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aquietlifesblog · 2 years ago

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Hungry Eyes (Dio x F!Reader) 5/6

He’d met Lord Pendleton before—he’d come once to visit the Joestar estate. The man took one look at Dio and decided he wasn’t worth acknowledging.

Your features may have been darker, but you carried his face.

Dio Brando knows what it's like to be hungry, to reach for more in life. He can use your ambition to destroy the man who slighted him and discard you just as easily.

He never planned to like you.

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Note: This chapter contains implied sexual content and characters being weirdos.

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Chapter 5: Like the Sun Loves the Earth

He woke in the dark, his back flush against the lining of the casket. He clawed at the velvet and the metal all around him but would find no reprieve there; the overwhelming force of the ocean weighed the casket shut. He had no choice but to wait.

He slept for years at a time of time, only waking when the casket shook or a ship ported overheated, and during those years he dreamed. His weary mind conjured images of life: his father, Jonathan, George Joestar, and you. He dreamt of power, of wealth, of women and men. And he dreamt of the world he'd find outside his prison. And in those quiet moments, when he felt as though time itself stood still, he allowed himself to dream of his Mother.

'Dio, no matter what happens, live nobly and with pride. If you do that, you'll surely be able to go to Heaven.'

His Mother spoke of Heaven often, as though it was the only thing that mattered.

'Was it worth it,' he wondered, 'was her suffering in life worth the heaven she sought so desperately?' Her generous heart earned her nothing but scorn, suffering, and an early grave. His neighbors laughed at her, the woman who gave away what little food or clothing she had to others.

'There are others less fortunate than we are, Dio. Charity is a good thing.' She would say, and it was nothing short of cruelty. He hated her for taking even the smallest luxuries away from him.

Did she find the heaven she sought so desperately? And it not, would her demeanor have changed had she known her fate from the beginning? Would she still have endured Dario's abuse? Still have given away their food and money? Or would she have been a wicked woman, one who prioritized happiness and pleasure?

And what of Jonathan? Had he known his fate, he may not have been so foolish.

And what of you? It was Dio who stoked the fires of your rage. He was happy to watch your resentment grow and fester, eager to place the poison in your hand, and he smiled as you committed the ultimate sin.

He used to think he molded you, that you were Galatea come to life beneath his skillful hand. But was that truly the case? Would you have taken the same path regardless? What was it that brought you both together? Fate? Gravity? Divine Providence?

Those were the thoughts that kept him going, that kept his hunger at bay.

And when a fishing boat happened upon his casket and pulled it up from the depths of the ocean deep, it was those thoughts that brought him back to you.

The year was 1983.

Months passed and Dio became accustomed to the world he'd woken up to; he acquired clothes in the latest fashions, visited the library, and indulged himself with men, women, and those who found themselves in between. He claimed their lives, of course, and took whatever money they possessed before moving on to another. Dio moved slowly through the Canary Islands before traveling north to Morocco (where he proceeded to do the same things). In Agadir, a city famous for its beautiful resorts, he himself found a wealthy lover. The man was handsome, with smooth skin and deep brown eyes, and more than eager to spend a month with Dio in his arms. He lived like a king. And as he did so, Dio plotted his next move.

He could feel you. From the moment he woke above the surface of the water, Dio knew you were alive. Your pull on his psyche was a siren's song, a low pitch that beckoned him closer.

'All in due time,' He thought. He would find you when the time was right. Because Dio's body was rejecting him. No matter how much blood he took, his left side felt weaker and the scar around his neck refused to fade. So for days, he toyed with new methods of hypnosis and charm—just in case.

He had half the resort under his control by the time he discovered the most measure: flesh buds. By implanting a bit of his flesh into another's brain, Dio found he could manipulate their minds and kill them just as quickly. That is how he 'convinced' his hoard of lovers to give their lives and funds to him, DIO.

He had a new casket made, new clothes tailored, and custom jewelry fitted for his trip to England. The paved country roads were unfamiliar to him then, but Dio knew which way to go.

***

Your siren song led him to an extravagant gate and the car could go no further. The driver his lover hired began to sweat, but Dio felt no need to kill him. He was exactly where he needed to be.

He sensed a community through the fog and slipped through the gate to find large houses, each evenly spaced with neutral-colored shingles. It was quiet, though people still walked the streets at night, greeting one another with placid smiles stretched across their faces. They had no worries, felt no fear, and each and every one of them was dressed in shades of black and red.

'Cute.'

Your house, he figured, was the one that stood alone—a massive brick structure surrounded by a thicket of trees. So he took the only path available to him and slipped into your house through a window near the balcony. The halls were lined with dark red runners, and a grand marble staircase lead him to your open door.

There was a maid in your chamber, a pretty girl with dark curls and thick lashes. She stood before you at the foot of the bed, her tawny skin flushed with heat, her hair impossibly glossy. She gazed upon your face with such fanatical devotion, Dio thought the girl would faint. As such, she failed to notice his intrusion—but you did.

You said nothing of his presence there, choosing instead to nudge the young man at your feet. Like the maid, he was quite beautiful—with skin and eyes that glistened by your candle's golden glow. You'd taken their blood just moments before his arrival, and though it seemed that was all you'd done, their expressions bordered on erotic.

"Go on now," you told them both. They obeyed your words without question, but their disappointment was clear. They wanted your attention, in whatever form it came. So neither you nor Dio spoke a word till the door shut with a soft click.

"You've done well for yourself," he said, taking note of the expensive art and the ornate shelves that lined the walls.

"What do you want?"

"Such a look—a far cry from the adoring gaze you once offered me. You looked much like that young maid, in fact, like a priestess eager to pour libations for her God." You said nothing as Dio moved forward, stepping into the flickering light. "By the way, how did you manage to escape my influence? I thought you were dead, killed in the street by some hamon-wielding monk. Yet here you are—alive, with a town of simpering sycophants willing to slit their throats at your command."

"Did you mourn for me, Dio?" You asked, the beginning of a song in your voice. You leaned back, pushing your weight to a single arm as he continued his approach.

"But of course," he lied. Though he did feel a sense of loss without your presence, his growing hunger and isolation were far more pressing concerns. "After all, you are my most treasured friend." Slowly, Dio reached forward and brushed his thumb across your cheek.

You were the same.

The entire world changed around him, moving on its destined path, yet you remained the same—the sole constant in his life. There might have been some comfort there, had he allowed it to be. But instead, Dio took note of your behavior: the defiant gaze you fixed him with, your refusal to answer his question, and your preparation to attack, and thought he should put you in your place.

So when the air around him grew colder, so much so that frost formed around his fingers. He twisted the flesh beneath his hair to form the bud he needed. His hair shifted and gathered, twisting together like a needle. He'd infect you quickly, like a snake in a burrow.

'Wat a waste,' He thought, 'I always admired her spirit.'

But then he saw your body disappear—no, you didn't vanish—you turned your body into mist and appeared behind him. He dared you to move closer, to attack him from behind, to make the choice to possess you easy—

But the attack never came.

"You've acquired the power of a Stone Mask," he spoke, turning to meet the smug expression in your eyes.

"Say I did, what does it matter to you?" It was clear you had no intention to fight him, that your little display was just that: a demonstration of your newfound strength.

Instead, you found a seat at a table near the mantlepiece, a table set for two.

Dio scoffed at your antics, though his curiosity outweighed his annoyance.

"Jonathan's accursed associate destroyed the sole mask in my possession. Are you saying there are more?" Your shelves were filled with odds and ends, countless antiques, and expensive-looking jewelry, yet there was no mask in sight.

"The masks were destroyed long ago," you waved a hand dismissively, "the Speedwagon Foundation made sure of that."

'Speedwagon?' Dio thought, watching you lift your glass kettle and tilt it just so. A warm red liquid flowed freely from the sprout and into the cup that sat before you.

"And yet you came to possess one? How advantageous." Dio didn't sit, but he did stand down. His hair resumed its typical shape, the flesh bud he prepared melted back into his body, and he tapped his nail, long and sharp, against the back of the hair facing opposite your own. He supposed it was meant for him, that you felt him approaching from far across the sea.

"It was all I could do to purge myself of you. Though it seems my peace was temporary—as you've managed to slither your way into my home." You took a long drink, draining your entire cup. "I'll ask you this once more, Dio. What do you want?" All traces of humor left your voice as your eyes narrowed down into a glare that could pierce a lesser man.

"You wound me, my friend." He placed a hand flat against his chest, over the place where his heart should beat. "Have you not opened your door to those far more lowly than me?"

"You would be a wolf amongst my flock."

"Thus saith the ravening wolf."

The corners of your mouth lifted in a movement so slight, anyone else might have missed it. You moved to fill your cup again and he let his gaze drop lower, to the delicate chain clasped around your neck and the ruby pendant that sat there. It matched the shade of the gown you wore and most of your antique furnishings. It was the color of the cult outside as well.

Red, he thought, the color he chose for you all those years ago.

He could have laughed.

"I am but a simple shepherd," you said, with all the false humility you could muster.

He scoffed.

"I never claimed to be a prophet," you continued, "nor do I seek to be their God. Their reverence is welcome, but I demand nothing short of secrecy. I'm not like you."

Ah, there it was; the vitriol he long knew was coming. Like an adult child unable to forgive the punishments she received as a girl, you let your anger fester and boil—but Dio would not be guilted.

"You say that you are different, yet that is far from the case. You may not have stolen their will completely, but you've done something far more terrifying: you've presented your 'flock' with the illusion of choice."

It was your turn to scoff then, but he continued talking. "They give you their blood in offering, lay their bodies at your feet, and include you in their prayers at night not because they love you, no. But because you've made them dependent. You may not call yourself their God but you've taken the place of one. You've trapped these people in a delusion, one where you've led them to the promised land, where their every whim is met so long as they fall to their knees before you. What happens to the ones who disobey, I wonder? The ones you have no use for? I've noticed no sick, nor elderly amongst those you claim to care for. Why is that?"

You were no shepherd, but a wolf the same as he.

"I may have forced my will upon you that night, but the choice between me and a life of poverty would not have yielded a different result—so turns the wheel of fate."

"...fate?" You stood, and the table shook as though it felt your rage. "You believe it was my fate to be enslaved to you? To have become this?" You stood before him, forced to tilt your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes flashed red, but it was then you seemed to notice how much bigger he was, how much more of him there was. But despite your surprise, you never stopped glaring.

And he smirked.

Those were the eyes, he thought, the same eyes that intrigued him all those years ago: Angry. Prideful. Beautiful. Hungry.

"Did you not find the freedom you sought so badly? Are you not powerful? Wealthy? So concerned are you with the setbacks that you fail to consider what even a child might grasp. Had I not made you better you would have wasted away, spent the whole of your life on your knees scrubbing filth from your father's floor!"

Your hands curled into fists, and the temperature of the room dropped again but you didn't attack. Dio stared back at you, secure in his superiority, he looked down upon you with sharp, narrow eyes.

The silence between you was a tangible thing, heavy and frozen in the air.

"You're incorrigible," you said eventually, falling back into your chair with a loud, undignified thump. Predictably, your resolve was nothing compared to his own. He knew you would falter. "Is that what you truly believe? Or are you simply going on about nothing?"

Dio looked down his nose at you. You'd tested his patience enough as it is, and he hoped you'd understand without lecture. He rolled his eyes but decided to explain himself. Because you, of all people, should understand him.

So Dio sat across from you, poured himself a cup (though it was no longer hot,) and explained his ideologies.

***

Dawn appeared behind your heavy velvet curtains, but he continued to converse with you. You argued, of course, and even doubted his mental facilities ("you spent far too much time in isolation")—but when understanding fully dawned upon you, you looked as though you had something more to say.

"What is it?"

"...the Speedwagon Foundation I told you about… I've embedded spies amongst them— call it self-preservation." You moved the conversation down to the library at some point after noon. The room had no exterior windows, but the doors were adorned with stained glass paneling. You sat beside him on a chaise, glass of wine swirling in hand. "They've reported a number of strange occurrences. There may be something that could help you obtain heaven."

"Something?" Amused, rather than offended, Dio pressed for more. He moved closer to you on the chaise, sliding over till your bodies touched. "Tell me, what is it that you know?"

You shrugged and looked away nonchalantly.

"It's just as I said."

"Then," he began, sucking air through his teeth—his patience only spread so thin. "Perhaps you could provide me with an example."

"The Red Stone of Aja," you continued, swirling around your wine. "Though all of my sources relegated it to a myth, not particularly worthy of mention."

You took a drink, and Dio placed a hand against your thigh. You opted for trousers that day, red ones with flared bottoms that, otherwise, left little to the imagination. (You mentioned something about the 1970s and different trends in style when you put them on that morning, but he stopped paying attention the moment he laid his eyes upon you.)

"Surely there must be something else to it." You leaned away from him, removing his hand from your person as you placed your glass beside his on the table. There was a book already open there, something by some American playwright.

"It's said to grant extraordinary power to its wielder. The details weren't specific, but it's believed to have been destroyed during the second great war."

"Is that so?" he leaned closer. "Tell me more."

"The Speedwagon Foundation heavily redacted records during that era so my knowledge isn't particularly insightful. But there was this group, the Pillar Men, said to be the originators of the Stone Masks. They weren't quite vampires but rather something...more. However, all four were eventually defeated by the hand of Joseph Joestar, so if the stone truly did exist and could do all that it was rumored, I can't imagine how such beings could lose to a mere man."

The mention of another Joestar disturbed him, but that wasn't important now. He would deal with the last of their line if the situation deemed it necessary.

"Perhaps it is merely a fable," he said, taking his glass from the table. "But I find it worth looking into."

***

He traveled the world, meeting all manner of fascinating people with fascinating stories. He found others to imbue with his flesh buds and acquired more influence and wealth.

And when he tired of traveling, he returned to you.

Sometimes you spoke at length for hours, long into the day. You'd recommend books for him to read, films to view, and art to study, and you'd occasionally show him reports sent by your spies in the Speedwagon Foundation, now on the search for the Red Stone of Aja.

And on other days you wouldn't speak at all. You'd simply occupy the same space, content to pursue your own interests.

And other days, days that gradually increased in frequency, he'd take you to bed.

It took a bit of seduction on his part: clever words, subtle touches, and quiet whispers in the darkness of the night. But when he succeeded, when you finally succumbed to the pleasure of his touch, he took you with surprising vigor.

He could, and had, seduced many into his bed with little more than a sideways glance. But you weren't swayed so easily. And something about that excited him—you excited him.

You always had. Though you weren't his first lover by any means, you were the only one who understood his true nature.

The others had been cautious experiments, youthful indulgence, a way to pass the time. He'd shown those people what they wanted to see and told them what they wanted to hear. To them, he was a curious student, a suave noble, a troublemaker looking for a bit of fun.

But to you he was Dio. You saw who he was, who he truly was, and wanted him anyway.

'I…I've always wondered if…'

That was the exact moment he knew you were his, that you wanted to stay with him. Neither of you spoke of love or marriage, as he could never offer those things to a woman of your station. (And he never much cared for those things besides.) So instead, you spoke of the future and created a plan where you could remain together, where you would be his.

You were still his, he realized when he told you the truth about his body and you seemed intrigued as opposed to disgusted.

"This is the body of Jonathan Joestar? Erina's husband?" You asked, sitting close to him on a sofa in the parlor.

He laughed. You had no significant relationship with Jonathan, but Erina was your sister, the one who lived the life you so desired. You hated Erina, but she earned your respect as well.

"The very same." He smirked, admiring the twisted curiosity that overtook your features when he moved his finger down the curve of your neck. Your eyes met.

The hands that once hurt you weren't the ones that touched you then, and he supposed you found relief in that. You'd slowly opened up to his seductions, secure in the fact that you were once again 'friends,' but there was something else there then, a more pressing matter, something that unearthed your darkest impulses: the need to take what belonged to her and fulfill some twisted form of justice.

"Why his?" You asked, your voice strained.

"Why do you think?"

No one else would ever understand.

So when he took your hand and led you to your bed later that night, for the first time in nearly 100 years, he took you as any man would take the woman he...the woman who excited him, intrigued him, shared his sense of wicked curiosity, fueled his hunger and belonged to him.

He took you the same way he'd take any such person who elicited such emotions from him: with such vigor and passion it broke your bed in two.

"You may as well order several more," he mused, lounging shirtless on a sofa as malcontented servants carried the mess away. The envy in their eyes was palpable.

"That was antique," you chided, though you couldn't hide the smile that darkened your cheeks and bloomed across your face like a flower.

You were his.

***

The year was 1986 and he found himself a home in Egypt. Because there lived a woman called Enya, a terrible who possessed several magical arrows. These arrows had the power to grant certain individuals with abilities, which is how he acquired his stand, The World, along with another power Enya called Hermit Purple, the stand of Jonathan's body.

