#James Silke
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James R. Silke ( born 1931)
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Frank Frazetta's Death Dealer novels by James Silke, Tor Books
Prisoner of the Horned Helmet (1988)
Lords of Destruction (1989)
Tooth and Claw (1989)
Plague of Knives (1990)
#Frazetta#Frank Frazetta#Death Dealer#James Silke#fantasy#fantasy art#1980s#Tor Books#@torbooks#fantasy novels#horned helmet#battle axe#sword & sorcery#Prisoner of the Horned Helmet#Lords of Destruction#Tooth and Claw#Plague of Knives
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Sharon Tate from photographer James Silke's 1968 contact sheets (edit)
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Sharon Tate photographed, circa 1968, by James Silke.
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SHARON TATE photographed by JAMES SILKE at her home in Summitridge Drive, 1968. 🤍
“I’m so afraid of hurting other people's feelings I don't speak out when I should. I get into big messes that way."
—SHARON TATE
#sharon tate#sharon marie tate#old hollywood#james silke#1960s#Los Angeles#Hollywood#1960s fashion#60s#60s aesthetic#girlblogging#60s icons#60s fashion#60s style#angelic#model#actress#aesthetic#vintage
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Artwork for paperback cover of "Death Dealer Book 1: Prisoner of the Horned Helmet" by Frank Frazetta.
#Death Dealer#Prisoner of the Horned Helmet#Death Dealer Book 1: Prisoner of the Horned Helmet#Frank Frazetta#Verotik#Image Comics#Frazetta Comics#Gath of Baal#James Silke
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• Day Dress.
Designer: James Galanos
Date : ca. 1956
Medium: Silk faille
#fashion history#history of fashion#dress#fashion#vintage clothing#vintage fashion#vintage#vintage dress#1950's fashion#1950's dress#1950's#day dress#james galanos#silk faille#ca. 1956
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The fact that PAC NYC recorded the Tuggoffelees kiss and posted it, but blurred it and placed a pic in front of it is hilarious to me.
via
#cats musical#cats: the jellicle ball#cats pac nyc#cats the jellicle ball#cats non replica#tuggoffelees#rum tum tugger#mr mistoffelees#mistoffelees#sydney james harcourt#robert 'silk' mason#cats the musical
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Trapped in Silk: Chapter One
Trapped in Silk: Chapter One
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: The world has been turned on its head ever since news spread that vampires are not only very real, but many have walked the earth undetected for centuries. You keep to yourself, head down and out of everyone's way. That is, until you bump into a stranger while avoiding a group of men chasing after you. You think you've seen the last of this stranger, only to run into him once more. Your life is turned upside down as he envelopes you into his life and into his riches. Are you a passing fancy, or are you the latest addition to his treasure trove? Only time will tell. (Vampire!AU)
Content Warning: Reader is chased, Derogatory names directed at reader, Creepy men being creepy men, Cursing, Blood, Dismemberment, Vampires, Pet names, Threats, Flirting, Awkward Reader, Reader making not the best decisions. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed something!
Word Count: 3.1k
Masterlist || Series Masterlist
You cursed lightly under your breath at the sight of the group of men standing around the entrance to the convenient store. Normally, you wouldn’t have stopped, but you had been too busy to make your weekly grocery run on Sunday, and you were fresh out of pretty much anything to eat in your tiny apartment. So, it was either stock up on the essentials or live off of fast food until the weekend.
You wish you’d let yourself starve.
They weren’t a rowdy bunch, and perhaps that’s what made you so nervous to approach. These men weren’t like the groups of loud college boys that hung around this same store. No, these men had an edge to them, something you couldn’t quite place. A sensation pulled at your gut, and you frowned, the sensation not altogether unfamiliar. You had experienced the same feeling several times throughout your life, almost like a sixth sense. You had learned to ignore it, keeping your head down and wanting little to do with the limelight that came with pursuing sensations like those. You’d seen the psychics on TV from time to time—usually when your grandmother had them playing in the background growing up—and you wanted no part in it. You weren’t psychic, you were just really good at guessing.
Maybe if you kept saying it, you’d believe it one day.
You pulled your coat tighter, more to hide yourself than to stave off the early winter chill that crept along the sidewalk, and you tilted your head down as you marched past the group of men.
You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t linger to let them get a good look. Blinking against the shock of the fluorescents, you wrinkled your nose as the warmth of the convenience store stung at the apples of your cheeks. You surveyed the aisles before grabbing a small hand-held basket and moving towards the frozen section. It wasn’t ideal, but the convenience of pre-made food would have to do until you could make an actual grocery run.
