#born in 1953 shirt

[johnnydany]

70 Years Vintage Legend Since January 1953 70th Birthday T-Shirt

Get yours now: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/38020688-70-years-vintage-legend-since-january-1953-70th-bi

Let's Share & Tag Someone Who Would Love This Shirt

[thomasdaniel91]

January 1953 70 Years Of Being Awesome Limited Edition T-Shirt

Get yours: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/37480561-january-1953-70-years-of-being-awesome-limited-edi

=> SHARE & Tag Your Friends Who Would Love & Wear This Shirt.

[mutantthedark]

COD BLACK OPS COLD WAR OC: KENDRA SMITH

GENERAL

Name: Kendra Smith

Age: 28 (1981)

Alias(es): Smith, Owl

Gender: Female

Birthday: May 10th, 1953

Nationality: British

Place of birth: Manchester, UK

Languages: English, French

Affiliation: MI6, CIA, NATO and Rogue Black Ops

APPEARANCE

Hair color: Blonde (dyed)

Eye color: Green

Scars: A few on her arms and wrists

Piercings: None

Face claim: Florence Pugh

Height: 5’4 (162 cm)

Weight: 124 lbs (56 kg)

Build: Slim

Blood type: A+

Family: [REDACTED]

Siblings: [REDACTED]

Personality: INTJ

Kendra has a serious demeanour, expressing very little emotion. Due to this aura, she often comes off as intimidating. She is neither impolite nor an antisocial person, but she has a kind and warm heart. She spends most of her time with Helen Park. Which shows a sensible and respectful attitude toward others, often being discouraged by discourteous behaviour.

FAVOURITES

Color: Green

Season: Spring

Food: Healthy Chicken curry

Drink: Tea

Dessert: -

ABILITIES

Has excellent intelligence and can communicate well.

MI6 training

Weapon skills (Mostly pistols)

TRIVIA

Kendra's name means "Knowing". Other potential meanings of this ancient name include “royal power,” “bold power,” and “chief hero.” It can also mean "Owl".

Kendra tries to cover her scars with tattoos as much as she can.

Most of her friends called her "Owl" because of her thinking and intelligence. The Wise Owl represents the logical thinker.

Clothing she choose is polo shirts.

Kendra wears glasses, only for reading and working on paperworks, but she can see far.

TATTOO DESIGNS

Drawn by me.

BACKGROUND

Kendra was born and raised in Manchester, UK. There is no information about her parents, but she had a strict relationship with them. After her parents had to move to another city to work, Kendra went to University of Oxford, her dream was to be an analyst. One day, when she graduated, a few agents went to visit her and offered to join MI6 because of her intelligence and communications skills. Kendra, being a kind hearted young woman, agreed.

A few months later, she met Helen Park. They had been working together non-stop for international assignments and met Adler Russell during the CIA’s sponsored project. During career, Kendra met another fellow MI6 named “Madam Shell” who was really close with Park before. An intuition happened of Park’s suspicions, Madam attempted to kill Park, but Kendra protected her and earned a few scars from her on her wrists and arms, after failing to curse the inconsequential words, Madam pushed her out of the way and she left the scar on Park’s neck as a parting gift. Hovewer, Kendra didn't renouce, she smashed Madam's head to the wall with great force, which cracked her skull and caused her to kill her. She had to lie to the agents that Madam's been through the "Serious accident."

In 1981, Kendra joined Russel's team in CIA's safehouse E9, tasking to stop the infamous spy named "Perseus". Until then, she met a new teammate with a codename "Bell".

[bitter69uk]

“Stage left was John Doe. Everybody had a crush on John. Tall and lean, jet-black hair, a sweet, open face and voluptuous mouth, he was classic dreamboat material. Equal parts Woody Guthrie and Elvis Presley, John was the glue who held the entire operation together.”

/ From Kristine McKenna’s liner notes to X’s debut album Los Angeles (1980) /

Happy 71st birthday to brooding frontman of definitive Los Angeles punk band X, poet, musician and actor John Doe (born John Nommensen Duchac, 25 February 1953). Gee – what did Exene Cervenka, Lydia Lunch and Texacala Jones of Tex and The Horseheads ever see in him? As hardcore X fan John Waters has pointed-out, “He’s still beautiful – the last gunslinger in town.” And no man wore a mesh t-shirt better! Pictured: Doe in foreground, with X bandmates DJ Bonebrake, Exene Cervenka and Billy Zoom. Photo by Michael Hyatt, 1981.

[alrightbuckaroo]

oooooh pretty woman au please Ada 👀

Hello!

Alright, so this idea was born out of a few of things. My love of the Pretty Woman arc (Kingsman: The Secret Service is my favorite example, tbh), my love of both Classic Hollywood and Classic Pop, and lastly, a conversation with @strandnreyes.

We were talking about the show Hollywood, and talked about the Archie and Rock story line. Rock is Rock Hudson, the actor, and Archie is an up and coming screenwriter who moonlights as a "Gas Station Attendant" which is code for rent boy

So, in this, it's 1953 and Carlos is a personal assistant for Roy Abrams, a studio executive, but Carlos wants to be more. TK is an actor who hasn't had any luck that works as a gas station attendant at night. They end up crossing paths and well, you'll see:

Here's a snippet:

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at?” Scott Conway takes a drag of his cigarette as he watches the young man in front of him get dressed. TK smiles to himself as he buttons up his slacks and tucks his shirt back in. The Pit Stop: Full Service is embroidered with black thread on a creme patch that’s stitched upon the breast pocket. TK looks in the mirror, looking past his own reflection and to the man he’s just spend the last hour with. Scott’s smiling, his picture perfect white teeth glistening in the low level lamp light. His left hand holding a cigarette above the glass ashtray and tapping the ash down. “I’m not your wife, Scott,” TK answers, looping his leather belt through the belt loops. TK notices that it’s starting to crack and crease, the interior color beginning to peek out. Over his shoulder, he tosses out, “You don’t have to lie to me.” “Of course you aren’t my wife,” Scott utters the words around a grunt as he moves odd the bed. As he reaches for his boxers from the floor, he continues, “You haven’t spent the last hour screaming your head off at me.” “Oh I don’t know,” TK smirks at Scott in the reflection of the mirror. “I think I’ve done plenty screaming.”

ask me about my wips! | previous ones

[aliypop]

Anyway You Want Me: Chapter 2

Word Count: 3,147

Writers Note: This story is just an au of what if my Oc and Elvis met in high school instead of the Louisana Hayride

Warning: None so far except for language and historic language

Pairing: OC x Elvis

Plot: 1953 Memphis Tennessee Cecelia Valmos and her mother move to Shelby County as their house in Nashville is going through renovations, when asked to keep a low profile by her mother Cecelia makes friends with the quirkiest, shy, yet charming kid in class, at least Friends is what she'd call them.

Chapter 1

Memphis, Tennessee, Saturday, May 1953

"Is it three yet?" Cecelia asked as she was in her bedroom brushing out her curls and adding a small victory roll. Sure, the look was out of style, but she still appreciated it."It's 2:40." Denise shouted back as Cecelia grinned. She was finally going to be hanging out with someone, a cool someone, a shy someone, but it was someone. Taking her keys from off her dresser, she was ready to go. 

"See you later, mother!"

"See you later, and be safe!" 

"I will!" walking out the door, Cecelia passed her father, "Hi Daddy, bye Daddy..." Racing to her car, she got in and drove off, waving at the fans who were there for her parents. 

"What's gotten into her?"

"A boyfriend." Denise lied, "You'd know that if you were in her life more." 

