#is pickpocketing really a con?

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[natsaffection]

Auge um Auge. P. 1 | N.R

Investigator!older!Natasha x Robber!younger!reader

Warnings: heist, hostage

Word Count: 4,6 K

A/N: This is the first of many. I tried to design the phone calls in a way that you can tell who the scene is currently focusing on. If the text is written in italics, it means the person is just be heard over the phone, we can’t see the person. Does it make sense? 😀✨

Inside the café, you sat alone at a corner table. You had chosen this spot instinctively: back to the wall, with a clear view of all the windows and exits. A cryptic clue had brought you here, an anonymous message about “an opportunity to make good money” and your curiosity had pushed you to accept. You didn’t know how carefully orchestrated this “coincidental” meeting really was.

A man entered, moving deliberately slowly as he looked around. Then, his eyes met yours. With that one deliberate glance, you felt his unspeakable presence. Without asking, he sat down across from you and placed a worn leather briefcase on the table between you. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of conversations and clinking cups in the café filled the silence, but in your immediate surroundings, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Thank you for coming.” he began, his voice so smooth and even that it could have calmed thunder. “I know the message was vague. But if it caught your attention, then I believe I was right to seek you out.” Your posture remained guarded, one hand resting on the table, the other hanging loosely below, close enough to your bag where you kept a small knife. You had reasons to mistrust strangers offering you “opportunities.” Yet something about his demeanor made you hesitate in your suspicion. “Who exactly are you?”

He tilted his head and offered a slight smile. “My name isn’t important right now. What matters is that I know you. I’ve done my research. Born in a small village outside Madrid, left at nineteen to find work in the city. Smart, but restless. Various odd jobs, some of questionable legality.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air. “You have certain..talents. Quick thinking. A knack for improvisation. And most importantly: a silver tongue when you choose to use it. A gift for distraction.” You stiffened, a flicker of indignation flashing in your eyes. “Do you run background checks on everyone who responds to your cryptic messages?”

“I only contact people who have the potential to be exceptional.” he replied simply. “You’re resourceful, charming when it suits you, and you know how to read people. That’s exactly what I need.” You felt both flattered and uneasy. Your head swirled with questions. Who was this man? Why you? Yet his way of speaking made you curious enough to listen, if only to figure out what game he was playing.

After a moment of silence, the man leaned forward and opened the worn leather briefcase, revealing a neatly arranged set of papers. “I have a plan..” he said slowly, each word precise. “A plan that requires a group of very specific individuals, each with their own unique skills. The payoff, if done correctly, will be unimaginable.”

He slid a sheet toward you, a digitized blueprint of the Spanish National Bank. You raised an eyebrow, forcing yourself not to overreact, but your pulse quickened. Everyone in the city had heard of elaborate heists, but this? This was a whole different league. “You’re seriously planning to rob a bank?” you asked in a hushed voice. His gaze didn’t waver. “Not just rob it. Print. We’ll control the bank from the inside and print our own money. Theoretically billions, without harming any hostages, if everything goes according to plan.” He let that sink in before continuing in the same calm tone. “I want to be honest. It’s dangerous. But if executed with precision, we can pull it off with minimal risk.”

You swallowed hard. Small-time cons, pickpocketing, the occasional forged ID, those were nothing new to you. But this was on a scale you’d never imagined. “Why me?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. The man clasped his hands together. “Because the role I need to fill is unique. I need someone who can manipulate from a distance. Someone who can talk, persuade, and distract. The police will send their best negotiators, their best investigators. I need our best talker to run them in circles.”

You studied the blueprints, “And you think I can do that?” He smiled faintly, a hint of warmth breaking through his cool exterior. “I know you can. You see, most of the people I’ve recruited so far are experts in other areas..lockpicking, explosives, hacking. But none of them have your talent for conversation and deception. We need you to mislead the police or divert their attention through phone calls if necessary. Maybe even face-to-face, under the right circumstances.” His expression grew serious. “You’ll be the voice standing between them and us.”

Your thoughts raced. This was insane. But the promise of such an enormous reward, combined with the sudden spark of possibility, tugged at you. Could you really pull this off? Deceiving the police? You couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement pulsing beneath your skin. “That’s..a big challenge.” The man nodded. “I’m aware of that. And it won’t be easy. You’ll be taught, trained. I have an entire plan for handling negotiations, exploiting their psychology. But your role, your brilliance in improvisation will be crucial.” You clenched your jaw, forcing the surge of adrenaline back. 

“Let’s say I agree..What guarantee do I have that you won’t let me take the fall if this all goes wrong?” His eyes softened. A carefully orchestrated expression of compassion. “I don’t pick people just to abandon them. I want every one of us to leave that bank alive and wealthier than we ever dreamed. I’ll make arrangements for everything, including your safety.” 

You studied him closely. There was something reassuring about his self-confidence, the way he radiated unshakable calm. But a heist of this magnitude? If you got caught, you could forget the next twenty years of your life maybe more. “Why not just hire a smooth con artist?” you asked, still skeptical. 

“I didn’t hire you,” he corrected gently. “I chose you. I’ve followed your career closely. The forgeries you pulled off last year, the incident in Valencia. You disappeared right under the police’s noses. That means you’re not only skilled with words but also unafraid of taking risks.” He tapped the blueprints again. “You’re exactly the person I need.” 

You took a sip of your latte, your thoughts racing. Part of you wanted to run, to go back to the life you knew. But a larger, bolder part of you was intrigued. Maybe it was pride, maybe ambition. At twenty-two, you were restless, searching for something bigger than petty crime. 

The man noticed your hesitation. “Let me put it another way. If you stay on your current path, how much will you make in five, ten years? Enough for a run-down apartment, enough to get by. If you join me, you walk away with a future you can shape yourself, no more scraping by, no more limited horizons.” You took a deep breath. “I’m not suicidal. I’m not looking for a thrill.” 

“Neither am I.” he replied. “But I believe in orchestrating the perfect plan. And you can help make it perfect.”  The next half hour was spent discussing hypothetical scenarios: the bank’s security forces, how negotiations typically played out, the psychological profiles of the best police investigators. With every insight the man revealed, you felt more convinced that he knew what he was doing. There was an almost obsessive thoroughness to his approach and it was infectious. 

Finally, as the coffee cups were empty and the café had grown quieter, the man leaned back in his chair. “This won’t be a short operation. We’ll spend months at a remote location preparing. You’ll learn negotiation tactics, how to handle phone calls, modulate your voice. We’ll plan for every possible scenario.” You raised an eyebrow. “Months? You’re serious.” 

“I’ve been planning this for years.” he said plainly. “And I need complete dedication. If you say yes, you have to be all in.” Your heart pounded loudly in your chest. Your entire future, one path leading you further into small-time cons, the other a leap into the unknown hinged on your next words. You stared into his calm, patient gaze and found something you rarely saw in others: unshakable conviction. “Alright..” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. “I’m in.” The man nodded, a flicker of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “I promise you.” he said, closing the folder. “You won’t regret it.” 

You left the café with your thoughts racing, the images of the blueprints burned into your mind. Outside, the night felt sharper, colder. But inside, a new spark had ignited a heady mix of fear and possibility. You realized this was the turning point in your life. Whether it led to ruin or triumph, you had stepped onto a path few dared to tread. 

That night, as you tossed and turned in your..let’s call it an apartment, the man’s calm smile replayed in your mind. His words echoed: You’ll be our best negotiator. You’ll be the one to stall them. Despite your nerves, excitement coursed through your veins. You imagined talking to lead negotiators, deflecting their questions with clever half-truths, steering them off track to protect your newly formed crew. You thought about one day facing the country’s best investigators, outwitting them, buying precious time. You could hardly believe you’d agreed, but there was no turning back. If the man’s plan was as flawless as he claimed, you would leave that bank with a fortune and a reputation for pulling off the greatest heist in modern history. 

Days later, you stepped out of the car. Before you stood the hideout, a large, slightly rundown estate hidden among dense woods. You slung your backpack over one shoulder, trying to mask your nerves as the man led you inside. The house’s interior was simple but functional. The walls were a dull beige, and the furniture looked like it had been pieced together from secondhand stores. At the end of the hallway, you spotted a large whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams. 

“You’ll live here with the others.” the man said, opening the door to a modest bedroom with a single bed and a small desk. “This will be your space. I hope you’re comfortable sharing your time and ideas with the team.” 

“Are they already here?” you asked, stepping out of the room. “They’ve been waiting for you.” He replied. “Come. It’s time to meet your colleagues.” The team was spread out on mismatched chairs and sofas, chatting loudly and tossing playful insults. When you entered the room, the conversation stopped, and all eyes turned to you. 

“Everyone..” the man began, gesturing toward you. “This is our final recruit. She’ll handle external operations, disinformation, strategy, and hacking. You’ll rely on her as much as on each other.” The silence lingered until a tall man with slicked-back hair stood and walked toward you, his steps measured and deliberate. He extended his hand, his gaze cool and appraising. 

“What should we call you?” he asked. You shook his hand and met his gaze. “I guess we’ll figure that out.” Berlin grinned and stepped back as the others introduced themselves. Tokyo was the first to offer her hand, her grip firm. “You’re sure she can keep up, professor?” You scoffed. “I’ll manage just fine, thanks.” Rio grinned and waved from the couch. “We had a bet about what kind of person you’d be. I said tech genius.”

“And I said brat..” Nairobi added with a wide grin, arms crossed. “Let’s see who’s right.” The next morning, you sat at a long wooden table in a makeshift classroom, a notebook open in front of you. The rest of the team was scattered around the room, some leaning back in their chairs, others fiddling idly with pens. 

The Professor stood at the whiteboard, methodically sketching the layout of the Spanish National Bank. His voice was calm yet compelling as he explained the plan. “This..” he said, circling a section of the blueprint, “is the control room. Once we’re inside, we’ll take control of the security systems and isolate the bank from external interference. And this is where you come in.” He looked directly at you, and you straightened in your chair. “Your job will be to monitor law enforcement communications, lay false trails, and manipulate media coverage. We need the public on our side.” 

