#guest muse: The Starling

[adeadlysong]

Tahirah, Rafaele, Starling, Arlyn, and Nuriel were all extremely well-versed in ballroom dancing, given that they literally came from a land that encouraged music and dance quite often.

However, brushing up on their skills never hurt, so attending the dance lessons was a great idea!

Arlyn and Nuriel naturally paired up with each other, and Tahirah and Rafaele were partnering. But the Starling herself didn't have a partner...until she eyed someone else who happened to be nearby, offering them her hand with a little smile to accompany it.

"Would you like to dance with me~? Seems we could both use some practice, hm?"

[lordofthestrix]

Continued from (x) 

“Sing me a song of glorious revolution.” His inflection arrived in winterly winds. A voice frozen after one too many nights of expedition traversing the prophetic, mocking insinuations of his own impossible handwriting. 

“Won't you do that for me? Any hour and landscape of your desire. Have your confident eyes ever witnessed the event in anything other than printed paper? Have you seen the soul of man turning into a crooked deformity at its wake? Sing to me of rivers of blood and relentless carnage. Sing of drownings in the middle of the streets. Of common men cheerfully competing to see whose foot ends the begging trail of bubbles. Sing of the grotesque spectacle of the guillotine. Of children laughing and cheering at the terrorized, oh so terribly comedic expressions the rolling heads gave them. Can you conjure an inch of pity for the nobles? Sing of the Princesse of Lamballe. Sing of her execution. Of the mixture of intended bravery and utter horror on her face as the mad assembly washed their hands of her. Of her body, ravaged and mutilated by the hands of the mob. Sing of her mangled face, paraded on a pike and I vow to hear you when you speak of what the people want. Is your gracious pity reserved only for the less fortunate? Sing of the Vendée. Sing of almost one fifth of a million peasants murdered in bloodthirsty passion by revolutionary troops because their preference for continuing worshipping their God didn't match the agenda of the brand new world the liberators were constructing and I will vow to hear you when you speak of what the people need. Would you stand by my side if a revolution is to be unleashed? Would you dare to proclaim its fairness then?” Cold, wondering eyes challenged. His notes conveying a more immediate seriousness than the one offered during any of their previous exchanges.

“Is it the end justifying the means that inspires you such fervent stubbornness? If so, please enlighten me.” His arm gestured, presenting his inexplicable guest to a stage along a cold, sardonic smirk, deprived of all humor. “Tell me of the heroes of the revolution to come. Excuse the screeching suffering. Assure me the joyful happiness and lasting prosperity of the people you claim to care so much about. Tell me this will be the one exception. The singular time they won't devour each other like desperate hyenas. Revolutions are never won by the populace. Titans made out of their collective shadows while vowing to carry their voice claim their victories. Most often than not giving way to unspeakable atrocities their loathed predecessors would have never allowed.” Silence fell. 

“...I believe you.” He confessed after a sincere moment of contemplation. “I believe you when you affirm you would give anything to save people. Your flaw isn't indifference. It is the blindness of a self-righteous hypocrite.” No sign of retraction or apology was given at the honestly of his judgement. Eyes fixed in daring temptation. Ever the fallen angel on her shoulder. Colder and yet contradictorily kinder in his approach than any other day before that.

“Ask yourself. What is it that you are so bravery standing for in your passivity? If it isn't the monstrosities to come. If it isn't even their final result. Fate? An emissary of endless possibility cowardly hiding in the corner. Supplicating to maintain what is allegedly supposed to be. And for what reason? You would pray for others to find freedom while only protecting your own right to prostrate yourself before Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. A loyal priestess to the Norns. A pointless slave to uncaring angels.” Tristan mused as the ice finally revealed a hint of the scorching passion burning within. 

“Virtue is admittedly not among my usual areas of expertise. But can't you see the contradictory abysm you forged for yourself by deciding that your own yearning to help others was unimportant? A temptation to be rejected? My little starling...You invented a sin out of your own kindness.” He was himself surprised by the strange fondness that for a fleeting accompanied his tone to her.

“So this is my own brand of revolution. My advice to you. Accuse me of being a radical thinker if you must. If you wish to help others then you should...Help others. I do have a plan. One you so amusingly alluded to with all the marks of a sinister scheme. And my evil plot happens to include consideration towards the improvement of those you are concerned for. Aren't you the slightest bit curious at the prospect of joining me?

@noblehcart

[cstarling]

PERSEPHONE POTTER: 🔪 POINT A WEAPON AT MY MUSE. it was foolish to be here. clarice was very aware of that. the escape from the transport van had been easy enough - even as a dangerous serial killer, clarice had been underestimated by the men that escorted her from one facility to another. they hadn't expected her strength, her ability to dodge their advancements to recapture her, her size aiding her in that aspect. the van crashed, she killed the two guards that tried to keep her where she was, and then she escaped. clarice starling should be half way across the country, by now, but she had decided to make a detour. she'd heard the address from one of the nurse's at the bshci, committed it to memory, walked from the crash site to percy's home, and let herself in. as clarice knew it would, the report of her escape had traveled quickly. the other woman had clearly gotten the word - as clarice enters and finds percy in her living room, the agent is already holding her gun, pointed somewhere between clarice's chest and ribs. she grins into the mouth of the pistol. 's'that any way t'treat a guest, persephone?' clarice teases with southern honey tripping from her tongue, though she stops just as she enters the room. 'nice've you t'expect me. i wasn't even sure i'd be comin' your way, but i decided i had t'see you before i left,' hand ushers towards the sofa to her left. 'why dont' we sit? think we have some things t'talk about,' @spiritdreamt.

[shrinkthisviolet]

Basic + Morgan Wells for the meta asks!!

What changes do you think would be made between your muse as they exist in your head vs how they would be treated as part of canon?

The friendship between her and Iris would 100% be erased once Morgan met Barry. Which is a real shame, because…guys, Iris is the whole reason Morgan knows Barry! Iris is the person Morgan most wants to tell about her being Sentry! Iris is the first person to believe Morgan about Savitar having Barry’s goodness in him! And in s5…oh their friendship is absolutely gonna shine there, they’re gonna have such great angst, you’re gonna love it

What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?

Oooh well Barry telling Iris sooner is mostly due to Morgan pushing Barry to tell her! Also, Jesse is more acquainted with the Team because of her insight into them via Morgan…and her making up with Harry is influenced by Morgan’s advice (yes, that happens in s2 canon anyway, but it’s a bit more two-sided here!)

Tina also has a much more favorable opinion of Barry because of Morgan’s effusive praise of him…and a certain other character is in a more stable position because of Morgan (indirectly) too 👀 (can’t say who, but you’ll find out in the next fic!)

Also…a certain character’s death is averted because of Morgan 👀 but that’s a spoiler!

What role would your character play in the story? Are they a major player, or a one scene wonder?

Somewhere in between! She’s a side character in the same way Caitlin, Cisco, and Iris are (especially Iris, since she and Iris occupy similar positions as being close to Barry’s heart — Iris romantically, Morgan platonically)

If there are multiple adaptions/If they are part of a multi-part franchise, which ones would your character appear in?

I guess the Arrowverse counts as multi-part 😂 she’d appear in the Flash portions! Probably not Arrow episodes, unless those involve Team Flash (with some exceptions, like the fact that she’s not involved in the second half of the Flash vs Arrow s1 crossover). She’s also going to appear in some Legends episodes…but we’ll get there once I’ve actually seen that show 😅

Besides your face/voiceclaim, who do you think would be cast as your character?

…no one 😂 the point is that she and Jesse are identical, and it plays an especially crucial role in her and Harry’s relationship in the beginning. No one else could be Morgan except for Violett Beane

If your character had a breakout show/film/comic, what would the plot be? Who would be in their supporting cast?

Hmm…I guess a breakout show/film/comic could explore her in the 9 months between getting her powers and the Flash’s debut. Granted, I do explore that in this fic already, but it’s really the only time when she’s disconnected from Team Flash. James and Tina would be in the supporting cast for that…and Eowells would make a few guest appearances when he decides to act like a dad.

I guess there could also be one about her time in Starling, between s1 and s2 (and during part of s2). She’s not really Sentry during that time, but she does occasionally use her powers to help others in small ways. Thawne doesn’t get to take her joy from her. Supporting cast in that would be Danica, Yolanda, a few appearances from Tina when Morgan goes to visit Central, and probably brief appearances from Team Flash.

What headcanons/theories do you believe fandom would invent about your character?

Neurodivergent headcanons! She probably is some variety of neurodivergent, but…I couldn’t tell you what specifically 😅 I don’t even know myself

oc ask game!

[themissinggenius]

Part 2/2

Another conversation was coming, but it was avoided for the time being. Clarice showered in the guest bathroom; earlier, she had tried peering around the house—still mad but a bit embarrassed by the outburst. The door had been put back into place since she showered, and the water had been cleaned off of the floor. Hannibal was nowhere to be found. I really did it this time, she thought. Her body relaxed, and her face softened. She didn’t think it was appropriate to laugh, but the thought still surfaced, prompting a sad smile. I pushed around the violent centerpiece of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. And he just cried. Shithouse mouse. The smirk dissipated as she ruminated further... She had hit him. Being a domestic abuser wasn’t just rude; it was boringly common. 

She moved the thoughts about violence to the side and shifted her attention to the cause of the scuffle. I don’t know what he expected. Hannibal knows the depth of my old relationship with Jack, as much as he hated him. He told me to say goodbye to my father, so why not Jack?

Your daddy and Jackie Boy aren’t the same, she reminded herself. At this moment, she was both grateful and resentful that her internal voice of reason was that of her husband. At least it was helping her see his view. Okay, so the relationship isn’t necessarily comparable. But why would he think I wouldn’t come home? Did he really read my intentions so incorrectly?

Clarice laid awake in the guest bedroom for hours.