Elvis would be lying if he wasn't twiddling his thumbs with jobs at the electric company just to kill time today. His watch was reading 2:56, which meant his shift was almost over, and he could hang out with Cecelia. Elvis couldn't wait to see her, which was totally not weird because Elvis only knew her for two days, but she was cool enough for him to be excited about seeing her, right? Either way, he knew she was worth him hanging around. Pulling back up to the store, Elvis saw her pink car. Cecelia was wearing shorts and a striped shirt, leaning against the counter with the toned legs of a dancer, and boy was Elvis entertained. She had on heels. And a pink chiffon bow in her hair and Elvis wanted nothing more than to pull her close and say- 

"There you are! I was talking to this young lady here about electric wiring."

"Did you know that when the male goes into the Female, and they plug into each other, boom, we get lights!" Cecelia glanced at Elvis, acting as if she didn't know that. He was thinking about a male and a female, but not lights.  

"Mhmm... I-I-I'll actually be right back." Elvis said as he went to freshen up. It wasn't like he was trying to impress Cecelia, Well, maybe a little, changing out of his work slacks. He had on a pair of black slacks and a white lace see-through button-up shirt with pink socks and his loafers. When he walked out, Elvis had hoped he would have taken Cecelia's breath away, but instead, he heard, "You look good, Pres."

"Thanks, Cece, you uh ready to go?" 

"Yeah." Taking his keys, he opened her door, then his, as the two began their adventures,

 "So where to first, record shop, comic shop?"

"Surprise me," Cecelia said, taking a bit of a glance at him as he began to drive. He wanted to rest his hand on her thigh, but friends didn't do that. He just had to focus. 

"Music shop it is."

Music played on the radio as Cecelia hummed along. She could carry a tune, Elvis thought to himself as he listened. He didn't sing much unless it was at Church or in his house. Other than that, he was a shy little thing,  

"So Cece..."

"Hmm?"

"You never did tell me where you moved from." 

"Well, sugar..." Elvis felt his heart pound when she said sugar. That southern drawl of her was strong, a bit like Scarlet O'Hara but sweeter, "North Carolina, Originally born and raised, but then for three years I lived in Georgia, and that was like stickin your hand in a jar of hot peppers and rubbin your eyes afterward." she laughed as Elvis kept trying to focus on the road, but he had laughed with her too, 

"Sounds like it was hell."

"You've no idea, sugar." She smiled, applying her red lipstick, "So what about you? You don't exactly sound like a Memphis guy." She smirked as he blushed. It was back on him now, all the attention, 

"Well, I was born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi," Elvis smiled as Cecelia grinned,

"That explains that heavy accent."

"Yours ain't light either,"

"I don't know what you're talkin bout." Cecelia playful nudged him as they parked at the music store, 

"Oh really, what do you call honey."

"Definitely not what you call it." She laughed at his adorable accent as he helped her out of the car, 

"And what do I call it."

"Hunneh..." she mumbled as he laughed with her,

"That's what I sound like?" He questioned as she nodded, watching him walk like he was some star of importance, which to her he was. She never could find someone with whom she could laugh about accents. When they walked in, Cecelia called to the guitars on the wall. Her medicine of choice was a Gretsch, but she didn't mind a Gibson. Or a Fender. 

"Do you play?" Elvis asked

"A little..." Cecelia said, a guitar pick in her mouth, trying to reach for one of the Gibson guitars on the top shelf.

"Mind if I..." Before Cecelia could respond, she was suspended mid-air and sitting on his shoulder,

 "Oh..." reaching for the guitar, she grabbed it, 

"Thanks, sugar. I mean, El, Pres." 

"No problem. Cece with an E," He put her down. And he grinned a little bit. Her skin was actually really smooth, not that he was surprised, but it was a bonus. Sitting down, she strummed the guitar as her pink-painted nails began to play a song. 

"Well, I don't care if the sun don't shine. I get my lovin' in the evening time. When I'm with my baby." Cecelia began to sing as she played the song with a more bluesy rock and roll feel. She had a jazz undertone, but to Elvis, it sounded like an Angel was singing to him and a guitar princess strumming with the way her fingers were on the fret playing. It was almost as if Cecelia were a pro, and the song Cecelia picked a classic. Elvis was enchanted, but he couldn't be. Cecelia probably saw him as a friend anyway, 

"Do you play Pres..."

"El..."

"Elvis!"

"Hmm, sorry, I-I-I was thinkin." he stuttered as Cecelia blushed. Why was he so cute and innocent? She couldn't think of him like this. He was her friend, and he probably didn't feel the same.

"Oh, I was wondering if you played guitar."

"A little." He rubbed the back of his neck, "But how about the comic book shop?" he added. He wanted to save Beale Street for later in the afternoon when the lights started to come on, and the street really came to life, 

"I'd like that," putting the guitar down. The two then walked to the comic book store, 

"So, where'd you learn to sing and play like that!"

"Well, my mother, she sings, and my daddy, when he was around, played guitar, then I learned the rest from B.B. King." She shrugged,

"A girl who enjoys good music."

"Good music, good food, and great SUPERMAN!" she rushed to the window as Elvis laughed, 

"Cece, wait up!"

"EL IT'S A NEW ISSUE."

"Superman nice... But" his eyes saw a Jay Garrick comic, he snuck off and picked it up as he showed her, all he heard was a gasp, 

"ELVIS YOU FOUND IT!"She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, a blush creeping on his face, 

"F-F-Found what?"

"The comic issue I've been lookin for! " 

"you're welcome!" there were eyes on them as Cecelia and Elvis both blushed, 

"A discount for your date there," Irene said. Irene was the daughter of the owner. She knew Elvis well, in the sense he'd buy his Captain Marvel Jr. comics here. 

"She's just a friend, Irene."

"Sugar, look what I found!

"Mhmm, a friend..." Irene smirked, "I'll ring that one up, too." she winked, walking toward the counter. 

"This one's gonna be legendary..." He looked at the comic book as she grinned, "Definitely legendary." When they left the comic shop, they walked to the car to further their adventure. As they cruised down the street, the radio had been playing Dean Martins That's Amore, in which Cecelia had taken it upon herself to croon her entire heart out as Elvis as the test subject, 

"Y-You speak Italian..."

"Well, I've sung in German, French, Italian, and Spanish," she grins, "But Sometimes I speak French." 

"I-I-I-"

" Êtes-vous d'accord, Elvis?" Cecelia leaned in,

"I don't know what you just said. Hell, it sounded pretty." Elvis's brain was short-circuiting. If she was being a flirt, then he needed to get her back for it, too. 

"You think so. I've been a little rusty and haven't been to a French restaurant in a while..." She sighed,

"You live an interestin life, Cece." 

"I try to. Sometimes, I can never sit in one place. I have to be doing somethin. You know El. Like playing violin or singin or," Elvis was listening to her. She was passionate and energetic, a fast talker when she was excited, and he loved it. 

"Am I talking top?"

"No, you're talkin just fine," opening her door, he took her hand and helped her out as she blushed. He was a gentleman, a good listener, had a keen attention to detail, and had soft yet slightly callused hands that she could admire. 

"So this is Beale Street..." She said to herself,

"Wait til you see it at 7 pm. It's only 5, so we got time to see whatever you want." 

"Hmm... Let's walk and get into some good trouble." She grinned as Elvis smirked,

"I'm beginin to really like you." he said, as Cecelia blushed, "As a friend."

"Me too, kid," she giggled. Ruffling up his hair as she laughed, 

"I-I- I ain't no kid, Cece, why I bet I'm older than you."

"When's your birthday, El," Cecelia smirked, stepping up to him,

"January 8th, 1935." he smirked as if he were right, and she would grovel at his feet and say she was, in fact, a kid, a mere worm, "What about you, huh,"

"January 7th, 1935." she grinned, 

"Damn it, guess you're the boss." He laughed as the two then came up towards a tailor shop. Elvis was standing at the window looking at the suits and the shoes, 

"Wanna go in?" Cecelia asked. Elvis looked a bit hesitant. He had always craved the look, but he knew he couldn't afford it much. 