Unlike The World, Jonathan's stand was weak—but it came with a useful ability to divine information. He would use it to locate those with the potential to gain stands in his travels and bring them to his side (though it seemed stand users were drawn together anyway, as if by gravity.)

***

Dio traveled far and wide gathering wealth, influence, and an abundance of lovers. He took his pleasure wherever he wanted and sometimes, when he found a particularly wicked woman to indulge himself with, Dio didn't consume them. Because as ideals of Heaven became more concrete and he began to realize what it was he truly needed: a friend. He needed someone he trusted above all others.

Perhaps a child could help him obtain heaven.

Dio toyed with the idea of making a child with you, but he doubted a union between two vampires could result in the creation of life. Had it been possible, you would have already conceived.

Still, there would be no need for a child if he knew for certain he could use you. You would be the easy choice, the safe choice. But you were too similar to himself, unable to control your urges. Anger, frustration, desire—you felt each of those emotions fiercely. He needed someone with no interest in power, fame, wealth, or sex.

Despite that, he decided to make his way to England to imbue you with a stand.

If gravity brought stand users together, he reasoned, then it stands to reason those with potential are drawn together as well, and there was no one he felt drawn to more than you.

***

"I was hoping you'd return."

Your servants scurried about the hall, though a stopped to few gawked at him, swooning as they peeked behind pillars and doors. A pair of handsome muscular men were busy moving a piano in the parlor and you called yourself 'supervising.' He rolled his eyes.

"Did you? It seems as though you're preoccupied." He scowled.

You tilted your head, and he hated how quickly your neck drew his gaze.

"We'll, it isn't as though you left me with a way to contact you. If you had a telephone, I would have called."

"I'll be sure to procure one expeditiously. " He walked around you, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you roughly to his side. At the same time, one of the men looked toward you for approval after having set the piano near the corner of the room.

"That's fine," he dismissed the man, waving them away before you could speak. "Go."

The men furrowed their brows in confusion, unsure what to do. You were their mistress, their Goddess, yet each of your servants came to understand that he was the same type of being as you.

"Leave it there for now," you sighed a long-suffering sigh, and the men left in a hurry. "You don't get to tell my people what to do," you huffed, but Dio didn't care. The sight of you ogling those workers was irritating enough—was in no mood to be lectured.

"What was it you wanted to speak to me about?" He asked. Dio released you from his hold, folded his arms, and leaned back against a marble pillar.

"I hoped you could tell me what this thing is." The atmosphere in the room shifted, as though another person was brought into being. He sensed the change before he saw it— your stand.

It stood as a ghostly presence behind you, the very nature of your soul. But how?

"When did you acquire a stand?" He eyed the tall feminine figure warily. Its 'skin' was a deep shade of purple, but the rest of it, the scant 'armor' molded to its body, was gold. Red hearts adorned its chest, hands, and forehead, each of which glowed, as though to indicate utility. It wore a sort of belt, one fashioned like a cuff that clung to its waist from behind. There were four packs affixed to it, each with a letter and tube that connected to the back of its shiny gold helmet. CMYK, the packs read together. He had no idea what that meant.

"So you can see it then? Is that what it's called, a stand?"

"When?" He pressed.

"Around three or four months ago," you dismissed his impatience with a wave of your hand. "I was bathing when she suddenly appeared beside me. None of my servants could see her so I knew either I'd gone mad, or you'd done something to me again."

"I see…" Did your stand appear when his had? The blood he gave you still flowed through your veins, but was such a trivial connection enough to grant you stand abilities? And if that's true, what of Jonathan's descendants? He decided he would allow them to live, to carry on with their pathetic lives so long as none stepped forward to oppose him. But if they possessed stands as well, they may prove to be annoying.

"What abilities does your stand possess?"

"She shows me memories," you explained. "We'll, 'show' isn't exactly accurate. I watch the events unfold as though I'm there. I've been able to speak and interact with everything around me, but once it's over no one I've tested it on remembers a thing. They say that I've helped them re-live certain events but can't speak of my involvement."

"And how long can you function within these 'memories'?"

"No more than a minute or so."

He nodded. An interesting ability, but not particularly useful in combat. It was well suited for espionage, however, and Dio could always use more spies. Perhaps if you trained, you could walk amongst memories for a longer period of time.

"Have you observed any particular weaknesses, a short-range perhaps?"

"Weakness? Well…hm." You tilted your head to the side and Dio's eyes followed suit. "Although I'm seeing memories, anything that would present danger to me in the real world continues to be of danger. I hoped I could use it to see the sun again, but I was nearly burned to a crisp. The ill effects persisted even after I returned to consciousness."

"So if you find yourself in a perilous situation, the danger it presents is real?"

"That's what it seems... And there's something else as well: I can take things." You gestured toward your stand and the heart on its chest began to glow. It made a sound reminiscent of an office printer as its arms extended outward.

Dio cringed at the grating noise and opened his mouth to complain, but stopped once he realized what was going on. Bit by bit, a rotary telephone began to appear. The process was slow and jerky, but once it finished, your stand placed the object in your hands, wires, and all.

"What a curious ability." He began, pushing himself from the pillar. Your stand made no movement as he circled around it. "The objects you take from these 'memories,' are they functional?"

"As far as I'm aware. That piano was taken from my butler's memory and it plays just as it should."

"I assume larger objects take far more time to retrieve?"

"That's exactly right."

"And what occurs when the items are removed from these memories?"

"That I'm not entirely sure of myself," you confessed. "Nothing about their memories seems to change, though they'd have no way of knowing whether or not something was missing from their memory."

"...say,” he said after a while, “why don't you use your stand on me?"

"You want me traversing through your memories?" You folded your arms and your stand did the same. Amusing.

"And why not? We grew up together, did we not? Why don't you go back to the day I took the mask from Jonathan? There's something I'd like to see."

"The Stone Mask? Dio…I don't know what might happen if you forget it. I'm not sure if I could even put it back if you can't-"

"I won't forget." He waved his hand impatiently. "The mask is integral to the person I am, so don't concern yourself with such trivial things—just do it."

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what it was he had expected—he certainly didn’t believe your stand attack would involve blowing kisses. But the heart that appeared from this action shot out like a laser that burned into his skull and the next thing he knew, he was angry...

...so angry, both at himself and that damnable father of his. He shouldn't have used the same method, but he had been so certain it would work! Why, why did Dario Brando write his symptoms in that letter? Even now, that man continued to haunt him. Sharing the same blood as that man brought Dio nothing but disgust.

Something needed to be done.

Jonathan left for London, where he hoped to find evidence of Dio's misdeeds. Thus, Dio had no choice but to break the lock of Jonathan's study and take a knife to the drawer.

The study was neat, yet sparsely decorated. There was a portrait of his Mother on the mantlepiece. He'd never met the woman, but he assumed she was a simple-minded fool like her husband and son. Books ranging from etiquette, archeology, and even law, lined the shelves of the bookcase. Dio scoffed. There was nothing there of interest—nothing of true literary merit, nothing remotely thought-provoking, and, certainly nothing salacious.

'So predictable and boring,' he thought. 'Much like Jonathan himself.'

Dio jimmied the lock, opened the drawer with no problem, and grinned as he took the mask into his hand.

"Seven years ago this mask reacted to my blood," he recalled, flipping through the pages of Jonathan's research. He'd drawn the mask in detail, taken notes on its functions, and theorized about its history. "If the bones pierce his brain it will look as though he died from his own research. The investigation will be closed." This was the answer, this is what he should have done in the first place; Jonathan's death would be a perfect crime, one with no evidence left behind!

Though, as he turned to leave the room and prepare his own coach to London, he saw something hiding in the shadows.

"Whose there! Is it you, Jojo?" No. It couldn't be; he confirmed Jonathan's departure himself!

"Do you always monologue to yourself while scheming? How very cute." You stepped out from the shadows and Dio scoffed indignantly.

"You. What on earth are you doing here?" Had something happened? You didn't seem hurt. In fact, you looked...more attractive to him somehow, though he shook those thoughts away. He didn't have time for you, so he narrowed his eyes, wrinkled his nose, and gave you a once-over. "And what exactly are you wearing?"

"You'll understand when you're older," you say, appearing before him at blinding speed. "For now, I need to borrow this." You took hold of the mask, and as you did, your stand's hand appeared above your own.

"Don't you dare! You have no idea-" You were gone before he finished. You simply vanished.

And just like that, Dio began to regain his sense of self...

...No longer was he at the Joestar Manor. He wasn't standing on deep green floors, and the room no longer smelt of cedar. Instead, he was where he started; standing right in front of you. Your stand made that noise again, that horrible printing sound and he finally turned to look at you. You were watching him closely, concern etched across your features.

Dio blinked, his memories seemed to splice themselves back together, and a few moments later, your stand held the mask for you to take.

"Here." You gave it to him without protest.

Dio held the mask between his hands, testing its weight, and texture. Was something like this truly created from his memory? Or was there something else at play?

He lifted one arm, clenched his fist tight enough to break the skin, and allowed his blood to drip across the surface of the mask. It shook for just a moment before the bone spikes released.

"My friend," he stepped forward, bringing his own stand forward. "We have much to discuss in regard to our future…”

***

Déjà Vu was a powerful stand. Though limited by its short range, it had far more potential than you seemed to realize. With training, he expected you to produce items quicker, remain within memories for much longer, and learn to extract organic life.

You accomplished 2 of those things. For some reason, when it came to organic life, you could only take things in parts—leaves instead of a plant, a finger instead of a body.

'A shame,' he thought, 'But useful for her own purposes.'

So, once he figured you could grasp the concepts on your own, Dio left to continue his travels. He took to gathering more powerful stand users to serve as his assassins or eyes around the globe. Though a spare few, those with stands he had no use for, he sent to you. He even called you on the telephone to confirm their arrival.

You nagged him, of course, saying something about unexpected arrivals and love-sick fools following you around like puppies. He could only laugh.

"Allow them to assist you; one can never have too many friends."

Speaking of which, Dio eventually found the friend he needed: a young priest named Enrico Pucci. He was polite and soft-spoken, but his resolve was unwavering. You would have a special place in heaven, but Pucci would help him get there.

However, Pucci didn't come with him to Egypt (at least not to stay.) Much like you he had his own affairs, and that suited Dio just fine.

He stayed in America for quite some time, as Pucci's company was enjoyable. They spoke of many things like religion, philosophy, and art. Dio once asked his opinion on false prophets and how certain types of people came to lead cults. Pucci had many opinions on the matter and Dio was eager to introduce you both someday.

"My other friend is similar to myself, though she thinks herself different, kinder perhaps. Despite these delusions, I do hope you can be friends as well" He said, working on his model ship.

"You're quite fond of her, aren't you?" Pucci smiled behind his hand. "This is the third time you've mentioned her unprompted today."

"Is that so? I suppose you're just easy to talk to." He seemed pleased at that, happy to be useful in any way.

Pucci wasn't like the others, he wasn't a servant motivated by lust or greed. No, Pucci loved him as he loved God, and that was what Dio needed.

"You haven't yet answered my question."

"Yes, I am very fond of her indeed." Pucci had another question, but he decided not to ask; everyone deserved their secrets and it would be rude of him to pry.

Dio was thankful for that decision because he knew what that question was.

'Do you love her?'

And the answer was yes. Dio loved you as the Sun loves the Earth.

***

When Dio returned to his own mansion, he was greeted at the door by Terrance D'Arby, a handsome man with a curious hobby.

Enya was there as well, as usual. She was quite sprightly for a woman of her age and was quick to appear underfoot.

"Was your trip abroad a success, Lord DIO?" He ignored her.

With so much on his mind, Dio wanted nothing more than to be alone, so he used The World's ability to reach the top of the stairs undisturbed.

Vanilla Ice was exactly where he left him, guarding his door. Despite the man's stoic disposition, Vanilla Ice's endless devotion brought to mind the piety of your supplicants. He would do anything for Dio, anything at all.

"Lord DIO." Vanilla Ice was quick to bow, falling to a single knee, his fist anchored to the floor.

"You may go now," Dio told him, brushing a hand across his favorite servant's cheek. It was the faintest touch, the barest hint of affection, yet to Vanilla Ice his touch was an endless feast. "Though try not to wander, I may be in need of your services later." Vanilla Ice nodded once, his expression rarely changed but Dio learned to read the subtle hints. He was excited when he shut the door.

The room itself had no windows, lines of books adorned the walls and a large golden mirror stood across from the bed. Most important, however, was the mask and arrow mounted on the wall. His gaze drifted toward them, as if by instinct. Those were his most prized possession, worth more than anything in the world.

He moved toward his desk with a hum, pulled out a chair, and unlocked the drawer where his diary was kept.

It is a curious coincidence, he wrote, that those I count amongst my friends possess stands that affect memory. Though, as I shared with Pucci last we spoke, I believe that her ability may stretch beyond that.

From her account, the memories she enters include events far beyond what her opponent could know with any certainty. Simply stated, I believe her stand may use a person's memory as a means to fully reconstruct a moment in time. This reconstruction exists within the mind of her opponent, functioning separately from the rest of the world. Pucci suggested the space be referred to as a 'pocket dimension.'

If this is the case, her stand's resemblance to my own may be a result of its influence over time in addition to our similar natures.

Could those with deeper connections possess similar stands? I've heard many speak of 'soul mates,' but what does that truly mean?

***

One day in 1988, Dio called you on the telephone. A maid picked up on the fourth ring and brought the phone to you quickly.

"Mister DIO wishes you speak with you, my lady." He heard a whisper on the other side.

"Yes?"

"No 'hello' for me? I'm wounded."

"My deepest apologies, Lord Dio, how might I serve you from my humble corner of the world?" You mocked. He smiled but decided to get to the point quickly.

"The Joestars are aware of my existence," he confessed, "Joseph Joestar has a stand similar to my Hermit Purple and has used that in an attempt to divine my presence. Though he and his associate, Muhammad Avdol, have yet to figure out I am in Egypt, it's only a matter of time."

"And what happens when they arrive?"

"Concerned for Erina’s descendants, are you?" An easy smirk eased its way across his elegant features. "Worry not, they will be disposed of quickly. Though I may spare Joseph, albeit temporarily."

"Feeling merciful Lord Dio? Please don't worry yourself on my behalf; Erina’s family is of little consequence to me. I have little desire to participate in your blood feud."

"Well, my pet, I'm sure you've come to realize that your aging nephew may be the only living person to have witnessed the power of the Red Stone. You may find it pertinent to access his memories using Déjà Vu."

The Stone would mean little once he gained the ultimate stand, but his heaven plan was not yet complete. Still, stone's power may still be of use to him and, at the very least, he could ensure no one else could wield its power against him.

"You make a compelling point," you reply after a moment. "What would you have me do?"

"You will find me in Egypt. I will let you know when the time arrives."

Nevertheless, mere months after that conversation occurred, Dio received a report: Holly Kujo, the first child of Joseph Joestar, fell ill. She was too weak-willed to handle the emergence of her own stand—it was killing her.

From there unfolded a series of unfortunate events that culminated in his complete annihilation. The time for you to go to Eygpt never arrived.

And in 1989, Jotaro Kujo stood in his room, read his diary, and burned it to a crisp. There was a box inside the drawer where he found the diary. He might have had Star Platinum smash it to pieces had it not already been opened.

'Carless.' He thought though it didn't seem like Dio to leave such a thing unguarded.

There were two things inside the box: a small, leather-bound Bible and a gaudy gold ring with a ruby at the center. Jotaro didn't know the significance of either, so he left them for the Speedwagon Foundation to figure out. He has more important things to worry about.

Dio mentioned having friends. Though he doubted either would be more troublesome than Dio himself, he would hunt the world over for anyone who threatened his family and friends...

| Next Chapter

#dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #stardust crusaders

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templardom · 3 months ago

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God’s Whistleblower

The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. Proverbs 15:3 (ESV)

No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who tells lies shall stand in my presence. Psalm 101:7 (BSB)

Wealth is treacherous, and the arrogant are never at rest. They open their mouths as wide as the grave, and like death, they are never satisfied. In their greed they have gathered up many nations and swallowed many peoples. Habakkuk 2:5 (NLT)

Why has the wicked man renounced God? He says to himself, “You will never call me to account.” Psalm 10:13 (BSB)

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Apocalypse 3:2 (NIV)

“And now, you priests, this warning is for you. If you do not listen, and if you do not resolve to honor my name,” says the LORD Almighty, “I will send a curse on you, and I will curse your blessings. Yes, I have already cursed them, because you have not resolved to honor me." Malachi 2:1-2 (NIV)

So this is what the LORD says to his people: “You love to wander far from me and do not restrain yourselves. Therefore, I will no longer accept you as my people. Now I will remember all your wickedness and will punish you for your sins.” Then the LORD said to me, “Do not pray for these people anymore. Jeremiah 14:10-11 (NLT)

The end is now upon you, and I will unleash My anger against you. I will judge you according to your ways and repay you for all your abominations. Ezekiel 7:3 (BSB)

#apocalypse #god #holy spirit #judgement #damnation

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jimi-rawlings · 9 months ago

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Tétouan - Wikipedia

Tétouan (Arabic: تطوان, romanized: tiṭwān, [titwaːn]), also known as Tettawen, is a city in northern Morocco. It lies along the Martil Valley and is one of the two major ports of Morocco on the Mediterranean Sea, a few miles south of the Strait of Gibraltar, and about 60 kilometres (37 mi) E.S.E. of Tangier. In the 2014 Moroccan census, the city recorded a population of 380,787 inhabitants.[3] It is part of the administrative division Tanger-Tetouan-Al Hoceima.