~~

Hannibal Lecter relies on his intuition; it may just be his most famous attribute. On rare occasion, though, his cunning will fail him. On the day that Jack Crawford died, it most certainly did.

However, he doesn’t know that yet. Instead, he is reclined in repose at the seat of his harpsichord which he does not play. As he is off in one of the ill-visited quarters of the home, Clarice would be unable to hear the notes carrying from her position in the guest room; even so, he does not play. Hannibal gleaned a look of disgust and frustration from her earlier, and thus, he was certain his Starling would take flight by the morning for reasons known but difficult to accept. There is no reason for him to play.

Poised on the bench, he disappeared to his memory palace without struggle. The difficulty came when he walked down the halls, closing each door that had belonged to her. Hannibal contemplated as he walked: There is a certain symmetry to this—an appreciable one. Clarice’s hotheadedness had been a defining feature of hers, whereas he relied on coolness. He chastised himself for his own emotional outburst; it was unlike him to breakdown, and though he had allowed himself to become vulnerable to his wife, with her likely departure, he had to withdraw from all this fragility. He had to shut down. He had to be the ice to meet her violent fire. 

Thus, he closed her doors, sealing the emotional ties within each.

~~

Hannibal emerged at the sound of her voice. He had not heard her approaching in nor had he smelled her. 

A few paces away from the harpsichord, Clarice stood. Hannibal had been contemplating whether to address her as Clarice (Perhaps too informal at this point...), Agent Starling (But even when she goes back, she won’t be an agent...), or Miss Starling (Ummmm, I don’t like this one very much...) when she interrupted.

“Hannibal,” she started. 

“Ah.” He paused but spoke again before she could continue. “I see you’ve finally decided to join me. Had enough tossing and turning up there, or did you come down to use me as your personal punching bag again?”

“No, no. I just think-”

He cut her off again. “You know what I think, Ex-Special Agent Starling?” Oooh. That works, he thought. “Well, actually I wonder. I wonder if that was how Daddy took care o’ Mommy when she wouldn’t shut ‘er yap.” His imitation of her accent—which she had long abandoned—made her flinch. “If Ma didn’t have dinner on the table at five-o-clock, yes siree, she’d be in some kinda trouble. And boy, does Clarice still wanna be like her Daddy! No matter what,” he emphasized with a drawl, “she’s gonna stand by him. It sure do seem that way tuh me!” Hannibal smirked, and his face betrayed no warmth.

The room had felt colder to Clarice when she had walked in. She had expected him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected this. The woman paused and considered the implications: her musings were correct. He really did misread her, and now he was trying to drive her away. Well fuck that. 

In their years of marriage, the couple had picked up on a few of each other’s traits. For one, Clarice was not going to allow a bit of intimidation break her. He came close to doing so in Baltimore, but he would not again. She steeled herself, adopting a bit of his icy demeanor.

“No, Hannibal. My father did not hit my mother. I think I would’ve told you by now, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away; rather, he just pursed his lips and smiled. 

Then, he began: “As you know, I don’t try to predict you because it often proves fruitless.” He looked off before setting his gaze squarely on her. “However, considering these... outbursts of yours and the contempt plain on your face, I have bought you a ticket back to Arlington in time for dear Mr. Crawford’s funeral. For my safety, I will also be leaving, but not to Virginia. I know how much you must miss Jackie; please, give him my regards when you go. Maybe if you scream and pound on his grave hard enough, someone will hear and they’ll finally find you... Three years after you were reported as a missing person.” Lecter’s eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged. “Though I doubt you’ll be reinstated, as you haven’t kept your resume up to date. It will be no problem for you, though, Clarice.” He gave her a kind, patronizing look. “You’re a very smart girl. When you rediscover that the FBI has no use for your intelligence, try showing off your trophies from the firing range. Maybe even tell them about your skills in hand-to-hand combat... I could write you a glowing reference!”

Hannibal was perfectly still in his seat with his wife just beyond him. He waited patiently for her to break. He wanted no end to be left untied when she left. Your turn.

“I see you still try and lick tears after you’ve tired of tasting your own.” Clarice took a slow step toward him. She needed to crack his facade quickly. “Fortunately or unfortunately, I have no intention of moving back to the States. I find that I’m quite happy right here.”

Only she could have noticed the slight twitch of the doctor’s right eye upon this admission. And she did.

Starling inched closer. “Now, about this ‘contempt plain on my face’...” She mirrored his voice and flat expression; her imitation was even better than his had been. “Did ya happen to consider that it’s because you just tried to tear me apart—unsuccessfully, I might add? Let me tell you what I know, Doctor.” She hammed up the formality in her tone. “I know you’re not comfortable feeling worried about another person. I know that you felt vulnerable when I was gone, and I know you didn’t like that.” 

She paused, remaining collected. She raised her voice a tad for this last bit. “Lastly, I know that you ASSUMED. And if there is one—just one!—good thing that goddamned Jack Crawford taught me over the years,” she laughed, “it’s that, when you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME. Trust me, baby, you did just that. And despite what your intuition told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She did it. The true stoic’s face had broken, and Hannibal the Cannibal sat, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She continued.

“I’m sorry that you misread my motivations. I spent yesterday reflecting on how I had gotten to this point, and I had come home feeling glad. I was planning on going upstairs to find you, drawing a bath for the both of us, and then dancing later on in the evening. Your assumption got us a bit sidetracked, though.” Looking down at her watch, it was 2am. Holy crap. She focused back on him and noted that he was still unmoving but appeared less rigid than before. The room felt like it had finally warmed up.

Clarice took a last step towards her husband. Now above him, looking down, she said, “I am sincerely sorry for hitting you, Hannibal.”

Finally, he stirred. “Clarice, I have not once so much as laid a finger on you in anger...”

“I know. Ironic, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

His wife smirked at that, and he returned the favor. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You know what else won’t happen again?” She held his chin and spoke softly. “You doubting us. I’m with you for the long haul. Where the hell did you even think I was going?”

“Ummmm. To be candid, I’m unsure of what I thought your plan was. I assumeddddd,” he looked up at her teasingly, “that you were leaving because of a change in heart.”

“My, Dr. Lecter, you didn’t have every one of my steps planned out before I could even think of them? What have I done to you?”

“I can now definitively say that you bring out the worst in me.”

Clarice laughed and sat down next to him. “Crying? And worrying?” She was feeling more relaxed, placing her hand on his leg as she started laughing harder. “Why am I not surprised that you consider that to be Hannibal Lecter at his worst?”

Her husband just smiled back at her. She saw his cheeks blush almost imperceptibly, which then prompted a further fit. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing.

“You had better... go back... into that memory palace of yours... and open up my doors ASAP,” Clarice ordered while catching her breath.

“And how did you—?”

“You were sitting on that bench for quite a while before I called out to ya. Try not to forget about me so soon, huh?”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” Never again, he added silently. “But I must ask... Would I be incorrect in assuming you still want to dance?”

Clarice smiled widely. Hannibal shifted in his seat and began to play.

[stressy-enby]

Chapter 2:  The Meeting

Cover made on Canva.com

You were great at running. You’d been running from your problems for year, both figuratively and literally. Before however, your problems followed you, now they simply wait on bated breath for your return. What’s the point in running, though, if no one’s chasing you?

Note: I tease (Y/N)’s quirk here, but don’t worry. All will be revealed in time.

Previous - Next

Masterlist

. . .

“It’s good to see you both again.” Antonov shook Tenya and Midoriya’s hands. “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to your visit, they’ve been staring daggers at their wall clock since like, 9 o’clock.”

“So have we! Been looking forward to it, that is.” Tenya chuckled. “We’re glad to be able to meet them officially.”

Antonov laughed, and pointed to the back of the police station. “You’re looking for the Check Fraud door.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Midoriya asked, both eyebrows raising into his green curls.

“You two had the idea for the parole, I just helped with the paperwork.” The investigator pointed out. “Now go on and put (Y/N) out of their misery.”

He waved the younger men off, chuckling something that sounded vaguely like “I’m not getting involved with those kids.”

The office Antonov had indicated was a small one. The door and walls were made entirely out of glass, so the heroes immediately spotted (L/N). Their hair had been trimmed since the last time the heroes had seen them, but their eyes were covered by dark glasses.

“They look a little better,” Midoriya remarked “can’t quite tell what with the sunglasses, though.”

“Hmm. Well, parole does seem to be working well for them.”

Tenya knocked on the glass door, starling (L/N) from the stack of papers they were buried in. They looked up, and an excited grin crossed their face for just a second. It was gone the very next moment, though as they opened the door.

“Deku and Ingenium, I presume?” They drawled, standing aside to let the pair in.

“Yes, it’s very nice to meet you (L/N).” Tenya stepped in, and offered them his hand.

“Likewise,” They shook hands with the heroes. “Well, if Taiyo is to be trusted at all, then I supposed I have you two to thank for this boring ass job.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all!” Midoriya assured them, smoothly lying through his teeth. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, by the way.”

Both Tenya and (L/N)’s eyebrows rose, his in alarm, theirs in intrigue.

“Oh come on, Iida, we’re trying to be friends, right?” The curly haired man insisted. “Besides, they’re-”

“-An ex-criminal who’d being watching 24/7.” (L/N) interrupted, chuckled “I can’t go get coffee without being tailed by a guy with handcuffs and a gun. I can’t do shit to you two.”

Tenya smiled awkwardly, a little put off by the bluntness of the statement. He squinted at their host. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Who would believe me?”

Another fair point. Two pro heroes meeting a citizen was pretty unlikely, even if said citizen was a reformed criminal. “Ok, then. Well, I’m Tenya Iida. I’m happy to get to formally meet you.”

“Formally?” (L/N) lowered themselves into their own chair. “What, did you guys do your research before coming?”

