Washington, D.C., and trumpeted the news as a sign the color barrier at segregated Maryland was about to fall. When Maryland officials refused to play the game unless Sidat-Singh was barred from the field, Syracuse removed him from the team and lost the match 13-0. The controversy prompted an outcry against both schools' policies and actions, and Sidat-Singh was allowed to play against Maryland the following year as he led Syracuse to a decisive 53-0 win. Lacy drew criticism in some circles for divulging Sidat-Singh's ethnicity, but maintained his stance that racial progress demanded honesty.

The 1940s

In August 19 41 Lacy moved to Chica go to work for another black newspaper, the Chicago Defen der, where he served as its assistant national editor. While in the Midwest he made repeated attempts to engage Major League Base ball commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis on the topic of desegregating the game, writing numerous letters, but his efforts went unanswered.

Lacy also targeted blacks in management and ownership positions with the Negro Leagues, some of whom had a vested financial interest in keeping the game segregated. In a Defender editorial, he wrote:

"No selfishness on the part of Negro owners hip, nor appeasement ... to the Southern reactionaries in baseball must stand in the way of the advancement of qualified Negro players."

In 1943 Lacy returned East, joining the Afro-American in Baltimore as sports editor and columnist. He continued to press his case for integrating baseball through his columns and editorials, and many other black newspapers followed suit. In one such piece in 1945, Lacy wrote:

"A man whose skin is white or red or yellow has been acceptable. But a man whose character may be of the highest and whose ability may be Ruthian has been barred completely from the sport because he is colored."

However, Lacy did not make any headway on the issue until Landis died in late 1944. Lacy began a dialogue with Brooklyn Dodgers owner Branch Rickey, and Landis's successor in the commissioner's office, Happy Chandler, lent his support to the effort. It ultimately led to Jackie Robinson signing with the Dodgers' minor league team, the Montreal Royals on October 23, 1945, which was Lacy's 42nd birthday.

Lacy spent the next three years covering Jackie's struggle for acceptance and a spot in the big leagues. He traveled with Robinson to the Royals' games at various International League cities throughout the Northeast, to the Dodgers' spring training site in Daytona Beach, Florida, to competing clubs' camps throughout the deep South, and to Cuba for winter baseball.

Like Robinson and the other black athletes he had covered, Lacy encountered racist indignities and hardships. He was barred from press boxes at certain ballparks, dined at the same segregated restaurants with Jackie, and stayed at the same "blacks only" boarding houses as Robinson. Robinson would eventually break MLB's color barrier in 1947 with the Dodgers, but Lacy never allowed their racial bond to cloud his journalistic objectivity. During spring training in 1948, Lacy chastised Robinson in print for arriving 15 pounds overweight, his "lackadaisical attitude" and for "laying down" on the job. He also plastered details of Robinson's personal life throughout his articles, including the dining, shopping, wardrobe and travel habits of Jackie and his wife, Rachel.

Lacy resisted having his own personal bouts with racism become part of the integration storyline, and kept the focus on the athletes he covered:

"There were a lot of things that were bothering him. [Robinson] was taking so much abuse that he said to me that he didn't know whether or not he was going to be able to go through with this because it was just becoming so intolerable, that they were throwing everything at him."

Lacy made sure to cover all angles of the race issue. In 1947, he reported on the interaction between white St. Louis Browns outfielder and rumored racist Paul Lehner, and his black teammate Willard Brown:

"Brown used a towel to wipe his face and neck. Lehner reached over, picked up the same towel, wiped his face and neck. He handed it back to Brown and the latter wiped again. A little later, Lehner repeated the act. Folks, this was something I saw, not something I heard about."

In 1948, he reacted to the death of Babe Ruth not with adulation for the star but with spite toward Ruth's personal behavior:

"[Ruth was] an irresponsible rowdy who could neither eat with dignity nor drink with judgment who thrived on cuss-words and brawls whose 15-year-old mentality led him to buy one bright-colored automobile after another to smash up. The rest of the world can hail the departed hero as a model for its youth but I do not wish my [son] Tim to use him as an example. And there is absolutely nothing racial about this observation. The same applies to [black boxer] Jack Johnson, who is also dead."

Lacy covered the first interracial college football game ever played in the state of Maryland when all-black Maryland State College faced all-white Trenton (N.J.) College in 1949:

"Down here on the Eastern Shore, where 32 lynchings have occurred since 1882, democracy lifted its face toward the Sun on Saturday."

Later career

Not content to see black ballplayers reach the major leagues, Lacy began pushing for equal pay for athletes of color, and for an end to segregated team accommodations during road trips. His first success on those fronts was persuading New York Giants general manager Chub Feeney to address the latter issue:

"I pointed out to Chub Feeney that he had guys like Willie Mays and Monte Irvin and Hank Thompson holed up in some little hotel while the rest of the players, people who might never even wear a major-league uniform, were staying at the famous Palace. Chub just looked at me and said, 'Sam, you're right.' He got on the phone to (Giants owner) Horace Stoneham, and that was the end of that."