Tétouan is a new Sin City in Morocco.

MOCRO MAFFIA

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laresearchette · 1 year ago

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Tuesday, August 08, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES? ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING (Disney + Star) NEVER SEEN AGAIN (Paramount +)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

DISNEY + STAR ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING (Season 3 Premiere)

NETFLIX CANADA RESIDENT EVIL: WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS: GRUDGE OF EDINBURGH: PART 2 UNTOLD JOHNNY FOOTBALL ZOMBIEVERSE

FIFA WOMEN’S WORLD CUP SOCCER (TSN/TSN4/TSN5) 3:45am: Colombia vs. Jamaica (TSN/TSN4/TSN5) 6:45am: France vs. Morocco

NATIONAL BANK OPEN (SN Now) 11:00am: Women's Court Rogers Coverage (SN Now) 11:00am: Men's Grandstand Coverage (SN) 12:30pm: Men’s Day Session (SN1) 12:30pm: Women's Day Session (SN1) 7:00pm: Men’s Evening Session (SN360) 7:00pm: Women’s Evening Session

WNBA BASKETBALL (SN360) 3:00pm: Sun vs. Storm

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 7:00pm: Jays vs. Guardians (TSN4) 7:00pm: Astros vs. Orioles (SN Now) 9:30pm: Padres vs. Mariners

CAUGHT IN THE ACT: UNFAITHFUL (MTV Canada) 9:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): For almost three years, Mariah's been living with her boyfriend and her son's father; despite being showered by Bobby's love, Mariah experiences a shocking incident that has her questioning if there's someone else.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #fiba world cup soccer #tennis #wnba basketball #mlb baseball

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lgbtqiamuslimpedia · 2 years ago

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LGBTQI+ rights in Mali 🇲🇱

LGBTQI+ citizens faces social & legal challenges in Mali. LGBTQI+ people can not marry, they can not adopt a child in Mali.

Legality of Homosexuality

Private adult-consensual and non-commercial homosexuality is legal in Mali. Since 1961 Mali equalized age of consent for both heterosexual & homosexual relationships.

However, the Article 179 of the penal code punishes "public indecency" acts with fines and imprisonment. This has sometimes been used against LGBTQ+ people who engage in public displays of affection,who solicite sex publicly, who openly come out, who exhibit atypical gender expression,who works with a LGBTQ group. According to ABamako.com , Mali's Justice Minister Mahamadou Kassogué announced that he will bring a new law to criminalize homosexuality.

Same sex union or marriage

Same-sex marriages or unions are not officially recognized in Mali. Before colonialism, same-sex unions were practiced among Bambara of Mali.

Public Opinion

While private consensual homosexuality is legal, the prevailing cultural and religious beliefs of most Malians view non-normative sexuality & gender expression as immoral. Mali's religious & orthodox muslims characterize homosexuality, transgenderism as sin, requiring severe punishment equal to being stoned to death. According to the 2007 Pew Global Attitudes Project, 98% of Malian adults believed that homosexuality is a way of life that society should not accept,which was the highest rate of rejection in the 45 countries surveyed.

Dr. Dembelé Bintou Keita, the director of ARCAD/SIDA, said ''Malian society is least tolerant toward homosexuals.They have no rights and certainly no right to claim their sexual orientation. All cultural beliefs towards MSM are negative.MSM are forced into bisexuality or underground sexual practices that put them at high risk of sexually transmitted and HIV infections.'' Keita also stated "Men who are attracted to other men are forced to get married, so that they will not bring shame to the family... but they still have men as sexual partners."

Discrimination,Violence

There are no anti-discrimination laws to protect the LGBT community from harassment and abuse on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity. Societal discrimination against LGBTQ+ community is widespread in Mali.Police can persecute LGBTQ+ people, especially effeminate gay, transvestite, non-binary & trans folk under the article 179, which deals "public indecency.”

In 2009 ARCAD/SIDA, a non-profit organization faced heavy backlash, when they announced to organize a large conference on HIV/AIDS & health of sexual minority. Mali's religious leaders,ulema & islamists falsely accused the organization “for promoting homosexuality & turning teenagers into gay”. Some local news media presented it as “conference of homosexuals” In addition, Malian Imams & Ulema marched at the streets & called for banning the organization. Mali's ex-president Toumani Touré also condemned this conference to take place in Bamako. In 2010, Mali & Morocco on the behalf of African and Islamic nations, called for an amendment on UN resolution that protect SOGIESC groups from unjustified executions,extrajudicial killings. According to the Malian daily Le Républicain, in April 2013, a group of homosexuals celebrating one of their birthdays in an apartment was attacked by a group of men in the neighbourhood that had realized their presence there. In September 2013, a group of homosexual people was attacked by a mob during a party in the city of Mopti.Sources note that the party was wrongly perceived as the celebration of a gay marriage. According to U.S. State Department's 2013 country Reports, “some people suspected of belonging to sexual minorities were captured and beaten over the next three days, and the National Guard did not respond to requests for help. According to Country Reports, some imams subsequently condemned homosexuality, which led to other acts of violence in the city.

The head of Mali's High Islamic Council, Imam Mahmoud Dicko stated following the attack (on November 2015) against the Radisson Blu Hotel that the terrorists were sent to us by Allah to punish us for encouraging homosexuality in the society. Dicko gave homophobic rethorics against country's sexual minorities multiple times. Le Monde News reported that “human rights activists immediately protested via open letters & on air statements to the media.

There are also some anti-LGBTQ+ groups such as “The Leagues of Decency”. Earlier they created a moral panic in public by spreading false propaganda that Mali's doctors are changing Mali's children's sexuality through injections. Such type of homophobic groups come together under the acronym Lutte Contre l'Homosexualité au Mali (English: Fight Against Homosexuality in Mali). This network was created in 2017; was called the "year of crisis" due to the sudden increase of violence against LGBTQI+ community in Mali. The network shared personal informations of LGBTQ+ individuals, in order to make it easier for haunting LGBTQI+ Malians & abusing them. They also post videos of their harassment & abuse on online. In 2020, 15 homosexual minors (between the age of 13 & 17) were arrested by Malian police. In 2021, six Malian lesbians, all affiliated to an International LGBT network were arrested by Malian police.

Recognition of gender identity

Mali does not allow one's to change his/her/their gender marker in Passport,legal documents.Mali has no third or non-binary gender option for citizens.

According to Christophe Broqua, Bambara people culturally recognize a non-binary or third gender identity called cetemusote/cεtεmùsotε (which can be translated as “neither man nor woman in English). Cetemùsote individuals are born as male, few are born as intersex. They also engage in same-sex partnership with cisgender Malian men. Mandinka people recognize third gender/sex individuals in their culture.Furthermore, Dogon people of Mali has gender variance practices in their communities.

LGBTQI+ Association, Activism

In 2005, the governor of District of Bamako refused to give legal recognition of a LGBTQ rights association. ARCAD/SIDA is Bamako-based HIV/AIDS organization, provides health care for homosexuals,MSMs & Transgender person .In April 2009 a workshop on HIV/AIDS and Homosexuality organised by ARCAD/Sida, had to be cancelled following protests from the general population. ARCAD/SIDA organizers were accused of trying to lure teenagers into homosexuality & spreading immorality.As a result organizers had to cancel their workshop & try to run their activities more discreetly in Bamako,Mali. Malian Human Rights Association [French: Association malienne des droits humains] also work with country's sexual minorities.

Summary:

Same sex sexual activity - ✔️ legal since 1961 [citation needed]

Equal Age of consent - ✔️ (since 1961)

Recognition of Same sex relationships - ❌

Same-sex marriages - ❌

Anti-discrimination in employment - ❌

Anti-discrimination in hate speech and violence - ❌

Anti-discrimination in the provision of goods and services - ❌

Freedom of LGBTQ+ Association - ❌

Right to legal gender change ❌

Recognition of non-binary or third gender option ❌

LGBTQI+ people allowed to serve in the military - ❌

MSMs allowed to donate blood - ✔️/❌

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islamic-reminders · 4 years ago

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* General Islamic culture Answer the following questions *

1. In which month was the Quran descended?

at. Muharram

b. Ramadan

vs. Safar

d. Rajab

2. How many Suras are there in the Quran?

at. 110

b. 100

vs. 113

d. 114

3. The book Zabura was revealed to which of these messengers?

at. Musa

b. Isa

vs. Dauda

d. Ibrahim

4. How many words are there in the Quran?

at. 86,430

b. 86,340

vs. 83,640

d. 83,460

5. Which of the Prophets had a live conversation with Allah?

at. Ibrahim

b. Musa

vs. Issa

d. Muhammad

6. What city is called * Baladul Amin * in the Quran?

at. Madina

b. Makkah

vs. Sham

d. Misra

7. Which of these women Allah called his name in the Quran?

at. Maryam

b. Khadija

vs. Aisha

d. Hauwa

8. How many Suras were revealed in Mecca (Makkiya)?

a.86

b.114

c.28

d.60

9. What is the last Surah revealed?

at. Ma'ida

b. Nasr

vs. Kafirun

d. Ankabuut

10. What name does not fit the names of the Last Judgment in the Quran?

at. Yaumul Jam'i

b. Yaumu Tagabun

vs. Yaumul Fasli

d. Yaumul Fana'i

11. Which Surah spoke about the people of the cave?

at. Baqara

b. Jinni

c. Kahfi

d. Taaha

12. The shortest Ayat is found in which Sura?

at. Fajr

b. Mudassir

vs. Asr

d. Ikhlas

13. Which of the companions was mentioned in the Quran?

at. Abdourahamane bin Sahr

b. Abi Huraira

vs. Zayd

d. Usman bin afan

14. One among these cities was not mentioned by the Messenger of Allah Muhammad SAW?

at. Constantinople (Istanbul)

b. Sin

vs. Sham

d. Agadez

15. Which of the Yusuf Suras was called besides Suratul Yusuf?

at. Ahzab

b. Gafir

vs. Zumar

d. Nur

16. In what year was Prophet Muhammad SAW born?

12 Rabi Awal 630 Miladiya

12 Rabi Awal 530 Miladiya

12 Rabi Awal 570 Miladiya

12 Rabi Awal 571 Miladiya

17. Which was not a Jihad battle?

at. Handaq

b. Badr

vs. Tabuk

d. Yemen

18. Which is not a Quranic Sura?

at. Suratul Anfal

b. Suratul Musa

vs. Suratul Maryam

d. Suratul Ibrahim

19. Which Surah does not start with Bismillah?

at. Tawba

b. Hudu

vs. Yunus

d. Qaaf

20. Who is not one of the 4 great Imans of Islam?

at. Hanafi

b. Hambali

vs. Ibn Taymiya

d. Shafi'i

21. Who are the two Sheikhs of the Hadiths?

at. Muslim - Tirmizi

b. Buhari - Muslim

vs. Nisa'i - Ahmad

d. Abu Daud - Buhari

22. How many Messengers were mentioned in the Quran?

at. 1432

b. 25

vs. 114

d. 432

23. Which of these mosques is mentioned in the Koran?

at. Tajmahal

b. Sham

vs. Aqsa

d. Ruum

24. Which one is not on the Islamic lunar list?

at. Zul Qi'id

b. Safar

vs. Rajab

d. Zul Kifl

25. Which country has the greatest number of Muslims?

at. Nigeria

b. China

vs. India

d. Indonesia

26. Which country is not among the founding members of the OIC?

at. Bahrain

b. Saudi Arabia

vs. Niger

d. Algeria

27. Which animal was not mentioned in the Quran?

at. Dog

b. Ants

vs. Bees

d. Bat

28. Who among these people did the Jews (Yahud) call the Son of Allah?

at. Uzairu

b. Issa

vs. Musa

d. Zakaria

29. Which country in Africa was mentioned in the Quran?

at. Sudan

b. Egypt

vs. Morocco

d. Ethiopia

30. What is the longest Surah in the Quran?

at. Nisa'i

b. Bakara

vs. Ali'imran

d Huud

31. According to the prophet SAW Islam will be divided into how many parts?

at. 2

b. 4

vs. 73

d. 173

31. In which Sura is the last Quranic verse found?

at. Jin

b. Nasr

vs. Ma'ida

d. Kafirun

32. The OIC, the second largest organization after the UN, has how many member states?

at. 193

b. 73

vs. 57

d. 201

33. Which was not an Islamic caliphate?

at. Ottoman

b. Almouhaid

vs. Sokoto

d. Bizans

34. Prophet Muhammad SAW was born in:

at. Mecca

b. Sham

vs. Medina

d. Jerusalem

35. Who is the most arrogant of creatures?

at. Fira'aun

b. Shaitan

vs. Dajal

d. Yajuj Majuj

* Share for Allah's Reward *

#islamicreminder #islam #ramandan

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matrixaffiliate · 4 years ago

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Bourne

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Chapter 14

Harry was at a loss. All morning he'd attempted to catch Miss Weasley's eye, but she avoided his blatant attempts to speak with her, let alone show her the rest of his family's estate. He would have thought that was an obvious sign that she felt nothing from their time together the night before and he ought then to keep his word on the matter and leave her to her own happiness. But what left him not only reluctant to do so but confused alongside his reluctance, was how she insisted upon staring at him every waking moment. The lady had not taken her eyes off of him since she'd come down to breakfast unless of course, he was looking at her as well.

And so, Harry was at a loss as to how Miss Weasley wished to proceed. He'd not courted many women, only one seriously and for a mere week before determining that they were ill-suited for each other. Harry was not accustomed to feeling so ill-equipped. He was self-assured in every other facet of his life, but in this situation, he felt upside down.

"May I ask your company for the day, Harry?" Ron interrupted Harry's musings.

"Of course," Harry set aside his confusion to focus on his friend. "In what way might I serve your company this day?'

"I've chosen a gift for Miss Granger, and I'd like your opinion on it."

"I'm sure you've picked something worthy of her, but I'd be quite happy to ease your nerves and give it my approval," Harry smirked at Ron before nodding to Sterling who moved for his coat and hat.

Ron laughed as he let his valet help him into his coat. "Away with us then.

As they rode into Godric's Hollow, Harry tried to keep his thoughts from Miss Weasley, but they insisted on wandering back to his dilemma.

"You're quiet today," Ron noted.

Harry sighed, if he was confused as how to handle courting a lady, he was completely unprepared on the proper way to tell said lady's brother what he was going through.

"I suppose I'm just ill at ease today." Harry evaded Ron's probing.

Ron nodded sympathetically, "I've noted the same feeling. Being home for the last six months without planning another journey has left a vacancy in me."

Harry looked out over the city he called home. "I suppose that could be the reason."

"You should plan that trip to Morocco, bring me back something." Ron quizzed him.

"Who would I go with, Ron?" Harry did not mean to let his forlorn feelings creep into his tone of voice, and tried to recover the lightness of their conversation by smiling at his friend.

Ron studied him a moment, but seemingly acquiesced by Harry's smile, he shrugged and responded. "Maybe you'll find you don't mind traveling alone. Or perhaps you'll meet someone while you're out that you care to spend the time with."

Harry shook his head, "I don't know if I care for any of that."

"You could always find yourself a wife. I've found that planning out my engagement and wedding has been plenty distracting."

Harry looked up sharply at his friend, but Ron's face was full of mirth.

"Perhaps," Harry gestured to the jewelers as they arrived at their destination. "But why don't you show me what fair thing you've chosen for your lovely Miss Granger."

Ron led Harry inside where he gestured to a full lady's set made of silver with beautiful blue stones adorning it.

"I came here to get the wedding ring for her, and when I saw the set, I thought how much Miss Granger is drawn to blue, she's even transplanting some of her mother's bluebells to a pot to bring to our home once the wedding has taken place."

Harry smiled at the set, certain that Miss Granger would be pleased. "You should purchase it, Weasley, before some other disparaging dandy realizes what a prize it is and snatches it up."