“We saw you in Tartarus,” Midoriya explained. “So we’re familiar with you, but didn’t personally know you.

“Ah, ok. You come on one of my good days?”

Another glance was shared, the two unsure how to answer.

“W-well, you looked pretty miserable.” Tenya said gently, sitting down.

“Just miserable? Yup, definitely one of my better days.” (L/N)’s easy smile fell suddenly, and their eyes seemed to cloud over. “You have no idea how much that place sucked. It was even worse than when I was on the run.”

“Worse?” Midoriya inquired.

(L/N) flinched, registering the words they had just said. Tenya got the sense that they hadn’t meant to reveal that much.

“Running around as a pilot or a whatever wasn’t as fun or glamorous as it may sound.” They sighed, resining themselves to just go with it. “It was scary and lonely. I didn’t have any real friends. All the people I met thought I was someone I wasn’t, so it was hard to form emotional connections with them.”

“Oh,” Tenya breathed. No wonder they looked so awful, He mused, a concerned expression taking root in his features. imprisonment was probably not much different from when they were free. That’s an awfully sad thought.

“We’re glad to see you doing better, then.” Midoriya quietly expressed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The mood had turned somber fast. (L/N)’s eyes flickered between their guests, and their lips suddenly curled into a carefree grin, shifting the mood back to casual, as if they had never let it slip in the first place.

“Aw, thanks! Work here is boring, absolutely, but it’s a hell of a lot better than seven more years in a tiny room.”

Tenya blinked, shocked by the 180.

“Y-yeah, that’s what we thought, too.” Midoriya stammered, also stunned.

“Thanks again for that.”

They were still smiling, but it didn’t quite meet their eyes.

 Tenya felt his gut churn, but wasn’t quite sure why. Something told him he should change the subject, though.

“Um, may I ask why you wear sunglasses, or would that be too personal?” He questioned. Really? That’s what you open up with. “Maybe that’s not a good thing to-”

“I’m not blind, if that’s your thought.” (L/N) smirked. “It helps with my quirk. The glasses make people uncomfortable, but then again, so does my quirk. Just can’t win, can I?”

The conversation continued, but the air was different. (L/N) was different. Iida felt something twinge in him, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t until much later, when he had departed from the station and bid goodbye to Midoriya that it hit him.

(L/N) was hurting, that much was clear. And despite Tenya not knowing them very well, he wanted to help.

[endoftheroad1983]

The Trouble with Steve pt 4

The Trouble with Steve pt 4

Y/N now found herself sitting on a train heading towards Starling City. Her stomach rumble as she tried to settle it with a bag of peanuts. Tony always had perfect timing on sending someone on a mission. She was a little over half way there and she could swear that there was someone on this train that had pizza. Which brought her back to the small bag of peanuts and an angry stomach. She thought back on Steve, he had protest that she should eat first. The thought made Y/N heart flutter like butterflies.  But Tony refuse to listen. The reason was that Tony needed Y/N to retrieve a dangerous subsidence that Oliver and his team had discovered. It was going to be an over night trip with dinner. Easy Peasy.

Expect for now, the pizza smell was getting stronger. Y/N tried to ignore it but her stomach wouldn't have it. She tried watching the trees fly by her. Her thoughts drift back to Steve's weird mood switch. He was acting like nothing had happen between them. Nat had comment on it as well. She was now torn about her feelings for him. The mix signals she was getting from him was driving her nuts.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” A voice broke her from her thought. Instantly she wanted to say yes. They had the whole train to themselves why would they want to sit here?

“No, it's free.” She spoke up when Steve slid into the seat in front of her.

“Hello Y/N, happy to see me.” He chuckle a bit. Y/N sat up and look around. Only another male passenger was on board.

“I'm shock as hell actually. What are you doing here?” Y/N sat back down and regain her through process.

“Tony sent me as back up.” Y/N mouth dropped open.

“He did what?” Why didn't Tony let her know? She was pretty sure that this was a solo mission.

“Is that a problem?” A shadow of worry appeared in his eyes. Y/N shook off her shockness.

“Not at all, just you caught me off guard and Tony never said anything.” She laugh at his puppy sad eyes and toss the empty peanut bag in the trash.

“Well I had to bring you this.” Y/N hadn't noticed the container he was holding. He open it to reveal two slices of pizza and then hand it to her.

“Where did you score pizza?” Steve laugh as Y/N took a small bite.

“At the train station, there was a food cart.” Now Y/N was really puzzled.

“Wait, you were at the train station with me? Why did you wait till now to show yourself?” Steve smile. He knew you were a very curious person.

“Tony didn't want anyone to see us entering together in case you are followed. I will be watching your back.” Now that made sense. Y/N began to ease into her chair it was nice riding along side Steve.

Before Y/N want it to end, Steve had to leave. He wished her luck and would met up with her when he could. She nodded and thank him for the pizza, once he was gone it was time for Y/N to change. Fifteen minutes later the train pulled to a slow stop. The whistle blew and Y/N stood up and stretched. It was a quarter till seven and she was right on time.

As she stepped off the train she was greeted by Oliver.

“Y/N!” She turn and look at him. He was dress up in a nice black suit with a green tie. Y/N eyes lit up.

“Oliver! I thought we were going to met at the restaurant!” She beam back. The plan was going smoothly.

“What?! I would never let a beautiful woman walk these streets alone.” He gush. The two embrace.

“You look so beautiful Y/N!” He gush over her dark blue dress.

“Why your looking as handsome as ever.” Oliver lend in for a kiss on her cheek.  While doing so he slipped the tiny vile into her coat pocket.

“Shall we then?” Oliver offered his arm to her and the two headed towards his limo.

Now Oliver and Y/N sat across each other at a very fine restaurant. It was a little over the top for Y/N.

“Wow you really know how to go all out just for a small date.” She tease him as she took a sip of water. A genuine smile flash over his face.  

“Yes, well I like to treat all my dates with great detail.” The two share a laugh. Acting through this fake date was going to be easier then Y/N thought. The waiter arrive and Oliver took over.

“Do you mind? Tony told me that your a bit of a foodie.” Oliver looked over to her.

“By all means, Mr. Queen, surprise me.” She beamed back at him.

“Absolutely Ms. Y/L/N.” He then spoke French to the waiter.

The food was amazing and the wine was to die for. Y/N praise him for his choices. Oliver had told her that his father had impeccable taste for food and wine. Y/N reveal that her parents kept to the basic dinners growing up. It was easy to find simple things to talk to him about.

The two strolled through the park to where the theatre was. Oliver was taking her to a midnight Mattie. Y/N was looking forward to it and besides, she just couldn't show up for dinner and then head back on a train right afterwards. It would look to suspicious. But half way through the first movie Oliver got called away. He apologies over and over in front of the theatre and promised her a make up date at a later time. Y/N held her confused look and agreed to the next date.

“Do you need me to call a cab?” He asked.

“Oh no my hotel is just around the corner. Till next time Mr. Queen.” Y/N cruise to him and a sneaky smile appeared on her lips. She knew he had work to do and that he wouldn't be calling her for another date unless something big came up. She could see in his body language that he was a loner type guy.

“Yes, Till then.” And with that Oliver disappear into the shadows of his city. Y/N waited for a moment and took the scenery in. A lot of people where out and about this evening. She ponder about another walk through the park but opt for heading to the hotel. She was wondering if Steve had made it there before her.

The hallway down to her room was bright and quiet. She assume that there wasn't a lot of other guests stay in tonight. She slid the card key in the slot and wait for the lock to open. Once inside she scan the room. No sign of Steve yet, so she took advantage of it and called room service before jumping into the shower. Upon entering the living space again she was greeted with a sober looking Steve. He was sitting at the desk.

“Great timing, Sir!” She beam as there was a knock on the door. Steve immediately flew up to his feet and was ready for action.

“I order room services.” He relax and stepped away from the view of the door. Y/N took the basket out of his hand and tip the boy. Once he was gone Steve come back into view.

“Why Steve, it's so romantic in here with all the curtain’s shut.” She tease. Y/N knew she caught him off guard with her joke.

“It's for security reasons.” He stumble over his words.

“Ah, well I order the wine anyway.” She pull out the red port and two wine glasses. She fill them up passing one of them to him.

“To a successful evening.” She announce happily only to see Steve wasn't feeling the mood. She brushed it aside. If something was bothering him then he had all night to say something.

“So you up for a movie?”

“What about Oliver Queen?” He question, not giving Y/N any clues to what it was about.

“And?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Are you two suppose to meet up again?” He was looking at his hands. Maybe Nat was right. He was getting jealous.

“Not unless something goes sour. But I don't see that happening since we were a success with the date.” Steve eyes shut at the word date. It was like he didn't know what kind of plan this was. Surely Tony would have filled him in, besides he did find the hotel just fine.

“Beside I’m not a go out all night every night kind of party girl. So you wanna watch a movie?” She flick on the TV and hunted down the movie list. Steve's mood switch again and he seem up to it. So for the rest of the night Steve and Y/N choose two movie to watch together. It was something that Y/N was hoping that would happen for a long time.

When Y/N woke in the morning she took note that Steve was already gone. She didn't worry about it though. He probably left in the darkness of the morning. She remember she was suppose to be alone on this trip. There was not much to do but enjoy a beautiful morning on her hotel room balcony. She was left alone with her thoughts. Which were mainly on her and Steve last night. A flash of heat embossed in her cheeks. Things were starting to look better for them. She muse on that thought with a smile. After a hearty breakfast and a stroll through the park. Y/N return to the train station. The train was just pulling into the station and Y/N couldn't believe her luck. Now she was closer to getting home without the long wait for the train.

Y/N kept her eyes on the window. There were a few more people on the train then there was last night and she had to keep herself from scanning around for any signs of Steve. The four hour ride was going to be tortures against her patients. The drink she order arrived earlier then what she expect. It was also brought to her by another stewardess. First red flag, she noted. Then two men had taken seats a few rows ahead of her caught her attention. Well if that isn't a big red flag there. She thought to herself. She promptly sat the drink down.