“Understood.” you said, jotting down notes. “What kind of false trails are we talking about?” 

“Think like a magician..” the Professor replied. “The hand the audience sees is never the one doing the work.” Tokyo leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes. “Why does she get to stay outside while we risk our necks inside?” 

“Because I can lie better than you.” you shot back with a sly smile. The room erupted in laughter, and even Tokyo couldn’t suppress a grudging grin. After another long day of lectures, the crew gathered in the common room. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat on the table as they relaxed. Nairobi leaned forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“Alright, it’s time.” she said, tapping the table. “What’s your city name, new girl?” You blinked. “I thought that was just for the people going into the bank.” 

“Nope!” Rio said with a broad grin. “If you’re part of the crew, you need a name. House rule.” The others immediately started throwing out suggestions. “Paris” said Nairobi. “Elegant but a little edgy.” 

“New York..” Tokyo chimed in. “Got attitude.” 

“Vegas!” Denver called out with a laugh. “A wild card…” You rolled your eyes. “You’re all terrible at this.” Berlin, who had been silent until now, took a sip of his drink and grinned. “How about Lisbon? Unexpected. Like her.” The room fell quiet for a moment as everyone considered the suggestion. You looked at Berlin, surprised by the thoughtfulness of his choice. 

“Lisbon..” Nairobi said, testing the word. “I like it. It suits her.” Over the next few weeks, you grew closer to the crew. Despite their teasing and larger-than-life personalities, they worked seamlessly together under the Professor’s guidance. One evening, Nairobi found you sitting alone in front of the whiteboard. “Everything okay?” 

You hesitated before admitting, “This..this is bigger than anything I’ve ever done. What if I screw it up?” Nairobi placed a hand on your shoulder. “We all feel that way. But we’ve got each other’s backs, okay? You’re not alone.” Late that night, you found the Professor in the study, surrounded by blueprints and diagrams. You hesitated in the doorway before stepping in. “Why did you choose me?” you asked quietly. The Professor looked up, surprised by the question. “Because you’re brilliant. And because I saw something in you..a willingness to challenge the system.” You frowned. “But I’m young and Inexperienced.” 

“You’re also adaptable.” he replied. “And resourceful. Those are qualities no amount of experience can replace.” Slowly, you nodded, his words sinking in. For the first time since joining the crew, you felt like you truly belonged. 

Exactly four months later, the bank was a scene of chaos. The echoes of screams, hurried footsteps, and the loud clatter of boots filled the marble halls. Tokyo was leading a group of terrified hostages into the main hall, her rifle slung over her shoulder. Beside her, Berlin radiated calm authority as he issued orders to the crew. “Rio, secure the hostages. Nairobi, lock down the printing area.” Berlin’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Denver, check the security personnel. I don’t want any surprises.” 

“On it.” Denver replied, moving toward the staff members who had been removed from the security room earlier. Behind the locked doors of the bank manager’s office, your voice crackled through the earpieces. You weren’t physically in the bank but monitored everything through surveillance cameras the crew had hacked. Your calm, steady tone stood in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere. 

“Tokyo, you’re pacing too quickly..” you said. “You’re making the hostages nervous.” Tokyo scowled but slowed her steps, muttering under her breath. Berlin, catching her reaction, chuckled quietly. “It’s like having the Professor in our ears. How delightful.” 

“I heard that!” you retorted sharply, though there was a hint of amusement in your voice. “And Berlin, fix your posture. You’re less intimidating when you slouch.” Berlin smirked and glanced at the nearest camera. “She’s lucky she’s not in here with us.” 

A few miles away, in an unassuming abandoned warehouse, you sat at a desk cluttered with monitors, laptops, and cables. Wearing a headset, your eyes flicked between various camera feeds, one of the hostages in the bank’s main hall, another of Rio working on the vault door, and another of police cars setting up barricades outside. 

The Professor stood behind you, arms crossed as he studied the feeds. He was calm, but his fingers twitched slightly against his sleeves, a small sign of his nerves. “How does it look?” he asked quietly.  “So far, so good.” you replied. “We’ve got the media narrative under control. I published the fake manifesto this morning, so they’re already painting us as anti-establishment rebels. Public opinion should swing our way by this afternoon.” The Professor nodded, satisfied. “And the police?” 

“They’ve set up a perimeter.” you said, pressing a few keys to pull up a live drone feed. “But they’re waiting for someone to take command. I’m guessing that’ll be their negotiator.” As if on cue, a new voice crackled over the police radio you had tapped into. You froze, your eyes narrowing. 

“Natasha Romanoff, FBI. I’m taking command.”  She stepped out of a sleek black SUV, her expression unreadable. Dressed in a sharp black suit, her red hair tied neatly into a ponytail, she exuded authority. The air buzzed with tension as officers bustled around, setting up barricades, unloading equipment, and securing the area.  Natasha surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. Her gaze lingered on the massive front doors of the bank, barricaded from the inside. On nearby rooftops, snipers had taken position, their scopes trained on the windows. A young officer hurried to her side, clipboard in hand. “Agent Romanoff, the perimeter is secure. No one gets in or out without our clearance.” 

“Good,” Natasha replied, her tone crisp. “Have we made contact?” 

“Not yet. They’ve refused to answer the phone lines.” She nodded and stepped into the command tent. Inside, monitors displayed live drone footage of the bank’s exterior and a floor plan of the building. Natasha studied the images, her mind already working through possible scenarios. The officers in the tent glanced at her cautiously. She had a reputation. Efficient, methodical, relentless. Natasha didn’t tolerate mistakes, and everyone knew it. 

“What do we know about them?” she asked, crossing her arms as she addressed the room.  “They’re highly organized!” an officer replied. “They took over the bank in under five minutes. No one’s been injured, but they’re heavily armed.” 

“Any demands?” She asked. "Not yet. But we found this outside." the officer said, handing Natasha a printed copy of the fake manifesto you had planted earlier. "They claim this is a statement against corruption in the financial system. It’s already all over the news." Natasha scanned the document, her sharp eyes taking in the calculated wording. "They’re trying to sway public opinion to their side.." she murmured. "Clever. That’ll make it harder for us to take an aggressive approach." 

She tossed the paper onto the table. "Establish a line of communication with their leader. I want to know who we’re dealing with." Natasha reached for the phone connected to the bank’s central line. She knew this call wouldn’t be about negotiating, it was about gathering information. She needed to figure out who was on the other end, what they wanted, and how far they were willing to go. 

Inside the bank, Berlin picked up the ringing phone with a charming smile. "This is Berlin." he said smoothly. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

"This is Natasha Romanoff, FBI." she replied. Her voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for pleasantries. "I’d like to speak to the person in charge." 

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now." Berlin said with amusement. "But I’ll happily take a message." Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "My only concern is the safety of your hostages. That’s my priority." 

"Of course it is.." Berlin replied, his smile audible. "And you’ll be pleased to hear they are..so far..perfectly safe." Natasha paused, listening intently to the faint background noises on the line. Muffled voices, the sound of footsteps on marble, and something else, a faint beeping, like an alarm. 

"You’re playing a dangerous game." she said finally. "But I’m very good at games." Berlin chuckled softly. "I’m sure you are. But this isn’t chess, Agent Romanoff. This is..theater. And the show has just begun." He hung up before she could respond. 

Back at the hideout, you listened to the conversation through the tapped line, your headset firmly in place. Leaning back in your chair, you chewed on your thumbnail, analyzing Natasha’s voice. "She’s sharp.." you murmured. "If we’re not careful, she’ll see right through us." The Professor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Then we’ll have to stay one step ahead of her. Remember, the goal isn’t just to survive this heist. It’s to make them believe they’re in control, right up until the moment they lose everything." 

You glanced at the screen displaying Natasha’s image from a news feed. Her piercing green eyes, the way she moved with calm authority..it was unsettling. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel something else. Admiration, perhaps. Curiosity. "Be careful." the Professor said, noticing your gaze. "She’s not just your opponent. She’s your equal." 

The rest of the team was already hours deep into securing the hostages and working on the vault. Berlin’s voice crackled over the comms: "Lisbon, it’s your turn. She wants to speak to the mastermind. Time to give her a show." Adjusting your headset, you took a deep breath. Your nerves were taut, but you masked them with a confident grin. "Understood. Let’s do this." 

You activated the line and pressed a button on the soundboard. A calm, distorted male voice filled the air: "This is Lisbon." In the command tent, Natasha picked up the phone. The room fell silent as the officers leaned in to catch every word. Natasha held the receiver to her ear, her expression neutral, but her eyes sharp as razors. "Lisbon." she repeated. "So, you’re the one pulling the strings here."

"Correct." your distorted voice replied. "And you must be Agent Romanoff. I’ve heard quite a bit about you." Natasha ignored the flattery. "If you’ve done your homework, then you know I’m here to ensure your hostages come out alive. That’s my only concern." You pressed a button on the soundboard, triggering a soft, deep laugh. "And here I thought you were here to negotiate." 

"That depends." Natasha replied smoothly. "What do you want?" Leaning closer to the microphone, you tapped your fingers on the desk, guiding the conversation. You knew Natasha was trying to size you up, searching for any slip, any weakness, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her. 

"What do I want?" Your distorted voice pondered, deliberately stretching the pause. "I want justice. The kind that makes headlines. The kind that shakes the foundations of a broken system." Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. "You’re talking about the economy."

"Very good, Agent Romanoff. You catch on quickly." 

"Don’t patronize me." Natasha snapped, her voice tight with tension. "If this is about making a political statement, you’ve already made it. But taking hostages isn’t the way to change the world."

You smiled, pressing another button to play a short, dismissive laugh. "Isn’t it? History would beg to differ." 

Natasha’s jaw tightened. "If you think you’re the first person to try this, you’re mistaken. I’ve seen how these situations end, and it’s never in your favor. You can still stop this." 