Ron grinned before calling the jeweler over. They left the shop with Ron's purse a bit lighter, and his hands a bit fuller with the ornate box that held the pieces he'd purchased."

"Shall we deliver it to her now?" Harry asked as they took to the street.

"My mind was leaning that direction, give her some time to decide what piece of it she might like to wear at the wedding if any." Ron managed to look a trifle embarrassed and Harry smiled.

"Then away with us," he motioned them forward to the Granger's home.

Miss Granger was overjoyed to have her betrothed call upon her and she was left speechless as she opened the box Ron presented her with.

"Truly?" She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Truly, it is for me?"

"Of course," Ron smiled, his hands gently covering hers as she held the box. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I love it, I love all of it, thank you!"

Harry stepped back from the doorway he'd been watching from, smiling as he moved near the home's entrance. He wanted some air and more time to think about his problem with what to think about Miss Weasley's behavior. He was sure Ron would come looking for him at some point, but he was equally sure he had time to spare before that would occur. Indeed, he was alone nearly a half-hour before someone intruded on his privacy.

"And how are you this fine morning, Mr. Potter?"

Harry started as he turned to see Miss Granger walk up behind him, her mother following and attending to her bluebells along the front of the house.

"Well, Miss Granger, and how does the day find you presently?"

"Dishonesty is a sin, Mr. Potter."

Harry blinked, "I beg your pardon."

Miss Granger laughed, "You're sulking. Unless the English language has escaped me completely, sulking does not customarily accompany the same actions as well normally procures."

Harry chuckled, "It wouldn't be gentlemanly to impart my melancholy concerns on a lady."

"Even if the lady's betrothed asked her to see if she could in some small way help his best friend's attitude to climb to a happier state?"

"Ah," Harry looked heavenward, "So Mr. Weasley is now sending his betrothed to dig into why I am, what word did you use? Sulking, wasn't it?"

"My betrothed is concerned you're taking his marriage as a personal affront."

Harry managed to laugh, "He's wrong, I'm very pleased for him."

"Then may I, as you so eloquently phrased it, dig into why you are sulking?"

Harry thought for a moment as he carefully worded his response.

"There is a lady, whom I am unsure as to her feelings towards me, and that has left me a trifle perplexed."

Miss Granger nodded, "Would you like a lady's opinion on the situation?"

Harry hesitated, mostly due to his concern that the astute Miss Granger would see right through to which lady he was referring to. But if he could keep it to merely the actions and not the situations that surrounded them, then perhaps he could manage to gain her insight without also alerting Ron to the reality that he was attempting to court his friend's only sister.

"I'm simply unsure how to read her reactions to me. We've had a few conversations which seemed to indicate she was interested in pursuing something more than merely acquaintances, but she also has made a show of appearing uninterested."

Miss Granger was silent looking out at the street in front of her father's home.

"Would you be willing to give me an example?"

Harry hesitated, but the part of him that had to exercise every force of will to not break all propriety and kiss Miss Weasley the night before was desperate for some form of understanding for the variance in her reactions to him. One moment she was leaning into him and the next she refused to look him in the eye, and Harry was realizing that maybe sulking wasn't such a bad definition for his mood after all.

"Miss Granger, I hope I can count on your discretion in this matter."

"Of course," she smiled at him.

"The lady in question and I happened to spend a wonderful hour together last night, and to speak frankly I was under the impression that she was of the mind to court me fully. But upon seeing her today, she refused to meet my eye while also fixing her gaze upon me for every moment I was not attempting to engage her in conversation, or even catch her eye. It has led me to wonder if I imagined that happy hour entirely."

Miss Granger nodded, "I think I understand. Your friend, Mr. Weasley, acted much the same way when I first expressed interest in him. To tell the truth there was one moment where he bordered on giving offense."

Harry chuckled, "Yes, I recall his confusion over how he felt towards you."

"There is where you're misguided, Mr. Potter." Miss Granger grinned, "Mr. Weasley was already sure of his feelings for me, but he had put in his mind every obstacle for why it could not be."

Harry nodded, "I do recall his insistence that he didn't have anything to offer you, and other concerns as that."

She spoke again in a hushed tone. "And I believe Miss Weasley would act similar to her brother in these matters, seeing as they are cut from the same cloth."

Harry felt his blood grow cold; and his shock must have registered on his face for Miss Granger smiled at him, continuing in her whispered voice.

"You have my word that I shall not tell a soul, and do not concern yourself with my betrothed, Mr. Weasley is unaware. He's rather preoccupied, or had you noticed?"

Harry shook his head, "You knew from the outset."

"Yes, but it wouldn't have been right to come out and tell you the way to a Weasley's heart now would it?"

"And what is the way to a Weasley's heart, Miss Granger?" Harry chuckled quietly at the smug look on her face.

"You break through their fears, Mr. Potter, and show them you'll stand by them in every circumstance."

#Bourne #harry x ginny #regency au #regency england au #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #hinny fluff #references to jane austen #romance #fluff #period romance #harry potter au #muggle au #harry potter fanfiction

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 5 years ago

Text

Panoramic

Raven Roth ambled along the crowded market of Fez, Morocco. It seemed like she had paused to stop at almost every shop and stall in the souk. But, if she hadn’t, she definitely wanted to - see everything. Since she had arrived here, she had been completely enchanted with the whole city. She couldn’t begin to describe it, and she was seeing it before her. It was almost inconceivable just how picturesque of a place it was. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty and vibrant colors. And it was all around her. It was in the people, the scenery, the food. The lights. The smells. The architecture. The cobblestone streets.

She felt her heart skip a little faster with each and every step she took. There was just… something in the air. She could feel it the second she stepped off the plane. This trip had been such a wonderful idea.

Oh goodness. Raven gazed up at the glowing lights that had been strung up to sway from a wire above - that elegant lantern would be ideal for her apartment. She could just see it there now.

Wow.

Something else was catching her eye.

Now she had to stop and take a closer look. Because.

There was…

Tea.

She gazed in wonder at the baskets. Closing in on chamomile flowers. Yes, flowers. Not crushed. Not powdered. Full leaves, whole herbs, and entire flowers. For every tea imaginable. And it would go great with those stunningly ornate tea cups she had spotted earlier…

Turning, she could see the stall with the positively delectable pastries and desserts calling. Figuratively and literally.

Raven inhaled the rich scents wafting around her deeply.

“Chebakia! Briouat! Golba!”

“Chebakia! Golba!”

“Sweets, Ms.?”

“No, thank you - shukran.”

Truthfully?

The pale traveling girl couldn't wait to eat when she was done shopping. She was eager to try one of the desserts that was made with rosewater in particular. With a cup of tea, naturally. Everything smelled scrumptious. Raven felt almost like a little girl with the blatant amount of joy she was finding in everything. But, this city was really taking her breath away. Besides, she really didn’t have to answer to anyone. She was travelling alone, so she was free to take her time and explore.

Raven initially had decided on a whole itinerary that she thoroughly planned out. She wanted to go see the University of al-Qarawiyyin. The world’s oldest learning institution - she had to. But when she heard about the souk in this part of the medina, she decided to stop in for a minute. But it was so lovely. The pale girl thought she might just stay here in the souk all day after all and go restart her schedule tomorrow.

The pale girl reached out and touched a sheer indigo scarf. “Pretty.” She smiled to herself.

“May I?” She asked the owner of the stall. Gesturing if she could try it on. The woman nodded. She pulled it from the pile and wrapped it around her neck. She looked in an ogee mirror in the corner on the ground. Feeling carried away by it all, she tossed it over her shoulder to admire herself. The dark-haired girl almost had to stifle a chuckle at her own antics.

Because, Raven didn't get carried away.

It was absurd, this was not something she normally did. But this place… The scarf was so beautiful. The blue and gold had caught the light in the most exquisite manner she had ever seen. She turned again, and almost knocked into a tall hooded man to her right.

“Aläafw.” She said politely, excusing herself.

She held a hand out in front of her. Giving him an apologetic glance. A sort of bow-like nod. Before she looked away, drawing up her own hood. She pulled off the garment, folding it neatly. The way it sparkled and the way it made her feel - she had to get it. It would always remind her of this moment. This treasure would be the first thing she got herself during her stay. She fished around for her wallet as she went up to pay.

“How much is this?” The older woman waved her away. Raven wanted to say she did, but she didn’t entirely understand what was happening.

“Not this one?” The woman now shook her head at the pale girl before her. Raven had been fully prepared to haggle. It appeared, she would not get her chance - at least not yet. Her ability to communicate effectively was limited, but she had managed to get around so far in a mixture of Arabic, a little French and broken English.

Maybe she should have more thoroughly immersed herself in the language before her trip.

She sighed.

“Already paid.” Was the blunt reply in English she received.

What?

“Excuse me?” Raven asked, forgetting her Arabic completely.

“Already paid. Over there.” The lady pointed to something behind her. Raven turned.

That man in the cowl from before.

Unbelievable.

“Shukran.” She said to thank the vendor.

Raven marched over. Wrapping her ankle length hooded cardigan tighter around herself. “Aläafw,” she said to him again. “I could have paid myself.” His eyes were shrouded in shadow as he stared at her from under his hood. But he didn’t speak. It was a minute or two before he exhaled and nodded. “You understand, that I can’t accept this…?” He very well might not have. He still stood there and said nothing. “I’m sorry,” Raven tried.

She handed it to him. He shook his head as if he didn’t understand. And he really must not have, because he tried to hand it back to her. The pale woman shook her head, held out a hand and apologized once more. Then, Raven quickly walked away. She didn’t want to make a scene because she couldn’t accept his gift. It was nice, though a little forward - but she couldn’t. She was a woman traveling alone. Raven had to keep her wits about her, just as she usually did when she was home. She couldn’t suddenly go around accepting gifts from strange men.

One thing was clear…

It was time to go.

Raven found herself looking all about, as she tried to retrace her steps. She had found her way in and around with ease before. Traipsing along without a care. But now she wanted nothing more than to leave. How did she get out of this maze-like market? She felt a little claustrophobic all of a sudden. Uneasy. She shouldn’t have stayed there for such a long time. Raven should have stuck to her original plan. She glanced around herself at all the people.

What had seemed like an incredible and inviting place mere moments ago had morphed into one that was loud and a little chaotic. And then, on top of all that. The encounter with that stranger had left her feeling even more self-conscious. With her hair and her eyes, she was a rather easy target to spot. A tourist. A potential mark. She didn’t have a camera hanging around her neck, like - she looked around for the overt display of tourism - that guy over there with the baseball cap, but it was very obvious that she was a foreigner. It was probably why that stranger had approached her.

Raven was feeling out of sorts. It had happened a couple of times on this trip, but she told herself she would get over it. Wasn’t it on everyone’s bucket list to take a trip alone like this? It was supposed to be an enriching experience. And hadn’t it been so far? Strange men aside…

There was nothing truly wrong, but…

She tugged her hood further over her face. Wrapping the cardigan around herself as she walked along.

It wasn’t as if she had a significant other to go with her on this trip. There was no one waiting for her back at home. She had friends, but.

No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No fiancée…

When she was stateside, occasionally she got a little lonely. A tiny bit of loneliness was healthy. Raven liked her life, but sometimes… She gazed at the rich colors around her. The luxury leather bags. The elegant carpets. The rows of fabric lining the stalls and billowing in the breeze. It was like it had just occurred to her… There was such romance and beauty all around her. And no one to share it with.

Great.

And now, she was lonely here. Why did she think that going across the ocean to a place she knew no one, would somehow… Make her feel any other way? Now Raven wasn’t just alone, she was alone in a country with languages she had a limited knowledge of.

What was she doing even here?

And then, almost as if her silent plea into the universe had summoned something.

Or someone.

She felt the breath of a deep whisper in her ear, “Jamila…” Then a rustle of fabric. She looked down. The sheer scarf she had tried to buy was draped around her neck. Her lips parted in astonishment. The scarf. The beautiful indigo scarf. It was him. He followed her?

She turned to face a pair of striking, smoldering jade eyes, tousled dark hair, and gorgeous rich skin. In other words, it was everything she suddenly knew she needed - in the form of this tall, dark stranger. He was the man from before?

What… in heaven?

She stumbled, nearly knocked over by a bicyclist. And then, in her haste, almost tripping over a child running by. That and her weakened knees made for a poor combination. He took her by the arms to hold her up. Now smiling down at her, as if he had just haggled his way into scooping up a true gem. And not an uncharacteristically clumsy and frazzled girl. He slowly fingered a lock of dark hair that had escaped her braid. He tucked it behind her ear and replaced her hood. In all that, it had drifted down off her head.

That hardly mattered. His hands… She had never felt a touch like this. They presented promises of palaple pleasure. They were like satisfaction and sinfulness simultaneously. Somehow softness, roughness, and intense warmth all rolled together.

“Tueal maei rja'a” he murmured to her. The deep blue-violet eyes widened.

That voice.

That irresistible voice.

She was hypnotized.

Raven was powerless to do anything, but exactly what he said. And right now, he was requesting her to follow him. He held out a hand to her. She peered down at it, already knowing she wanted to go wherever he wanted to go. His calloused hand enveloping her own completely. Pulling her along gently, to lead her somewhere.

Anywhere.

They walked together in silence, with the noises around them slowly winding down to a muted backdrop. They were no longer out of the middle of the market. He had led her to a spot that was much more secluded. And more scenic. It was a lovely hideaway. He stood with her under an arch in a stone wall. One in a line of three. They were gorgeously carved with trefoil details. But she barely noticed anything other than what was standing underneath them. He was a stunning vision all by himself. Raven stared at the stranger in black for several moments, unable to say anything.

The man understood. He closed his eyes with a small smile.

His tan hand reached out for her hand and he pressed it to his broad chest. “Ismii… Damian.” He said in his deep, accented voice.

Raven bit her lip. Completely taken aback. By his boldness. By her fingers caress of the outline of his skin. She had never had an introduction like this before, and certainly not with anyone like him. She blushed, but followed his lead.

And her quivering palm grasped his own to shake it. Curious forest spheres observed her, silently encouraging her. She paused before she gave in completely. And placed his large hand right above her chest. “Raven… Ismii… Raven.”

“Rrrr-aven…”

A throaty, trill of tongue. A deep, full-bodied rendition of her name. That rendered both her mind and body, utterly useless. Her petite form trembled. An already rapid heartbeat was threatening to burst right out of her chest as it echoed in her eardrums.

She had never known her name could sound…

Like that.

“Naäam…” she agreed, in a daze.

And then, he repeated it.

“Rrraven?”

Oh…

His hand.

She forgot about his hand. That he could feel… her heart. Damian reached up and clutched her face tenderly. Searching. Eyeing her closely - clearly concerned that if her heart was beating so unnaturally fast, she wasn’t alright.

Funny, she had never felt more alive. Being in this city.

And now being in this city with him.

She was far better than she had been in a long time.

“I’m okay.” she murmured.

Although, him being that close to her, smelling the way he did and looking the way he did. She wouldn’t be for long.

He seemed to accept this and nodded slowly. And then, the deeply tanned man noticed their proximity as well. She was sure her entire body was bright scarlet. He smiled, brushing her cheek with a rough thumb. Her lips trembled and her heart still had not ceased the erratic beating.

She realized as she said this, that it was to herself, more than anything. “I’m… okay…”

Still gazing at him as if she couldn’t believe it. With her huge eyes, half-lidded.

A treasure she hadn’t expected to find. One she could never buy.

A miraculous moment in the market.

With a spell-binding stranger.

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theashofwkm · 5 years ago

Text

Burning Ire

Summary: In which Abe is reborn to shed his lawful role and hunt for revenge instead of justice.

Prompt: Goretober, Rebirth

Warnings: cursing, anger, smoking, murder mention, jail mention, gunshot mention, blood mention, brief mention of Abe wishing to kill/torture William and Mark but no details, Abe trying to solve a case with little luck

Note: in regards to the prompt this kinda sucks, but, I tried. enjoy. day one of Goretober is a go, but how long will I be able to keep it up for? also I’m sorry for the lack of a read more, it’s not working and i don’t know how to fix it.

———

Abe is angry, burning.

His heart throbs and his hands shake and he bleeds betrayal. The bullet sits in his chest, crafted from false pretenses and forged in a tower of lies.

William had betrayed him, had betrayed them. He’d pulled the trigger, not one or twice, but thrice. Three shots, three bullets, three distinct bodies that didn’t simply fall dead.

Mark had died, but wasn’t dead. A docile threat for the moment, off licking his wounds. You— The DA, was gone. They had disappeared, vanished. Poof, a bullet to your gut and suddenly you live only in memory with no body and no corpse. And him — Abe. Alive, bleeding, angry.

Angry and starving for revenge, justice. None of this would have happened if William wasn’t so fucking goddamned trigger happy.