"I can't really afford much of anything in there..."

"Elvis Aaron Presley, You are going in that store. You will try on whatever it is you want, so that way, you know what you'll want when you can," she smirked, taking him by the hand and dragging him through the doors. She was gutsy, and he liked it, 

"Excuse me, but my friend here wants to try on..." Her eyes scanned the room for the pink suit that was in the window, "That fine suit right there, if you please." she smiled,

"Of course, Ms. If you'd follow me, sir."

"Cece..."

"Trust me, you'll look great." Cecelia smiled as she sat down in the waiting area, reading the men's fashion magazines and swoony at some of the men in them. She could hear Elvis in there having a bit of a ball and commotion of the experience, a snicker leaving her lips, 

"Cece little help here!" was all she heard, and then it was,

"Well, Ms., what do you think?"

"Well...I..." The pink in the outfit brought out those electric baby blues, and the lace gave him this alluring, sultry feel. The pants gave him an essence that told him he could have anything he ever dreamed of, and suddenly, she was beginning to dream of him in broad daylight, "Well, Cece..." the sinister smirk on his face was doing something to she'd never felt before,

 "Stand up straight..." she stood up, "Well, aren't you cookin' good lookin," Cecelia smirked, looking him up and down like one would inspect a car. 

"You really think so?" He asked as he danced a little in the outfit,

"Mhmm..." Her mind was racing, but they were just friends, "You could get any girl in that."

"You should get it for your boyfriend, Ms. We'll make up a fake invoice if you want to keep you two a secret..."The clerk smirked as both Cecelia and Elvis blushed,

"Oh no, we're just friends and just browsin' around, really," Elvis said as he went to get changed back into his clothes. Cecelia was tricky to read, but he knew he'd get the gist of her. Cecelia couldn't help but feel butterflies in her stomach, but maybe she was just hungry. 

"You hungry?"

"Hmm, I could eat, El." she took his hand as she waved the shopkeepers goodbye, 

"So the thing about me getting any girl..."

"You could in that outfit. You just gotta be confident, you know..." She paused. There in the cafe was an array of black skin dancing and singing, having a grand time while they were enjoying their burgers and fries, 

"We can eat here if you'd like." 

"YES!" this was the life she had missed, the life Elvis had always known. 

"Hey Elvis!" some teenage girls waved at him as he waved back. 

"Hey Mildred, Shirley, Rudy," he winked as they giggled, "Who's your friend."

"Cecelia Valmos." She introduced herself as they walked over and sat down, "Oh girl, I love your hair!" one of the girls said as Cecelia grinned, 

"Thank you. I love yours, too!"

"She just moved here not too long ago." 

"You picked a good tour guide."Rudy said, "He's always here like he lives here," she chuckled, 

"Is that so."

"Girl, you should see E cut up a rug. He's like a white guy with a black soul." Shirley commented as Elvis blushed, "And when He sings..."

"Ladies, I'm right here." he blushed, getting embarrassed a bit. 

"I'll keep that in mind." she chuckled. The waitress then came by as she looked at saw Elvis, 

"Let me guess, cheeseburger, a milkshake, fries salted." she laughed, "And for you, dear?"

"Cheeseburger and a soda, please." 

"No fries?" Elvis asked,

"I'll just eat yours."

"Aw, a date?"

Elvis and Cecelia quickly shook their heads,

"We're just friends..." Cecelia said,

"For now, " the three girls had said as they went to dance with their boyfriends. Cecelia watched them as she then looked at Elvis, who was tapping his foot, 

"You wanna dance?" offering her hand out to him,

"Sure." Elvis took her hand as they went up to the jukebox. Let's have a Party was playing, and that's what Cecelia intended to do. The two were dancing together and laughing as it had clearly been the most fun the two had been having. Pulling her close and spinning her around, he was impressed with her footwork. There had been a few girls he'd danced with, but this one, for once, could keep up. He then began doing his own thing as Cecelia watched his hips. She began to be mesmerized until she joined him. Swaying her hips as Cecelia danced around him, another guy took her by the hand as they began to do the Lindy Hop, flipping her over his shoulder as Cecelia laughed. He was impressed with her courage and how much of a fun time she was. 

"HEY E CATCH!" Bernard shouted as he spun Cecelia into Elvis's arms.

Elvis caught Cecelia as he dipped her, heart racing as she looked up at him, "Nice catch..." She said as Elvis blushed, "Nice, dancin." he then walked them both to their table. Sitting down, Cecelia and Elvis ate and talked as she took some of his fries, and he took some of her pickles from her burger, 

"So, has today been fun so far," Elvis asked as Cecelia sighed.

"I don't know, I mean..."

"Yes..."

"Well..."

"Cece..."

"I've been havin a blast!" she smiled. 

"Great, 'cause now I wanna show you the true Beale Street." he smiled, clutching his heart at her reaction. 

"Is this not the real..." walking outside. Cecelia saw the city lights. They felt more comforting than New York and brighter than Paris. They felt like home. Elvis could see the sparkle in her eyes as she was mesmerized by the scene music from every street, people dancing, cars going by,

 "May I?"

"You may." Elvis took Cecelia's hand and walked with her across the street, walking by other shops and bands. Cecelia could feel that this was where music truly lived. There was a group of musicians playing as Elvis began to mumble under his breath and sing the words. Cecelia had tried to listen. 

"You know... You heard me sing..." Cecelia smirked,

"Yeah, I did..."

"it's your turn..." 

"Cece..."

"Please, Pres..."

"Cil..."

"Elvis... Elvis...Elvis." She cheered as he took a deep breath and sang along to the song. When he began to sing, it was like time stood still to try to catch up to him. He was lost in the music, dancing and almost nearly performing the song. When he had stopped, Elvis had noticed Cecelia's mouth completely wide open in shock.

"ELVIS AARON PRESLEY!!! WHY ARE YOU NOT ON THE RADIO!" Cecelia playfully shook him about. As he laughed, "Or on TV, people should have posters of your records!!" she grinned, 

"I could say the same about you," he smiled as Cecelia giggled. He was right, but she was right, too.

 "Yeah, but this is about you!"

"Well, Cil, I got terrible stage fright." He laughed, "I can't be no singer or actor with stage fright." he sighed,

"Yeah, you can. Many get nervous, too."Cecelia said as she got closer to him,

"I-I-I-I da-don't pronounce my W's right an..."

"So, you got the look, I mean behind the lanky look and the choppy colored hair... There's a star." Cecelia backed away,

"Cil..."

"Imagine it, everyone screamin Elvis Presley!" she twirled, stumbling a bit as he caught her,

"Yeah... no," He laughed. Maybe if I played football or somethin, they should be cheerin your name." he smirked, lifting her up again on his shoulders, "Cecelia Valmos, the great guitar player, the amazing singer." he looked up at her as she looked down at him both their eyes meeting, 

"Elvis Presley, the great dancer! Mover of hips and remover of panties!" she joked as Elvis turned red,

"That don't sound half bad." he laughed with her, the two heading back to his car, 

"Elvis... Are you free tomorrow?"

"I got church an work, but after that..." 

"Wanna hang out again tomorrow?" Cecelia asked,

"Sure, we could go to a park or the library, maybe we could study at my place?"

"We could do that, I could make brownies as a snack," 

"It's a done deal then Cece," he smiled driving her to her car,

"See you tomorrow El."

"Same time?"

"Same time!"

Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

MORE TO COME IN CHAPTER 3!

[johnschneiderblog]

What would Mark say?