"Stop?" you repeated, genuine amusement creeping into your real voice beneath the distortion. "Agent Romanoff, I didn’t plan this for years just to ‘stop’ now. But I appreciate the offer." 

Natasha changed her tactic, her tone softening. "How about this. Give me something in return. A gesture of goodwill. Release a few hostages, and I’ll ensure you get a fair hearing." You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you were considering it, but because you felt the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. For a fleeting second, the tension felt personal, almost disarming. But then you steadied yourself, pressing another soundboard clip. 

The voice came through, cool and calculated, "A generous offer, but unnecessary. I assure you, our hostages are perfectly safe, as long as you follow my instructions." 

"And what are those instructions?" 

"Patience, Agent Romanoff. All in good time." Natasha leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the voice on the other end. Something felt..off. The rhythm was too perfect, too controlled. It reminded her of an actor reading from a script. She decided to apply pressure. 

"You know, you’re remarkably composed for someone running an operation of this scale. Most people would sound different." Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you played another soundboard clip: a soft, measured chuckle. "I’m not ‘most people,’ Agent Romanoff." 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "No, you’re not. But you know what? I don’t think that’s your real voice. You’re hiding something." Your grin faltered for a fraction of a second before you recovered, quickly playing another soundboard clip. "Believe what you want. It changes nothing." 

"Maybe not." Natasha replied, her voice colder. "But you should know one thing about me: I don’t stop until I find the truth. And when I do, you’ll regret underestimating me." You glanced at the Professor, who gave you a small nod of approval. Deciding it was time to end the conversation on your terms, you spoke with finality. "I look forward to it, Agent Romanoff." you said, your real voice still hidden beneath the distortion. "In the meantime, I suggest you focus on keeping the public calm. The more chaos you allow, the less control you’ll have. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

Before Natasha could respond, you cut the line. You took off your headset and exhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair. Your heart was still racing, but a hint of pride coursed through you. You had held your ground. The Professor approached you, his expression calm but thoughtful. "Well done." he said. "But you need to be careful. She’s already suspicious." 

"She’s sharp.." you admitted, leaning back in your chair. "It almost felt like she could see right through the soundboard." 

"She’s testing you." he replied. "She’s looking for cracks in your façade. But she won’t find any as long as you stay focused." You nodded, though your mind lingered on Natasha’s voice. There was something about it..something unsettling yet magnetic. You pushed the thought aside, knowing there was no room for distraction. 

In the command tent, Natasha set the phone down and leaned back in her chair. The officers around her whispered among themselves, but she waved them off, her mind already working at full speed.  "He’s good." she said aloud, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ma’am?" an officer asked. 

"That voice.." Natasha continued, her brow furrowed. "It’s too smooth. Too controlled. Whoever that was, they’re hiding behind a mask. And I’m going to find out who they really are. Bring Hill here. I want her to look into this." She stared at the bank, her green eyes sharp with determination. The game had begun, and Natasha Romanoff was ready to play. 

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[lovelybucky1]

Dirty Money- Tommy Shelby x Reader

masterlist

warnings: very mild dub-con, guns, canon-typical violence, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, clothed sex, office sex, semi-public sex, name-calling, unprotected sex, mentions of prostitution, rough sex

The chatter from the party room (if this occasion could even be called a party) lessened as you made your way down the halls of the Shelby house. The Peaky Blinders were having a celebration- another shady business practice gone in their favor, earning them a large sum of money. You are just a pretty face to the Blinders. You get in close with the arrogant, sleazy men who the Shelbys often have dealings with, get information, and maybe pickpocket occasionally, but that is the extent of your duties.

Your position means you don’t get any of the money they earn from deals; all they provide you is free drinks at the Garrison. The Blinders are just a stepping stone along your path. You knew they had money, and if you could get an in with them, then you could have access to some of that money. And really, who would notice if a small fraction of that money was taken?

Your dress flows at your feet as you creep down the hallway towards the boss’ study. When you reach the door, you press your ear to hear any voices; when you deem it safe, you twist the handle and push it open.

Thanking God the hinges don’t squeak, you shut it behind you and take in your surroundings. The room is dark, the light filtering through the windows from the street is barely enough to see by. You approach the solid oak desk that likely took the whole family to move into the office. Atop the desk are a few letters, a pen, a set of lamps, and a figurine of a horse. The rest of the office is similar; sparse with decoration, but bits of Thomas’ personality shine through.

You don’t know much about your boss, despite interacting with him frequently. You’ve been his date on various occasions, all with ulterior motives, of course. Even when he is acting vulnerable, you know it’s a farce. Everyone knows Tommy Shelby is all about business, and he never takes a day off.

You walk around to the other side of the desk and pull at the top drawer. Inside, only stationary, so you close it and try the second drawer, which is locked. You take a pin from your hair and bend it before inserting it into the keyhole. It’s been a while since you’ve picked a lock, but you eventually get it open without too much difficulty. When you open the drawer, you find two stacks of money sitting next to a gun and a pack of smokes.

You pick up one of the stacks and flip through it. Two stacks, each one thousand pounds. You’d be set for life with this amount of money. You could get out of this shit, smog-filled city, buy yourself a nice house in the countryside, a car. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and it was all in your hands at this very moment.

You were jolted from your fantasy about your future life by the lamp near the door clicking on. You whip around, money still in hand, to face the door. Illuminated by the golden light stood your personal grim reaper, the very man you were stealing from.

Tommy has his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised, and his weight leaned onto one leg. His stance screams what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Your stomach drops when you meet his piercing blue eyes, and a wave of fear washes over you. Tommy stares at you until the weight of his gaze makes you tremble, and only then does he speak.

“I’ve had many people try to get close to me for their own gain,” Tommy pauses just to make you sweat. “But none of them have ever been stupid enough to steal from me in my own home.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you say as if there weren’t stacks of money in your hand.

Your voice cracks when you speak and you’d curse yourself for your lack of composure, but it’s hard to remain calm when you’ve just gotten on the bad side of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

“No?” Tommy asks. “That’s a good thing then, because if you were stealin’ my money, then we’d have some problems.” Tommy stalks forward toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he crosses the room. He takes the money from your pliant fingers; you have enough sense of self-preservation to not put up a fight right now. He places the money back in the drawer and when you look down, you see his fingertips brush against the gun- a reminder. When you look back up, his face is inches from yours and he is looking down the bride of his nose at you like you’re nothing but a pathetic animal. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doin’ in here, eh?”

You inhale shakily as you try to come up with a convincing lie. You figure that he will see through any of the bullshit you say, but it’s better than admitting your crime. “I lost my ring and I thought I might have left it in here.”

“You might have lost your ring… in my locked drawer?” He asks, tone suggesting he is simply humoring you.

“If you found it and thought it was valuable, I thought you would put it in a safe place,” you explain, trying your best to look innocent.

“I see,” Tommy says, putting his hand on the desk next to your hip and leaning on it. “Now, if you’re done lying, I’d like to hear the truth.”

You swallow thickly as you resign yourself to the fact that you were caught. “I was taking money from your desk.”

“I’m not fuckin’ blind, am I? What’s the money for?” Tommy asks, voice even and steady, though you know he must be simmering with anger.

“For me.”

“Two thousand pounds, all for you? You have no affiliations?” you shake your head. “You’re not working for anyone?”

“No, sir. I wanted all of this for myself,” you confess.

“Hm,” he considers your words. “I’m surprised you were able to put together this little plan, so I doubt you’d be able to pull off bein’ a double agent all this time.” The way he talks down to you makes you want to hide your face in shame, but in the position he has you in, you have nowhere to go. “What were you going to do with all this money?”

“Move out of the city. Find a place for myself. Start a new life. A good life,” you say. Your tone must have been sincere enough for Tommy to believe you because he seems to relax a little.

Tommy shifts on his feet and he looks distantly over your shoulder as if he is lost in thought. You stare at his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You wouldn’t be surprised if he killed you, he’s killed others for much less.

“So,” he starts, “You’re not working for anyone else, but you’re still a thief and a traitor.” His intense gaze is back on you and your skin crawls with anxiety. “I don’t think I have to remind you what we do to thieves and traitors.”

You shake your head, knowing full well the fate that all who have wronged the Blinders have met. They’re not deserving of a quick death; they beg until they are too swollen to beg, they pray until God has been beaten out of them, they break until there is nothing left whole, they bleed until they’re dry. A traitor to the family suffers. They’re a spectacle to keep all others in line.

“But that would be such a waste of a pretty face,” Tommy says, the unexpected compliment makes your heart stutter in your chest. “You always did do good work for me. The races, the parties I went to with you on my arm. Sometimes I wished they were for leisure rather than business.”

You furrow your brow slightly at the admission. “What do you mean, Mr. Shelby?”

“I quite fancied you,” he says with a slight smile. “But then I caught you in my study with my money, and I came to my senses.”

He stands up straight and reaches into the drawer, taking out the gun. You take a step back, frightened once again. He doesn’t point the gun at you, only holds it, but you are still no less threatened.

With a sigh, he speaks again. “I don’t trust you not to bring down the rest of us if I turn you in to the coppers. So because I held such a soft spot for you, I’ll let you pick. I could cut your hand off to make sure you won’t steal again, I can send you far away without a single penny to your name, or I could give you over to the Italians as a peace offering.”

Your stomach drops when he lists off your options. For some reason, you thought he was going to let you get away. But seemingly despite his soft spot, business comes first, as usual.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, there has to be something else,” you say, voice watery with held-back emotion.

“What kind of businessman would I be if I let my employees steal from me?” He asks eyebrow raised mockingly.

Feeling desperation cloud your mind, you take a step forward, despite the gun. You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, the rough material of his suit jacket rubbing against your skin. He looks down at you, his face a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I will do anything, sir,” you say, voice vulnerable and weak, hoping that will appeal to his baser urges. You know it’s a bold and risky move, but you don’t have many other options.