Over the ensuing decades, Lacy pushed for the Baseball Hall of Fame to induct deserving Negro League players, and later criticized the Hall for placing such players in a separate wing. He also pressured national TV networks over the lack of black broadcasters, criticized Major League Baseball for the absence of black umpires, targeted corporations for their lack of sponsorships of black athletes in certain white-dominated sports including golf, and highlighted the National Football League's dearth of black head coaches.

Stories covered extensively by Lacy included the Grand Slam tennis titles won by Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe two decades apart, Wilma Rudolph's three track & field gold medals at the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome, and Lee Elder playing at Augusta National in 1975 as the first black golfer in The Masters tournament.

In 1954, Lacy questioned why the city of Milwaukee had chosen to honor Braves outfielder Hank Aaron with a day in his honor a mere two months into his playing career:

"Why? Why is it we feel every colored player in the major leagues is entitled to a day? Why can't we wait until, through consistent performance or longevity, the player in question merits special attention?"

Lacy worked as a television sports commentator for WBAL-TV from 1968 to 1976.

Lacy remained with the Baltimore Afro-American for nearly 60 years, and became widely known for his regular "A to Z" columns and his continued championing of racial equity. The onset of arthritis in his hands in his late 70s left him unable to type, so he wrote his columns out longhand. Even into his 80s he maintained his routine of waking at 3 A.M. three days a week, driving from his Washington home to his Baltimore office, working eight hours, and playing nine holes of golf in the afternoon. Lacy could no longer drive after a suffering a stroke in 1999, so he rode to the office with his son, Tim, who followed in his footsteps as a sportswriter for the Afro-American.

In 1999, Lacy teamed with colleague Moses J. Newson, a former executive editor at the Afro-American, to write his autobiography,Fighting for Fairness: The Life Story of Hall of Fame Sportswriter Sam Lacy.

Sam Lacy wrote his final column for the paper just days before his death at age 99 in 2003, and filed the piece from his hospital bed. In 1999, he explained his rationale for staying with the Afro-American while spurning more lucrative offers:

"No other paper in the country would have given me the kind of license. I've made my own decisions. I cover everything that want to. I sacrificed a few dollars, true, but I lived a comfortable life. I get paid enough to be satisfied. I don't expect to die rich."

Personal life

Sam Lacy married Alberta Robinson in 1927. They had a son, Samuel Howe (Tim) Lacy, and a daughter, Michaelyn T. Lacy (now Michaelyn Harris). Sam and Alberta divorced in 1952, and Sam married Barbara Robinson in 1953. Barbara died in 1969, but Sam never remarried.

As of December 2010, Tim Lacy remains a columnist at the Afro-American at the age of 72.

Lacy's paternal grandfather, Henry Erskine Lacy, was the first black detective in the Washington, D.C., police department.

Death

Sam Lacy died at age 99 of heart and kidney failure on May 8, 2003, at Washington Hospital Center in Washington, D.C. He had checked into the hospital a week earlier due to a loss of appetite. Besides his children, survivors included four grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. His funeral was held on May 16, 2003, at Mount Zion Baptist Church in Washington, D.C., with burial at Lincoln Memorial Cemetery in Suitland, Maryland.

Awards and Honors

In 1948, Lacy became the first black member of the Baseball Writers Association of America.

In 1984, Lacy became the first black journalist to be enshrined in the Maryland Media Hall of Fame.

In 1985, Lacy was inducted into the Black Athletes Hall of Fame in Las Vegas.

In 1991, Lacy received the Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Association of Black Journalists.

In 1994, Lacy was selected for the Society of Professional Journalists Hall of Fame by the Washington chapter.

In 1995, Lacy was in the first group of writers to be honored with the A.J. Liebling Award by the Boxing Writers Association of America.

In 1997, the 50th anniversary of Robinson's groundbreaking major league debut, Lacy received an honorary doctorate from Loyola University Maryland, and was honored by the Smithsonian Institution with a lecture series. Lacy also threw out the ceremonial first pitch prior to a Baltimore Orioles home game at Camden Yards that season.

On October 22, 1997, Lacy received the J. G. Taylor Spink Award for outstanding baseball writing from the Baseball Writers Association of America. The award carries induction to the writers and broadcasters wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame, and Lacy was formally enshrined on July 26, 1998.

In 1998, Lacy received the Frederick Douglass Award from the University System of Maryland on April 23; the United Negro College Fund established a scholarship program in Lacy's name on April 25; and he received the Red Smith Award from the Associated Press on June 26.

In 2003, the Sports Task Force wing of the National Association of Black Journalists instituted the Sam Lacy Pioneer Award, presented annually to multiple sports figures in the host city for the NABJ convention. Recipients are selected based on their "contributions to their respected careers, but more importantly, their direct impact on the communities they served."

Lacy also served on the President's Council on Physical Fitness and on the Baseball Hall of Fame's selection committee for the Negro leagues.

Wikipedia

#Sam Lacy #10-23 #05-08

3 notes · View notes