I'd love to know what my dearly departed brother would make of the first-place - yes, first place - Detroit Lions. What would he say ...?

Certainly not his standard "Same old Lions," spoken with a gleefully sardonic smile.

Mark, a life-long Detroiter, died last November at age 69, meaning he was born in 1953, making him too young to have remembered the Lions championship of 1957.

For Mark's whole life, the Lions stunk, winning only one playoff game and achieving the NFL's longest postseason win drought. And who could forget 2008 when the Lions made history by losing all 16 of their games.

But did Mark despair? Oh, no - he wore an "0-16" T-shirt and laughed his big laugh. "Same old Lions."

A defense mechanism ...? Maybe, but one that he relished, because his connection to the team went beyond wins and losses. The Lions were part of the fabric of Detroit; so was Mark.

It's too bad Mark's not alive to enjoy the success. You can bet that he wouldn't just be riding the bandwagon, he'd be driving it.

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

CHE GUEVARA

CHE GUEVARA

14 June 1928 – 9 October 1967

            Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara was an Argentine guerrilla leader and a figure of the Cuban Revolution. Today, most people know him for his famous portrait on T-shirts and on posters.

            Guevara was born in Argentina and had a privileged upbringing who trained as a doctor. Whilst traveling on a motorcycle he viewed poverty, inequality and exploitation and wanted to improve the lives of Latin Americans. He left Argentina in 1953 and became a political activist.

            In Mexico, he met Cuban Fidel Castro and joined him to invade Cuba and to overthrow Dictator Fulgencio Batista. In 1959 they succeeded and Batista fled the country. Guevara became the president of the national bank and later minister for industry. In 1964, he went to New York to address the UN protesting against apartheid, segregation and exploitation.

            In 1965, Guevara left Cuba to start communist uprisings in other countries. He headed for Congo, Africa and then to Bolivia where he organised peasants to fight the government revolt.

            On 8 October 1967, Bolivian soldiers took two prisoners, one identified himself as Che Guevara and the other was Willy (Simon Cuba Sarabia). Guevara looked terrible, dirty, matted hair, wearing a jacket with no buttons and no shoes. He was wearing scraps of leather on his feet and wearing odd songs, one red and one blue. He had been carrying a pan with 6 eggs in it. The soldiers took his diaries and a pistol, but he had no ammunition. He was taken away to La Higuera to a tiny schoolhouse.

            In 1967 Guevara, 39, was killed by Bolivian soldiers under orders from the President. There were seven soldiers who volunteered to do the deed, two volunteers were selected and they opened the door and then shot him. His body was put on display at a hospital in Vallegrande the day after he was shot. He had been washed by the doctors as the army wanted the media to recognise him.

#cheguevara

[virgils-sinister-ships]

Flora Jane Hancock

➸ Age: 21(Age of death), 70(Human Age)

➸ Appearance: Pale skin, black eyes, wavy brown hair, round glasses, dimples

➸ Voice Claim: Jenna Ortega(Ex. You, Scream)

➸ First Appearance: Season 1, Episode 2

➸ Date of Birth: October 17th, 1953

➸ Date of Death: May 10, 1975

➸ Cause(s) of Death: Stabbed to death, enucleation

➸ Distinguishing Feature(s): No eyes, various stab wounds, dried up blood staining her shirt/face/hands

➸ Height: 5'1

➸ Ghost Ability: Her screams/cries can be heard by the living

➸ Ghost Outfit: White collared shirt, grey necktie, brown jacket, blue bell-bottom jeans, black Doc Martens

➸ Was born in Sussex, New Brunswick, Canada

➸ Moved to the UK in 1965(Age 11)

➸ Saw Pat die from the attic window

➸ Bisexual

➸ Was murdered by renowned serial killer, The Smiley Face Killer

➸ Hid in the attic for the next 48 years after her death

[blubushie]

how many ocs do you have? are they all in the same world/narrative? are any of them related?

Too many to count but them main ones are the TF2 BLU Team crew. From Chapter 1 of the fic:

BLU Scout -- Jesse Evans: Female, American (New York)

Called "Jesse" by everyone except Charles, who insists on calling her by her full name, "Jessica." It pisses her off to no end. Born and raised in the Bronx, NYC. Major Yankees fan. Insisted on playing on the boys' baseball team and actually got in after disguising herself as a boy—it was two years before she was caught. Likes pulling (usually) harmless pranks, which most of the team takes in good fun. Spends her free time drawing, though she’s usually defensive about others seeing her sketchbook. Has trouble sleeping and often goes for runs in the middle of the night to tire herself out and make her sleep. Youngest member of BLU team, and has only been on the team for 4 years, having joined at 16. Bastard daughter of Charles, which she wasn't aware of when she joined BLU. Born in 1953 and currently 20 years old. 

Has wheat-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, sunkissed skin, and freckles. Wraps her hands with sports tape when working. Wears a blue Yankees cap. Uses an engraved Colt Detective Special revolver with a pearl grip given to her by her father and a Louisville Sluggerbat made by Hillerich & Bradsby CO. Wears a short-sleeve white and navy blue raglan shirt, dark blue jean shorts, white knee-high socks, and white sneakers with navy blue trim and sky blue laces. Wears dogs tags belonging to her two dead brothers. Somewhere between "lean" and "thin as a rail," depending on who you ask. 20 years old, looks younger than she is. 162cm/5'4", at best 50kg/110lbs soaking wet.

BLU Soldier -- Dougal Murdoch: Male, Scottish, actually served

Called "Doug" by Jesse. He hates it. Served as part of Britain’s Royal Infantry. Has a mutual respect for RED’s Soldier due to him taking the initiative to go to Europe and fight even when the military refused him. Has a deep respect for Charles since the two of them both served the Allies in WWII. Can play the bagpipes and trumpet.

Has short, buzzed red hair and a matching moustache and thick round beard, green-blue eyes, and pale skin. Has a tattoo on his right arm to memorialise his younger brother who served in the military but was killed. Wears a blue and green plaid Scottish Tam O'Shanter hat. Rest of his attire is practically identical to RED Soldier's. Stocky. Accent isn't too thick, and his voice is more tenor than bass. Uses a pump-action trench gun and a folding trench shovel. Late 40s. 178cm/5'10", 90kg/200lbs.

BLU Pyro -- Heinz Gehring: Male, German, heavily scarred

Called "Ketchup" by Jesse. A bit off his rocker and of the belief that fire is cleansing. Originally a German Flammenwerfer in the Wehrmacht, he was sent to a concentration camp after he massacred his unit in a fiery rage. Mann CO managed to negotiate his release from an American POW camp into their custody following the end of the war, and he was turned over to BLU, where Suki worked to restore him to health, albeit covered in scars. Has an affection for beanies, which he wears often to keep his head warm. Friendly with Suki and Bruce, as they were the first to open up and accept him into BLU. Jesse often refers to Heinz and Suki as the Axis Powers when they're seen together.

Bald with brown eyebrows and light brown eyes. Often wears a black beanie on his head. Wears a heavy Kevlar jacket akin to that of a firefighter and black pants. Doesn’t wear a mask unlike RED’s Pyro, but will occasionally don a respirator. Upper body is covered in burn scars, specifically his head, neck, and arms. His vocal cords were damaged due to inhalation of hot smoke, which has left him with a low and rough voice. Uses a German Flammenwerfer 35 and a fire axe. Late 40s. 167cm/5'6", 77kg/170lbs.