“Is everything alright Miss?” The stewardess asked.

“Would there be a problem if I ask for a drink that wasn't poisoned?” Y/N ask in a nonchalant voice. The two men were getting out of theirs seats and Y/N could feel two more coming up behind her.

“Yea that's what I thought.” She could never catch a break.

to be continued....

[bluboothalassophile]

Spellbound by a Song Bird

Happy Birthday @impulse-goblin, who has become a delightful friend to have, I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful day! =)

~~~*~*~*~~~

Zatanna walked out of her hotel room intent on two things:

To have a delightful time, without John Constantine; it was the first time in a few years that she was determined to have a good time and not wallow on her failed relationship with him.

To stay out long enough to give her nosy cousin the impression that she did have a social life.

Zatanna fully expected to fail dismally at both, but she figured that she could look fabulous and enjoy the booze. Also she could enjoy being, for a change, being twenty-five, and enjoy actually acting her age.

Zatanna Zatara, the youngest most powerful sorceress, youngest member of the Justice League; also an open identity member, a successful show woman, and dismally alone. That was something her cousin took the liberty of rubbing her face in since hers’ and John’s terrible break up some years back. In hindsight, dating a man who was a walking train wreck and being only barely legally an adult might not have been the best thing to do. Especially when Constantine was better friends with Zed.

Zatanna walked through the rain of Starling City until she found a hole in the wall jazz club, which seemed like a safe place to spend a few hours rather than running around out in the February rain just to prove a point. Leaving her coat at the door she sauntered up to the bar, while a husky voice sang something soft, strong, and beautiful. Once she was seated Zatanna ordered a martini; something she was terribly fond of, and leaned back to enjoy the atmosphere.

Her eyes though were assaulted with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen though, and Zatanna wasn’t seated she’d have tripped.

The woman was that cliché curvy, lithe figure, toned and gorgeous, while looking delicate and strong. Her sunny gold hair was in loose curls, which were drawn back by a brilliant red carnation pin. The black, buttoned pencil skirt was slitted up the side, and it would’ve looked slutty but looked tasteful on the blonde, with her plaid shirt revealing a hint of a black lingerie bra beneath, black gloves, and a tattoo on her left arm Zatanna couldn’t make out. But the real thing which had Zatanna about undone was this girl’s thigh high fishnets in vintage heels. Between the siren’s voice and the angel body Zatanna knew she was in over her head, so she opted to just enjoy the performance and enjoy watching the singer.

“The Black Canary of the Birds of Prey ladies and gentlemen!” the patron announced in a husky tone when the band finished their performance. “Now for our special guest, Josie and the Pussy Cats, in five.”

Zatanna chuckled as she crossed her legs, when a curvy blonde siddled up next to her. Zatanna did a double take to see it was the singer she had been checking out.

“Hey,” the young blonde smiled, she was stunning, her make up was of the forties’ style, her eyes were azur, her lips a rouge which should’ve been illegal or kissed, and the noir make up around her eyes was thick. “I saw you watching me.”

“Wasn’t hiding it,” Zatanna chuckled.

“Whiskey neat Earl,” she called out to the bartender.

“You got it sweetie,” the man said fondly.

“I’m a regular act here,” the blonde said when Zatanna lifted a brow at here.

“I’m just surprised you weren’t carded,” she omitted. The girl was by no means a baby face, but Zatanna seriously doubted that the woman was older than herself.

“I am twenty-three! I turned it today, thank you,” the blonde chuckled.

“You do not look it,” Zatanna said and lounged back allowing her eyes to roam over the woman.

“Dinah, Dinah Lance,” she smiled.

“Zatanna,” she returned.

“I know, we’ve met a few times,” the girl said.

“We have? I doubt it, I would remember someone as beautiful as you.” Zatanna chuckled.

“Thank you, for both the compliment and insult, we’ve worked together, I’m usually more… badass than now,” she said. Zatanna froze.

“I thought that was just a stage name.”

“It’s a double act darling,” the Black Canary smiled coyly.

“Your father is a detective, you work with…”

“So you do remember, that makes this now terribly less awkward,” Dinah decided.

Zatanna chuckled. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“I didn’t recognize you until I got closer either,” Dinah said.

“Mmm, now what?” Zatanna chuckled.

“Well, judging by the way you’re looking at me, and how I’m looking at you, we should get out of here,” Dinah whispered leaning forward, her hand resting on Zatanna’s knee. “Preferably before those cats get on stage,” Dinah mused conspiratorially.

“Not a Cat lover?” Zatanna mused leaning forward.

“Are you?” Black Canary jeered.

“I prefer song birds,” Zatanna omitted. She stole a kiss from those full lips which had other woman surging forward so her gloved fingers dove into Zatanna’s curls. Zatanna deepened the kiss as she pulled the other woman’s legs apart slightly to scoot forward, already she could feel the heat, even as she tugged on Dinah’s lip. The younger was the one to pull away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dinah panted as the Pussy Cats started playing.

“My hotel is a few blocks away,” Zatanna murmured.

“My apartment is across the street,” Dinah countered. Zatanna didn’t argue as she paid her tab and got up on unsteady legs before grabbing her coat to follow Dinah.

“I should inform you that it’s been a while,” Zatanna said as they walked out into the misty ran of the city.

“I’ll get you warmed up,” Dinah promised. Zatanna caught the other woman’s hand and spun her back into her as she kissed her thoroughly.

“I didn’t say I needed warming up,” Zatanna whispered huskily when she had the blonde leaning heavily against her chest. Tonight was going to be a lot of fun, Zatanna decided as she allowed Dinah to drag her to the apartment complex across the street and shove her up against the walls of the apartment

[thoughtlesstales]

This Is Your Only Warning

Title: This lis your only warning  Word Count: 2024 Rating: General Relationship: Oliver Queen x Felicity Smoak Characters: Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, John Diggle Triggers: - 

Prompt by olicity-smoak-queen: established olicity, it is their rehearsal dinner, max fuller (the club guy whose fiance oliver slept with during their rehearsal dinner- episode 1x03) tries to seduce felicity as a way of getting back at oliver.. funny prompt, jealous/angry oliver loll (at the end oliver comes clean to felicity that he had slept with max's fiance at their rehearsal dinner)

“You know I thought you’d bail before today,” Felicity smirked leaning back against the wall outside Oliver’s bedroom.

“Really?” He stopped in front of her, hands tucked into his pockets, his grey suit jacket open and his tie loose.

“Yeah, you just don’t seem like commitment type,” she teased. She swiped her fringe out of her eyes -the lack of glasses leaving her feeling exposed- with her brightly coloured nails and ran her tongue over her vivid pink lips. She had her arms folded over her chest and the smile on her lips was teasing.

“Is this your way of telling me, you don’t want to be walking down the aisle next week?” he grinned removing his hands and laying his palms flat against the wall, either side of her head. He leaned in close, body pressing against her, his breath playing over her exposed skin on her neck.

“No..no, I think I still want too, haven’t got cold feet yet,” she breathed, her voice catching when his mouth ghosted over her throat, right where her pulse was hammering.

“Good because I very much want to marry you and then I want to strip that gown off of you afterwards and show you what to expect for the rest of your life,” he mused bringing his mouth to hers and kissing her hard. Felicity arms uncrossed and her hands sunk into his hair dragging him close. He pressed against her, her legs parting ever so slightly to allow him closer. Tongues battled, teeth grazed and lips seerered.

“There you are!” Thea exclaimed appearing from the stairs to their right. Oliver pulled away and looked at his sister out the corner of his eye and Felicity just hid her face in his neck, not letting Thea see the crimson blush creeping up her skin.“Oliver stop distracting Felicity and Felicity stop giving my brother excuses to skip the dinner,” she laughed tapping her foot against the carpet. “Move it!” It was her final command before disappearing again.

“I’m actually glad this is nearly over, your sister is a whirlwind,” Felicity laughed placing her palms against Oliver’s chest and pushing him back. “But she’s right, we really need to get down stairs, it is kinda our rehearsal dinner.” Oliver moaned and tried to kiss Felicity again, but she was adamant about getting down stairs so he stood no hope of getting any more action.

“Fine, lets go,” he sighed grabbing her hand and pulled her towards the stairs.

Hand in hand they walked down stairs, heading towards the waiting throng of people stood below. When they saw them coming, the clapping started and Diggle, proud as ever, starting whistling.

“Alright, alright it’s only dinner,” Oliver laughed shaking his head at their reaction. Everyone laughed and crowded around them when they got to bottom. There were more congratulations and lots of questions about next week. Oliver managed to pull away and crossed the foyer heading towards Diggle who was stood at the back grinning.

“You look thrilled,” he said spotting Oliver’s face.

“Why can’t it just be the wedding?” Oliver asked standing beside his friend as he watched Felicity interact with the guests.

“Because that is not how it goes,” Diggle laughed clapping Oliver on the back. “But not long now, how you feeling?”

“Good, a little nervous, but she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, so more thrilled than anything else,” Oliver nodded eyeing Diggle who was just beamed at him. “Seriously, if the wind changed direction, we’ll be calling you the joker.”

“Very funny,” Diggle scoffed. “I’m just happy for you man, you’ve both found someone you want to spend the rest of your life and that’s great.”

“Thanks, now do you think I should go rescue her?” Oliver frowned watching Felicity go into a full blown ramble, rivaling even some of the best ones she’s given in the past.

“No, I actually think she’s enjoying herself,” Diggle chuckled holding Oliver back as he too watched Felicity smile and laugh away with family and friends.

***

“Fuller, what are you doing here?” Oliver eyed the club owner cooley. He stood just inside the house, glass of champagne in hand, that cocky grin pissing Oliver off more than anything.

“Well I couldn’t miss this, it’s your rehearsal dinner, it seemed fitting I was here,” he grinned winking at Oliver. “She’s very beautiful, your bride that is.”

“Stay away from her Fuller,” Oliver growled moving closer to him away from the ears of guests.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver; you can’t expect me not to have a little chat with the blushing bride, since well, you certainly had more than a chat with mine,” he snapped glaring. “We’ll see just see how naive little Miss Smoak is and whether she really knows the man she is marrying.”