A laugh escapes Tommy’s throat, a rare and usually pleasant sound when it’s not being directed at you. “Are you looking to add prostitution to your list of crimes?” he chuckles.

“No, sir. I am not a whore.”

“You’re offering yourself up to me like one,” he smirks. “Why don’t we make a deal, then?”

“What are the terms?” you ask, trying to add strength to your voice that you’ve lacked since you saw him in the doorway.

“You let me fuck you like the whore you claim not to be, and you get to keep your job with us,” he says casually like he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s it?”

“Well now, don’t sound so ungrateful. If you’d prefer, I could give you away to those animals out here,” he gestures towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance to keep that pretty smile of yours.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I am grateful, sir. Thank you.”

Tommy puts the gun down on the top of his desk and closes the space between you. His hard chest presses against yours as he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your lips are parted just so, looking soft and pliant, just the way he loves. Tommy’s hand trails from your face down to your throat, where he plays with the simple goal pendant that rests against your skin.

Tommy leans in and brushes his lips to yours, making your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. You can feel a slight smile on his lips before he presses them together in a claiming kiss. He smothers you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you part, his lips are pink and glistening with a mix of your saliva. His light eyes are blown with lust and you feel small in his arms.

“Are you clean or am I going to have to fuck your mouth?” he asks, the dirty words a sharp contrast to his gentle hands on you.

“I’m clean,” you say, voice no more than a whisper.

The only response you get from him is a shark-like grin. He grabs your hips and pulls you flush to him. Even through the layers of your dress, you can feel the hardness in his pants.

It’s almost hard to believe that right now, Thomas Shelby is hard for you. You’ve imagined this countless times; when you were his arm candy, when he’d drink with you at the pub, and even sometimes in your own home. You never thought you’d actually get to have him in such a way, especially not when it wasn’t for business.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” he asks, looking into your eyes and then down at his trousers.

You lean back, putting enough space between the two of you to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. You take out his cock and give it a few dry strokes. The size makes you nervous; you’re no virgin, but you’ve been so caught up with work that you haven’t been seeing anyone.

Tommy shrugs off his jacket and tosses it haphazardly onto his desk chair, clearly unconcerned that he is wrinkling a very expensive suit. Taking his undressing as a hint, you ask “Should I take off my dress?”

“It’s not our fucking wedding night,” he huffs. He grabs your waist and pushes you towards the desk, You brace your hands on the surface and look back at him while he hikes up the skirt of your dress. He piles the bunched-up fabric on your lower back and bends down to admire the view. “Though these knickers suggest otherwise,” he chuckles, slipping his finger under them.

It’s humiliating to be bent over your boss’ desk while he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat, As much as you wish you were more upstanding, that this whole situation repulsed you, the burn in your abdomen is undeniable. You’re getting off on whoring yourself out to your boss.

Tommy grabs the waist of your knickers and pulls them down, letting the white satin pool at your feet. Now bare to him, Tommy inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your thigh.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whimper.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like me teasing?” he chuckles.

He rubs his hand over your pussy, his cold fingertips burning from the heat of you. You wiggle your hips a bit, silently begging him for more, and in return, he gives a sharp slap to your cunt.

“You forget this is a punishment. I could leave you here desperately and wet for hours and there’s nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

You let your head hang between your shoulders with a sigh. You don’t doubt his threat; Tommy can be a cruel man and you wouldn’t put it past him to torture you in such a way. No matter what, though, this is better than the alternative.

You feel a long, thin finger prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to relax. Tommy slowly pushes his middle finger into you, and from behind you, a quiet groan can be heard. He pulls his finger out only to quickly replace it, along with a second digit. The fingers inside of you slowly work back and forth to loosen you. Despite Tommy’s rough exterior and degrading words, when it comes to the act, he’s more caring than you anticipated.

The slow drag of his fingers makes you dizzy, desperate for more to fill you as you open up. Seemingly have read your mind, Tommy pulls out his fingers and places his wet hand on your ass.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tommy stands behind you, both hands on you, but unmoving. You look back to see him watching you expectantly.

“Do you think I’m just going to give it to you?” he asks. You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “Clearly you’ve never been properly fucked,” he huffs. “Beg me for it.”

Of course, how could you be so stupid? A man like Tommy Shelby loves power and control. He wants to own everything and everyone, especially his conquests. You’ve already submitted yourself to him, but he wants you to relinquish the rest of your pride for him.

“Please, sir, I want it,” you try, the idea of begging for sex unfamiliar to you.

“Surely you could do better than that, eh? I’ve heard the things you’ve told our associates. I know your mouth is dirtier than your pretty white knickers let on.” The smirk is evident in his voice and it makes you burn with shame. The things you tell whatever man you were ordered to seduce were all acting. You separated yourself from it, from them, but now you were doing to be deep in it.

“Please fuck me like the whore I am, Mr. Shelby. I’m yours to do whatever you want with. I want you to forgive me.”

The words feel foreign on your tongue and Tommy seems to recognize that. The grin on his face tells you the begging was more for your embarrassment than his enjoyment.

“That’s better, my little whore,” he says as he grabs ahold of his cock and rubs it through your folds. He pushes in slowly but steadily, easing you into it but not hiding his desire until the head is inside. Like a gentleman, he lets you accommodate the stretch before seating himself fully inside of you.

You lay atop the desk limp and pliant, like you’re a toy for Tommy. He grabs your hips tightly, possessively, before he starts to rock his hips against you. The friction of your ass against his hips doesn’t do too much to satisfy your sexual need, but the feeling of his skin makes you burn from within.

“When you first joined,” Tommy speaks up, “I had to make a rule. Don’t fuck the other members. Never had that problem before, but I knew the boys would tear you apart the second they got the chance.”

Tommy’s fingers press into your skin as he begins to slowly thrust into you. As he did with his fingers, he makes the drag of his cock slow, ensuring you feel every inch of his length. Your pussy gripped him like your body knew you were made for him.

You let out a small, involuntary hum when he reaches the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You had fantasized that Tommy would be a good lover, but you never imagined that he’d light all of your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you moan as his steady pace builds up the pressure in your abdomen.

“It’s Tommy now, eh? Where’d those manners go?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

You’re certain Tommy is going to kill you, despite your deal after you disrespected him. Maybe he’d be merciful since you let him have you… or maybe that would make torturing you even better.

“Say it again,” he says, voice gruff with lust.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

“Tommy,” you whisper, hesitant.

His blunt nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind. The speed of his hips increases slightly, but he doesn’t slam into you like some previous partners have. He seems to understand your body; to be rough in some ways but caring in others.

“If I punished every thief like this, I’d have far fewer enemies,” he muses as he slides his right hand up your back, then rests it on the base of your neck. “But you’re lucky.”

The hand on the back of your neck moves to the side of your head, where Tommy presses down. There’s not much force behind it, but your head is pinned to the desk. It’s degrading to have him hold you down, preventing you from seeing what’s to come. His fingers twist in your hair and his trusts become increasingly irregular.

“Tommy,” you whine.

“This cunt’s divine,” he says, and for the first time, his voice has an edge of desperation to it.

“Tommy,” you say again.

“What?” he breathes.

“Fuck me.”

With an airy chuckle, Tommy pulls you closer to him by the hips so you can meet each of his thrusts. Your body jolts each time his thighs slap against yours, completely at his mercy while he fucks into you. You feel him shift behind you and suddenly there is a weight resting on your back. Tommy is leaning over you, holding you impossibly close with his mouth next to your ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ whore,” he says, his hot breath and gravelly voice making your skin break out in goosebumps. “You understand me?”

All you can do is nod, but that answer seems to satisfy him because he is standing back up and fucking you sloppily, a stark contrast to his steady pace from earlier. After a handful of strokes, he pulls out and you’re left cold and gaping on the desk, brain lagging to catch up with reality.

You hear a strangled moan from behind you, and then you feel drops of scorching liquid hit your thighs. You squirm on the desk once you realize what has happened. Tommy Shelby has just come on you, effectively claiming you as his own.

He rests his hand on your back as he catches his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He steps back, out from between your legs, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. You look back at him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You push yourself up so you can stand, and when you turn to face Tommy again, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

Tommy chuckles and steps forward again, picking your skirt back up and pushing the bunched fabric into your hands to hold.

“You poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t gotten yours.”

His words surprise you. You wouldn’t say Tommy is a selfish man; self-interested is a better term. You expected this to be over once he was finished, but it seems that equal satisfaction is of importance to him.

He reaches between your legs and slips two fingers into your cunt, then rests his thumb on your clit. You gasp when he touches your bud, which is extra sensitive from the lack of attention. Tommy’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Tommy,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside you.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Guess all it took was a cock to keep you in line. God knows I would’ve done this ages ago if I knew. Think about all the times I could’ve had this sweet cunt when I settled for some whore,” he says, voice thick and sweet. “But now you’re mine.”

His possessiveness, combined with the perfectly placed touches under your dress, makes your head spin with pleasure. You let your head drop forward to rest on his shoulder and he pushes his face into your hair. You reach up to grab at his vest, needing something to ground yourself, lest you collapse into a puddle of pleasure on the office floor.

“I-I’m close, sir,” you struggle to get out between moans.

“What do good girls say?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Cum for me, dear,” he whispers.

As if he pulled a trigger, your release washed over you. Your muscles tighten and relax as the waves of pleasure rock you. Tommy rides you through it, not giving up his assault on your soaked pussy until you are squirming and pushing his hand away.

You lean back to rest on the desk as you find your breath and let your skirt drop down to the floor, covering up the mix of cum that wets your thighs. You watch as Tommy straightens out his clothes and fastens his belt, feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t get to see more of him.

He joins you by the desk, reaching into the formerly-locked drawer and taking out the pack of smokes, as well as a matchbook from his pocket. He lights the cigarette and tosses the burnt match into his ashtray. He holds it with the two fingers that were inside of you and takes a drag, exhaling a plume of white smoke that swirls in the air in front of you. Tommy offers the cigarette to you but you decline with a shake of your head, and he doesn’t press.