BLU Demo -- Susan "Sue" Liem Derby: Male, American (Tennessee), "cowboy"

Goes by his middle name, Liem. Jesse occasionally playfully calls him by his first name, Sue, which has resulted in a fistfight on more than one occasion. Extremely down-to-earth, but gets bored sitting around base all day. Hates losing, which has prompted Jesse to go out behind the buildings after losses and throw empty bottles with him. Enjoys cooking, and often acts as Jesse’s partner in crime during her pranks. Worked with Tamotu to make a mobile cart-cooler hybrid for beer, which he affectionately calls the “Boozer Cruiser.” Has a particularly fond relationship with Jesse and Tamotu, but gets along well with the whole team. Born in Tennessee in 1944 to Irish immigrants and currently 29 years old. Can play the guitar, banjo, and harmonica.

Redhead with hazel eyes, a stubbled beard that he can never seem to manage to grow out, and freckles. Always seen wearing a blue plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bolo tie, light blue jeans, and black boots. Wears round-rowelled roper spurs and a belt with a cowboy cover buckle. Has a farmer's tan but is still prone to sunburns. Strong, freckled arms. Arguably the most attractive member of BLU Team—in competition with Charles—and has a tendency to get the attention of women on the rare occasions the team heads out to town—a pity he isn't interested. Smooth, southern drawl and a white smile. Uses an American M79, a worn Colt Single Action Revolver he wears on a holster at his hip, and a sledgehammer which he affectionately calls "Busty." Late 20s, looks younger than he is. 183cm/6', 72kg/160lbs.

BLU Heavy -- Bruce Belanger: Male, American, former wrestler

Has an open-secret affair with Suki. Loves weapons to the point of obsession, and has a secret armoury filled with weapons of various kinds. Keeps his old wrestling mask hung on the wall in his room. While he fought as a Luchador, at heart he’s a die-hard patriot and a former Marine. His experience as a wrestler makes him a formidable opponent both from a distance and up close. Met RED’s Heavy years before either were employed by Mann CO, but they disliked each other even then for reasons he’s never disclosed—not even to Suki.

Wears a dark blue shirt, black leather vest, black jeans, and black combat boots. Extremely muscular and built like a brick shithouse. Brown eyes with salt and pepper hair, balding on top. Has a short beard, massive Adam's apple, and a deep, rough voice with a hearty laugh. Uses a mobile Browning machine gun that's belt-felt from a case he carries on his back. Up close and personal he just uses his bare fists. Often found after matches eating ham sandwiches that Suki makes for him, which she consistently denies making. Early 40s. 203cm/6'11", 127kg/280lbs.

BLU Engie -- Tamotu Palamo: Male, Samoan, mute

Called "Pally" by Jesse, and rarely “Tomato” when she’s in a bad mood. He doesn't mind, and gets along with the team. Stubborn as hell. Originally worked in construction in Brisbane, Queensland. Suki is the only member of the team to have seen his face without the respirator, due to her treating him after failed experiments. Has a special fondness for his machines, which he’s taken to naming. Communicates through Auslan, the Australian sign language, which Charles knows and taught to Suki. Long-distance communication is achieved through Morse code on his radio by tapping the talk button. Can play the drums.

Has golden-brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair that he keeps cut short. While not huge, he’s still very well-built. Has a full sleeve of cultural tattoos on his right arm, spanning from wrist to shoulder blade. Wears a respirator to keep out fumes during his work, dark blue overalls with a grey undershirt, and brown steel-toed work boots. Usually has an array of rags hanging out of the pockets of the overalls. Uses a sawed-off Colt 1883 10-guage double-barrel shotgun and a wrench. Early 30s. 180cm/5'11", 77kg/170lbs.

BLU Medic -- Natsuki Okumura: Female, Japanese, as nuts as RED Medic but much more calm and apathetic

Called by her class by the team, with the exception of Jesse, who calls her "Doc," and Bruce and Heinz, who call her Suki. Charles formally refers to her as Dr. Okumura. Formerly a trauma surgeon for the Yakuza. Closest to Bruce, whom she's in a “secret” affair with. She refers to everyone by their surname with a few exceptions. Jesse is almost always referred to as “Scout,” as she takes offense to being called “Miss Evans,” and so instead Suki uses the latter to refer to Jesse’s mother. Bruce is called by his first name. During battle (or when annoyed/in a rush) she refers to her teammates by their class. Suki has a pet raven who she named after Yatagarasu, a mythological Japanese bird, due to both being corvids with three legs. Yata's extra leg is the result of a parasitic twin that was mostly absorbed in the egg, leaving only a tiny leg that hangs off under his saddle feathers. Yata is also able to speak, but his English vocabulary is very limited and he speaks better Japanese than English. When he speaks English it’s mostly limited to him mimicking things he’s heard recently. Suki was born in 1935 in Imperial Japan, and is currently 38 years old. Can play the violin.

Has lightly tanned skin with dark brown eyes and black shoulder-length hair, which she keeps tied into a bun with a thin blue bow. Has a black dragon tattoo that curls around her right shoulder and down her arm, which she keeps covered by long-sleeved shirts and lab coats. Uses a default MediGun and a folding scalpel in the field, which she’s rather effective with after years of practice defending herself during confrontations with aggressive Yakuza. Also carries a trauma kit containing bandages, scalpels, clamps, a suture kit, painkillers, an intubation kit, IV kit, and the medical records of BLU Team. Wears a white lab coat, a long-sleeved black turtleneck or V-neck depending on the weather, a baby blue pleated skirt that comes just below her knees, black nylons, and black buckled boots. Wears small boxed reading glasses with a silver frame. Soft-spoken but has a tendency to use a commanding "Mum voice" with the younger members of her team. Has a faint English accent due to learning English from Charles. Late 30s. 158cm/5'2", 50kg/110lbs.

BLU Sniper -- Yuri Borisov: Male, Afro-Ukraininan

Jesse doesn't have a nickname for Yuri yet. His English is very poor, which often results in him coming across as simple-minded, despite the fact that he's incredibly cunning. Carries a knife and a small handgun on his boots. Is an incredible shot, even managing to outshoot RED’s previous Sniper before the arrival of Mundy. Fairly friendly with Charles, who acted as a part-time translator when Yuri first came to BLU and still translates for him on the rare occasions that he speaks with the team.

Dark brown skin, earth-brown eyes, and a charming smile. Has grey hair and a grey beard. Wears light blue flannel with the sleeves rolled down, a white sheepskin vest, and dark grey cargo pants. Uses a Russian SVD and a Buck knife. Carries an Okapi knife in his vest. Often seen with twigs stuck in his hair and dirt stains on his knees and elbows as he prefers ghillie-style camouflage to sniper's nests. Late 40s and greying. Deep, smooth voice. 183cm/6', 68kg/150lbs.

BLU Spy -- Charles Harlow: Male, English, former MI5

Called by his first name by most of the team except Jesse, who calls him "Charlie," which he hates (once she learns he's her father, she simply calls him "dad.") Still holds a grudge after Jesse's last retaliatory prank (as revenge for calling her "Jessica" in front of the team) in which she dropped a bucket of red paint on him and intentionally led him on a chase directly into the path of a sentry, which promptly shot him. Fairly reserved, he often keeps to himself and busies himself with reading in his off-time. Fluent in English, German, French, Russian, Italian, and Welsh. He's Jesse's real father, and while (prior to her learning the truth) he tried to keep his distance and put on a somewhat cruel façade to prevent suspicion, he was still fiercely protective of her. Served in WWII as an Allied scout and spy from '40-'45 (ages 16 to 21.) Born in 1924 and turned 29 the year Jesse was born; currently 50 years old. Has a bit of a history with the RED Spy: the pair of them used to run letters back and forth between British and French lines in WWII, worked together on the Western Front to coordinate Allied attacks against the Germans, gathered intel to make sure Operation Neptune in Normandy was successful, and infiltrated Italian ranks including orchestrating the capture and assassination of Benito Mussolini. Has an extreme rivalry with the RED Sniper for unknown reasons even prior to "the Incident"; all that’s certain is that the two hate each other. Can play the piano. Born right-handed but currently left-handed.