Fuller walked off, leaving Oliver stood there tense and the muscle in his jaw popping with anger. He had to find Felicity and explain everything before Fuller got to her. Scanning the garden he saw her blonde head bobbing away as she spoke rapidly with one of the guests, her hands were flying as she was deep in conversation. Cutting through the small crowd of family and friends Oliver moved behind Felicity, his hand sliding over her waist resting on her hip. Moving his mouth to her ear, he asked if he could have her for a moment.

He pulled her over to a quiet spot away from guests and tried his best to smile. “Oliver what’s wrong?” The worry in Felicity’s voice betrayed what she was feeling, which was she thought Oliver was about to tell her that he couldn’t do this and the wedding was.

“There’s something I need to tell you, something I did back before the island,” he said said clutching her hands in his. “There’s a man here, Max Fuller, he’s going to try something with you because of something I did.” Felicity visibly relaxed and a smile crossed her face, she knew where this was leading, but she decided to let him stew for a bit longer.

“And what did you do Oliver?” She asked solemnly, keeping her face straight.

“I may have slept with his fiance on their rehearsal dinner,” Oliver coughed, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “and now he’s going to try something with you,” he continued.

“Oh Oliver, what am I going to do with you?” she laughed reaching up and touching his cheek. “I know what happened, Tommy and I had a little heart to heart over you,” she grinned. “I know all your dirty secrets,” she winked smiling away at him.

“Seriously?” He choked. “You made me go through that and you knew!”

“Of course I knew, I know everything,” she grinned. “Oliver he can try whatever he wants, nothing is going happen.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed stepping up on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m walking down the aisle to you next week no matter what,” she breathed against his lips. Oliver nodded and held her face in his hands as he kissed her tenderly, she was all he wanted and he would never forgive himself if she left him because of stupid actions of a horny kid.

“Can I go now?” she asked pulling back. “I don’t fancy being told of by Thea again.”

“Yeah, but no more talking with Tommy about me,” he said bumping his forehead with hers.

“Can’t promise anything there and where is he anyway?”

“Late as usual,” Oliver grinned watching her walk away.

“Miss Smoak?” Felicity turned at her name and saw a man stood behind her. “Max Fuller,” he offered her his hand. When she placed it in his, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Felicity smiled softly glancing up at him. “Do you know Oliver?” she asked taking the glass of wine he passed her.

“I do, I own a club in the center of Starling, healthy competition,” he smirked winking at her. Felicity knew how he knew Oliver, and that he owned a club. She also knew that his club was having problems staying in the black since Verdant had come into the scene.

“Oh yes, Poison is it?”

“That’s it, have you been there?”

“A few times yes, it’s one of the better clubs,” she grinned flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“Well thank you, I am surprised I haven't seen you though, a woman like you is hard to miss,” he smirked eyes trailing up and down her body. She was wearing a form fitting black and white dress, which came to just above her knees. The neck was square, exposing her chest but covering her shoulders; the few accessories she wore were bright and bold.

“You’re quite the charmer Mr Fuller,” Felicity breathed her hand reaching out and touch his hand softly, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she eyed him. Max laughed and shook his head.

“Call me Max please Felicity and if I wanted to charm you Felicity I could,” he grinned closing in on her, His hand circled her waist and he pushed her back into the shadows out of the view of guests. Felicity held her ground and looked up at him. His head tipped, like he was going to kiss her, but she moved her head so it was level with his ear.

“You are going to join me now, we’re going to find a bedroom preferably Oliver’s and we’re going to have some fun,” he breathed his grip growing tighter on her skin. She couldn’t believe he was actually going to force himself on her just to get back at Oliver. Her clutch still in hand she flicked it open and drew out the short blade inside. She brought her hand up between them and pressed the blade into his throat, her other hand gripping his arm so he couldn’t pull away. She did not like to be threatened and he wasn’t about to get away with it.

“Now Mr Fuller, this is your only warning. I know who you are and know what Oliver did to you, but if you think I will be doing the same you are sadly mistaken. I love my Fiance very much and have no intention of cheating on him willfully or forcefully,” she growled taking a moment to breath. “Now if you come anywhere near me, Oliver or our families I will end you. I will turn your business to dust and leave you penniless and if you don’t think I can, try me. Do you understand?” she threatened, her voice cold and harsh. Felicity couldn’t stand men like him and working with the Arrow she was able to take men like him down. “I said do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes I understand,” he stammered. He had paled dramatically and his hands were visibly shaking. There was a line red line on his neck where the knife had bitten into his flesh.

“Good, now I think it’s time for you to leave,” she stated finally, stepping away and looking around to see if they had caught anyones attention. She slipped the knife back into her clutch and made sure her dress was still fine. Max nodded, he set his glass down on the nearest tabled and stormed out leaving a rather smug feeling Felicity stood watching.

“Do I even want to know what just happened there?” Oliver asked appearing behind Felicity. “Or why you are carrying a knife at our rehearsal dinner?”

“Probably not, but lets just say Fuller won’t be bothering us again,” she grinned turning around to face him. “It’s not only the Arrow that can be dangerous.”

“So it seems,” Oliver nodded a proud smile turning his lips up. “Do you think we can leave yet?” He asked looking round to see if his sister was on the prowl. Felicity laughed, it was a high pitched, heart warming laugh that brought a grin to Oliver’s face. Yeah she was his and always would be.

[somethingvicked]

Masquerade of Life pt8

Chapter 8

Bella

Demetri led them out through the double doors again; it seemed to be the only exit in the room.

Edward swiftly pulled Bella alongside him while Alice made up the rear, a hand steadily placed on Bella's back, urging her to keep up.

Bella didn't understand why their faces were so grim – they had made it through, hadn't they? They made it.

But soon she understood why when she heard voices and people approaching. Humans, she gathered from the heaviness in the steps and lack of the melodious ring vampires had in their voices when talking.

A large crowd went through the hallway, passing them by and filling in through the double doors.

"Welcome guests, welcome to Volterra!" Bella could hear Aro call out and realization suddenly struck her.

Those people …

And if she had needed more convincing Demetri gave it to her. "Nice fishing, Heidi," he commented to a female vampire that had walked behind the crowd of humans, herding them into the stone chamber.

She was strikingly beautiful – just as beautiful as Rosalie even though they looked nothing alike. Bella couldn't make herself look away from her.

Heidi smiled as she glided past them, glancing curiously at Bella. "Demetri," she greeted the other vampire before walking inside the chamber, closing the double doors behind her.

Despite that, Bella could hear the terrified screams that rang up behind them, making her gasp and tears pool in her eyes.

Demetri chuckled as he led them to the reception and pointed toward the comfortably looking couches.

"You can wait here. Darkness will not fall until a couple of hours more. I think all of us wants to avoid another spectacle, isn’t that right?"

“Yes," Edward grunted out, staring hard at Demetri who didn't seem intimidated at all.

"Good. Now, if you excuse me I have a … certain engagement I need to get to."

He smiled again, baring his teeth and even though Edward and Alice remained stoic, glaring him down Bella shuddered.

She suddenly got reminded of that time when her mother had made her and Claire watch Silence of the Lambs with her, forgetting that they were just 12 years old and not at the appropriate age for seeing such movies.

Claire had loved if of course, being the horror fan that she was, and marveled at the brilliance and cunning of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Bella, on the other hand, felt the same revulsion, disgust, and fear toward Demitri now as she had felt in the end of the movie when the good doctor whispered his last words to Clarice Starling:

"I do wish we could chat longer, but … I'm having an old friend for dinner …"

Bella shuddered again, trying to push the thoughts of Demetri ripping people's throats open, as she willed her voice to obey her.

"What about my sister?"

Demetri sighed loudly and turned around on his way back to the chamber.

"As we have already told you, miss Swan, she's with master Caius, perfectly safe. If she so wants to I'm sure an arrangement can be made to say goodbye before you depart."

Without another word he turned back around and as gracefully as only a vampire could, he hastened back to the big doors, opening them and disappearing inside.

"Goodbye?!" Bella questioned, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She didn't understand anything. Why would she have to say goodbye to Claire? Claire had to be coming home with them, right? She couldn't possible want to stay here?

"Sssh, Bella," Edward cooed, trying to comfort her, urging her down into his lap.

Bella knew she shouldn't do this – it would hurt even more later when he left her again. He had seen now that she was alive, that there was nothing to feel guilty about. But she needed this now.

She was so confused and the sorrow and rage toward the monsters in the stone chamber was eating away at her heart. She pressed her face against Edward's chest, wetting it with her tears.

"All those people …!" she sobbed.

"I know," Edward soothed, rocking her gently. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. So sorry."

Bella didn't say anything more, just sobbed into his chest as he rocked her. He turned to Alice whilst trying to comfort Bella.

"So you can't see Claire's future?"

Alice pursed her mouth, but shook her head. "No. It's like a blank spot where she is. I can't see any future related to her either." She sounded defeated and annoyed.

"I can't hear her," Edward added. "But Bella's mind is silent to me as well. But you can see Bella, right?"

"Yes," Alice confirmed.

"So why …?"

"I don't know."

Bella looked up from Edward's sculpted chest, meeting their eyes. Her sorrow had suddenly eased for a new feeling: irritation.

So Edward couldn't hear Claire either? Why was that? That had always been what was special about Bella. And Alice couldn't see her either? Why?