“Do you smell that?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence. You sniff the air, mainly smelling smoke but there is the underlying musk of sex, as well as the intoxicating scent that Tommy wears. “That’s business,” he says, answering his own question.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him.

“We had a deal. I fuck you and you get to stay here, all your limbs intact.” You nod slowly, not quite understanding what he’s getting at. “I’d like to offer you a promotion.”

You perk up at that. Not an hour ago you were certain Tommy was going to shoot you where you stood, but now he’s offering you a higher-ranking position within the Blinders.

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he says, a slight smirk on his lips. “No dirty work, no men. It’s an easy job, making my breakfast and bringin’ me whiskey, sorting my mail, writing my letters. Making appointments for me, keeping track of my calendar, making small talk with incredibly dull people I can’t be bothered with.”

“So I’d be your maid?”

“If maids get the added benefit of fuckin’ their bosses, then yes, you’ll be my maid,” he grins. “And you know what the best part is?” You shake your head. “You don’t get to lay a finger on my money.”

You look away from him, embarrassed. Tommy grabs ahold of your chin and makes you look back at him, his blue eyes boring into you once again.

“You can live in my house, I’ll buy you fancy things or whatever the fuck you wanted to do with two thousand pounds, and the only thing you’ll have to worry about is cleanin’ the blood from my shirts.”

You pretend to think over his offer, but really, there’s no question. This is better than any life you could attempt to start on your own, and you have the added bonus of being in the boss’ favor.

“I accept your offer,” you say with a smile.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before you find another thing to steal,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and leading you towards the door.

[johnpriceslamb]

I feel like having a hyper fem!reader would be really useful when it comes to cons and scams. Charm = Money

The image of going to any town and just absolutely leaving peoples pockets dry just by being a pretty doll they think they can play with when in truth you’re the one playing them. Arthur Morgan in the corner making sure nothing goes south yet getting a bit jealous of the men getting robbed.

caution !! mini babble , hyper-fem reader as usual -.- arthur being a bit jealous is a bit of an understatement ;3 , > 100 wordiez

⊹₊ ⋆ you were pretty .

too pretty, in fact— it makes Arthur’s blood boil .

How could Dutch ever think that this was a good idea to scheme money ? Sure, it was working — and sure, this was the most money they’ve gotten in a day, but … the way you looked at those bastards was similar to the way you look at him is making a vein pop in his head.

Long, dewy lashes tipped with puppy-like eyes — hot damn you were too pretty, it’s making his irritation very evident. He narrows his eyes at the way you presented yourself to those pigs, a soft click to the tongue which quietly drowns out immediately because of the constant chattering amongst the bar. He has to force himself to look away, otherwise he’ll end up dragging a man by the ear for even looking your way. Damnit he’s looking your way again and-

Ah. There she was. pixie-like hands ever so sneakily coming from behind and dragging that delicious looking wallet out of the man’s pockets and into hers. Though you looked innocent with all those laces ‘n bows, you were a bit too sneaky for his liking sometimes. Reason being is the amount of shirts borrowed (stolen) off of him and into your hand.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea but still.

“— I really must be going.. ‘m afraid the bow in my hair is about to fall ! Give me a minute to adjust this silly thing now, will you ?” Feigning panic of a girl wanting to keep their appearance pristine and delicate, your attempts are futile as the man whom you’ve pickpocketed unconsciously grabs your hand from behind at a painful grip, “But sugar, your hair looks fine—”

You shoot Arthur the look.

You dont dare mention to the man in front of you the way Arthur is striding towards him at a quick pace with his hand curled into a tight fist.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Miriam Hopkins (Design For Living, Trouble in Paradise)—miriam hopkins had great range as an actresses, truly a woman who could play a passionate outburst for either dramatic or comedic effect and sell the ever-loving hell out of it. she's wonderful in the witty and sophisticated comedies she made with ernst lubitsch, great examples of movies that could never have been made after the hays code; the frothy musical comedy the smiling lieutenant where she plays a naive princess who accidentally gets betrothed to maurice chevalier, the polyamory classic design for living where she gary cooper and hot vintage shadow king fredric march are a throuple, and the ineffably exquisite comedic masterpiece trouble in paradise in which she and hubert marshall are sexy jewel thieves trying to con sexy rich lady kay francis, but will emotional complications ensue???? watch to find out!!

Dorothy Dandridge (Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess, Island in the Sun)— The first Black actress to ever be nominated for best actress, Dorothy Dandridge was a groundbreaking actress who deserved better. She started her career as a singer, being put in a song-and-dance duo with her sister by their stage mother, and singing in soundies (I highly recommend cow cow boogie, it's adorable), proto-music videos. She started appearing as a featured singer in films. Her star was on the rise and she soon became a star solo performer. She continued acting, but had limited options because she refused to do stereotypical roles. She finally landed a starring role in Bright Road in 1953, but it was the movie Carmen Jones that truly cemented her as a star and sex symbol. Not to sound cheesy, but she literally sizzles on screen. You can't help but understand how poor Harry Belafonte gets caught in her trap, just look at her. This is the role that got her that Oscar nom. She didn't win cause I mean #OscarsSoWhite, but she was a sensation and continued starring in films, despite troubles in her life (including a shitty director bf who fucked with her career and a traumatizing pregnancy/delivery). Outside of her filmwork, she was also an activist, fighting against racism. She left behind an amazing legacy, and continues to inspire many actresses to this day (including also very hot first (and only) black woman to win best actress, Halle Berry).

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Miriam Hopkins:

64.media.tumblr.com

She is an incredibly charismatic and versatile actress who brings a certain captivating je ne sais quois to each and every one of her roles that makes her impossible to ignore. Her pre-code films were considered quite risqué, with her part in a thrupple in Design For Living, and some saucy scenes they had to cut from Jekyll and Hyde. She also had a strong career in early television, so good that this queen literally has TWO Hollywood Stars, TWO!! One for TV and one for Film

Also she is Gorgeous, capable of being the girl nextdoor and also a stunning blonde bombshell. She's not as well known as some golden-age Hollywood stars but she's really incredible and I recommend everyone watch her films

In Trouble in Paradise she plays a pickpocket who flirts by stealing from her criminal boyfriend and I fell in love

Linked gifset

She's got this sly slouchy confidence that just draws you in. Almost no one wore 30s fashion as well as her

queen of the pre-code era. often her roles were of carefree, flirty and lighthearted but intelligent women. famously in the movie where she was part of a fredrich march/gary cooper throuple.

We all know that Design for Living is THE pre-code movie and she is so iconic in it. Her eyes are everythingggg. Also everyone look at her in a suit in She Loves Me Not please

A Frequent collaborator of Ernst Lubistch, Miriam Hopkins like up the screen in her comic roles, as is especially sexy in her pre-code performance in Design for Living; probably one of the first movies to showcase a coded polyamorous relationship. She toes the line between adorable and sexy, and had the acting chops to back it all up.

Dorothy Dandridge propaganda:

Beautiful actress and hand-working and talented singer, she's especially notable for the number of firsts she accomplished such as the first African-American woman to receive a nomination for the Academy Award for Best Actress and the first African-American woman to appear on the cover of Life magazine.

Dorothy Dandridge was a classic Hollywood triple threat, singing, dancing, and acting with the best of them. She was the first African American nominated for an academy award for Best Actress for her role in Carmen Jones and she was just jaw-droppingly beautiful.

this og of black film needs no introduction (star on the hollywood walk of fame anyone?), voice of an angel, heavenly features, just an overall stunning lady :)

Look at her!!! She is so unbelievably charismatic in Carmen, it’s insane. Her chemistry with Harry Belafonte is off the charts, and every time she puts another outdoor [sic] on it’s like ‘oh god this is a whole new level of stunning’ 🥵. She was so so talented, when she’s on screen I genuinely dare you to tear your eyes away from her. Deserves to be known so much better but due to Hollywood racism and a tough personal life she didn’t make it as big as she should have done. She’s incredible.

First Black actress to be nominated for the Oscar for Best Actress! Was the first choice for the role of Cleopatra that went to Elizabeth Taylor (we were ROBBED).

[weirdmageddon]

some thoughts on dave lalonde

so note this isn’t a kidswap au, just a strilonde guardian swap au; a plausible au wherein dave’s meteor(s) are set to land in upstate new york and rose’s in houston tx where they are discovered by mom lalonde and bro strider respectively. so it’s not even really an “alternative universe” so much as “alternative circumstance” because that’s literally all that changes

their interests aren’t swapped; their interests are a natural result of a mix of what they were always predisposed towards (we can look at their post-scratch versions for constants) combined with their living environment. rose strider is still gothy and writes, knits, and has an interest in the zoologically dubious. perhaps rose might handcraft some delirious puppets for her brother-slash-ectofather’s enterprise as a “gift” in one-upmanship. probably has good rapport with the crows that fly into her ironic knockoff disney-princess themed bedroom (see the post i linked above) and get them to fuck with bro passively in exchange for peanuts. she also keeps all the things the crows gift her, pickpocketed shiny things and whatnot

dave lalonde is still the knight of time, still makes sbahj, likes photography, still loves cooking up unbelievably ill jams, still into post-ironic expression, however he’s not irony-poisoned by bro so he’s more comfortable being genuine. his interest in dead things and paleontology comes more to a forefront because of mom’s predilection towards science and genuine encouragement from her. after all she’s made many a mutant kitten herself

i feel like since dave fell to earth with maplehoof, crushing the pony instantly on impact, instead of using its hide to make a bib like a fucking weirdo, mom would paradox clone maplehoof. so dave has a pet pony with a ribbon and little pink heart on it. a knight needs a loyal steed. and hes been attached to maplehoof since his literal first few minutes of existing. so maplehoof wouldnt be bought anywhere, it would originate from itself

i mean he’s seen with the pony at his side in the post-scratch universe so…..