It wasn’t that you thought you were too good for the processed food, you just liked the rituals of cooking every night along with making your lunch for the next day. It was a relaxing part of your day, a sense of accomplishment that you didn’t have to associate with your menial job.
Your eyes wandered down the aisles as you passed, stopping in front of the pre-made food section. The sandwiches didn’t look too bad, maybe a little bland, but they’d surely get you through the week. You picked a couple of roast beef and turkey ones, turning your attention to the different bags of chips available. You wanted to keep your fast food runs to a minimum, but the convenience store only offered so much for you to choose from. With a sigh, you grabbed a couple of bags of chips, not really caring what kind you grabbed.
There were a couple of other people milling about the store, some casting nervous glances towards the exit—not that you blamed them, of course.
You walked as casually as you could towards the register, the older man paying you little mind as he began to scan your items. You shifted on your feet nervously, hands clenching and unclenching in your coat pockets as you gave another quick glance towards the doors. Maybe if you covered your face enough…
“Did you drive here?”
You glanced up at the clerk, a wary grimace on his face as he followed your line of sight. You pressed your lips together with a shake of your head. No, it didn’t make sense to have a car in the city—not when public transport was readily available. Maybe if you lived further out in the suburbs.
“No,” You replied. “It’s only a couple of blocks to my apartment though. I’ll manage.”
“I’ve tried calling the cops a couple of times,” the clerk continued, scanning the last of your items. “Said those guys keep scaring my customers, but they don’t do anything. Even threatened to fine me for wasting their time, the bastards.”
You made a sympathetic noise in return, taking the bags from him and bracing yourself for the inevitable. Maybe you should have just gone home, come back on your lunch break tomorrow. It was too late now.
“Stay safe, miss,” the clerk called after you, worry creasing his brow as he leaned over the counter to watch your retreat. You offered him the ghost of a smile before pulling your coat closer, hoping the lapels would obscure your face enough in the shadows.
The automatic door chimed as you stepped through, a gust of wind whipping around you as you stepped out onto the walkway. The sharpness of the cold dug into your skin, clawing its way down to your bones and sending a shiver up your spine as you gasped at the sudden sensation. Mistake number one.
“Well, hey, sugar,” purred one of the men, sliding off of his perch atop the bike rack, a leering grin on his face. Dark hair ruffled in the wind, casting shadows across his face but doing little to hide the sinister look in his eye. “You look cold. How ‘bout we help warm you up.”
Mistake number two was assuming he wouldn’t follow you as you turned on your heel to walk in the opposite direction.
“Oh, now don’t be like that, baby,” he called after you, a couple of chuckles ringing out from his friends, the sounds of footsteps echoing behind you. Mistake number three was not running back inside the convenience store to call a friend to take you home.
You picked up your pace slightly, trying not to draw attention to your rising panic as your heart hammered in your chest. Your nostrils flared as you tried to keep your breathing even, your groceries starting to feel heavy in your hands.
“Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you!”
You broke out into a run, your bags jostling at your sides until one by one they fell from your grip, colliding with the sidewalk below, but still you kept running. Your feet carried you as fast as they could, lungs burning as your eyes scanned the streets for signs of anyone who could help you.
This is the city, you thought. How is there no one walking around?
You supposed most people tried to stick to the safety of the indoors now that the new threat of vampire kind was out in the open. No one wanted to be the unsuspecting victim of a thing they had long thought to be a myth.
“When I catch you,” snarled the man behind you, closer than you would have liked, “you’re going to regret ever even being born.”
You willed your feet to move faster, willing the shadows to hide you from the impending threat behind you. How could you have been so stupid? Why didn’t you call for a ride?
Help me, you thought. Your muscles ached and threatened to spasm as you continued your sprint. The buildings began to blur together, all looking the same through the haze of your fear and tears. You choked on a breath, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as you veered right.
Please.
Your teeth chattered as the wind rushed around you, your nose and lips growing numb the longer you stayed out in the cold.
Someone help me.
Could you hide? Would you have enough time to duck into an alley to find a spot, or would they find you still? Would anyone answer their speakers if you rang. Would you even have time to explain what was happening?
Please.
You scrunched your eyes, pressing forward as you rounded left on the corner, only making it a few feet before you ran into a wall. You grunted, stumbling back and almost falling on your rear before a set of strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. Not a wall, or at least not an inanimate one.