Was Claire … more special than her? No, that couldn't be right. Claire was her little sister – she wanted to get a PhD in drama and minor in poetry. Great things but normal all in all. She had nothing to do with the vampire world.

Maybe Alice couldn't see her because she didn't belong around the supernatural? Bella mused, feeling a little better at that thought. Yes, that must be the case.

"Do you think Aro will be able to hear Claire?" Alice asked. "He hasn't touched her yet, right?"

Edward shook his head. "No. He wanted to – I saw it in his mind. He's even more curious now when he's found out I can't hear her and you can't see her future. But Caius … he won't allow that any time soon."

"I understand," Alice said, nodding thoughtfully.

Bella on the other hand, barely understood a thing. But she couldn't focus on that right now when Edward was rocking her slowly, stroking her hair, making small purring noises.

She knew this was just temporary. But considering what she had been through she would allow herself to enjoy this for now. She had to take what she could get.

Claire

As Caius closed the secret door behind us a new set of corridors appeared before us, without end it seemed.

Jeez, you would need a GPS to navigate around this castle, I thought before feeling Caius' cold hand between my shoulder blades as he nodded toward one of the corridors.

"This way, cara mia."

After a seemingly endless walk, passing more closed doors than I could count Caius finally stopped in front of another door, turning the door knob and gesturing me inside.

"These are my private chambers, amato. We will not be disturbed here."

I stepped inside. It was obvious who lived here – one of the Volturi leaders. Everything seemed to be in the Volturi's colors; red, black and gold. But the room was beautiful, no doubt about that.

Caius took off his dark cloak, revealing a black, hand tailored suit underneath, which probably cost more than whole my wardrobe together. A big, golden V decorated with rubies hung around his throat.

He tossed his cloak on the giant bed before he sat down on the sofa, drinking me in with his eyes.

It made me blush, the way he looked at me, and I quickly tried to focus on something else. My eyes found some paintings on the wall that I didn't recognize (not that strange, perhaps, since art had never been my strong side) but they were incredible well made and beautiful.

"Who's the artist?" I wondered and stepped closer to one of them to see if I could catch a name on the frame.

"Me."

I turned around with a gasp, my mouth hanging open in surprise. "You?"

"Yes. Painting is a hobby of mine."

"W-wow," I stammered out. "It's amazing!"

He just nodded, still looking at me the same way. I suddenly felt the insane impulse to walk over to him and sit on his lap, which made me blush even more. If it was going to continue like this I was going to turn into Bella before I knew it!

I settled for going over and sitting down beside him, which made him smile and make that purring noise once more as he took my hand, kissing the back of it.

That made me smile, probably one of those goofy smiles where the corners of the mouth meet behind the ears. And now I couldn't help myself, I climbed into his lap, resting my head against his chest, listening to the vibrating sound that just got louder at my action.

"This is insane," I mumbled, breathing in his scent. He smelled like a crisp winter morning, eucalyptus and lavender. Something I wouldn't mind get high on, apparently with how I inhaled him.

"What is?" he wondered treading his long fingers through my hair.

"This," I said, motioning to the two of us. "I … I don't even know you. I normally don't behave like this! I haven't even ..." I quickly interrupted myself before I told him I hadn't had a real boyfriend yet.

Caius just chuckled. "It might seem insane to you, amato, but not to me. It's the mating bond."

"Yes, you said so. Aro and Marcus too. But I don't … I still don't really understand what it means? Are Bella and Edward mates? Is that why she's so … crazy when it comes to him?"

Caius snorted. "Accurate description, bellissima. You'll have to ask Marcus about that, though, since he would know better than I. But in my opinion – no, they aren't true mates. Just very … crazy about each other as you put it."

"Then how … how do you know I'm your mate? Why don't I know? Please tell me!"

"Easy, amore mio, I will tell you – just ask me. As we already mentioned, a mate is like the second half of a vampire. When they meet their mate, they become whole and nothing will ever matter as much as their mate. Before meeting a mate, a vampire can have relationships with other vampires, or simply just indulge in a moment of pleasure, if you understand what I mean?"

I blushed, but nodded. I wondered if that was why he had such a grand bed in this chamber – since Bella had mentioned that vampires never slept. A wave of rage and jealousy went through me with thinking that.

"But that's impossible after meeting your true mate since a vampire's mate is … everything. The sun of the universe, their entire world."

"But how can that be – when we don't know each other? I mean, I could be the female version of Charles Manson – would you still want me then?"

Caius raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"Well, he’s … never mind. I just wonder, how can I be so important to you when you don't even know me, what kind of a person I am?"

"Because we have a bond between us, which tie us together. We were meant to be together, Claire. You can feel it too, can't you? Not to the same degree as I do, since you are human, but why do you think you can act so casual with me, despite not knowing me?"

"I … I feel a connection with you. A beckoning to you," I murmured.

"Exactly! It's the mating bond you feel."

"But what if … what if I don't want that? What if I don't want to be your mate? Will you force me?"

As I said this a searing pain went through me, making me gasp and clutch my chest. Caius didn't stir, he froze in his seat. But the look in his eyes – it was if I had threatened everything he held dear with a nuclear bomb. I had to look away from him, otherwise I would start to cry.

"I would never force you. You are my mate. Hurting you would hurt me, but that is not the main reason why I'm not going to do it. Make no mistake, Claire. I'm not a good man and I have never been. Especially not now, since I'm not even a man any longer. But you … I'd rather let my brothers rip me apart and set me on fire than harm you. As long as you are safe and happy."

Silence remained between us a few moments, both of us tense. Then Caius spoke again:

"Is that what you wish? To … reject the bond? Me?"

Another wave of pain went through me, making me sob and tears start running down my cheeks.

"No!" I got out, pressing myself closer to him. "No, I don't want that."

"Oh, thank the gods …" he said, burying his nose against my neck, inhaling my scent. "I promise you, amore mio, I will not make you regret this. As long as I have you, I will do anything for you."

"But … I don't know how to make this work," I stuttered out. "I mean … I go to school in London – I have a scholarship there. I can't just … quit that."

Even though it suddenly didn't seem as important as it once had, I still didn't want to quit my school as it was all I had ever wanted, well, up until now.

"I understand …" Caius said, sounding somber. "My wish would be for you to remain here in Volterra, with me. But … I'm not going to force you, as I said before."

I thought for a minute, suddenly getting an idea. "You know, I only have one lecture next week, the rest is all work on our own. After that it's the Easter days. I could at least stay here with you for that time – so we can get to know each other a bit better? To be honest, I don't want to leave right away either …"

Caius face suddenly lit up as he hugged me closer once more. "I would like that very much, amore mio."

My smiled quickly faltered when a thought suddenly hit me. "I don't have many clothes with me, though. Since I just thought I would get Bella and go back home …"

"Don't worry about that, cara mia," Caius dismissed. "It would be my pleasure to provide you with what you need."

I shook my head, startled. "No, that's really not …"

"Claire," Caius said, a small smile on his lips. "I have just found my mate after 3000 years. Let me take care of you, in whatever way I can now. Please?"

I couldn't help but giggle at the fact that this powerful vampire king was begging me for anything!

"Alright."

No one's P.O.V.

The sun had gone down and night would fall soon. Bella was happy that they would leave this hellhole soon but she still wanted to see what had happened to Claire.

Was her sister just going to ignore her and become Caius' little pet? After what they had done to Edward? And what did Demetri mean when he said they would say goodbye?

Claire would be coming with them, wouldn't she? Going back to her school, where she belonged.

"It's time," Alice said, getting up from the bench. "Let's go."

"But what about Claire?" Bella asked.

"Bella …" Edward started but the voice of Claire interrupted him.

"I'm here, Bella."

The two Cullen siblings and Bella turned toward her. Claire stood in the doorway from one of corridors with Caius behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

Bella just gaped at the sight and stumbled to her feet. "Claire! You're … why are you with him?!"

Claire opened her mouth to explain but Caius anticipated her. "Really, Isabella? I was under the impression that my brothers explained that Claire and I are mates."

Aro and Marcus had granted his wishes and left him and his new mate alone these few hours, but Caius knew his brothers. He knew that they, Aro especially, would never pass up a chance to rub something like this in the face of the Cullens.

Bella started to hyperventilate, making Caius smile a wide and cruel smile. Her next words took care of that, however:

"How can you, Claire?! How can you be with him – knowing what he is? Don't you care about me at all? Or Charlie? You're behaving like some bitch in heat!"

Caius suddenly growled and darted forward, ready to rip Bella's head off but Claire's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Thanks a lot, Bella. You know, I can understand that this would be hard for you – it was a shock to me too, to be honest. But you're crossing the line now! I don't care about you? I came home to help you when he," she pointed an accusatory finger toward Edward, "dumped you like a hot potato and what thank you did I get? A slap to the face! Despite all that I follow you to make sure you're alright when, once again he causes shit to stir in Italy!"

Caius was looking down at his mate that was getting more and more worked up, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Such a magnificent creature she was. Up until now she had been calm and collected about almost everything. A bit scared, perhaps, but no tantrums thrown. He liked that – it indicated maturity and intelligence. But clearly she could also hold her own. That was even better. All of those traits would come in handy among the vampires of the Volturi one day.

"And despite what he put you through, what you put Charlie through because of him, you still fly across the globe to save his sorry ass! So, reality check here, sis: maybe I'm not the desperate one here, behaving like a bitch in heat as you so nicely put it!"