Has salt and pepper wavy brown hair that he keeps slicked back (with the exception of a single lock of short brown hair that always falls across his forehead), ice-blue eyes, and a strong jawline. No longer wears a mask. Uses an engraved ivory-gripped Smith & Wesson Model 29 and a balisong with a black matte cover. Shaves every morning but often has a five-o'clock shadow. Always wears a Prussian-blue suit with a midnight tie, black satin gloves, and black Oxfords. Rarely seen without a cigarette—he smokes Rothmans International with a golden band between the cigarette and filter. Drives a blue 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham with a white leather interior. Has a prestigious Received Pronunciation English accent, but when he's angry the front slips and he sounds more like your typical 1940s Londoner. 50 years old. 185cm/6'1", 68kg/150lbs.

[johnnydany]

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[unravellingsilencehq]

“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE VENGEFUL get what he deserves?” He is in THE DEATH EATERS & OPEN to finding out. 

— he walks through the world as ;

name �� evan rosier  pronouns → he/they identification → non-binary year of birth → september 1952 - september 1953 face claim → avan jogia blood status → pure-blood sexual orientation → homosexual  occupation → socialite amongst high society in wizarding london future information → n/a

— he is best described as ;

VENGEANCE reigning HELL FURY, he is the SUFFOCATING DREAD of thick fog lost in the cruelty of the world. BLOOD SOAKED hands of a wounded warrior with SARCASTIC WIT as PESSIMISTIC as a tormentor of the night; he is the MOURNFUL cry of VIOLINS in an eclipse SCREAMING sonnets of woe as BROKEN MIRRORS cast distorted images of eyes that appear HOLLOWED from SORROW.

— his story starts with ;

tw: gun, tw: death

While their name now strikes fear to those that dare say it, once he had a caring heart though very few around him remember it. Born to Axel and Adele Rosier, Evan was cherished from a young age. Overly spoiled with the vast riches their family possessed, he was adorned in midnight black velvets, crisp shirts, silver chains and held an air of entitlement that came with being a member of The Sacred Twenty Eight. Never left needing or wanting, everything he desired was readily at his fingertips with a mere tut from pursed lips. While their father held high office as a judge in Wizengamort, his youth was spent amongst manor halls in Kensington making shrill conversation with politician’s children, with merely ALEXANDRA ROSIER [sister] for company. Arts occupied his time, with lost language unraveled at his fingertips and the harmonious pluck of a violin string; intellect of scholars humored him whilst the lust of society rotted his sister’s mind. With a namesake rooted in Paris, the Rosier’s preferred to escape the heaviness of London in spring. Apparating to their second home in Lyon only after visiting their family tomes to lay respect to those that came before them; reciting their family mantra: Si vous ne trouvez pas de chemin, faites-en un. If you can’t find a path, make one.  

Traditionalists, they knew the establishment they belonged to and made sure to instill the ideologies within both Evan and Andra. Separated to accumulate societal connections, Evan was sent to Hogwarts while he watched his sister disappear to Beauxbatons; despite exchanging owls their connection faded as they found their paths. Sorted into Slytherin within a mere breath of it placed upon his head, Evan joined the pack that BELLATRIX BLACK [cousin] had orchestrated; RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE [friend], CASTOR WILKES [friend/potential love interest], and EDRICK SELWYN [friend]. The group were notorious, mocking first years and throwing jinxes at unsuspecting Mudblood for mere sport, their arrogance and superiority made them untouchable. Unlike his counterparts, the regulations Evan had to meet were reasonable. Associate with Pure-Blood’s, marry well to not dilute the bloodline and produce a male air to carry on the line. As the sole male air, he knew his place. It should have been simple. Find a woman from an honorable family, court, propose; a simple business exchange. But it was never the eyes of soft beauty he yearned for, but the gaze of handsome features fleeting from across marble floors. A fate crueler than a cruciatus curse itself, doomed to live wishing against what you are born. 

Though the misfortune of lost love and caught glances between Castor turned dismissed as the honorable fell from grace. Long gone was the once charming and witty boy, left in its place a ghost. Summering in their home in Lyon, Evan had been tending to the white rose bushes that adorned the property with his father. Leaving the scene only for a moment, but what awaited him upon his return shattered his once crystal existence. Evan can only remember the series of events in fragments. The piercing screech of a gunshot, roses stained red, shattered glass and his father’s limp corpse sprawled on the grass. Soul stolen and grief ridden, he grew bitter and tormented. Riddled with nightmares, his mother was inconsolable as wails of agony echoed the manor. Betrayed by the very justice system his father had served, the Ministry deemed the murder an accident. ‘Compensating’ the family for their loss and silence, they insisted the knowledge that one of the highest ranking wizards in their society was murdered in his prime by a gang of Muggles would cause anarchy. In turn, they did nothing. Leaving Evan sinking in absence, an anger brewing with hatred as he watched his sister rise to glory as the head of the household.

Amid the heartache, there was one person that became a saving grace to Evan; Bellatrix. Though Alexandra deemed her one of the Erinyes praying on the vulnerable, he could not care for her heeded words. Bellatrix became his catalyst. Igniting a fury within him that only burned brighter with every passing day. Though some say she prayed on his grief and used his anguish to boil it into something sinister; to Evan, she saved him. Showed him what the world really was and how it could be. How it should be. A new world armed with THE DARK LORD [leader] as it’s messiah where Muggles knew their place and would be unable to hurt another wizard again. Time passed and Evan’s mind only grew darker. Troubled by hooded figures, sleep was a luxury he didn’t possess. Horrors painted on the back of his eye lids, hours spent scrubbing his hands raw as if that would somehow erase the memories of blood that felt seeped into his pores. Love was not something he knew how to possess and he didn’t want it, not if it only led to more pain. Instead he found distractions. Smoking cigarettes, drinking fire whiskey until his throat burned and finding lips of ANTONIN DOLOHOV [romantic liason/potential love interest], both parties wanting to escape the voices that plagued them. 

Joining The Dark Lord’s army after an introduction from Bellatrix, it gave them a purpose that he so desperately craved. Channeling his rage, Evan grew adamant to bring upon his own form of justice as if that could be penance for his father’s death. Wilkes became his right hand when it came to fulfilling the Dark Lord’s work. Bonded in chaos, they tormented those they deemed below them, bringing upon the change that he believed was their birthright. Quickly rising within the ranks and becoming a part of the trusted inner circle, Evan among the select few who were trusted to ensure the Summer Solstice of 1983 fell into the Death Eater’s favor. Obtaining a polyjuice potion from SEVERUS SNAPE [acquaintance], with discretion Evan delivered it to JAE MULCIBER [friend] to follow through with the goal; public persecution. A message jarring the wizarding world to its core, the fall out was as they desired. AMELIA BONES‘s [victim] death acted as a catalyst of chaos; leaving the Ministry quaking and the citizens warned of war. Evan was rewarded with the Dark Mark for his loyalty and a promise that the Ministry would fall and he'd be privy to a front row seat in watching it burn.

Impatient as years pass, while the Death Eaters gather numbers in darkness, Evan’s drive for vindication leaves him wearing. Eager for change, while the fear striking the community brings him gratification; it isn’t enough when ex-Minister of Magic EUGENIA JENKINS [rival] walks freely with no scars to bare. Blaming her and BARTEMIUS CROUCH SR. [rival] ineptitude for the lack of finality regarding his father’s case; Evan desires to see them face the same hardships his family endured; an eye for an eye. Plotting the demise of their loved ones, Evan has entrusted his plans to only his right hand; Castor and their sister PERSEPHONE WILKES [acquaintance]. Knowing Castor would fly with him into fire and with Persephone’s aptitude for gathering information; his hopes to bring them grumbling to their knees feels within arms reach. Plotting revenge secretly amidst the Death Eaters' plans to infiltrate the Ministry, Evan’s vendetta could see the politicians scramble and weaker should he succeed; giving the Death Eater’s leverage. Finally, they could get what they always desired. Fire would rain and he’d gladly bask in the embers of the Ministry’s downfall.