But it’s okay.

Abe was a detective, a policeman. This is what he did. Search for justice, carry it out, and return home to sleep soundly in his bed. This case was a little different, but still the same. Find William, pull his own trigger, and get a good nights rest.

He drags himself to his feet, groaning and stumbling as he clenches his hand to his chest. Blood slips between his fingers, soaking his shirt, dripping to the floor. He’d better get patched up first.

He stops by his office, not his home, or his workplace, but the small space he rents out to work in peace, away from noisy coworkers and pointless gossip. He stitches himself shut, fishes out the bullet himself and gets to work. Putting in a call to his coworkers, he orders them to come to him with any possible information on William.

Other then what he already has, of course. It turns out to be useful, that Mark had hired him to look over the attendance list before the party. He just needed to sort through it. The tower of files sits on his desk, off centered and messy.

Time to get started.

Hours drag, Abe peering at black words on white paper and marking down anything that comes to mind. He scribbles notes in the margins of the paper and scratches anything important onto the chalkboard, pinning essential bits onto the cork board and tying them together with string, framing the photo pinned to the center.

‘’

Fist slammed against the wall, Abe curses, “damn it.” The bricks don’t relent, standing tall and useless as he idles in an intersection of back streets. Turning on his heel, he slinks back to his office, pulling his vape from his pocket and huffing it in disappointment. He was so close to catching him.

Angrily, he crosses out a name on the board, ‘Waldorf Juniper’. He’d caught him, chased him and lost him. He’d get him next time.

‘’

He’s angry with himself. Furious.

Mark had hired him to do a lesser job, one beneath him in every way and because he was his friend, he’d done it. Part of him itches to find Mark, hunt him down like a rabid animal and get his fingers on his throat. Part of him wants Mark dead, for if he didn’t do that job, he wouldn’t be on a case he still hasn’t solved.

Hell, it wasn’t even a case. He was a detective, he was supposed to be ordered by his superiors, handed a file with a dead body and he was supposed to hunt its killer. That was his job and what he was doing now wasn’t.

It was just a stupid play for revenge.

If his superiors could see him now, he’d be fired. Disgraced. All because of William J. Barnum and his fucking trigger finger.

He has things he’d like to do to that finger, things that would land him in a jail cell. In that way, it’s good that he hasn’t found William yet. He was going to tear him apart, rip out his insides and torture the reasons out of him.

It was unethical, but he couldn’t care less about ethics and laws. He cared about finding William, making him pay, and then making him dead. Very, very dead.

He wonders when he became alright with murder — he puts people who think so away, he doesn’t become one of them. Then he remembers.

Uniformed photo of William on the wall, Abe remembers why. He’d killed their friends. He was alone now. A shut-in obsessed with work. William— hunting him was all he had now. He owed it to Mark and he owed it to Damien and Celine and you. Everyone at that damned party was innocent and if Abe has to break a few laws and become a criminal to enact his justice, then so be it.

‘’

He drives, car rumbling beneath him and cigarette dangling delicately from his fingers. The road stretches endlessly, passing beneath him and offering the same sights.

William is out there somewhere, giddily happy and partying. Enjoying his life, the music, the partygoers. Enjoying everything he shouldn’t have anymore.

He should be rotting. Dressed drably behind bars and paying for his sins. He was a murder and a liar and a heartless backstabber. He’d known Mark since they were children and that hadn’t stopped him from pulling the trigger.

If it was the last thing he did, he was going to make William pay.

‘’

“What?” Abe bites the word into the phone receiver harshly, teeth clenched and breath bated.

“Drop the investigation,” his boss says drolly, though with a measure of force. “We need you on more relevant cases.”

Abe stands, chair bashing against the wall. “More relevant cases? Barnum killed two people and shot me!”

“And where,” his boss’ voice comes out hard now, demanding respect, “has that gotten you?”

He flounders, gazing at the folders strewed across his desk, the filing cabinet stuffed with even more, the names and locations scrawled across the chalkboard. “I just ran into him,” he says, eyes pinched as he struggles for details. “He was hiding out in a cabin, I almost got him, but...” He trails off, brows together as he searches through his memory, cramming the phone into his ear via his shoulder to allow him to flip through a folder frantically.

“But what, Abraham?”

“He was in... Morocco,” he says, trailing over the word, photo of William perched in the corner, grinning stupidly, mockingly.

“There aren’t cabins in Morocco.”

“He was going under a new name. Uhh,” he scans the chalkboard. “Lord Waldo. No. Wally Jibbles? Butterfield? Wendy Jewel?” These names, he’s written them down, but when? In his handwriting, unfamiliar names are scrawled.

“Which was it?”

“I... I had him,” Abe says, “he was right there and I was close to actually catching him this time. I swear!”

His boss sighs. “Do you know how many times you’ve said that now?”

Abe ticks the fingers on his hands, mouthing them silently and struggling to remember each encounter before he’s cut off.

“Too damn many. Pick up another case or don’t bother coming in.” Abe closes his eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface.

A sigh, fabric ruffling. “Look, you’re a good detective, Abe, but we need you solving cases.”

The click and static prompts him to shove the phone back into the receiver. “Damn it,” he curses, fist slammed against his desk.

‘’

He was a weekend away from losing his job.

It’s unfair. He’d spent months, years, building up respect and getting the best solve rate in his department. Then Mark had asked for a favor — one that was far beneath his station, he’d stopped doing the grunt work of background checks after he was promoted. But Mark was his friend, and he was asking nicely, so he did it anyways and it ended horribly.

With bodies dropped and no killer behind bars or in the ground. A killer walking free, and him being ordered to stop chasing it’s fleeting scent. Like he was a dog chasing nothing more than a damn squirrel.

He was a detective, for crying out loud, the best one in the city. He wasn’t going to drop a case because of a few dead ends and false leads. William wouldn’t get away with this.

Even if he had to throw away years worth of work. William wasn’t special, he didn’t get a pardon just because he was a slippery bastard. No. He’d get caught and he’d be punished and then Abe will finally be able to get a night of sleep.

Until then, he just had to keep working. Researching and chasing and hunting. Eventually, he’d have to catch up. God have mercy when he did.

———

Masterlist

Well dang. This feels like a part one, where part two is just Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache, doesn’t it? Hope you liked it! I had literally no idea what to title it.

TAGGING: @pleaseletthisjimbetaken @electricprincess888 @berrie-b @mackenziplier @gerardwayslips @risiskifi @cawestad @theinvisiblespoon @californiakxng @just-another-starfish @superawesomeamazingname @moonstonefox12 @bones-and-tomes @am-i-heaven-or-am-i-hell @itsbumblebunnybee @noisyfreakpersonlover @nightmarejim @schuyleryette @withjust-a-bite @statictay @muraae @harmonyofstars @cosmic-frapuccino @jmweezy (tags are open)

#theashwrites #my writing #theashangst #wkm fic #writeblr #wkm angst #wkm abe #wkm detective #abe is an angry boy #wkm william #wkm mark #fruitless pursuit #i had no idea what to title this #tw gunshot #tw blood #tw smoking

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gypsysouladventr-blog · 8 years ago

Text

I was quite surprised when I arrived in Morocco, how modern it looked, and that it actually had night clubs, casinos and bars. The buildings reminded me of those you find in New Mexico in the United States. The flat topped roofs, and all the buildings were a Clay Red color adorned with embrasures that are distinctly Moroccan with a touch of Moorish influence on them.

The air here is warm and dry, but I could see that the people knew how to dress for the weather when it gets extremely hot here. In the winter months (Nov-Feb) Average Highs are 73F (23C)-68F (20C), for the Summer months (March-October) it can range anywhere from 110F (39C)-to a cooler 77F (25C); so the best times to visit are really in March, April and October — if you are like me and have a hard time in the hotter weather. The humidity is not as bad here as it is in Rabat or the coastal cities, so expect it to be more of a drier climate. Nights can be relatively cool, but never reaching below 42F, and rarely going above 70F. For this reason, this is a city that is much livelier at night, and sleeps in til around 11am. If you are an early riser, I suggest you grab something to snack on for breakfast, unless you are ok with having brunch.

I stayed in an apartment on Geliz street, a main thoroughfare of Marrakech. It had nice furnishings, a great AC, hot shower, washer, and a refrigerator with a working flat screen TV. There are other apartments & guest houses on this street that are a great location, typically have security at the door for you to check in with & prevent anyone who shouldn’t be coming to see you from even entering the building. I mistakenly went to the wrong elevators, and before the doors even opened, the security guard led me to the correct elevators. It was nice to know that they were actually just doing their job, and not watching television while on duty. The apartment was quiet (for a city apartment). Just realize the construction in Morocco doesn’t use insulation like America does, so you will hear the chairs above you, or doors closing in the hallway — but conversations not as much, only if the people above you are talking quite loud. Most of the buildings are cement. This helps cut costs for cooling and such as most of the nights are cool and it helps retain that coolness throughout the day.

If you are looking to stay at a fancier hotel (note: I am not sponsored to say this) – this one is a great location, with super nice and traditional Moroccan Décor. Typically you cannot enter places like this unless you are either a hotel guest, or have a reservation. We just politely asked the security guards and they let us in to take a look around & encouraged the photos 🙂

The best way to find these guest houses is either through booking.com, or Avito. If you have a local guide with you, they will likely have a friend or two that has a guest house you could use, that you will likely get a great deal on as well.

Breakfast, as I mentioned is taken late in the evening. Most people sit out on the patio, and I would say about 1/2 of them typically smoke. There is not etiquette here like in the States regarding second-hand smoke, so don’t be offended or give dirty looks if someone next to you is smoking like chimney, I don’t think the effects of second-hand smoke is widely discussed in the population in Morocco. Just ask to move to another table upwind 🙂 Eggs are great here, and Moroccan “bacon” is actually shredded beef (and its delicious). Olives are common pre-meal ‘appetite openers’, and given that I am not much of an olive fan, I became an olive fan here. The black ones are the best, with a little bit of the cheese on it. I don’t really know what most of the food I ate here was, I only know that 99% of it was fantastic & so delicious I want to go back just to have seconds 😉 If you have any allergies to particular foods, or aversions to particular foods, make sure you write them down on a pad of paper in either Arabic or French (if you can’t write Arabic, then take a screen shot and have it on hand when ordering). For example I would just show them the photo for Paviron Rouge (Red Peppers), and then say La, and grab my stomach and make a very pained face. This got the message across, and I never had a problem. If I tried to say it, it never got the message across. But for those Moroccans who do speak French, most of them know what Allergia (Allergy) means.

I was able to visit the Atlas Mountains while in Marrakech, and they are much taller than I imagined, we were there when it was slightly cloudy, so it was difficult to get a decent picture of them.

But they are well worth the visit, as there are cafe’s where you can literally sit in the middle of a river and drink the classic Moroccan Mint Tea from a Berber. I also was able to have an interview with a Berber man in the mountains, check out that interview on our YouTube channel “Gypsy Soul Adventure”, where I was able to be humbled by this man who was attempting to provide for TWO families, was an Immam to his city (a Muslim religious leader in the community), and was so happy and kind and tried to give me a necklace for free for buying 3 of them.

I couldn’t take the free necklace, but those necklaces are now the most prized possession I have with me from that trip (along with my sandals that I will tell you about later)– mostly because of the story behind the person I received it from. I realize I take WAY too much for granted in my life, and need to be more grateful for everything I do have. Its easy to fall into the trap of ‘need, need, need’ and/or ‘want, want, want’. There are so many people who are happy in this world just literally by being able to put food in their children’s mouths, or give everything they have and are just to be able to send them to school.

Next we went to the Menara Gardens and Pavillion , we visited these on our way out to the Atlas Mountains. There are fish there that are fun to feed, and men playing gimbri’s. It doesn’t have the pizzaz that other places inside Marrakech do, but if you think about how amazing it is that someone built this place in the 12th century, explore the nooks and crannies of the building, and realize that this was a place of gathering, reflection, and a place to get away from the busy city rhythm, then I think you may appreciate just how incredible it is that something built so long ago is still standing today.

In addition to that, the Olive Trees surrounding this place are actually cultivated and olives gleaned and given to the poorer areas of the region for the people to have a source of income. If you go there and expect to see a lush garden with lots of photo ‘ops’ then this is probably not the place for you.

But if you go realizing that this was actually built by the Sultan in the early Saadi dynasty; who increased his power by controlling a water source & did I mention it was built in the 12th Century! Then you may appreciate this place of reflection and peace. Make sure to go in the morning, as this can get quite hot here. Plus its free to get in here 🙂

We attempted to get into Jardin Marjorelle, but the line was literally around the block, its not free, and it was starting to get really warm and we had to drive to Essouira so I nixed that plan and decided to head to Essouira. Some may be shocked I didn’t take the opportunity to do this, but you have to understand, I’m not a ‘crowd’ or super touristy area kind of person, I like the places where the local people go. I like to get to know what makes the people in a particular city peaceful, and how they live their life. I’m not really into posing or getting that perfect Instagram photo that takes 20 minutes out of your day, but I could talk to stranger in a strange land (at least strange to me) for hours about their story, and how they approach their problems that life throws at them etc….etc…. But for those of you who like to see these places, then I would suggest the Jardin Majorelle, Bahia Palace as well as the Ben Youssef Madrasa. These are beautiful places that command a certain amount of respect with any photo you take.

I did go to Jamaa el-fna, or the famous Medina in Marrakech whose vibe changes from day to night and so do the shops. El-fna actually means (to some) Armeggedon, or the Assembly of the dead, or Mosque at the End of the World. It has a lot of different meanings, and has been used for many different things throughout the centuries. In 1050 AD it was actually used for public executions, then it was renovated along with much of the city after the Almohads took over in 1147 AD; and after many rises and falls was eventually turned into a thriving market that both local and tourists visit.

During the day you can find orange juice stalls, Leather, Barbary apes you can hold, snake charmers (yes really, and just like you see in the movies), the shops are all open, the smell of spices and dates and olives fill the air. This particular spice shop featured above actually had a traditional sinus cleansing ‘spice’ that was placed in a small cup of hot water, and I’m telling you, I was still smelling that stuff about 20 minutes later. I figure it must be what they use in smelling salts because it was pretty potent. I don’t know what the name of it was, but it actually looked like small clear white crystals, that when placed in hot water puts out an even more potent smell. I found it fascinating that most of the people in Morocco actually found Americans to be overmedicated, they feel that the pharmacy industry was actually making people in America sicker than helping them heal. So places like this spice shop, actually double as a sort of apothecary that gives locals traditional ways of healing common ailments. Very interesting to me, as I work in the medical field; and yet I disagreed with this thought as well, as one of my traveling companions shared that his brother actually passed away from an Asthma attack. Something that would have been so simple to remedy, if they had the appropriate medicine. It made me sad that there wasn’t more public knowledge about simple medications like this.

Then as the sun sets, the shops close, and the traditional dancing Berber men with their twirling hats come in, Moroccan lanterns are lit with tiny candles, the smell of meat fills the air with smoke wafting above the square and can make you salivate to partake of it even if you are still a mile from the square.

There is also an abundant flowing of Moroccan Mint tea of course, the best way to enjoy the square is on a Café Terrace overlooking the square. This way you are not hounded by the dancing Berber men wanting to put a hat on your head and take a photo for $2-$3.

If you take a photo, or get excited about a particular item you wish to purchase, it will likely cost you money in this place. As opposed to during the day, where locals come to buy supplies at the Souk’s (traditional North African Market) where bartering is expected & the craftsman that make the traditional souvenirs will likely cost you much less if you go directly to them.

Where do you find the craftsmen? They are usually along the side alleys, that you may have to duck around some of the souvenirs that the shop owners use to hide the view of these side streets. They are so kind, and so helpful and really would do anything to help you out; BUT most of the time they don’t speak English, so if you have a guide with you, they can help translate for you, and it makes it totally worth it. I had some sandals custom made for me for $15 & I loved every second of it. It really made me feel so special that someone would go to that length and take such pride in making me something like that, just because it would feel better to walk in, with my bad feet. I can’t tell you how much that touched my heart.

This little guy really touched my heart so much. Just the look on his face, the innocence and being able to catch that unguarded moment, where he just is enjoying being with his brothers. His brothers, who had been doing this for the last 17 years, told me that the shop belonged to their father, and this father before him. And it is a huge traditional thing to actually, as the Moroccan say, “follow in the footsteps of your father”, where typically these shops are handed down for generations at a time, or given to close family members to run the business and carry-on.