Bella's lower lip started to tremble and Edward was now the one growling at Claire but Alice held his arm firmly, stopping him from attacking her. She knew that Edward would never stand a chance against Caius. If Edward attacked his mate he would be a pile of dust before long.

"Get. Out." Caius bit out, putting his arm around Claire. She willingly pressed herself into his side, hiding her face in his suit.

Was she crying? Her shoulders were shaking, but no sounds came from her. He stroke her back in comfort as he was glaring at her sister and the waste of venom that was her lover and that one's adoptive sister.

Bella was glaring at her twin, holding on to Edward like he was some rare treasure, which couldn't be further from the truth in Caius' mind.

The Cullen siblings and Bella turned around and started walking away. Bella turned her head a few times, probably in hope of glaring some more at her sister, but Claire just kept her head turned away.

I will not forget this, Isabella Swan, Caius thought, rage simmering in his frozen body. I don't know how yet, but you will pay for what you've done to my beloved.

Italian translation

Cara mia: My darling

Amato: Love

Bellissima: Beautiful

Amore mio: My love

@therevolutionhasbegun @mitchdahbitch @yoonjigu

[adeadlysong]

"CHEERSSSS!!!"

Nuriel, Arlyn, Tahirah, and Starling all raised their glasses in the toast before downing the contents of their glass. Nuriel essentially chugged his entire glass down, while Arlyn, Tahirah, and Rafaele took polite (but big) sips. Starling just sipped at it several times before trying to down the rest in one go.

"And now we eat, right?" Nuriel asked.

"Yes, that's usually how this goes." Starling noted, nodding once.

Rafaele sighed. "We're at a banquet. Remember manners."

"Hey! I've had years of practice!"

Despite Nuriel's protests, Arlyn couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm sure we'll be fine. Let's eat, shall we? Which dish to start with...?"

[bringinbackpod]

Interview with Charles Spearin

We had the pleasure of interviewing Charles Spearin over Zoom video!  Can you think of a more perfect lyric that captures the pandemic experience? Multi-instrumentalist and composer Charles Spearin, known for his work in Broken Social Scene, Do Make Say Think, and so much more music that has soundtracked the past two decades, insists he’s not much of a lyricist. In fact, his new solo album, My City of Starlings, is a largely instrumental collection of beautifully textured songs that glide between avant-garde, art rock and electronic soundscapes. But it’s no surprise that Spearin’s virtuosity extends to every detail of his songwriting, from the burnished brass of “Vireos in Bellwoods” to the celestial “Three Voices (Braided Carefully)” to the words and ambient melodies of the title track, which captures both the haziness but also the glimmers of hope of the time we’ve just lived through. My City of Starlings isn’t a “pandemic record,” exactly – while Spearin found himself with extra time once touring came to a standstill, some of the compositions that found their way onto the album had been taking shape since 2017, while others were born from a more recent song-a-day writing and recording club of fellow musicians from around the world. Like so many of us, Spearin came to see his city in a whole new light during the endless walks taken through its streets over the past year and a half, partly thanks to an increased interest in birding but also a whole new appreciation for the wonders of the natural world – an inspiration that comes through clearly in the album’s expansive sonic palette. Some of those strolls with fellow musicians, not to mention Spearin’s wide artistic social scene, led to the many collaborations on My City of Starlings, which features a long list of Toronto’s best jazz, pop, rock and experimental-music performers (including BSS bandmates Brendan Canning and Kevin Drew). Describing the recording process as akin to painting a picture with many layers, Spearin recalls how each guest brought their own unique brushstrokes to the compositions. From the first track to be released from the album, the percussion-driven “Portrait of The Artist As A Thursday” (accompanied by a video from animator Jared Sales that runs as a 12-hour loop) to the catchy shuffle riff of “Rutting Season” through to the spoken-sung Arabic poetry on “When Tigers Used to Smoke,” My City of Starlings is as eclectic and accomplished as Spearin himself. When he’s not busy with BSS or DMST, the multiple Juno Award winner has toured with Feist and the late Gord Downie and is also known for his production and soundtrack work. During the pandemic, he has been working on a musical about Canada’s private sponsorship program for refugees with co-writers Robin Dann from the band Bernice (who appears on Starlings’ track “Three Voices”), actor and playwright Mariel Marshall, and Esmaeel Abufaker, a Syrian musician who came to Canada as a refugee in 2016. In 2009, Spearin released The Happiness Project, a solo album which used snippets of his neighbours’ musings on contentment set to music, which won a Juno for Best Contemporary Jazz Album. Unexpected and indelible – much like the way the birds his album is named for are known to mimic sounds from their surroundings in their own distinct calls, My City of Starlings reveals yet another facet of Charles Spearin’s uniquely observant artistry. We want to hear from you! Please email Tera@BringinitBackwards.com. www.BringinitBackwards.com #podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #CharlesSpearin #BrokenSocialScene #DoMakeSayThink #zoom Listen & Subscribe to BiB Follow our podcast on Instagram and Twitter!  source https://www.spreaker.com/user/14706194/interview-with-charles-spearin

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Requiem for the King

An interlude between Agni’s death and real!Ciel’s appearance at the manor. Partially inspired by @white-queen-lacus‘s candy = ring theory and @dorkshadows‘s magnificent post about real!Ciel being a malicious, Machiavellian brat of epic proportions :) 

- mod Nina

Phantomhive Manor is silent as he walks down the east wing, an expression of mild curiosity fixed on his youthful features. Usually maids and caretakers bustled about dressed in their dull black garb—chamber maids, parlor maids, house maids, and footmen moved behind artificial shadows; they were Phantomhive servants and they know how to disappear.

He turns a left corner, eyes glossing over the original paintings of Caravaggio, Vermeer, Rubens, and Boucher. There’s even a rare Holbein hanging above his mother’s favorite Ming vase; how the earl obtained it, no one knows but the work of Henry VIII’s most celebrated court painter is a status symbol that cannot be ignored and Vincent Phantomhive was ever so fond of his petty gags. The duke of Westminster had a near tantrum when he learned who the mysterious buyer was—Ciel ought to know, he was there the day his father hosted a dinner party specifically for the unveiling of Holbein’s 1527 Lady with a Squirrel and Starling portrait.

“Truth be told, I despise this painting.” Vincent mused after their guests had gone and it was just they two, father and son, standing in front of Holbein’s work. “Unimaginative, dull—and the lady’s not much of a beauty is she?” He inquired with a devious half-smirk.

“Then why did Mr. Holbein paint her?” Ciel inquired curiously, tugging on his father’s hand. “Surely there were other ladies with a face more pleasing to one’s eye.”

“Of course there were but Mr. Holbein is an artist—and not just any artist but one employed by the great king himself. He painted a true aristocrat, Ciel—a woman whose cost far exceeds her aesthetic value.”

Ciel frowned. “So she’s ugly?”

“Oh yes.” Vincent smiled, perfectly charmed by his son’s perception. “Quite. But artists seem to enjoy it when only they can find beauty in monstrosity. It’s a wretched cliche.”

“Then why not paint a wicked woman with a fair face whose beauty actually attracts men?” He stared at the plain faced maid with the sharp nose and dull eyes. A squirrel in her lap. A bird to her side. “Do you suppose that’s why the starling’s on her shoulder? Because she so resembles a tree stump?” Ciel looked up at his father, sapphire eyes wide with curiosity and cruel mischief.

Vincent was mildly surprised by his son’s viciousness—innocent, yes, but vicious nonetheless. A troubling, albeit necessary, trait. He decided, gathering his son into his arms. “Tell me Ciel, who do you think is the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Besides mummy?” Ciel responded dutifully, with a practiced smile on his angelic face. After all, those were the sorts of answers good boys gave—the sort of answer his little brother might give—and Ciel was nothing if not observant. His theory was further reinforced when Vincent laughed—a rare, charmed laugh that signified Ciel had said the right thing and smiled the right smile.

“Yes,” he nodded, “besides your mother.”

Ciel pretended to think. It was obvious really—the year was 1883 and the most beautiful woman in the world was the American vaudeville star Lillian Russell. But he could never bring himself to admit that since she was, by all accounts, crude, careless, classless, and vulgar. Always a perpetual fixation in the American tabloids, making sure photographers caught sight of her in either a new bodice or with a new beau, it didn’t really matter—they were both fairly changeable when it came to Lillian Russell. In Ciel’s opinion, a lady should be two things—beautiful and loyal. And he already had someone like that.

“I think Lizzy’s prettiest.” He answered at last—and, while Ciel was certainly no pillar of veritable truth, he was at least being sincere. Lizzy was pretty and wonderful and fun to be around—much more fun than his sickly younger brother who could do little more than snivel in his bed and beg for a story.

It was a shame for him to put up with but Ciel had decided long ago that he would be the perfect heir, and being the perfect heir meant all sorts of things. It meant being intelligent, well-spoken, clever, cosmopolitan, courteous, and kind. Society, it seemed, liked kind people and while Ciel didn’t think you could get very far by exposing your bleeding heart every day, other people did. And, annoyingly enough, a good majority of those “other people” were powerful lords and businessmen whose influence was something he would one day need.

Thus, it was with careful consideration that, in addition to his daily lessons and time spent with father, Ciel made a conscious effort to be kind—to show empathy and generosity because these were good Victorian virtues. Because it was expected of him.

(But sometimes, when no one was looking, Ciel would laugh a mirthful, misshapen chuckle, because they all seemed so impressed when he did so little.)

These are Ciel’s thoughts as he continues down the hallway to his father’s study, a slight frown marring the perfection of his fair face when he notices how the air has become heavy with copper, how the scent of his mother’s waterlily perfume now rings with a metallic edge.

Strange, Ciel muses when Tanaka does not appear outside to greet him. Has father called a meeting of the aristocrats?

He opens the door himself and barely flinches when he is met by a scene of succinct chaos—cleverly done chaos, his mind corrects, since the room’s furniture is still intact. All the books still lined on their shelves; the coffee table still holding a silver tray and two porcelain teacups.