Hands settled on your waist, and you cowered for a moment, thinking one of the men had caught you. You gazed up, meeting cerulean blue as they stared down at you, an unreadable look on the handsome stranger’s face. For a moment, you felt relief as you realized that the man in front of you was, in fact, not one of the men who had been chasing you. Your shoulders sagged in relief for just a moment, your hands tightening in the stranger’s black shirt.
A cold breeze kicked up, sending another shiver through you and cooling the hot stream of tears that ran down your face. You shivered at the sensation, subconsciously leaning into the stranger for warmth. He continued to study you, a furrow in his brow that seemed more perplexed than put out. The stranger opened his mouth as if to say something, stopping as the sound of feet hitting the pavement came up behind you.
“That bitch must have-” The other man stopped, his companions slowing behind him as well. A sneer curled on his lips as his dark eyes spotted you. “Well, well. Looks like you had the bright idea that it was better to come with us than run away.”
The stranger tightened his hold on you, a low growl sounding in his throat as you trembled. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, the irises seeming to almost glow as he listened to the man in front of you.
“Get behind me,” he murmured, guiding you to stand behind him. Your body trembled at the sound of his voice, not from fear, but from the way it rang in your ears—like warm liquid. You allowed him to maneuver you, his hands moving from your hips up to grab the lapels of your coat, pulling them tighter around you.
“Now close your eyes,” he continued, the lilt in his tone hard to resist. You obeyed, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as his hands smoothed over your shoulders. “Don’t look until I tell you to, no matter what you hear, okay?”
You nodded, earning a low hum.
“Words, draga mea.”
“Yes,” you managed, voice sounding small even to your ears. Fingertips danced across your jaw lightly before pulling away.
“Good girl.”
You sensed more than felt him pulling away, your body swaying towards him. You scolded yourself internally at your reaction to this stranger.
Must be the adrenaline, you thought.
“Look, pal,” the man chasing you snickered, “we don’t want any trouble. Listen, I’ll even let you have her after we’ve had our-”
His words cut off with a sickening, wet sound followed by silence. A moment passed before all hell broke loose around you.
“What the fuck?” The man shrieked, and you couldn’t help but open your eyes, letting out an involuntary gasp at the sight. The man’s left hand was missing, spurts of blood shooting out as he grasped the stump with his right hand, leaning over in pain.
“What the fuck?” He repeated, dark eyes wide in shock as they glanced from the stump that used to be his hand, up to the tall figure in front of him.
“Dude!” Shouted one of his companions, the burly man slowly backing up as he looked at the stranger in front of him. “It’s a fucking blood sucker!”
“That’s right,” the handsome stranger said, inspecting the blood that coated his gloved hand, head tilting as if considering something. “I’m a ‘blood sucker.’ So, if you want to keep your lives, I suggest you run.”
The men stood paralyzed, limbs visibly shaking as they stared at him. You couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same in that moment, even with his ire directed elsewhere. The stranger let out an irritated sigh, rolling his shoulders as he fixed the group of men with a less than impressed look before waving them off with a flick of his wrist.
“Now.”
The men didn’t hesitate this time, turning and running like their lives depended on it, and you supposed they did. You startled as the handsome stranger turned back to face you, a disapproving look on his face as he saw your eyes wide open.
“Draga mea,” he admonished, walking over to you slowly, ignoring the way you tensed up as his attention was fixated on you. He stripped his gloves slowly, pocketing them as he stopped in front of you. Cool fingers traced your jawline, moving to cup your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin up.
“I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut,” he tutted, thumb running along your bottom lip. You gasped at the sensation, eyes growing wide at his familiarity before gathering your wits about you long enough to take a step away from him.
He’s still a stranger, you reminded yourself, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. And a vampire to boot. Don’t let your guard down.
The man in front of you smirked, as if able to read your mind, and for a moment you wondered if he could. You squared your shoulders, clearing your throat as you looked him in the eye. The smirk grew into a lop-sided grin as he watched you, a kind of fondness lighting up his gaze.
“Thank you for your help,” you said, hugging your coat tighter around you, suddenly very aware of the winter chill that surrounded you. “I should get going though.”
You began to walk away, stopping as the stranger took a step towards you, his grin replaced with another frown.
“Alone?” He questioned.
“Yes,” you replied, watching him warily. The man shook his head, coming up to stand beside you.
“That won’t do, draga mea,” he purred. “Let me walk you home.”
“Look,” you turned to him, feeling the irritation bubble up inside you at his insistence. You stopped as you realized you didn’t know this man’s name.
“Bucky,” he supplied, a twinkle in his eyes as he peered down at you. You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes to keep from making a complete fool of yourself.