would make sense if the pony mom gifted to rose in canon was more of an involved thing with dave in this circumstance

the only issue is maplehoof cant become his sprite, otherwise that would break the timeloop (they need to come unaltered to earth with dave on the meteor in the first place during the reckoning). also [S] Ride with dave and the scarf would absolutely be a thing at some point

i was thinking maybe instead of a crow, since they aren’t as “everywhere” in upstate new york as they are in that high rise in texas, dave has something more prehistoric put into a sprite. like a parave theropod. can you imagine parave davesprite. maybe an archaeopteryx or something

i guess mom would indulge in a living museum/zoo for “domesticated” ancient organisms all jurassic parked like a weird ongoing experiment but the ectobiology wouldnt be perfect especially because the dna wouldnt be able to be fully read from fossils and specimens. i feel like jurassic park should be dave lalonde’s sort of in-universe media reference the way con air was with john and putting the bunny back in the box. like his friends would just rip on him for living out jurassic park in an imperfect domestic way

and he accidentally kills it through some fetch modus shenanigans. dave still has the bladekind strife specibus but not because he does rooftop battles but because swords are unironically cool, and flings it out the window by accident and it strikes one of the parave theropods in the enclosed zoo below outside his window and dave feels kinda bad

when jade sees it as his server player shes like “oh nooooo :(“ and dave is like “oh god no dont put that in the seizure kernel while i take a piss in one of the many fancy bathrooms this household has”

[were-wolverine]

pjo x batkids

DICK & JAY

neither of them know they’re demigods, dick thought john grayson was his bio dad and jason thought catherine was his bio mom.

hermes met dick’s mom while she was traveling with the circus. he stayed with marie for about two years after dick was born (taking care of him while she performed) before leaving. a few years later she met john grayson and fell in love. she would often read dick greek myths but never told him about his parentage.

after dick’s parents die in gotham, he (10) is sent to juvie and then an orphanage, which he runs away from.

he survives on the streets for a few months by busking (performing tricks for money) and living in abandoned buildings that no one else can reach. he then meets 8 year old jason todd who is living with catherine and willis todd. they bond pretty much immediately and dick visits him every day. they do cons and steal tires together, plus dick is an expert pickpocket. he is there for jason when catherine and then willis die, and they live in willis’ shitty apartment together.

about a year later they are found by a satyr who explains that they are demigods and that there’s a summer camp for kids like them. they are VERY distrustful at first because that sounds crazy but also it’s a satyr so maybe they’re not lying. eventually they decide they might as well go, gotham is a shithole anyway.

they get to CHB without incident bc neither of them really attract monsters and the Gotham Stench hides their scents anyway. they are the first of the batkids to arrive at camp.

dick (11) is claimed by hermes about three weeks after arriving. him and jason (9) live at camp year-round. when he’s 16 dick becomes head counselor of hermes cabin.

JASON

son of athena. father unknown. was left on the streets and found by catherine todd, who convinced willis to take him in. he was living with them when he met dick. they immediately bonded and after jason is orphaned they live together, until a year later when a satyr finds them.

he’s not claimed for a while after arriving, but doesn’t really mind bc it means he gets to stay with dick. eventually claimed years later but still eats lunch with the hermes cabin cuz dick is his family.

CASS

hades/bruce meets lady shiva and falls in love with her deadliness. they have a child together but he has to abandon her bc the ‘no more kids’ pact the big 3 have.

sandra wu-san meets david cain while pregnant and tasks him with training her daughter. he agrees and lady shiva leaves soon after giving birth. cain does not know she’s a demigod. he trains her to be the perfect weapon and hades/bruce can do nothing about it without alerting his brothers to her existence.

her powers manifest after the first time she kills someone (at 8), and she runs away. she travels across the world for years until a satyr finds her and brings her to CHB. she (10) is claimed soon after, and enjoys living alone in the hades cabin. chiron and babs teach her how to read and speak, even tho she’s learned a bit over the years. she arrives a year after dick (12) & jason (10)

TIM

athena met jack and janet drake at one of their archeological digs, and admired their intellect. she gave them tim as a gift. jack and janet spent the first few years of his life at home with him, until they decided he was old enough to join them on their travels. he was an incredibly smart child and was very self-sufficient, so it didn’t cause them any trouble. he didn’t go to school, but had a tutor that accompanied them on their trips.

when he is 10 his parents die in a plane crash that he survives. after their funeral, he ditches NYC (where they were buried) and athena sends an owl to guide him to camp. he arrives at CHB about a year after cass (11) and 2 years after dick (13) & jason (11). he is jay’s favorite bio sibling.

STEPH

daughter of hermes. raised by crystal brown in gotham until a satyr finds her (11) and brings her to camp. frequently exchanges letters with her mom. arrives a year after tim (11), two years after cass (12), and three years after dick (14) and jason (12)

claimed few months after arriving at camp. she is dick’s favorite bio sibling

DUKE

son of apollo. one of the rare apollo children that can control light. raised by his mom in newark until they were attacked by a monster and his mom was injured.

he left in order to keep her safe, and went to CHB (which apollo had told her about, and she told duke about). he keeps in contact with her through letters and iris messages. he is claimed about a month after arriving at camp. he (11) arrives two years after steph (13), three years after tim (13), four years after cass (14) and five years after dick (16) and jason (14)

DAMIAN

similar to lady shiva, bruce/hades is captivated by talia’s deadliness. they have a child together, which she tries to hide from ra’s, but he soon finds out and learns he is a demigod. to him, this makes him even more fit to ascend the demon throne (the LoA is a cult, and the lazarus pit is magic).

damian is trained to defeat monsters and humans alike, and is gifted a stygian iron sword for his fifth birthday. bruce/hades had told talia about CHB, and she is finally able to send damian there when he is 10.

he arrives three years after duke (14), five years after steph (16), six years after tim (16), seven years after cass (17), and eight years after dick (19) and jason (17)

BABS

has been at CHB since she was 13, the same year dick & jason arrived. she is the new oracle of delphi. basically rachel elizabeth dare. is 21 when damian arrives. was paralyzed at 16 when she tried to interfere with a prophecy, and has been in a wheelchair since

HELENA

daughter of ares, became a Hunter of Artemis at 16 (the year duke arrived at CHB)

[ruushes]

1, 22 and 24 for the dark urge questions!!

thank you for so much to consider these are great questions >:)c

24. they start the game with literally nothing but their clothes but they're a lifelong magpie and quickly develop a collection! they keep most of the jewelry they find (urchin background holdover) as well as objects with memories attached and things they just enjoy, here's some of what they've acquired through act 1

other two under the cut!

Class/subclass - rogue assassin. rather than being taken in by the cult right after killing their foster family i hc that they grew up as an outer city orphan, having to provide for themself, which meant a lot of stealing, pickpocketing, not getting caught, running simple cons, sneaking into places for shelter. they joined the Guild in their late teens and did Professional Rogue Shit for a couple years, starting w smaller stuff and then finding a niche in assassination and interrogations. this was their backstory before i made them also a Bhaalspawn so they have no excuse really they’re just good at killing and do it for fun and profit 😂

first impression - im pretty sure that Bhaalspawn have canonically bad vibes and i think especially in the early game, being dissociated from their identity and in constant pain and relearning how to be a person, they unnerve most of the people they meet at first. they’re actually pretty good at putting people at ease after that - friendly, casual, curious - but they’re pretty intimidating at first glance

[ssk374]

Spoilers for White Collar...

Lol...so I had an argument with someone on reddit comment section...now i don't blame that person to an extent because the post made might have been a bit triggering as it was a typical "I am annoyed by season 5 peter ....blah blah blah and called out his hypocrisy and stuff" and I can understand this person as a peter fan wanted to defend him...also I myself don't hate peter season 5 peter...was annoyed? Yes, I was super annoyed despite it being the most compelling (to me) character arch peter had as compared to other seasons...i mean he has a similar arch in every season (it's complicated...i'm saying it in the sense that it was tragic and hurtful but also very beautiful...I'll make another separate post explaining what could've been peter's thought process during the whole time and why he reacted the way he did...

But the disgusting part is the way they tried to pull down Neal, blame him for things that weren't even his fault and dehumanize him. I hope they said whatever they said just for the sake of the argument and didn't really mean that in real. Also Peter is a very nice guy and friend, also one of the few people who actually cares about Neal...but in season 5, he was being a hypocrite until Diana called him out about it...

This post wouldn't contain that part of the argument that involves James ...cause that was way more horrible...post it separately

This is where it started...it's how they phrased and twisted things which pissed me off... Neal "got" El kidnaped...Neal "let" James get away...also comparing a fight/fallout between two friends to why neal didn't fight james...Neal "uses" Peter...(and i'll discuss the james part later)

As much as it pissed me off...I was like okayyy calm down, this person is just trying to defend Peter.

But as you can guess few of us were quick to point out certain things,

Then they responded with this...

Did peter do stuff for Neal beyond the deal, yes but, the whole peter did more for neal is stupid...peter did everything he could for neal and so did neal do for peter...peter cares about neal and so does neal care about peter... it is very dehumanizing to reduce or diminish everything Neal did as "he was supposed to do it", "that's the deal" ...one because Neal did stuff beyond the deal for Peter too, Neal's deal did not include, i'll give up my full share of oxygen for you during a case, I will run like a manic through a shower of bullets to distract the gun men because peter needs back up...and two he isn't solving cases just because he is supposed to but puts his heart and soul for it every single time.

It's how everything Neal did for Peter is forgotten and suddenly he is just a random criminal...certain audiences and peter.

Yet when I pointed this out they ignored it and started to argue about other stuff (cause they knew they didn't have any logical response to it...lol)...they responded with i was stretching everything neal did...some shit like that...again did we watch the same show??

Also I don't know if we even watched the same show cause it was more than just pickpocketing and conning for cases, lol...they did so much more than that...and then twist the cases to catch the criminals...