But the lights are off. The fireplace has gone cold. And Tanaka is not here.

Ciel inhales and nearly gags when the scent of waterlilies and rust meets his nose. It doesn’t take long for him to notice the shadowed lump laying a few feet away from him and as he comes closer, he realizes that they are bodies.  

Two bodies.

One is a man with a sapphire ring; the other is a woman with fair strawberry blonde hair.

Father. Ciel is aghast. Mother.

A biting, brutal stab of realization quickly follows. Someone’s coming—someone’s still here.

Ciel moves forward, approaching the dead body of his father with something akin to frustration. This was the Queen’s Watchdog—the aristocrat of evil—and here he lies, cold and weak and dead. The blood pooling around Vincent’s still form is enough to horrify Ciel because he is still young and because the blood has begun to seep into his favorite Turkish rug. The same rug Uncle Chlaus sent them from Ankara, after wrapping up a case that involved a dead queen, her butler, and a vial of black poison.

Or was it Ankara? Ciel bends down to examine his father’s right hand. Perhaps not—it could have been Istanbul. Still, he winces when he feels a gush of coagulated blood cling to his fingers, this carpet used to belong to Elizabeth of Bohemia—the winter queen herself. And now it’s ruined. Utterly and completely ruined. Ciel grimaces, giving one harsh pull of the hand before the polished sapphire falls free, tumbling into Ciel’s hands as he observes the precious stone with an expression of calm repose.

There it is! He smiles, marveling at the weight of this ring—this symbol of terror and damnation worn only by the queen’s chosen watchdogs. He thinks it strange that such a cold object could radiate warmth as he slips it onto his right thumb. It is, of course, three sizes too big but Ciel doesn’t mind. He will soon grow into it.

He smiles again—and that’s when he hears them. Voices, vague and indistinguishable, coming closer with each second that he stands there, wearing his father’s ring. My ring, he mentally corrects but decides this isn’t the time or place for technicalities.

They were coming.

It is without thought or delay that Ciel opens his mouth, pressing the still bloodied ring to his lips to give it a temporary kiss goodbye. It takes him only half a second to taste the coppery aftermath of his parents murder but he ignores the blood and swallows the ring whole.

Who stole the candy from my tummy? 

“That’s enough Polaris.” Ciel observes, tucking the gun into his breast coat pocket. He didn’t like guns—was never too fond of them and the mess they made. Knives were much cleaner and could be swift as a flying bullet if one knew how to use them well enough.

He approaches the wall and Polaris bows, handing him a particularly sharp incision blade. With one smooth, practiced motion, Ciel stabs the knife below the question mark before stepping back. He is still not satisfied but this will do for now.

“My lord?” Polaris approaches and Ciel turns away from the carved message.

“Let’s go.” A strange smile appears on his lips. “I have a reunion to attend.”

[nyota-sungura]

Note: Please don’t forget this is a side bagel to Iliyovunjika! Any follow backs will pop up with that URL rather than this one! You are in no way obligated to follow the main bagel of this bagel, starlings! Though if u do and u wanna end up gettin’ swamped by Shiro && these muses too then be my guest I will gladly indulge and love u all.

[darlinglilithstarlingarchived]

💔 - A heartbreak

Ask the mun for a drabble/fic about the muse based on… 💔 - A heartbreak

     Kicking the corners of the vent over back into place, Lilith picked up her backpack and looked around the dark hallway. Nobody every came to this part of the vault–water dripped down the walls, and it stank of mold. But it was so close to the surface…and that vent was so easy to climb through. Lilith didn’t think it had ever really been finished…But she supposed the vault must have worked well enough when the bombs had fallen. The handful of descendants living there were proof enough. 

     Running down a few sets of stairs, the girl brushed dirt off her suit as she went, trying to eliminate evidence she’d ever been gone by the time she reached the two rooms that belonged to her and her mother. They were a little further away from the other dweller’s living spaces…they were really just there as a favor to her father. Or the man Mother swore was Lilith’s father. She couldn’t remember him at all, it didn’t matter to her either way, but the others…they said he wasn’t really. Mother was just fragile, and he took care of her. Until he didn’t anymore. And he wouldn’t have abandoned her like that, they said, so something must have happened to him. 

     Of course, Mother didn’t think that. She swore to Lilith he’d be back. Lilith had lost count of the times that woman had wept over the idea that Atticus Starling might come back for his daughter. 

     Opening her room door just briefly enough to toss her backpack in, Lilith turned and walked a little ways down to her mother’s room and knocked once, not waiting for an answer before walking in. Mother never had guests. 

     “Mother, do you have any books about–” The girl paused, blinking. The shelf-lined room, floor-to-ceiling filed with books and journals her mother had kept over the years, was empty. Lilith could count the number of times she’d seen her mother outside her room on her fingers. She was almost eleven years old now, she felt like she knew things, and Lilith knew her mother did not socialize with the other vault dwellers, that was certainly clear. 

     The normally perfectly-made bed was rumpled, which struck Lilith as odd, but maybe her mother had been feeling unwell? Or maybe she’d gone to the kitchens? Lilith wandered to the dining hall, bumping into several of the others who lived in the vault as she did so. The others mostly avoided her; they thought her mother was crazy, and Lilith didn’t blame them. Gwyneth was crazy. But they didn’t like her so much, either. Her grisly hobby with the insect specimens and the way she stared too long and too intently at people: it made them uncomfortable. 

    By midnight, it was obvious Gwyneth wasn’t in the vault. Nobody had seen her leave, but she was gone. 

     “Lily, darling, you know…you know how she is. How sometimes she just…has…” Mrs. Jackson, the oldest dweller, smiled one of those fake smiles. The sort you give a little girl when her mother has run off and maybe won’t ever come back. 

     “You mean how she’s crazy,” Lilith said flatly, her small, pale face blank of emotion. “You mean how she has her delusions. How she probably had some kind of fit and won’t make it back.” Her pale green eyes flitted from the deep folds of the elderly woman’s face to the floor as she turned away and walked back to her mother’s room. Sat on the bed, staring at the journals lining the walls. She’d never once thought to read one. Gwyneth told her everything. Lilith thought she did, anyway. 

     But she thought Gwyneth had loved her, too. 

[drubblernews-blog]

New Post has been published on http://drubbler.com/2017/02/11/the-main-actress-of-the-soviet-union/

The main actress of the Soviet Union

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

Elena Kovačić, February 12, 2017, 12:48- REGNUM

Anjutu It installed on one of the tallest structures in the time Bell Passionate monastery, on the site of which is now a cinema “Pushkin”. Some days she reigned over Moscow, and its leadership in the cinema lasted for decades.

a relative of Leo Tolstoy, of the noble family Suhotinyh. The glory of the great actresses of her “Sam Shalyapin. And here’s parents thought otherwise: Luba was born February 11, 1902 year and rare disease-Meniere’s disease, that did not give chances to artistic career. The daughter they predicted in the pianist and music school. But on stage her play was not necessary: graduate from Moscow Conservatoire Orlova was unable to due to her illness. To life earned taperom in the cinema. And in 1926 a year after graduating from the Moscow Theater College became horistkoj in the Music Studio at MHAT imeni v. i. Nemirovich-Danchenko.

her star ascended through the fateful meeting with Director Grigori Alexandrov in 1933 year. He was looking for an actress for the role of Anuta in the “fun-loving guys.” And found 31-year-old game enchanted Orlova in the play “Perikola”. Soon they were married. And until the end of her life she remained his muse, playing all the major roles in the films master of Soviet cinema.

Alexandrov Orlova reminiscent of Marlene Dietrich. To heighten the resemblance, he persuaded the actress to have cosmetic surgery. Them for their lives, she then made a lot. However, already in the fight for eternal youth. The latest film of her husband “Starling and lyre” (1974-2010) Orlova lived life of its heroine to 25 years. She had to play a young girl, though most were already beyond 70. However, the film was not released on the screen: according to one version, Orlova did not like how it looks.

Appearance-bread actress. Creams, cosmetics and other tricks besides surgery home actress of USSR devoted a lot of time. According to the archive owner Alexander Dobrovinskogo lawyer, Orlova morning drank a glass of cognac, because it believed that it smoothes wrinkles.

and yet the secret her popularity in this and in the extraordinary versatility. She had a beautiful voice, in films she sang herself. She played the piano, danced, performed acrobatics. Not only at the time, but now the role of Orlova in paintings “veselye rebyata”, “Circus”, “Volga, Volga”, “Spring” like viewers are amazing skill and brilliance. And in 30 − 40-e Orlova was Queen of the cinema. Moreover, not only the Soviet. A year after the release of “veselyh rebyat” at the International Festival in Venice she shared with Ingrid Bergman Swedish title “best actress of the year”.

her on-screen images of fun, energetic and rustic characters sometimes not at all resemble the actress. In life she seemed cold springtime, closed, not loved, children, which refused to deliberate. With Alexandrov they turned to each other for you, keeping stiffness in a relationship. Although, of course, were very like-minded people. But outsiders it seems not interested. That’s what my wife remembered his grandfather grandson Alexandrova: “Orlova disliked people, guests and friends. She didn’t love anyone. And although the House lacked places to spend the night the guests. Sometimes came to senility. People came on business — script to discuss music soundtrack, sat talking. Suddenly an hour later Orlov, looking at the clock, said: “five minutes later, Gregory V. time to dine. All stood up and silently left. They even tea never offered. It was feared by all.

Lyubov Petrovna Orlova died January 26, 1975 year of cancer. And birthday is January 29 — it was buried at the Novodevichy cemetery. Thousands of Muscovites came to say goodbye to the great Orlova, first magnitude star of Soviet cinema.

with the actress, who once said:

“my creativity is known to all, my life is of no concern to anyone.

and

“I dreamed of finding a form of execution in which the viewer would see no standing on stage singer and singing and acting at the actor’s image.

If you notice an error in the text, highlight it and press Ctrl + Enter to send information to the editor.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();