— he is a LEVEL 8 WIZARD & readied for war ;

[deehazbinclinic]

About Dr. Herman "Doc" Dickson

Born 1920, Died 1967, Madison WI

Doc grew up in a typical American household in the early 20th century and had an unremarkable life. After graduating high school he became an aimless day laborer, not sure what to do with himself. However, after Pearl Harbor (1941), he was conscripted into the Army where he became a combat medic in the European Theatre.

Upon surviving the war and returning, he reluctantly married his high school girlfriend when they realized she was pregnant with his only child, a son named Edward. However, his time in the war finally gave him direction and he used the GI Bill to get a degree and then kept going to get a medical degree. And it certainly helped that the schooling kept him away from home and his family he didn't really want in the first place. But shortly after he got his degree, there was another war, this time in Korea. And while, yet again, he didn't enlist, there was a significant doctor draft putting him back in the service in 1952. Thankfully he wasn't on the front lines, instead in a MASH unit and the war ended in 1953. So it could have been worse, even though war is war.

Done with military service for good, Doc went into private practice with… only moderate success. He's a doctor and not a businessman. What didn't help was the undiagnosed PTSD from his time in active war, being "stuck" with a family and then having a series of unsatisfying affairs (some with patients, some with employees, some with colleagues from elsewhere).

Things kept getting worse into the 1960s when he noticed his son was pulling away (not that they were close to begin with) with the escalation of the Vietnam War. With his son becoming increasingly involved in the anti-war student protests. Everything came to a boil when he had to bail Edward out of jail after another protest. They had a huge argument and Doc was drunk already and it blew into everything that he felt was going wrong with his life including admitting to never wanting a family, his affairs, failing clinic, and punched his son before leaving the house to go to a bar to get even more plastered. On his way home, he crashed his car in a ditch and died on the scene.

He was concerned at first when he awoke in Hell, but over time he has realized that he's more happy and relaxed than he had ever been in life with the life stresses gone. No family, no worry of malpractice lawsuits, if someone dies they just re-manifest (unless by Angelic weapon), relations with employees were no big deal, nobody cared about him being drunk or even high if he wanted to be. So he is thriving in his new clinic, living in the apartment above it with Debbie in the spare room.

By default, it will be assumed that Doc has his clinic and already hired his employees. He's not rich, but he is definitely comfortable and happy where he is. He has taken a lot of effort to make sure nobody owns his soul so his clinic and its services are a neutral zone.

Appearance: Doc's appearance is based on a flower, with a thin 4 foot tall green body and limbs and rainbow petals as hair, pulled back in a long ponytail, like long hippie hair. Every time he tried to cut this, it always came back, so he gave up. He wears a white lab coat on top of a plain white shirt and black pants. He is also covered in burn marks from when his car caught on fire.

[frilly-interference-dazzling]

Successive Generations of People "Making It" 🛋

I bet my dad liked fat ladies 10 years older or younger.

Girls born as late as 1997 maybe seem originally to be sorta stutterers. I wonder if they have skinny young dads born around 1960. I realized my mom went to school with them, and you know she's hot. She's born July 23, 1959. My dad is born July 25, 1950, certainly a "big baby" especially later on.

I remember my aunt, Barb, and liked her so much, and she went into Broadway with me and we saw some shows. I saw her at 12 on a plane. She was so amazing. However, she's an eternal argument for my dad. She's born November 1953. He's probably "protecting" females between their ages.

My aunt, Joni, born April 1961 is amazing. I just feel she's a pixie. I had a vision in my pain for tonight, writhing in my bed in agony. I saw me from the back climbing a rock like a cat. I had tight short sleeves covering most of that arm limb or section, maybe a litle poofy but not much. It was probably like a black shirt maybe knit and medium dark kinda medium tight jeans. My hair was liquidy, bright medium brown, layered like it is now more at the bottom but maybe more and noticable, a highlight mostly, bangs that were not seen since it was from the back, and curly layers. I wanted to do it, but how? Not dying or putting hydrogen peroxide on it. It was fuller, not too long, not too short. So, my figure was more like hers, like poofy arms hanging looking disconnected etc. and fluffed skin. I've been trying for something like that, at least partly in ways, for a long time. My fingers, too, already big but not as big as my dad's.

[bitter69uk]

“Stage left was John Doe. Everybody had a crush on John. Tall and lean, jet black hair, a sweet, open face and voluptuous mouth, he was classic dreamboat material. Equal parts Woody Guthrie and Elvis Presley, John was the glue who held the entire operation together.”   

/ From Kristine McKenna’s liner notes to X’s debut album Los Angeles (1980) / 

Happy 70th birthday to brooding frontman of definitive Los Angeles punk band X, poet, musician and actor John Doe (born John Nommensen Duchac, 25 February 1953). Gee – what did Exene Cervenka, Lydia Lunch and Texacala Jones of Tex and The Horseheads ever see in him? As hardcore X fan John Waters has pointed-out, “He’s still beautiful – the last gunslinger in town.” And no man wore a mesh t-shirt better! Pictured: John Doe and Exene Cervenka of X performing at The Stardust Ballroom in LA, 1979.

[the-marsh-harrier]

Who was Orion Black? (Pt 5) Orion Black x Female!Reader

A/N: I wanted to explore Sirius’s childhood more in a non-traditional sense and give Orion and Walburga some interesting character development. This takes place after Sirius has broken out of Azkaban. Although this is a reader insert in parts, it is not the main focus and some chapters will have little or no mention of the reader. I have also altered the year Walburga was born to be 1940 instead of 1925 as it states in cannon (this is my fanfic and I’ll do what I want with the characters that are in it). Similarly, in some of the chapters to come, I already know I will upset some people with the way I portray Sirius and Walburga’s relationship - remember everyone is entitled to portray fictional characters as they want in their fanfics and if you disagree, please write your own. JKR's bigotry and opinions are not welcome here nor supported.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Part 5) Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Sirius had spent the last twenty minutes racking his brain trying to work out how this was possible. Orion Black, Orion Phineas Black not only knew of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, but he also decided to learn it and write his own rendition of it. This made no sense. This was muggle music. Sirius hadn’t believed Walburga when she had told him that his father worked with muggles or that he enjoyed muggle music, but he couldn’t have worked on the Wizard of Oz… he was too young. Not to mention the fact that Melania and Arcturus – Orion’s parents – would not have allowed him to see the Wizard of Oz as a child. So, the question remained, why Somewhere Over the Rainbow?

Finally, at the end of his rope searching for answers, Sirius captured the old memory and placed it back into its bottle. Casting the sheet music for the rendition onto the piano so its soft melody could fill the air; Sirius was ready for the next memory dated Thursday 30th April 1953.

***

This memory was strong. It was already prepared when Sirius found his feet outside of the cinema. The rain was beating down on London’s streets, muggles were darting around but it wasn’t long until Sirius saw a quick flash in the alley behind him signally the apparition of a wizard.