“Bucky,” you repeated. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you saving me from those creeps-”
“You’re welcome,” he ginned, leaning forward.
“Because I do,” you continued, pointedly ignoring him. “But I’ve already taken up enough of your time, and I’m really not that far from my apartment.”
“Nonsense,” he waved you off. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t escort you home? To make sure that you’re safe?”
You hummed, crossing your arms and eyeing him as he gave you another boyish grin. You could point out the fact that he was a vampire on top of being a stranger, that was two strikes against him. As if reading your mind once more, Bucky put his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he vowed. You stared at him for another moment before sighing.
“Right,” you muttered, starting the walk towards your apartment. Bucky fell into step next to you, an easy silence falling between the two of you. It was Bucky who broke the silence first.
“What were you even doing out here in the dark on your own?”
You gave him a sharp look from the corner of your eye.
“I needed groceries,” you told him, stopping dead in your tracks with a groan. Bucky arched a brow at you in question as you grimaced.
“My groceries,” you pouted, running a hand through your hair. “I dropped them after those guys…”
Bucky made a sympathetic noise, nodding his head in understanding.
“Do you want to go back?” He asked, gesturing towards the way the two of you had just came. “We can get you some things to replace all of it.”
“No,” you sighed, feeling the weariness seep into your bones after a long day and an even longer night. “No, thank you. I think I just want to go home.”
“You’re sure?” He asked, blue eyes studying you. “It’s not a problem.”
“I’m sure,” you smiled, though you knew it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I appreciate it, but I have work in the morning, and it’s already late.”
“Alright then,” Bucky nodded, falling back into step with you. The silence was filled with tension, but for what reason, you couldn’t place. You felt his eyes on you the entire time, studying you still as you hunched your shoulders to try and hide from him. What was he looking at? Was there something on your face? Was he planning on how to best trap you and drink you dry? Was he just toying with you at this point?
“Your heart is pounding, draga mea,” he purred, his hand brushing against your coat sleeve. “What has you so worked up?”
“N-nothing,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Bucky hummed, a twitch of his lips your only indicator that he found this whole situation amusing. You rounded another corner, breathing out a sigh of relief as you spotted your apartment. Your gait quickened, Bucky matching your pace easily until you stopped at the stairs leading up to the entryway. You stepped up onto the first step, turning to face Bucky with a bashful smile.
“Well,” you gestured back behind you, “this is me.”
Bucky arched a brow at you, an amused smirk on his face as you fiddled with your fingers awkwardly.
“You’re not going to invite me in?” He questioned, that familiar smirk taking purchase on his lips once more. You spluttered, eyes growing wide as you tried to think of how to answer. Bucky’s smirk transformed back into that boyish grin once more.
“Kidding, draga mea,” he chuckled. You scowled at him, though there was no real heat behind it.
“Well,” you blew out a breath, “thanks for walking me home and, um, saving…me.”
“No thanks necessary,” he assured you. “But, I would like your name.”
Your cheeks grew even hotter at the realization that you had never actually given this man your name. You supplied it, and he repeated it in a low rumble, as if tasting it on his tongue.
“It suits you, I think,” he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and shooting a wink your way. “Well, I’ll see you around, doll.”
He backed up, eyes trained on you as a devilish smirk stretched across his lips before he turned around and continued on his way. You watched after him until he disappeared around the corner, blowing out a breath as you looked up at the starless sky above. Part of you hoped you never saw him again, but another, darker part of you prayed you did.
A/N: And here's chapter one! The man, the myth, the legend! Bucky is so interesting to write, and I'm excited to delve into his character and see what kind of person he's going to be! Can't wait to hear thoughts!
As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!
#tis#trapped in silk#vampire!bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes x you#james bucky barnes#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x you#bucky#bucky x reader#bucky x you
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The citizens of Vault 101 imo should’ve at least been a little hesitant around the Lone Wanderer in Trouble on the Homefront because this kid, barely an “adult”, that you either watched grow up or grew up alongside left the only safe place you knew in such a violent stir, that they killed security guards, (and depending how you played, killed the Overseer,) came back an estimated 2 weeks later, and is surviving. You know how metal it would’ve been to have characters comment on the way the Lone Wanderer looks? Things like, “You’re looking a little worse for wear.” or “Is that your blood?” Idk I’m rambling but I love Lone Wanderers
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Fragment of "Mr M" from Cats: the Jellicle Ball aka Cats PAC NYC
Robert “Silk” Mason as Mistoffelees, Sydney James Harcourt as Rum Tum Tugger, André De Shields as Old Deuteronomy and Antwayn Hopper as Macavity
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#cats the musical#cats: the jellicle ball#cats pac nyc#cats ballroom 2024#mistoffelees#robert 'silk' mason#rum tum tugger#sydney james harcourt#old deuteronomy#andré de shields#macavity#antwayn hopper#cats non replica#jellicle cats
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Red Silk Dress, 1885-1890, English.