Overall, I found Marrakech very fancy, very modern & full of interesting stories and history. Because it is a tourist hub for both the world and Morocco, I was ready to leave after about 3 days; but definitely would love to go back for a visit, if only to participate more in the festivities of Jamaa el-fna; and would likely spend a few days camping up with the Berber people in the High Atlas Mountains as they are able to tell you the stories of their ancestors who have been there since the beginning of time. If you have any questions about where to visit, where to stay, and how to get around in Marrakech feel free to email me at [email protected]

The Sin City of Morocco…Marrakech. Tips for those traveling here. I was quite surprised when I arrived in Morocco, how modern it looked, and that it actually had night clubs, casinos and bars.

#berber #Berber people #Gardens of Marrakech #Jamaa el-fna #Marrakech #People of the Atlas Mountains #sin city #Sin city of Morocco #solo travel #solo travel in morocco #travel addict #travel blog #Traveling in Morocco #wanderlust #weather in Marrakech #What to expect in Marrakech #What to pack???

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drarryspecificrecs · 6 years ago

Photo

H/D Travel Fair 2010 : (fics only)

hd-fan-fair || official masterpost || AO3 || ∑= 48 fics + 14 arts The Mods : ineffably_roma, jamie2109, @marguerite26, @vaysh11 Banner © : sunshee's Landed (Cambodia)

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★ Travel Itinerary

Adrift in a Sea of Paper Lanterns by dadomz & i_l0ve_my_az [G, 7k] *not on AO3 China

All Inclusive by bleedforyou1 [E, 15k] Various

But We'll Always Have Paris by okydoky [E, 25k] France

The Cold of An Early Winter's Chill by @fuwafuwafic [M, 6k] Time travel

Dream A Little Dream by auntpurl [M, 6k] *not on AO3 Draco Malfoy’s mind

Exiled by gryffindorJ [E, 16k] Spain

Five Days in Denmark by jtsbbsps_dk [E, 10k] Denmark

Go Send Me Your Heart by @asoftersuits [T, 6k] USA

The French Connection by @stripedsilverfeline [M, 27k] France

The Happy Place by hdwriter [T, 5k] *not on AO3 Canada

Harry and Draco’s Excellent Adventure by huntingsnarks [G, 9k] *not on AO3 Time travel

The Haumiaroa Magical Society for the Conservation of Indigenous Wildlife by musamihi [T, 15k] *not on AO3 New Zealand, Peru

The Heart of Hogwarts by @penmaries [T, 17k] AU travel

Hogwarts State of Mind by leo_draconis [E, 19k] *not on AO3 AU Hogwarts

The Incredible Race by @dysonrules [M, 50k] All over the world

La Isla Bonita by @noeeon [E, 9k] *not on AO3 The Canaries

Le Beau Monsieur sans Amour by pearljamz [G, 1k] *not on AO3 France

A Lesson in Love and Ice Cream by protegonox [E, 17k] *not on AO3 Canada

Let’s Rejoice in the Beautiful Game (and Together at the End of the Day) by @nursedarry [E, 9k] London, Wiltshire, Luxembourg, Tanzania, Tasmania, Peru, Bulgaria

Medicine For The Soul by fantasyfruitbat [E, 7k] *not on AO3 Egypt

Ministry Ordered Exile by Byaghro & @dysonrules [T, 4k] Finland

The Most Miserable Place on Earth by @khasael [M, 17k] *not on AO3 USA

Of Aurors, Mirrors, and Mysteries by AylaPascal [E, 37k] Camelot (from the BBC TV show Merlin)

Our Lives Entwined by paddynmoon [M, 6k] *not on AO3 Scotland

Owlcards and Letters from Beyond the Storm by @potteresque-ire [M, 3k] Luxor/Cairo, Egypt; Xi’An, China; Alexandria, Egypt; Sudak, Ukraine; Sarnath, India

Planes, Champagnes, and Chocolate-Chip Pancakes by lotus_lizzy [E, 11k] *not on AO3 Airplane-travel: London to New York City

Poisoned Apples, or, The Four Things Harry and Draco Learned in New York City by maja_li [T, 2k] *not on AO3 USA

Potter's Lock by wemyss [T, 35k] *not on AO3 Britain

Red Lights, Soft Nights by mindabbles [E, 20k] *not on AO3 Thailand

Sæglópur by @femmequixotic [E, 34k] Iceland

Sakura by xerised [T, 8k] *not on AO3 Japan

Second Chances by dylansbuzz [M, 8k] *not on AO3 Netherlands

Second Most Haunted by enchanted_jae [T, 2k] *not on AO3 USA

The Seven Deathly Sins by daniko [M, 16k] Wales

The Spider and the Moth by @marguerite26 [E, 10k] Morocco

Tag Along by st4r_pl314d3s [G, 4k] *not on AO3 USA

Take These Lies by white_serpent [M, 34k] Various, mostly Alaska

There's nothing you can do that can't be done by sirona [T, 10k] Europe: UK, Time travel

This Business of Being by cleodoxa [M, 22k] Doctor Who, the 18th century

This Could Be Home, This Could Be Love, This Could Be Family by crazyparakiss [E, 15k] *not on AO3 USA

Torn Are the Soft Ties by sashaminx [E, 20k] *not on AO3 USA

Unsinkable by commas_and_ampersands [E, 42k] 1912 on the R.M.S. Titanic

Watch time fall apart by @ischa-posts [M, 5k] Time travel

Where the Shore Ended and the Sea Began by penguin474 [M, 17k] *not on AO3 Finistère (France), seafronts of Sicily, Greece, Ireland

Why Is Parchment Like a Boomerang? by @joanwaterhouse [T, 3k] Wonderland (from Lewis Carroll - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Wild Hearts by silenceberry [T, 1k] *not on AO3 USA

A Wizard Road Trip... The Muggle Way by tinarebekka [T, 13k] Germany

The World Without by emerald_dragon8 [M, 7k] *not on AO3 USA

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✔ other lists

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #masterlist #2010

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stylinsonlibrary · 6 years ago

Photo

FASHION AU FIC REC: fics where Louis, Harry, or both are involved in the fashion industry in some capacity.

Just For Me (9k) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

(They do.)

i'm stuck to your shoe, let's run (9k) Louis hates his job and Harry really lives up to his last name. (or, Louis sells men’s shoes, Harry is a rather famous fashion blogger, and they’re brought together by a gaudy pair of boots.)

Just Walk My Way (10k) Louis is a Victoria's Secret Angel, and Harry is the main act of the night.

Paper Houses (11k) “Who is that?” He hisses.

Zayn holds up a hand to stop Louis from speaking any further.

The voice on the other end of the phone continues. “Then, he saw a photo of him on Insta with his little sister and brother, and he was so gone, dude. He basically demanded that I find Louis for him! And he’s never demanded anything from me ever !”

“Pshhhh, Louis’ been jerking off to Harry for years--”

Louis dives from his place on the couch to sprawl across Zayn’s desk, snatching the phone up. There are loud noises coming from the other end of the phone as Louis shouts into it. “Who is this? Zayn has no idea what he’s talking about--”

Someone on the other end has begun shouting into the phone at the same time. “I never demanded anything--” When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything. He definitely never suspects he will fall so hard and so fast for Harry Styles. When reality begins to interfere, their relationship is put to the test.

Tease (12k) AU. Louis Tomlinson, actor and movie star, is wildly in love with his boyfriend, supermodel Harry Styles. Their relationship is lovely and unlike any Louis has ever had before, which makes the surprise of Harry's newest interest that much more intriguing.

If You Ever Want To Be In Love (12k) Louis is a model. Harry is an up-and-coming singer/songwriter. They haven't seen each other in nearly two years.

You're Either In Or You're Out (12k) Louis' tone is maybe a bit harsher than necessary, but he still stinging from the suggestion that he was staring at Harry. Sure, the way his legs are encased in those skinny jeans is mildly intriguing. But Louis is here to be the next Top Designer, and he'll be damned if he lets a pretty boy with a sinful mouth get in the way of his dream. Especially if that sinful mouth is spewing phrases like bohemian pantsuit. Honestly.

Or the one where Louis tries out for Project Runway, Harry is his stupidly gorgeous competitor, Liam is Tim Gunn, Zayn is the supermodel host, and Niall is the guest judge who knows nothing about fashion.

Overwhelming (13k) He groans and squints at the feet of whoever he’s bumped into. All he sees is a worn pair of tan boots that lead up into a pair of long, long legs. He sits up, sighing, and rubs at his eyes; there’s a hand in front of his face so he grabs it and allows this stranger to help him up.

He blinks once, twice, and can’t believe his bad fucking luck, because of course he slammed his entire body into a pretty stranger. Not only that but—he smells the air once to confirm his suspicions—a pretty, sweet-smelling, alpha stranger. Fantastic.

Pretty stranger opens his mouth. “I didn’t concuss you, did I?”

Louis is an omega attending university to get his degree and most definitely not waste his time with unimportant things such as finding a mate. Harry is the alpha who manages to unwittingly mess up that plan.

More Than Anything (13k) Being able to see through the eyes of your soulmate may seem like a dream come true to many, but reality proves a little more complicated. For two young boys it's all they could ever wish for but as time passes by they come to realise that there's no pain quite the same as longing to have someone who just isn’t there.

Put It All On Me (15k) "Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

Found My Missing Piece (16k) “@harrystyles followed you.”

“@harrystyles liked your tweet.”

“What?” He whispers in astonishment, because there’s no way. But he clicks on Harry’s profile and sure enough, the little grey “follows you” appears by his name. After taking a second to just stare at the screen, he quickly takes a screenshot and sends it to his sister. Lottie is one of the few people who would understand his shock. Niall would certainly just make fun of him for it.

Louis and Harry are both fashion bloggers. Louis' been following Harry for years. Harry and his blog really gave him the confidence and the push to make his own. His sister and best friend have been making fun of his silly little crush on him ever since. But that's all it is, a silly, harmless crush because there is no way Harry knows who he is. Or does he?

swimming in a champagne sea (16k) Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Make a Dime Go One Hundred (17k) “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.

“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”

Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.

If You Wanna Try Me On (18k) To be fair, Harry’d been half asleep when Niall convinced him to put in his CV in the first place. Like, Harry wants to be a proper serious journalist--he’s not about to give up that dream in favour of becoming a personal assistant at a fashion magazine, or...whatever. Harry’s not actually all that sure what Tomlinson Styles even is, beyond his ticket to fame or any of the other things Niall’d spouted off at him, but when he shows up for the interview and is unceremoniously shoved into an office with the Tomlinson part of that equation, all Harry can really think about is that he would like to be a Tomlinson-Styles.

...or the Devil Wears Prada AU that no one wanted. Sort of.

Life At Shutter Speed (20k) AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Three French Hems (20k) In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

you think fashion is your friend, my friend (fashion is danger) (27k) "Louis has one rule, and one rule only, that he simply refuses to break. He forbids himself to be attracted to anyone he might work with. No wanking to models who might wear his clothes! It’s hardly fair, considering he spends 95% of his time working with the most attractive men on the planet, but his career is more important. Besides, in Louis’ experience, it always leads to disaster. Harry Styles makes respecting the rule really damn hard though and Louis is not quite sure why."

the one where Louis is a famous British designer and Harry is the clumsy, most likely straight model that makes his heart race.

sweet, where you lay (27k) Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-eight year old successful actor living in New York. Harry Styles is a twenty year old up and coming model and coincidentally also the one who turns Louis’ world completely upside down.

or, Louis is Zachary Quinto and Harry is Miles McMillan. Falling in love was always in the cards for them.

But Why Wonder, Why Wonder? (30k) The one where Marcel Styles has improbably landed a job in the fashion industry, and Louis Tomlinson is the actor-turned-lingerie-designer he’s been infatuated with for years.

These Constant Stars (31k) Louis’ career has nowhere to go but up. He’s living at the height of New York City on the precipice of an epic promotion. Life is good and only getting better. And then one day, things turn disastrous.

This is a story about life, death, and punk rockers turned guardian angels.

Promises We Made (35k) Its been five years since Harry and Louis broke up; they were seventeen and nineteen and it was messy to say the least. Cue Louis, who is worked off his feet making clothes for celebrities, Harry dropping his debut album, Niall who likes to avoid his insecurities by dragging Louis on Holiday, Zayn and Perrie as Louis' right hand stylists, and Liam who wishes Harry would just tell him about his ex-boyfriends before he contacts them about working for him.

Its either going to be a disaster, or the perfect timing they've all been waiting for.

football/designer (series; 2 works; 39k) Louis Tomlinson is an English fashion designer. Harry Styles is an American football player.

everywhere (i wanna be with you) (42k) Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

to kill the mess we've made (43k) And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

Why Can't It Be Like That (63k) Louis Tomlinson, head of his local hospital's charity fund, suddenly finds himself in the heart of the Royal family when his mother marries the third son of the reigning monarch. Such an upset in lifestyle brings a lot of changes for Louis, one of them being the need for a stylist.

Enter Harry Styles, a cutting edge fashion stylist who loves his job and prides himself on his passion. The first time he sees Louis Tomlinson on the cover of a tabloid he wants to dress him, style him, make him as beautiful as Harry knows he could be. When he's hired to do just that, he knows this will be a perfect partnership. That is, until he actually meets the man.

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

In This Light (99k) Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

dusted in gold (series; 2 works; 100k) Harry’s an A-list supermodel, Louis’s his make-up artist boyfriend. They’re something of a dream team.

Dress you up in my love (103k) Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall's bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself.   Harry is a lawyer whose boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for.

Featuring: Sophia as Louis' colleague, with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with his love life, whilst being oblivious when it comes to her own. Liam as the ‘IT bloke from downstairs’ with the mother of all crushes on Sophia. Niall as Harry's sport's writer flatmate who spends most of his time making Harry's life as complicated as possible. Zayn as Louis’ flatmate and lifelong best friend, whose cat, Noodle/Princess/Princess Noodle loves Louis more than it loves him. And Nick as Harry's boss and one of Louis' regular customers: is Imelda Marcos reborn.

In Vogue (121k) 'Is that why David Beckham has been featured multiple times on the pages of your life's work? Does your criteria seriously consist of one thing – a man's ass?'

'Well the ass is a man's best asset,' Harry smirks, holding the Martini glass high up his face. 'And don't call the magazine my life's work. There are far more important things in life, Louis Tomlinson, than what's printed on the pages of a magazine.'

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry's running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis' confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story.

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay (134k) A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Have Faith In Me (183k) As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting...

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Fading (202k) Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is. [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder]

#larry fic rec #larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic rec #fashion fic rec #fashion #masterpost

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poetryforplebs · 6 years ago

Text

“Mrs. Olympé, you often speak of the state of children’s education. What could you suggest for the city’s education crisis?”

Soft laughter.

“My dear Mr. Anderson,” the woman—moonlight pale, with matching pearly whites—murmured, head dipping forward to speak into the microphone, “The problem with modern education is that it relies on a formula that was created to train factory workers, not independent thinkers. Indeed, Mr. Olmypé and I always encourage the children to indulge themselves in curiosity. If there’s anything we should question about this nation, it would be its lack of questions.”

“If you do not get down here in ten seconds and I have to come up and get you, I can promise you, you will not like what greets you,” came the dulcet threat at the foot of the stairs.

Artemis leaned back in her chair to peek at her stepmother. Her dinner dress was a deep emerald green, offset by her copper hair.

“One—”

It made sense that the family was wealthy, Artemis figured. She elbowed Apollo to stop playing with his napkin ring. Olympé Enterprises was now a global power, especially since the advent of its technology department. Still, Artemis would never have guessed this kind of wealth, the kind in which Hera changed for the evening meal, in a million years.

“Four—”

Well, maybe in a million years. Hera seemed like the kind of person to insist on ceremony, if the current countdown was anything to go on.

“Seven—”

Athena had told her that Hera was from Georgia, and prided herself on being a Proper Southern Lady. She had said it derisively, but Artemis didn’t know enough about geography to really form an opinion. That wasn’t to say she didn’t know her states and capitals (she did, much better than Apollo) but Mama had never taken them out of the city. They knew what they knew, like the corner deli served the best fried pickles and Enrique Delgado could fix up your pipes without you needing to call the plumber and annoy the landlord. She and Apollo had seen stuff on tv, they weren’t idiots, but it’s one thing to see a character and another to be confronted with something you never really expected to meet.

She shifted in the plush seat. It felt more like a dentist’s chair than a place to eat.

“Nine—”

There came a clamor and a tumble and out emerged curly-haired Hermes at the bottom of the stairs. With a brisk command to “clean yourself off,” Hera walked to the head of the table and gracefully sat down. The lace at the bottom of her dress swished like butterfly wings. Not that Artemis thought much of it. Hermes struggled to get into his seat. No one helped him. Eventually he slithered under one of the ornate chair arms and plopped down, beaming with self-satisfaction.

Hera gazed over the children like a glass-eyed vulture, vision sharp enough to peck. “Are we ready, then?”

No one said anything, just began to cross themselves when Hera did.

Except Athena.