Peering down into the alley, he saw a rather nervous looking Orion taking a few moments to collect himself. Orion wasn’t a tall man, barely standing at five foot ten inches, more so that his broad build gave him a commanding presence. He had striking eyes with a light grey iris that faded into a darker brown ring near his pupil. His wavy, ebony hair was concealed under a black woollen homburg hat so only the short back and sides were visible. His hat created a shadow that concealed his sharp, angular features and freshly shaved jawline from the small lantern hanging in the alley. Orion looked like he could’ve been one of the great 1950s film stars. He wore a long grey trench coat which was fitted at the shoulders and draped down into the straight-line silhouette. Evidence of a mixed-grey tweed suit jacket, white shirt and black tie peeked out from under his large open coat. His black slacks stopped just shy of his shiny black shoes which could have doubled as mirrors

Contrary to how Sirius remembered Orion, he seemed to put a lot of care into his appearance and what he wore. To be perfectly honest, Sirius didn’t mind being compared to his father when he was younger if this is how people remembered him – he was quite impressed with how well his father could scrub up. The only article that Sirius took aversion to adorned Orion’s left pinkie finger; it was the Black family signet ring, the gold band glistened in the minuscule light whereas the onyx stone stamped with the family crest acted as blackhole to any light that hit its surface.

“Right, you’ve got everything. Muggle money in the front pocket of your wallet, regular money in the back pocket.” Sirius watched as Orion listed off and double-checked everything he had. “Cinema tickets in your jacket top pocket.” Orion reached inside his suit jacket and nodded. “You’ve got everything you need.” Orion gave himself one final nod before walking out of the alley; he was walking with so much determination that Sirius didn’t have time to move out of his way, so Orion morphed right through him.

Sirius quickly spun around and followed behind him. The two stopped just outside of the cinema. Orion kept his hat pulled down and his hands in his coat pockets, his left foot was slightly tapping to expel some of his nervous energy. Sirius, on the other hand, was eagerly looking through the crowd of faceless people that shuffled past the pair; his head bobbing up and down to find any person that possessed distinctive features. That’s the funny thing about watching other people’s memories, you only see what they deem important enough to remember.

Sirius’s game was quickly over when he saw a similar flash from the same alley that Orion had just stood in which you emerged from a few seconds after. From the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed Orion straighten slightly and remove his hands from his pockets; the frown he wore a few moments prior lifted into a warm smile awakening the dimples in his cheeks – Sirius had never seen his father smile like that before, but he couldn’t blame him. You looked stunning, in that timeless kind of way.

You emerged from the alley slightly jogging your way through the rain with your umbrella in hand, your kitten heels making a distinct clicking every time your heel struck the floor. Your black cigarette-style trousers hugged your legs tightly and your ruby-red trench coat made you stand out in the sea of brown, grey and black bodies around. Poking out from the top of your coat was evidence of a high necked black knitted jumper and a small heart-shaped pendant looped on a thin golden chain. The signature 50s bright red lipstick and slightly smoked out dark shadow finished off the look perfectly.

“So sorry I’m a bit late, the last court hearing dragged on longer than expected.” You smiled apologetically.

“You needn't worried about apologising, I haven't been waiting long." Orion's smile seemed to grow slightly wider.

You smiled back before motioning around you. “Such terrible weather we’re having for this time of year, isn’t it?”

"Couldn’t agree more, it hasn’t stopped raining all week!” Orion chuckled. “I’m hoping it brightens up for the weekend – I’m supposed to be playing at my friend Tenneth’s wedding on Saturday and the whole thing is outside.”

“Hopefully, it clears up for it. Nothing worse than an outdoor wedding in the rain.” You smiled. “Despite the weather, I have to admit, I have been looking forward to this date since we agreed on it last week.”

“As have I.” Orion eagerly nodded back before checking his watch. “Shall we go inside now? The film is due to start in five minutes.”

“Oh yes! What is it that we're going to see?” you asked, turning your head to try to get a glimpse of the tickets. You had deliberately left all the organising of your cinema date to Orion to see how committed he was to his family views and to your surprise, he accepted the challenge willingly.

“Umm…” Looking down at the ticket stubs in his hand. “Something called the Wizard of Oz. The ticket vendor said it was an old film but worth a watch since neither of us had been to the pictures before… I think he meant cinema though, as I will be disappointed if it is just still pictures on the screen with it being older.” Orion had his eyebrows furrowed, glaring slightly at the tickets. Sirius had to laugh at this comment, his father really was clueless when it came to muggles and their inventions.

“I’m sure it will be brilliant! Oh, I’m so excited.” You gushed as you walked into the cinema. You’d never been to a muggle cinema before. You heard they were so clever. Your friend, (Y/F/N), described it like watching magical portraits but you can’t talk to them as the actors on screen can’t hear you. They did warn you that although the actors couldn’t hear the audience, it didn’t stop people calling out but it was customary to stay as quiet as possible. “One of my friends went on a date with a muggle to see a film before but they saw The Happiest Day of Your Life. (Y/F/N) assured me that there is nothing more magical than the atmosphere in the cinema.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ll feel the same after this.” Orion said with a slight smile as he held open one of the doors for you into the viewing area. “You never know. You might convert me to coming here regularly should you like to be my viewing partner.” A slight blush crept onto your cheeks at his words.

“Oh, come on now!” you giggled. “let’s find our seats before it starts! I don’t want to miss a second of it.” You moved past him, grabbing his hand on the way, and pulling him along into the viewing area.

***

Now the film was finished and you were walking out, Sirius had to admit that he was surprised as to how much of that film his father had remembered. There were a few bits that were amiss or where the screen went an odd blur of colours or the sound muffled but for the most part, it was very impressive. Little did Sirius know at the time, but the Wizard of Oz became a special movie for you and Orion, one that you watched regularly whenever it was on television or in a local cinema for a vintage-night showing.

“I have to say, their depiction of witches and wizards were completely wrong and some of the creatures were a tad off, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story.” Orion confessed as the pair of you were walking along one of London’s side streets and thankfully, the rain had finally stopped. He had been listening to you gush over how smart the muggles that made it must have been and how beautiful Dorothy was.

“I must find a way to charm myself a pair of those ruby slippers! They were incredible! Three clicks and you’re home!” It was undoubtedly a brilliant film to see. Plus, if he had to admit it, Orion agreed with your friend – at least partially, the atmosphere in the cinema was as close to magic as muggles could get. “Well, what was your favourite song from it then?” You questioned.

Orion chuckled. “I did rather enjoy If Only I Had a Brain. But then again, Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is Dead was quite amusing. I might play it at my mother’s funeral.”

Even you had to snort back a laugh at that. If there certainly was a wicked witch – it would be Melania Black. Anyone you had asked about the Black family, since meeting Orion, had never mentioned a nice word about her. “Oh stop! We shouldn’t laugh at such a thing!” You sniggered.

“Knowing her, it probably would take a house to fall on her head to kill her off! She’ll outlive us all!” Orion laughed and you couldn’t help but join him. Little did Orion, or Sirius, know at the time but he was right, Malania really would outlive all of them, even Sirius. As your laughter quietened down, he began to speak again. “What was your favourite song then?”

“Oh, that’s easy! Somewhere Over the Rainbow. It’s so dreamy and beautiful. A world full of colour and life way above the chimney tops.” You pointed up to the night sky. “Where all our troubles and worries are behind us. Isn’t that what we are all searching for?” you spun to face Orion and continued to walk backwards. “Where everything just feels right beyond reason.”

Smirking, Orion reached forward to grab your hands and interlock your fingers together. “What do you make of continuing our conversation about somewhere over the rainbow in this little music bar I know?”

You hummed in response as you freed your hands from Orion’s to lace them around the back of his neck. “What might this place be called then?” You enquired.

“Have you heard of the Dwarvish Gentleman before?” Orion quirked his eyebrow as hands moved to hold your waist.

“Indeed, I have.” You smirked. “I’ll let you take the lead in getting us there, Mr Black.” And with the swirl of Orion apparating the pair of you elsewhere; the memory too swirled its way out of existence.