There is this scene in season 5 where neal acts cheerful and childish around david siegel and tells peter that things are nice with siegel and he actually likes him, peter tells neal to be careful and neal suddenly changes his mood and says he knows what people are doing to him when they act nice to him...I'm saying this cause neal knows what people talk and think about him...he knows how certain other people dehumanize him while his life is already a tragedy...(though i wish siegel hadn't been killed off to soon...)

I mean if people who've watched the whole show, have these kind of opinions especially when the a part of the show was about not dehumanizing neal... again i'm not saying this person in completely wrong (because everything peter did for neal should be acknowledged), but certain things just seemed to go over their head...like why do you have to dehumanize neal?? I can only imagine what other agents and people in the show must've thought about neal and neal would have been hurting a lot from the inside unable to express it. (I'm mature enough to understand he is a fictional character but still)

But also this is a good content for fanfics (because this is pushing me to complete my fanfics)...lol like this is a typical antagonist or side agent from another division of FBI??

I'll upload the james part of the argument soon...

[frowningfox]

2, 5, 12 n 22 for uncle? ( hes honestly my favorite of your characters, hes rlly interesting to me !!)

Your love of my niche little ex-joke character with one portrait brings me confusion and joy. I will ramble for you.

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

In-Universe: That they are about to be conned out of all their money. And maybe pickpocketed of some priceless artifacts. And that he's a Chosen One™.

Out-of-Universe aka people reading this who have seen the exactly one image I have posted of him: He is a homeless runaway, and serial destiny dodger. And he steals to feel joy. He used to be able to fly. He started out as a joke character and I got too attached to him and made him way to serious a backstory. In theory, his accent is somewhere between french and japanese. (In-practice I have not Done That. idr what I've done it's been a while, and I've not explored him in-character enough to settle in. I think I just kept the vowels soft and round in general which is how I usually speak anyway)

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

To avoid what he doesn't want? He's willing to cross an ocean and live on the streets of an isolated island city he's never been to before.

To get what he wants? Potentially steal from monastery that has been nothing but good to him, including SAVING HIS LIFE. He's still weighing his conscious on that one though.

Killing is off the table, he's not killed before and the thought of it scares him.

So the line is somewhere before killing, and MAYBE somewhere before stealing from people who save him.

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

Yes. He is irresponsible to a degree that has ruined his life several times over in several different ways. He's a risk taker, always putting his health and reputation on the line, usually in small ways, but he has obviously slipped up and taken bigger risks than he could chew (see: stealing from Infamous Gang) and nearly got killed. He his MOST destructive about personal relationships, constantly isolating from, running away from, or purposefully sabotaging close relationships EXCEPT for with the street kids who more or less adopted him as their uncle. He doesn't really let them know he cares about them and plays up the grumpy old man angle but he is VERY MUCH sharing his spoils with them so they Know.

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

Chaotic... neutral? At his heart, maybe chaotic good, but in his rebellion he's probably leaning towards more chaotic neutral in action. His goal is never harm to others, but he isn't above slight harm to others for the sake of his benefit. Or slight harm to others to self destruct his relationships. And he enjoys the thrill of a good con a bit too much for his own good - perhaps one day he can be an actor and/or stage magician to get that out of his system in a productive fashion. (Or, you know, he could embrace his role as The Wind God Avatar and have all the showmanship opportunity that his heart could possibly desire). Unfortunately every chance at showmanship and dramatics includes The Spotlight and Expectation, which he hates.

[the-mcyt-crackships-brackets]

i really like clownscar and part of it is because clown has a Thing for guys who seem pathetic. note that i said SEEM -- branzy is hardly incompetent, and crucially neither is scar.

clown thinks he's going to have just some guy, just some wet cat. another trophy builder or what have you. what he GETS is someone roughly twice as unhinged as he is who will con the shit out of you if you let your guard down for all of five seconds. scar pickpockets clown when they kiss and it's obvious the first time. clown threatens him about it. he never catches scar pickpocketing him again but his wallet is still missing two days later.

i cannot stress enough how important it is to me that these two get in an "in love and also there's no escape from each other and the hole they dug" situationship IMMEDIATELY. i would say cubfan tried to warn clown but let's be real he absolutely did not.

the odds on whether clown gets eaten or recruited by the vex are like 60/40.

Yep👍

Vote clownscar!

[hazbinjuveniles]

Husk (Cause of Death- Tripped over a cat and fell off the roof while drunk)

Died at age 17

Abandoned as a baby

Grew up at a bad orphanage and was bullied everyday

Had enough and ran away from the orphanage

Lived on the streets and got by stealing and pickpocketing

Later learned to gamble and con people

Had a mini gambling ring going on

Also deal in contraband & smuggling around the streets

Got into alcohol in his early teens and became depended on it

Was drinking on a building rooftop but accidentally tripped over a stray cat nearby and fell over the ledge

Gets by in Hell using his gambling and smuggling skill

While he does not own a casino like his canon self, he did manage to build a well known gambling den by himself

He is not a Overlord in this AU

With his gambling den, he managed to create quite a few connections

One day he noticed a particular customer visited his gambling den. It’s the Radio Demon. 

Got cocky and thought he can win the Radio Demon soul by tricking him into playing a rigged card game

He then challenged the Radio Demon with an interesting prize in his mind

If he wins, he gets Alastor’s soul but if Alastor’s wins he get his soul

The game is stupidly rigged to be in Husk favor

The game ended the same way as canon with Husk losing his soul

His alcoholism got worse after this

On the bright side, Alastor is by far the least worst Overlord to get chained too. Since Alastor is still young in this AU, he is not as cruel as his canon counterpart or at the very least not purposely cruel towards Husk.

Alastor just leaves him alone until he needed Husk for a job

Overall Husk is still free to do whatever he wishes and he thinks the Radio Demon is not all that

However there was one incident that showed Husk how dangerous Alastor really is. 

The one and only time Alastor lost control of his emotions and went on a rampage that destroyed a good chunk of the city. It’s later called “The Radio Incident”

Husk is one of the few living witnesses from ground zero

From that day on, he keep an eye on Alastor and his mood lest he wants that incident to happen again

[avionvadion]

For as unhinged and brutal as October is going to be, January to... (looks at my notes)... Early Febuary is going to be so very chaotic and fun.

Reason being? Skully (depending on how the event ends) and Fellow/Gidel are going to be in Ramshackle. Everyone has to live with them. Eleanora has to figure out how to handle them. All immediately after returning from the Glorious Masquerade at Noble Bell College.

And it's mostly going to pertain of Fellow pestering her constantly to help him understand what on earth the textbooks are trying to teach him, answer various questions about how to read a specific word, and overall helping him with study guides- which actually helps her in the end, too, since she's not from that world- and teaching Gidel the alphabet, which she actually enjoys because he's a really sweet kid, and when she's not helping Gidel then Skully probably is per request of Eleanora.

Also Eleanora just acting as Fellow's "conscience" because he falls back into his habit of conning people and pickpocketing them and every time she has to be like, "Do you want to pass the test? Do you want me to teach you how to read the thing? Stop it." And he's like, "You drive a hard bargain, lil' lady," because Fellow is older than her but she's the "dorm leader" of Ramshackle and the official big sister/mother figure of NRC because damn it this school needs therapists but here she is doing it all unpaid anyways.

But back to the point! VDC.

El ends up being appointed by Vil to be the group "Manager". She mostly just takes pictures and offers advice here and there, because please give Epel boots that raise his height closer to Kalim's, it's so distracting since he's not the main center and also the choreography you hired did this based on YOUR ability, Vil, not THEIRS. They can not learn BALLET in such a short time. You are a boy band, not TRAINED BALLERINAS. Meanwhile Skully and Fellow will be carrying water bottles and packs of gatorade, while Gidel sits at a little table in the corner practicing his alphabet with a little bag of gummy bears, trailmix that has those little m&ms, and a bottle of apple juice- courtesy of Epel. Skully helps Fellow and Gidel with their homework since there isn't much else for them to do since they brought the drinks.

And it's like, just a whole month and a quarter of pure CHAOS as Eleanora adjusts to having a conman, his adorable mute little brother, and a lowkey psychopath all a part of her dorm, while also having to deal with Rook 24/7 and sneaking around trying to teach Kalim how to cook because he got curious, and having to ask Rook for aloe in the middle of the night because Kalim accidentally burned his pinky finger putting cheese on an omelette because they don't want Jamil to find out.

Also Vil having the biggest guilt over cursing the Trey snacks without telling Eleanora even though he knows having a curse overlap her curse WILL kill her because of the events of Playful Land, and him being so confused because he doesn't know why he didn't speak to her about it first before cursing them since he knows about her unique condition and it is her dorm and he did give explicit permission that she's allowed to snack while the boys aren't, and he's just really baffled by his own behavior, but there's a specific reason for it that if you've figured it out then you know I think I've been making it obvious but it's really just another hint showing Vil is reaching his breaking point and Rook is giving him the suspicious concerned bombastic side eye the whole time because he knows the stress is getting to him.

And Jamil. Eleanora hates Jamil with a passion. Vil is gonna call her out on being cold to him and she's just going to be like, "He fucking tried to kill me. He almost did kill me. If not for Azul having a potion on hand, I'd be fucking dead again. Me being "cold" and "ignoring" him? Is me being civil. Do not order me around in my own dorm."

Vil: "...You know what, understood. BACK TO FACIAL CARE EXPLANATIONS. Ahem! Kalim, come here, will you?"

Eleanora adores Kalim. Adeuce are her besties. Epel is a sweetie who's always helping Eleanora out when Adeuce aren't available; it makes Epel happy to help her, since he's usually carrying heavy things for her which, to him, is a "manly" thing to do, as she's still cleaning up the dorm a bit and prepping the guest room. Rook is still kinda weird and it's a little creepy how he seems to know certain things and always shows up right when they need him with the exact thing they need (the aloe, for example, why did he have that?) but she's decided not to think about it. It's rocky with Vil, because of the curse thing, but he's genuinely trying to make up for it so while she's accepted his apology but hasn't forgiven him for it she is trying to soften up towards him because he's clearly regretting what he did.