“I don’t think I believe in God,” she began.

Hephaestus jerked, staring wide-eyed at her. Not even his mother’s frown could make him look at his plate.

“Oh?”

“I think religion may be a farce entirely, actually,” said Athena.

Hera clasped her hands and said nothing.

“It’s completely illogical,” continued Athena. “Especially Roman Catholicism. It’s all just a ploy to get people to fall in line and worship some guy with made up rules that he probably never even cared about.”

Apollo started playing with the napkin ring again.

“Religion is slavery, the enemy of free thought. It’s been nothing but a blight to the progress of humanity.”

“Thank you,” said Hera, not sounding thankful at all, “for stating your undesired opinion. In the name of the—”

“I haven’t finished,” Athena interrupted. “Religion relies on the sheep-mind mentality, and preys upon the weak. If you truly prized individual thought, like you claim you do to the journalists, then you wouldn’t force us to partake in antiquated forms of superficial worship.”

In the corner of her eye, Artemis saw a hand snake out and snatch one of the bread rolls. She didn’t dare turn to look at her older half-brother, Ares. He had shouted and thrown his Nintendo switch against the wall not just a half-hour ago.

She wrinkled her nose. It really said something about the family’s circumstances if Ares could throw a tantrum and destroy something so expensive just because he lost against Donkey Kong.

Athena was still looking at Hera, expectantly.

Hera opened her mouth. “In the name of the—”

“I think hypocrisy is something like a sin, at least in your religion, wouldn’t you say?”

The beautiful woman gave a short bark of laughter and took up her wine glass.

“After all,” Athena concluded, “the best leadership is done through representation of behavior, so if you’re going to tamp down curiosity and questions, then I don’t see why I should follow your lead and have to pray to your sky fairy.”

Silence.

“Are you done?”

“Not yet. My mother could have been Buddhist. It goes to reason—”

“Metis,” said Hera very calmly and very slowly, as if savoring the name, “was Presbyterian, not that it guided her all that much.”

The table went silent.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” she said, with an edge of a smile, “I knew your mama too. We all worked very hard in that little office to get Olympé Enterprises running. Of course,” and she took another sip, diamond ring sparkling, “I managed not to have an affair with her. Life’s just funny that way.”

Artemis pinched her brother to get him to stop with the napkin ring. He ignored her.

The matriarch set down her wine glass. The overhanging chandelier made the liquid glisten like blood.

“Now that that’s done, let me remind you to please postpone dinner conversation until after grace. In the name—”

“Zeus doesn’t even believe in God,” spat Athena. “He said that, back in Morocco, don’t you remember? Oh wait.” Athena’s gray eyes held a nasty glint of delight. “You weren’t there. What were you doing, Hera? Gardening club? HOA? Taking Hephaestus to his—”

“That’s enough.”

At the mention of his name, Hephaestus went red. Athena stopped. Everyone at the table did their best to ignore his involuntary sniffling, pathetic as it may be. Heph couldn’t help how he was. It just didn’t seem right to call attention to something like that.

“Heph,” whispered Athena. “Heph, I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” ordered Ares. “And you,” he stood, leaning across the table to loom over his only blood brother, “shut up. No one wants to hear your stupid crying.”

“Ares Olympé.”

“It’s true!”

“Stupid,” supplied Hermes helpfully.

“I didn’t mean—“ began Athena.

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up, you big ugly—”

Artemis took a peek at Apollo. He had broken the napkin ring and was trying to hide the evidence.

“It’s just not right! And if any of you weren’t so complacent to go around acting like this is normal, like any of us are—”

“Quiet,” came the commanding snap.

Everyone stilled.

Hera rearranged the cutlery, slender fingers dancing around silver. This took several minutes, and by the time she had arranged it to perfection, the ice had melted in the water pitcher.

“When your father,” Hera began, stressing the proper title, blue eyes looking like a glacier, “returns home and eats at the dinner table, you’ll just have to ask him what he believes should be done. As it is, you are here now, with me, at my dinner table. And at my dinner table, we say grace.”

Hephaestus was still sniffling intermittently.

Hera reached over and brushed her manicured hand over his red curls, but he jerked away from her.

“Don’t,” he said wetly.

Hera closed her eyes. She put her hand back into her lap.

“I think this evening has been rather exciting,” she commented. “In fact, I can see you desire a change of pace. Athena, why don’t you lead us in prayer?”

Athena’s gray eyes stung hatefully. “I don’t—”

“You will.”

No one said a word. It felt like the air had exited the room.

Hera was smiling softly, pearly whites triumphant.

Athena was so angry she looked like she might cry. Artemis swallowed and looked away.

The girl slowly placed her hands together, jaw set. She inhaled bitterly.

“I hate this place,” Apollo whispered.

Artemis couldn’t agree more.

“Bless us, O Lord...”

and that’s the first part of this lovely trash heap. love to all!

#March of Mythology #MoM #stell #The Olympians #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#I worked on it and plagued Hobbs and it’s whatever

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animeraider · 5 years ago

Text

I want to talk to you a moment about fear.

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, and then just as I was about to publish it we had a slew of mass shootings, including one in my own geographical back yard, at a festival I've attended with my family. It seems to me that being afraid of gun violence is the one exception to my entire essay, and it does poke a big hole in it. We can't be afraid to close that hole. So here is that essay. +++++++++++++++++++++ I have said for a very long time now that the only useful place for fear in on Rollercoasters. Maybe horror movies. That it. Nothing else. But I want to dig deeper on that theme for a moment, if you don’t mind.

For getting on close to 2 decades now, there has been a political party in this country that has wanted you to be afraid. Usually it’s to be afraid of Muslims, terrorists, foreigner… anything other. They want you to believe that crime is getting worse. They want you to believe the country is financially unstable. They want you to believe there is a gay agenda that will change your life for the worse. A Trans-gender agenda. An Atheist agenda. A war on Christmas. Fear of packages in the mail. Fear of people in black communities, with their high crime rates. Fear of immigrants and the crime they bring. Fear of cartels and gangs that don’t even have a presence in this country. Fear of the Deficit. Fear that higher taxes will kill the economy. Fear that Iran is building an atomic bomb. Fear that the government will take over your healthcare. Fear that the government will take your guns. Fear that the government will take your freedoms.

This really ramped up after 9/11. I won’t kid you, that was awful. Grotesque. I can remember every damned moment of it – feeling genuinely in shock but being brave for my children, who were frightened out of their wits. Grabbing my children from their schools. Picking up my wife from her teaching job and the protocols that say that teachers needs to stay at their posts can go fuck themselves. Hunkering down and wishing it were all over. Thinking about the flight originally bound by my adopted hometown, and our own skyscrapers. It was awful and it opened a horrific wound.

Thing is, when do we get to heal? Why do we need to stay afraid? How can we possibly heal if we’re still afraid?

I’m asking that all of you please, stop being afraid. We’re not the greatest country in the world anymore but we sure used to be. We dreamed big, accomplished even bigger, and created the world’s next great adventures. We don’t do that anymore.

Fear is holding us back. Fear of the other. Fear of the world and how different it is from us. Yeah, we got hurt, badly hurt, but it’s time to heal. It’s time to stop being afraid to heal. It’s not easy, and I don’t deny that. But let me offer you a few notions about fear that maybe you haven’t considered.

I’m not afraid of Muslims. They’ve been part of this country going back to its very foundation. There are more Muslims in the world than there are Americans and there always has been. 9/11 didn’t change that. We’ve been fine with Muslims. Sharia Law isn’t being introduced anywhere in this country. It’s just not. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying, and wants you afraid. If Muslims were such a big problem why are we as a nation so damned friendly with Saudi Arabia? Senegal? Pakistan? Morocco? Singapore? Egypt? Kuwait? Morocco – the first country to recognize the United States as an independent country (1786), and with whom we maintain the longest single treaty in US History?

A Muslim named Fazlur Tahman Khan (an American) invented the engineering system that allows skyscrapers to be built, including the Twin Towers, Sears Tower in Chicago and even the Trump International Hotel and Tower in the same city. He also built the Metrodome. A Muslim named Ernest Hamwi invented the Ice Cream Cone at the 1904 World’s Fair (Martha Stewart has published his original recipe too).

I’m not afraid of terrorists. I actually know someone who died on 9/11 and I completely understand the anger, the fear. I’ve felt it. It’s a physical thing you can feel and touch. But you know what? The country seems to have learned its lesson about how to anticipate this sort of thing. I’d like to think we can relax now. There are people whose jobs are to be vigilant and they’ve been successful since that awful day 2 decades ago. I think we can relax. And if I’m wrong? What’s the point of dying scared? Laugh at death – it’s going to laugh back. Don’t take life so seriously, it was never meant to be permanent.

I prefer to think of them simply as criminals. In addition to not being afraid, don’t make them important.

I’m not afraid of foreigners. I want to see the world, and see the differences and the similarities in other cultures. I want them to be our partners on this pale blue dot. Being afraid of the rest of the world seems just so… lonely. We’re not built for lonely. You’re here, reading this right now, aren’t you? Lonely makes people into monsters thanks to the echo chamber that is our own brains and we must be better than that.

I’m not afraid of crime. Despite all the crime shows on television, cable and podcast crime is actually way down, and is trending down. Even the FBI says so. I’m not afraid of the country being financially unstable. Yes, we have good days and bad days but overall the country is still the largest economy on the planet and will continue to be for a long time unless we intentionally intervene to make it worse. We have safety nets we didn’t use to have. Social Security isn’t going broke. Nowhere close. We have plenty of money. It does, however, need a slight adjustment in who is holding on to it.

I’m not afraid of gays. For the most part, every gay person, every Trans person I have ever met has wanted only one thing – for everyone else to not care that they’re gay or trans. Or anywhere else on the non-binary spectrum. It doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever. The LGBTQA agenda in schools? Mostly it teaches that it doesn’t matter. Can you stop being afraid of this? Yeah, some religions say that this is a sin but can you stop being afraid of it long enough to take to heart one great lesson in that book of yours? Even if you believe it’s a sin, you love the sinner. That’s it. Stop there. Never, never, never add hate to that. “Love the sinner, Hate the sin” isn’t in the Bible, the Koran or the Torah. Anything further isn’t religion – it’s justifying what you’re afraid of; most likely yourself.

(As a side note, for those of you who use the Bible to justify your fears of these people, I find it hilarious that you keep using the parts of the Bible written by the Romans after they co-opted Christianity. But who am I to judge?)

I’m not afraid of Atheists for the same reason. You know what they want? For everyone else to not push their own agenda on them, just like you don’t want someone else’s agenda forced on you. The Constitution is quite clear on this – no religion will be established by the state. Atheists would like you to support this very American ideal. That’s it.

There is no war on Christmas. There simply isn’t. Atheists exchange gifts too, because it’s nice to do.

I’m not afraid of packages in the mail. Yeah, there was some scary stuff sent out just after 9/11, but the number of people who got those packages/envelopes can be counted on one hand, and it isn’t your hand.

I’m not afraid of black neighborhoods. Crime really isn’t any higher in black neighborhoods than it is in white ones, not when the economics are taken into account. When people have money crime goes down, regardless of the color of one’s skin. Go to any white community where they income levels and cost of living are the same as any similar black neighborhood and you’ll find that the crime rates are just about equal. But the people trying to keep you afraid are white, and black is part of “the other”. There are good people living in those neighborhoods. Kind people. People who would help you.

Stop calling the police on black people. Stop being afraid. Be kind.

I‘m not afraid of immigrants or any crime. Yes, a couple of stories have been sensationalized, but statistically immigrants cause less crime than those of us born here. I’m not afraid of them taking our jobs. If the jobs are there and you want them, apply for them. Those jobs they’re taking are jobs you didn’t want, and they’re there. Immigrants tend to work hard, because they want what we used to be, and what they believe we can still be.

Fear of foreign gangs? Seriously? This might surprise you but MS13 members haven’t been making it across the border. You don’t find them in our detention camps. That’s because they’re not here.

Fear of the deficit? Nope, just can’t do it. Not when the political power who wants you to be afraid stops caring about it when they’re in power, and starts caring about it when they’re not. Besides, when they are it balloons, and when they’re not it decreases. Almost like they’re the cause or something.

I don’t fear higher taxes. Most people simply don’t make enough money where changes in the marginal tax rate will even touch them. Will it destroy the economy? No. The economy could change though. If money gets returned to the lower classes they’ll spend it. The economy should actually get better. The economy was great when Eisenhower was President. When Kennedy was President. We built highways. We went to the moon. You know, when taxes were higher.

Taxes, right now, are lower than they have been in your entire lifetime. Unless you’re over 90 years old.

Iran isn’t building an atomic bomb. They could, if they’re not engaged with. Obama realized this and got them to stop. I’m not afraid on Iran. But some people haven’t recovered from the wound given us in 1979 by Iran. Trump may just be one of them. His National Security Advisor certainly hasn’t.

I don’t fear the government taking over my health care. I’d kind of rather they did so, actually. My mother has Medicare and they’ve treated her better than my doctors sometimes treat me. Her healthcare also costs one hell of a lot less. If we move to a system like the one Canada has then yes, your taxes will be higher. But your healthcare costs will be lower. Much lower than how much your taxes go up. I’d say that’s a trade to not be afraid of.

I don’t fear the government taking your guns. I’d actually be quite happy if they did it but that’s a conversation for another time. It’s simply not going to happen. We do need to have an honest conversation about it though. We’ve lost too many children to guns. Come on people, we can solve this.

There is so much more that people have been trying to make us all afraid of over the past couple of decades. Much more than I could list here. Vaccines, Godless schools, Black people voting, improper birth certificates, QAnon, Impeachment… the list just goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on. I’m not afraid of any of it.

And I’m not afraid of Donald J. Trump. Or Mike Pence. Or Moscow Mitch McConnell.

I’m not afraid of anything. I’m an American. A citizen of what used to be The United States of America. I’d like you to be too.

Being afraid is downright un-American. So stop it. All of you. You can do this.

#policital essay #essay #politics

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amtopmthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

OSCARS

Legenda:

Legenda - Winners I have watched

Legenda - Winners I don’t know of

Legenda - Winners I know of

Legenda - Nominees I have watched

Legenda - Nominees I don’t know of

Legenda - Nominees I know of

1927/28

BEST MOVIE

Wings

The Racket

7th Heaven

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Janet Gaynor:

for her role as Diane Angela, The Wife in 7th Heaven and Street Angel Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans

Louise Dresser:

for her role as Mrs. Pleznik in A Ship Comes In

Gloria Swanson:

for her role as Sadie Thompson in Sadie Thompson

1928/29

BEST MOVIE

The Broadway Melody

Alibi

Hollywood Revue

In Old Arizona

The Patriot

= 0

Mary Pickford:

for her role as Norma Besant in Coquette

Ruth Chatterton:

for her role as Jacqueline Floriot in Madame X

Betty Compson:

for her role as Carrie in The Barker

Jeanne Eagels:

for her role as Leslie Crosbie in The Letter

Corinne Griffith:

for her role as Emma Hamilton in The Divine Lady

Bessie Love:

for her role as Hank Mahoney in The Broadway Melody

1929/30

BEST MOVIE

All Quiet on the Western Front

The Big House

Disraeli

The Divorcee

The Love Parade

= 0

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Jerry Bernard Martin in The Divorcee

Nancy Carroll:

for her role as Hallie Hobart in The Devil’s Holiday

Ruth Chatterton:

for her role as Sarah Storm in Sarah and Son

Greta Garbo:

for her role as Anna Christie/Madame Rita Cavallini in Anna Christie Romance

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Lucia Marlett in Their Own Desire

Gloria Swanson:

for her role as Marion Donnell in The Trespasser

1930/31

BEST MOVIE

Cimarron

East Lynne

The Front Page

Skippy

Trader Horn

= 0

Marie Dressler:

for her role as Min Divot in Min and Bill

Marlene Dietrich:

for her role as Mademoiselle Amy Jolly in Morocco

Irene Dunne:

for her role as Sabra Cravat in Cimarron

Ann Harding:

for her role as Linda Seton in Holiday

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Jan Ashe in A Free Soul

1931/32

BEST MOVIE

Grand Hotel

Arrowsmith

Bad Girl

The Champ

Five Star Final

One Hour with You

Shanghai Express

The Smiling Lieutenant

= 0

Helen Hayes:

for her role as Madelon Claudet in The Sin of Madelon Claudet

Marie Dressler:

for her role as Emma Thatcher Smith in Emma

Lynn Fontanne:

for her role as The Actress in The Guardsman

1932/33

BEST MOVIE

Cavalcade

42nd Street

A Farewell to Arms

I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang

Lady for a Day

Little Women

The Private Life of Henry VIII

She Done Him Wrong

Smilin’ Through

State Fair

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Katharine Hepburn:

for her role as Eva Lovelace in Morning Glory

May Robson:

for her role as Apple Annie in Lady for a Day

Diana Wynyard:

for her role as Jane Marryot in Cavalcade

1934

BEST MOVIE

It Happened One Night

The Barretts of Wimpole Street

Cleopatra

Flirtation Walk

The Gay Divorcee

Here Comes the Navy

The House of Rothschild

Imitation of Life

One Night of Life

The Thin Man

Viva Villa!