By James Spence and Company.
Museum of New Zealand.
#James Spence and company#red#womenswear#extant garments#dress#silk#19th century#1880s#1885#1880s dress#1880s extant garment#1880s England#1880s Britain#English#British#museum of New Zealand#London
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Oh Sharon!
Sharon Tate by James Silke, 1968
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Prompt 8 - Silk
@jegulus-microfic May 8, Word count 486
Previous part First part
James finished what would have been his final loop of the quidditch pitch, before he went back to the changing rooms, when he spotted a figure clad in green rising to meet him.
Regulus smirked at him as he flew closer.
“Going in already, Potter?” He drawled. James’s heart was pounding, and it wasn’t from the exercise. “Fancy throwing the quaffle around for a bit? I never get the chance normally.” He said as though he wasn’t bothered either way, but James had the feeling he really wanted James to say yes.
“Sure,” He furrowed his brow. “This isn’t some clever ploy to take out Hogwarts’s best player is it?” Regulus’s face flushed red and his eyes widened in horror.
“What—what do you mean?” He stuttered. James furrowed his brow further.
“Is this a friendly practice or are you here to make sure I can’t play next week?” Relief washed over Regulus’s face and his patented scowl settled back in place.
“Scared, Potter? Do you think I need to incapacitate you for my team to win?” A wicked glint flashed in his eyes as he suddenly sped towards James. James didn’t have time to react as he watched Regulus spin upwards at the last second and sail upside down over his head. He was so close his hair brushed against James’s forehead, it felt like silk. Soft and smooth and not yet drenched in sweat like James’s was.
“Oh, it’s on!” He said to the wind and spun his own broom over and chased after the Slytherin seeker.
“So has my brother said anything to you yet?” Regulus asked when they’d finished racing each other and were lazily tossing the quaffle back and forth.
“No, not yet,” James replied. Should he say something about himself now? He felt rather nervous about voicing it and absent-mindedly chewed on his bottom lip.
“What’s eating you?” Regulus asked when James hadn’t thrown the quaffle back.
“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, “I’m quite tired, think I’ll call it a day, if you don’t mind.” He tossed the quaffle to Regulus and slowly descended to the ground.
As he jumped off his broom, a hand grabbed his sleeve. He looked over his shoulder at Regulus.
“What’s the matter?” If James didn’t know better he would have thought that Regulus was actually showing concern. He just shook his head again and tried to pull away, but Regulus had a vice-like grip. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
James spun. The movement dragged Regulus against his chest. Regulus looked up and James stared right into his eyes, pouring everything he had into them. His chest was heaving with the effort. Regulus let out a gasp and his hand dropped from James’s sleeve. James felt his heart crack.
He jumped on his broom and raced as fast as he could make the broom go back to the castle, leaving Regulus behind on the pitch.
Next part
#may 8#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fanfiction#jegulus fic#james potter#regulus black#dead gay wizards#james fleamont potter#regulus arcturus black#james x regulus#regulus x james#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#regulus and james#the marauders era#marauders#marauders era#the marauders’ era#the marauders#quidditch pitch#who's that Slytherin?#its regulus#scared potter?#silk
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And now for the first time, a poll idea that got sent to me via request, from @bringerofworlds! Thanks so much for sending in this question, I hadn't heard of these stories myself until I got this ask, so I'm excited to see how many of you all might have read them or know of them yourselves.
@bringerofworlds told me both of these stories were written with the permission of the ACD estate, and blend in with canon pretty seamlessly, so these are definitely going on my to read list! Would love to hear everyone's thoughts if you've read these also.
Please reblog for a larger sample size, they really wanted to see what the fandom's awareness of these stories is, so hoping for plenty of replies! :)
#sherlock holmes#acd canon#acd holmes#tumblr polls#detective polls#my polls#anthony horowitz#house of silk#moriarty#james moriarty#sherlock holmes stories#sherlock holmes books#sherlock fandom#acd sherlock#acd sherlock holmes#sherlockian
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Charles James (American) Evening dress - silk 1938. The Metropolitan Museum of Art
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