Absolutely spoils Gidel. Fellow and Skully are both rocky, but she's still friendly with them unless Fellow is conning people or stirring up trouble. The ghosts, Moe, Larry, and Curly, are enjoying the liveliness of the house, and everyone is always surprised when some of the cafeteria ghosts stop by with prune juice or spinach puffs and just snacks and drinks filled with lots of iron for El because she's always often so "anemic".

October is gonna be dramatic and brutal, but January to early February is gonna be HILARIOUS chaos.

[tenaciouschronicler]

August 2 and 3 2024 2009

I fear I really will need to put all my posts into a word doc.

Lets work through the lore shall we.

So, back on page 251 when the Kernel divided it 'hatched' upon arrival to The Medium. These Kernels, one light and one dark, upon situating themselves in their respective Orbs activate the Imps present giving them characteristics from the prototyping, in this case harlequin clothing.

Im gonna put the rest under the cut, this post got away from me.

Again working from top to bottom, These Orbs are situated upon one of Four Spires which make up the throne of either sides Sovereign Power; the Dark throne is purple while the Light throne is gold. The first Kernels arrival is the catalyst that starts the 'true game', increasing the board to a 12x12, adding more pieces and actually placing the kings on opposite corners. Light is also always destined to lose. Im curious if each game can only be played by four players or if only the first four are placed in the spires and subsequesnt players dont have any effect on the Sovereign Powers? Could you play with less than four players and how would that game play out?

John and WV both wonder what the point is then if Light always loses and Nanna says that is The Ultimate Riddle they have to solve.

This part made me remember way back on page 82 when the narrator said:

The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket.

His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.

At the time I wrote, "Googling Absence gives us "the state of being away from a place or person". So his riddle is a state of being away from others... I feel like the following statement gives more but I cant discern what." Could this be The Ultimate Riddle Nanna is refering to? I still cant tell what the riddle is, maybe after I put all the Lore together I can at least try to add more to this. (After stepping back and re-reading it I figured out the 'diabolical riddle'; the nature of Absence is transitory and evanescent, here one moment gone the next. Looking for answers only serves to hasten its absence, obscuring itself with more questions.)

For now, John has to climb towards Skia by passing through the gates utilizing the games building funtion to reach. In that way he can save Dad! And what about Earth?

Nanna drops the bombshell that Earth is done for, regardless of how well they do in this game.

Finally done with her duty, Nanna heads off to bake John cookies! For the first time we see her phase through the walls leaving blue goo on the Con Air poster. We didnt see her doing that earlier but maybe theres more goo around the house.

WV is All About them cookies and pushes John to pursue. We learn John hates any and all baked goods "totally abjur[ing] the hell out of that idea."

Roses Pesterchum image is annoyed now, having tried to get Johns attention this whole time and is now trying to use a box to the head.

Unfortunately for her I think this is Johns last straw and hes having a well deserved scream. After everything hes gone through and learned, I think he needs it.

In the meantime and probably against better judgement, theres still a fire raging Rose, shes gonna update the GameFAQ. And apparently get sassed by a dead cat. It's pretty much all his fault you're in this mess in the first place, so he can just button it.

Whatever you say Rose.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Miriam Hopkins (Design For Living, Trouble in Paradise)—miriam hopkins had great range as an actresses, truly a woman who could play a passionate outburst for either dramatic or comedic effect and sell the ever-loving hell out of it. she's wonderful in the witty and sophisticated comedies she made with ernst lubitsch, great examples of movies that could never have been made after the hays code; the frothy musical comedy the smiling lieutenant where she plays a naive princess who accidentally gets betrothed to maurice chevalier, the polyamory classic design for living where she gary cooper and hot vintage shadow king fredric march are a throuple, and the ineffably exquisite comedic masterpiece trouble in paradise in which she and hubert marshall are sexy jewel thieves trying to con sexy rich lady kay francis, but will emotional complications ensue???? watch to find out!!

Joan Fontaine (Rebecca, Suspicion, Ivanhoe)— Check out the screen tests of other actresses for Rebecca to fully grasp how subtly and effectively she plays the role. Competence porn! Good acting before the method!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Miriam Hopkins:

She is an incredibly charismatic and versatile actress who brings a certain captivating je ne sais quois to each and every one of her roles that makes her impossible to ignore. Her pre-code films were considered quite risqué, with her part in a thrupple in Design For Living, and some saucy scenes they had to cut from Jekyll and Hyde. She also had a strong career in early television, so good that this queen literally has TWO Hollywood Stars, TWO!! One for TV and one for Film

Also she is Gorgeous, capable of being the girl nextdoor and also a stunning blonde bombshell. She's not as well known as some golden-age Hollywood stars but she's really incredible and I recommend everyone watch her films

In Trouble in Paradise she plays a pickpocket who flirts by stealing from her criminal boyfriend and I fell in love

queen of the pre-code era. often her roles were of carefree, flirty and lighthearted but intelligent women. famously in the movie where she was part of a fredrich march/gary cooper throuple.

Linked gifset

She's got this sly slouchy confidence that just draws you in. Almost no one wore 30s fashion as well as her

We all know that Design for Living is THE pre-code movie and she is so iconic in it. Her eyes are everythingggg. Also everyone look at her in a suit in She Loves Me Not please

A Frequent collaborator of Ernst Lubistch, Miriam Hopkins like up the screen in her comic roles, as is especially sexy in her pre-code performance in Design for Living; probably one of the first movies to showcase a coded polyamorous relationship. She toes the line between adorable and sexy, and had the acting chops to back it all up.

Joan Fontaine:

ABSOLUTELY too hot to have played Jane Eyre like what were they thinking.

[maryellencarter]

Letters from Watson (the Sherlock Holmes book-club Substack) started reading the short story "The Stockbroker's Clerk" today, and the titular clerk is a young cockney who uses a fair amount of (Doyle's approximation of) then-current slang, so I wrote up some approximations in the LfW discord (which is a very fun place). @jabbage asked if I was going to put the information on Tumblr for reference, so I guess here it is? Cleaned up a little bit and with help from other people in the discord.

* St Vitus's dance: A disease that makes you twitchy and shaky. It was a general term for conditions like Parkinson's or the twitching that can be a side effect of rheumatic fever.

* Cockney: The technical definition is a Londoner born within the radius where you can hear the bells of St Mary le Bow, "within the sound of Bow Bells" for short. The implication is that Mr Hall Pycroft, our stockbroker's clerk, comes from a lower or working class, and the stereotype would be that he's somewhat irreverent and not very bright, although ACD takes care to give us a little essay about how we should actually consider him hard-working and professional.

* Outré: French for outlandish or surprising. Holmes really likes this word, so we've probably discussed it before.

* Lost my crib: We've heard "crib" as meaning a bank or business before, in The Red-Headed League, when John Clay would "crack a crib". Pycroft is using it to mean job, with an implication that it's what we might now call a cubicle job, done at a desk in narrow indoor quarters.

* Soft Johnnie: A soft touch or soft Johnnie is someone who is easily scammed, often in reference to being an unquestioning mark for a con artist.

* Billet: In this context, a job. StephenHunterUK in the Discord mentioned it's likely from the French word for "ticket".

* Were let in: Were damaged or injured. I'm not sure of the etymology.

* Venezuelan loan: StephenHunterUK pointed out there was a Venezuelan sovereign debt default in 1892. Stockbroker's Clerk was published in March 1893, so it would have been topical at that time, but of course it has to take place not later than 1889, so this reference screws up the chronology even more than it already was. At any rate, the implication is that Mr Pycroft's old employer made a bad investment in Venezuelan securities and had to close down.

* Came a nasty cropper: This can mean anything from falling downstairs to having to shut up shop, but often indicates either death or something similarly final.

* Ripping good: Very good. Slang term Doyle is using to make Mr Pycroft sound less formal, more cockney and enthusiastic, also possibly a bit like a schoolboy.

* The smash: When the old job was ruined and had to close. I usually hear this in reference to investments or stock market crashes.

* On the same lay: Looking for the same type of work. Can also be criminal slang meaning people who work at the same type of crime, such as pickpockets.

* E.C.: StephenHunterUK provided the information that this is the postcode for the "City of London" area -- not the London metro area, but the one-square-mile area in downtown London known as the City, mostly associated with banking and law work. Hall Pycroft is saying that he's not sure how familiar Holmes and Watson are with the City of London area.

* It was my innings: Cricket reference. Means that Mr Pycroft feels he has had a lucky win.

* The screw was a pound a week rise: The pay was a pound a week more than Mr Pycroft was making at his previous job, so £4 a week or roughly £200 a year. You can see that the sketchy pottery company's offer of £500 a year more than doubles what he'd make at the reliable firm Mawson's.

* In diggings: Renting a room.

* A touch of the sheeny about his nose: A "Sheeny" is a derogatory term for an ethnically Jewish person, especially male. Pycroft is saying that Pinner had a somewhat hooked nose. The stereotype is also that Pinner might be either very financially shrewd or a con artist. (I don't know if this phrase made it into the warnings document.)

* A little sporting flutter: A bet.

* The mentions of Brussels (in Belgium, north of France) and San Remo (in Italy, southeast of France) are implying that the Franco-Midland pottery company is a big deal, with offices all across France and spilling out the corners.

* In the swim: In the thick of things.

* Deal chairs: Cheap wooden chairs. Geoharee in the Discord brought up that "deal" here refers to pine wood specifically -- pine is very soft, easily dented and stained, and is a fast-growing tree, so it was used for cheap low-quality furniture that wasn't intended to be long-lasting or durable, the sort of furniture we'd make out of fiberboard these days.

* Very badly stuffed with gold: Pinner has a badly-done gold filling in one tooth.