The White Parade

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Claudette Colbert:

for her role as Ellie Andrews in It Happened One Night

Grace Moore:

for her role as Mary Barrett in One Night of Love

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Elizabeth Barrett in The Barrett of Wimpole Street

Bette Davis:

for her role as Mildred Rogers in Of Human Bondage

1935

BEST MOVIE

Munity on the Bounty

Alice Adams

Broadway Melody of 1936

Captain Blood

David Copperfield

The Informer

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Les Misérables

Naughty Marietta

Rugs of Red Gap

Top Hat

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Bette Davis:

for her role as Joyce Heath in Dangerous

Elisabeth Bergner:

for her role as Gemma Jones in Escape Me Never

Claudette Colbert:

for her role as Jane Everest in Private Words

Katharine Hepburn:

for her role as Alice Adams in Alice Adams

Miriam Hopkins:

for her role as Becky Sharp in Becky Sharp

Merle Oberon:

for her role as Kitty Vane in The Dark Angel

1936

BEST MOVIE

The Great Ziegfeld

Anthony Adverse

Dodsworth

Libeled Lady

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

Romeo and Juliet

San Francisco

The Story of Louis Pasteur

A Tale of Two Cities

Three Smart Girls

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Luise Rainer:

for her role as Anna Held in The Great Ziegfeld

Irene Dunne:

for her role as Theodora Lynn in Theodora Goes Wild

Gladys George:

for her role as Carrie Snyder in Valiant is the Word for Carrie

Carole Lombard:

for her role as Irene Bullock in My Man Godfey

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Juliet Capulet in Romeo and Juliet

1937

BEST MOVIE

The Life of Emile Zola

The Awful Truth

Captain Courageous

Dead End

The Good Earth

In Old Chicago

Lost Horizon

One Hundred Men and a Girl

Stage Door

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Luise Rainer:

for her role as O-Lan in The Good Earth

Irene Dunne:

for her role as Lucy Warriner in The Awful Truth

Greta Garbo:

for her role as Marguerite Gautier in Camille

Janet Gaynor:

for her role as Esther Victoria Blodgett/Vicki Lester in A Star is Born

Barbara Stanwyck:

for her role as Stella Martin Dallas in Stella Dallas

1938

BEST MOVIE

You Can’t Take It With You

The Adventures of Robin Hood

Alexander’s Ragtime Band

Boys Town

The Citadel

Four Daughters

Grand Illusion

Jezebel

Pygmalion

Test Pilot

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Bette Davis:

for her role as Julie Marsden in Jezebel

Fay Bainter:

for her role as Hannah Parmalee in White Banners

Wendy Hiller:

for her role as Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion

Norma Shearer:

for her role as Marie Antoinette in Marie Antoinette

Margaret Sullavan:

for her role as Patricia “Pat” Hollmann in Three Comrades

1939

BEST MOVIE

Gone With The Wind

Dark Victory

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Love Affair

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Ninotchka

Of Mice and Men

Stagecoach

The Wizard of Oz

Wuthering Heights

= 0

BEST ACTRESS

Vivien Leigh:

for her role as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind

Bette Davis:

for her role as Judith Traherne in Dark Victory

Irene Dunne:

for her role as Terry McKay in Love Affair

Greta Garbo:

for her role as Nina Yakushnova “Ninotchka” Ivanoff” in Ninotchka

Greer Garson:

for her role as Katherine Bridges in Goodbye, Mr. Chips

1940

BEST MOVIE

Rebecca

All This, and Heaven Too

Foreign Correspondent

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Dictator

Kitty Foyle

The Letter

The Long Voyage Home

Our Town

The Philadelphia Story

= 0

BEST ACTRESS:

Ginger Rogers:

for her role as Kitty Foyle in Kitty Foyle

Bette Davis:

for her role as Leslie Crosbie in The Letter

Joan Fontaine:

for her role as The Second Mrs. de Winter in Rebecca

Katharine Hepburn:

for her role as Tracy Lord in The Philadelphia Story

Martha Scott:

for her role as Emily Webb in Our Town

1941

BEST MOVIE

How Green Was My Valley

Blossoms in the Dust

Citizen Kane

Here Comes Mr. Jordan

Hold Back the Dawn

The Little Foxes

The Maltese Falcon

One Foot in Heaven

Sargeant York

Suspicion

= 0

BEST ACTRESS:

Joan Fontaine:

for her role as Lina McLaidlaw Aysgarth in Suspicion

Bette Davis:

for her role as Regina Giddens, The Little Foxes

Olivia de Havilland:

Emmy Brown, Hold Back the Dawn

Greer Garson, Blossoms in the Dust

Barbara Stanwyck, Ball of Fire

1942

BEST MOVIE

Mrs. Miniver

The Invaders

Kings Row

The Magnificent Ambersons

The Pied Piper

The Pride of the Yankees

Random Harvest

The Talk of the Town

Wake Island

Yankee Doodle Dandy

= 0

BEST ACTRESS:

Greer Garson, Mrs. Miniver

Bette Davis, Now, Voyager

Katharine Hepburn, Woman of the Year

Rosalind Russel, My Sister Eileen

Teresa Wright, The Pride of the Yankees

1943

BEST MOVIE

Casablanca

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Heaven Can Wait

The Human Comedy

In Which We Serve

Madame Curie

The More the Merrier

The Ox-Bow Incident

The Song of Bernadette

Watch on the Rhine

= 0

BEST ACTRESS:

Jennifer Jones, The Song of Bernadette

Jean Arthur, The More the Merrier

Ingrid Bergman, For Whom the Bell Tolls

Joan Fontaine, The Constant Nymph

Greer Garson, Madame Curie

1944

BEST MOVIE

Going My Way

Double Indemnity

Gaslight

Since You Went Away

Wilson

= 0

BEST ACTRESS:

Ingrid Bergman, Gaslight

Claudette Colbert, Since You Went Away

1945

BEST MOVIE

The Lost Weekend

Anchors Aweigh

The Bells of St. Mary’s

Mildred Pierce

Spellbound

= 0

1946

BEST MOVIE

The Best Years of Our Lives

Henry V

= 0

1947

BEST MOVIE

Gentleman’s Agreement

The Bishop’s Wife

Crossfire

Great Expectations

Miracle on 34th Street

= 0

1948

BEST MOVIE

Hamlet

Johnny Belinda

The Red Shoes

The Snake Pit

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

= 0

1949

BEST MOVIE

All the King’s Men

Battleground

The Heiress

A Letter to Three Wives

Twelve O’Clock High

= 0

1950

BEST MOVIE

All About Eve

Born Yesterday

Father of the Bride

King Solomon’s Mines

Sunset Boulevard

= 0

1951

BEST MOVIE

An American In Paris

Decision Before Dawn

A Place in the Sun

Quo Vadis

A Streetcar Named Desire

= 0

1952

BEST MOVIE

The Greatest Show on Earth

High Noon

Ivanhoe

Moulin Rouge

The Quiet Man

= 0

1953

BEST MOVIE

From Here to Eternity

Julius Caesar

The Robe

Roman Holiday

Shane

= 1

1954

BEST MOVIE

On The Waterfront

The Caine Mutiny

The Country Girl

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Three Coins in the Fountain

= 0

1955

BEST MOVIE

Marty

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing

Mister Roberts

Picnic

The Rose Tattoo

= 0

1956

BEST MOVIE

Around the World in 80 Days

Friendly Persuasion

Giant

The King and I

The Ten Commandments

= 0

1957

BEST MOVIE

The Bridge On The River Kwai

12 Angry Men

Peyton Place

Sayonara

Witness for the Prosecution

= 0

1958

BEST MOVIE

Gigi

Auntie Mame

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

The Defiant Ones

Separate Tables

= 0

1959

BEST MOVIE

Ben-Hur

Anatomy of a Murder

The Diary of Anne Frank

The Nun’s Story

Room at the Top

= 0

1960

BEST MOVIE

The Apartment

The Alamo

Elmer Gantry

Sons and Lovers

The Sundowners

= 0

1961

BEST MOVIE

West Side Story

Fanny

The Guns of Navarone

The Hustler

Judgment at Nuremberg

= 1

1962

BEST MOVIE

Lawrence of Arabia

The Longest Day

The Music Man

Mutiny on the Bounty

To Kill a Mockingbird

= 0

1963

BEST MOVIE

Tom Jones

America America

Cleopatra

How the West Was Won

Lilies of the Field

= 0

1964

BEST MOVIE

My Fair Lady

Becket

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Mary Poppins

Zorba the Greek

= 1

1965

BEST MOVIE

The Sound of Music

Darling

Doctor Zhivago

Ship of Fools

A Thousand Clowns

= 1

1966

BEST MOVIE

A Man for All Seasons

Alfie

The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming

The Sand Pebbles

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf

= 0

1967

BEST MOVIE

In the Heat of the Night

Bonnie and Clyde

Doctor Dolittle

The Graduate

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

= 0

1968

Oliver!

Funny Girl

The Lion in Winter

Rachel, Rachel

Romeo and Juliet

= 1

1969

BEST MOVIE

Midnight Cowboy

Anne of the Thousand Days

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Hello, Dolly!

= 0

1970

BEST MOVIE

Patton

Airport

Five Easy Pieces

Love Story

M*A*S*H

= 0

1971

BEST MOVIE

The French Connection

A Clockwork Orange

Fiddler on the Roof

The Last Picture

Nicholas and Alexandra

= 0

1972

BEST MOVIE

The Godfather

Cabaret

Deliverance

The Emigrants

Sounder

= 0

1973

BEST MOVIE

The Sting

American Graffitti

Cries and Whispers

The Exorcist

A Touch of Class

= 0

1974

BEST MOVIE

The Godfather Part II

Chinatown

The Conversation

Lenny

The Towering Inferno

= 0

1975

BEST MOVIE

One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

Barry Lyndon

Dog Day Afternoon

Jaws

Nashville

= 0

1976

BEST MOVIE

Rocky

All the President’s Men

Bound for Glory

Network

Taxi Driver

= 0

1977

BEST MOVIE

Annie Hall

The Goodbye Girl

Julia

Star Wars

The Turning Point

= 0

1978

BEST MOVIE

The Deer Hunter

Coming Home

Heaven Can Wait

Midnight Express

An Unmarried Woman

= 0

1979

BEST MOVIE

Kraver vs. Kramer

All That Jazz

Apocalypse Now

Breaking Away

Norma Rae

= 1

1980

BEST MOVIE

Ordinary People

Coal Miner’s Daughter

The Elephant Man

Raging Bull

Tess

= 0

1981

BEST MOVIE

Chariots of Fire

Atlantic City

On Golden Pond

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Reds

= 0

1982

BEST MOVIE

Ghandi

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial

Missing

Tootsie

The Verdict

= 1

1983

BEST MOVIE

Terms of Endearment

The Big Chill

The Dresser

The Right Stuff

Tender Mercies

= 0

1984

BEST MOVIE

Amadeus

The Killing Fields

A Passage to India

Places in the Heart

A Soldier’s Story

= 0

1985

BEST MOVIE

Out of Africa

The Color Purple

Kiss of the Spider Woman

Prizzi’s Honor

Witness

= 0

1986

BEST MOVIE

Platoon

Children of a Lesser God

Hannah and Her Sisters

The Mission

A Room with a View

= 0

1987

BEST MOVIE

The Last Emperor

Broadcast News

Fatal Attraction

Hope and Glory

Moonstruck

= 2

1988

BEST MOVIE

Rain Man

The Accidental Tourist

Dangerous Liaisons

Mississipi Burning

Working Girl

= 0

1989

BEST MOVIE

Driving Miss Daisy

Born on the Fourth of July

Dead Poets Society

Field of Dreams

My Left Foot

= 1

1990

BEST MOVIE

Dances with Wolves

Awakenings

Ghost

The Godfather III

Goodfellas

= 1

1991

BEST MOVIE

The Silence of the Lambs

Beauty and the Beast

Bugsy

JFK

The Prince of Tides

= 1

1992

BEST MOVIE

Unforgiven

The Crying Game

A Few Good Men

Howards End

Scent of a Woman

= 0

1993

BEST MOVIE

Schindler’s List

The Fugitive

In the Name of the Father

The Piano

The Remains of the Day

= 1

1994

BEST MOVIE

Forrest Gump

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Pulp Fiction

Quiz Show

The Shawshank Redemption

= 3

1995

BEST MOVIE

Braveheart

Apollo 13

Babe

The Postman (Il Postino)

Sense and Sensibility

= 4

1996

BEST MOVIE

The English Patient

Fargo

Jerry McGuire

Secrets & Lies

Shine

= 0

1997

BEST MOVIE

Titanic

As Good as it Gets

The Full Monty

Good Will Hunting

L.A. Confidential

= 3

1998

BEST MOVIE

Shakespeare in Love

Elizabeth

Life is Beautiful

Saving Private Ryan

The Thin Red Line

= 3

1999

BEST MOVIE

American Beauty

The Cider House Rules

The Green Mile

The Insider

The Sixth Sense

= 1

2000

BEST MOVIE

Gladiator

Chocolat

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

Erin Brokovich

Traffic

= 3

2001

BEST MOVIE

A Beautiful Mind

Gosfrod Park

In the Bedroom

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Moulin Rouge!

= 1

2002

BEST MOVIE

Chicago

Gangs of New York

The Hours

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

The Pianist

= 1

2003

BEST MOVIE

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

Lost in Translation

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Mystic River

Seabiscuit

= 0

2004

BEST MOVIE

Million Dollar Baby

The Aviator

Finding Neverland

Ray

Sideways

= 1

2005

BEST MOVIE

Crash

Brokeback Mountain

Capote

Good Night, and Good Luck

Munich

= 0

2006

BEST MOVIE

The Departed

Babel

Letters from Iwo Jima

Little Miss Sunshine

The Queen

= 2

2007

BEST MOVIE

No Country for Old Men

Atonement

Juno

Michael Clayton

There Will Be Blood

= 1

2008

BEST MOVIE

Slumdog Millionaire

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Frost/Nixon

Milk

The Reader

= 1

2009

BEST MOVIE

The Hurt Locker

Avatar

The Blind Side

District 9

An Education

Inglorious Basterds

Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Saphire

A Serious Man

Up in the Air

= 4

2010

BEST MOVIE

The King’s Speech

127 Hours

Black Swan

The Fighter

Inception

The Kids Are All Right

The Social Network

Toy Story 3

True Grit

Winter’s Bone

= 5

2011

BEST MOVIE

The Artist

The Descendants

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

The Help

Hugo

Midnight in Paris

Moneyball

The Tree of Life

War Horse

= 3

2012

BEST MOVIE

Argo

Amour

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Django Unchained

Les Miserábles

Life of Pi

Lincoln

Silver Linings Playbook

Zero Dark Thirty

= 4

2013

BEST MOVIE

12 Years a Slave

American Hustle

Captain Philips

Dallas Buyers Club

Gravity

Her

Nebraska

Philomena

The Wolf of Wall Street

= 4

2014

BEST MOVIE

Birdman

American Sniper

Boyhood

The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Imitation Game

Selma

The Theory of Everything

Whiplash

= 2

2015

BEST MOVIE

Spotlight

The Big Short

Bridge of Spies

Brooklyn

Mad Max: Fury Road

The Martian

The Revenant

Room

= 3

BEST ACTRESS:

Brie Larson, Room

Cate Blanchett, Carol

Jennifer Lawrence, Joy

Charlotte Rampling, 45 Years

Saoirse, Brooklyn

2016

BEST MOIVE

Moonlight

La La Land

Arrival

Fences

Hacksaw Ridge

Hell or High Water

Hidden Figures

Lion

Manchester by the Sea

= 5

BEST ACTRESS:

Emma Stone, La La Land

Isabelle Huppert, Elle

Ruth Negga, Loving

Natalie Portman, Jackie

Meryl Streep, Florence Foster Jenkins

2017

BEST MOVIE

The Shape of Water

Lady Bird

Call Me by Your Name

Get Out

Darkest Hour

Dunkirk

Phantom Thread

The Post

Three Billboards Outside Ebbig, Missouri

= 4

BEST ACTRESS:

Frances McDormand, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water

Margot Robbie, I, Tonya

Saoirse Ronan, Lady Bird

Meryl Streep, The Post

TOTAL = 71/

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