#man owns at least 2 coats; 2 shirts; 3 hats and his boots | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redfish-blu · 27 days

Text

Historically accurate (enough) Ben Tallmadge be upon ye.

Explanation and history spiel under the cut <3

TURN did better than most period pieces with costuming so I didn’t really have to change that much (flowers for Donna Zakowska), but my own historical costuming brain was like But What If I Did?? Now I obviously took some liberties here for the sake of clarity and The Rule of Cool, but I’ll explain them when we cross the bridge. I’m also not a historical fashion expert. My end goal for this was to integrate real life concepts into the stylized depictions of the TV show.

Until around 1780, the Continental Army was notably impoverished, and had no standard uniform (and arguably it never would). Soldiers and militiamen simply wore their civilian clothes, and high-ranking officers wore repurposed uniforms from other conflicts if they had them. But for the most part, it was hard to distinguish the average private from a commissioned service member. To differentiate ranks, color-coded sashes and cockades were worn around the body and pinned to the hat. These would indicate to everyone who held which title with no uniform to go off of.

Season 1 Costume:

Some background: 1776 is widely agreed upon as the terrible horrible no good very bad year for the continental army. They were beat down and penniless. If the Americans were to ever loose the AWI, 1776 would have been the year it happened. Washington was pulling the army up by their threadbare bootstraps. The monumental loss of New York to the Brits and subsequent fleeing of the continental army to Connecticut was the main sore spot here, and in that chaos is where TURN season 1 starts.

Ben Tallmadge in TURN is a major and and Aid De Camp (he might not be officially named as an ADC but for all intents and purposes he replaced Hamilton for like 2 whole seasons so I gave him the title anyways). Prior to Washington begging congress to order uniforms in 1780, Ben would have been frolicking around in his plain clothes for the majority of the war. Men’s plain clothes of this era included the linen shirt, waistcoat, cravat, coat, breeches, stockings, buckled shoes, and a hat.

The reason cockades were chosen to denote rank is because wearing a hat in public was actually considered common decency. It was improper (or at the very least lacking manners) to not wear one out. Every man would be wearing a hat, thus they would always have their chosen cockade on display. Ben wears a red one, which signals that he is a major. In the show the hat custom is forgone in favor of actually being able to see the actors’ faces (and their amazing hair), which is totally understandable. I’ve restored Ben’s hat in my design, though.

Another thing I have added is a pair of spatterdashes, which are cloth sock things that buckle over one’s shoes and shins to keep the mud and gunk from ruining the stockings and soaking down into your shoes. Ben spends most of his time outside, and has no issued pair of boots (which weren’t really the most efficient or comfortable form of footwear at the time anyways) on account of the No Money thing, so he wears his spatterdashes to make his poor buckled shoes last longer.

In reality, Ben would have been wearing this utterly dazzling outfit until the end of season 3. However, I’ve decided to suspend the historical record and let him have a Season 2 glow-up into the blue-coated major we all know and love.

Season 2 Costume:

So after 1780 (or I guess 1777 in this case), Congress decided to fund Washington’s request for regimental uniforms across the continental army. Not everyone was wearing a blue and white coat, but Ben Tallmadge was. Turn’s portrayal of the iconic garment has the top of the coat unbuttoned to make it look less goofy, which I’ve kept here because I agree with the change. His coat is also fairly loose-fitting, which is another thing I kept because it gives the boyish yet elegant look befitting of an inexperienced yet determined continental major. Tallmadge would have only been nineteen/twenty years old at this time (the average age in the American army was sixteen), so highlighting his youth was a good decision on TURN’s part.

Buff/white (more like off-white) waistcoats and breeches were another standard item worn by all soldiers and ranking officers (circumstances permitting).

The green sash indicates his Aid De Camp status, which I didn’t include in the S1 look because it would have looked extremely strange. These may have been out of fashion by the time uniforms were introduced, but we see Washington wearing his own blue sash throughout the entire series, and Ben is the king of idolizing that man (and boasting that Washington considers him important), so I have him wearing it.

His red cockade is gone, instead the gold insignias mounted on his shoulders (these were introduced by John Hancock in 1779) tell his rank as a major. In place of a red cockade is a black and white one, which became the standard throughout all the ranks. He could have worn a cockade designed specifically for majors and ADC’s, but I haven’t seen any evidence of these being used save for hearsay and they elevate the look from foppish to full on decorative ice cream, so I excluded them.

Now down to the boots. I swiped these directly off of George Washington’s uniform, which they have displayed at the Smithsonian. It’s more likely Ben would have still been wearing that trusty spatterdashes+buckled shoes combo (this was the standard of the British forces at the time), but to honor The Rule of Cool I let him have those genre defining boots. He does see more combat on horseback as the series progresses, so the boots aren’t entirely inappropriate.

Conclusion:

Despite my obvious passion for this topic, I understand why TURN made the costuming choices it did. Having the continental army just be a group of Random Guys would have been confusing to the average viewer who does not know all this trivial nonsense. And to their credit, TURN actually did dress the nameless extras pretty appropriately throughout the whole series. I just think that showing the continentals in their true “rag-tag volunteer army in need of a shower” form, then have them progress visually throughout the show would have been a brave and effective storytelling choice. It would have been a bit ahead of its time, but now that it’s been ten years I don’t think the creators would care about me dogging on them.

#turn washington's spies #ben tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge #turn amc #amc turn #amc turn fanart #turn amc fanart #turn washington’s spies fanart #history #historical costuming

27 notes · View notes

threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

18 notes · View notes

amphtaminedreams · 3 years

Text

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

40 notes · View notes

shiningstages · 3 years

Text

❪ ˙˖ ♡ . 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

Muse Chosen: Barawa

1. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Multiple different smokes - Gunpowder from a recent scuffle, the tobacco of his pipe that smells like cherry wood, and the smoked roast he and his dog had for dinner. Sweat and any grime he gets into are bound to cling to him, yet it’s surprising how well he can clean it off, and if it wasn’t for his smoking he could always smell like fresh linen. Occasionally there’s a earthy, woody musk that wafts off of him, but only if he’s about to go anywhere he deems needing such a scent.

2. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Large hands that could crush your own in a handshake (and sometimes does, though it’s purely an accident through his excitement, he swears). You can practically feel every fiber of muscle with every movement, yet such in-depth feeling is somewhat blocked by rough skin that has never had proper care until a recent assistant had started to fuss. Little scars are here and there, mostly from his first years in the military and learning how to properly take care of his weapons years before that. On particularly rough working days, you could probably scratch patches of dead skin off with your nails, or notice Barawa doing it himself without noticing, but the former would make him quite embarrassed.

3. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙮?

Whatever’s on the menu for breakfast (aka whatever he can scrounge up), with maybe a few pitstops here and there for a snack throughout the workday, before having whatever meat dish available to him for dinner to share between Buddy and Sarya, and alcohol in equal quantity. If money’s tight or business has got him down (either too busy or too stumped to eat), all meals are forgone and only drinks can satisfy his weary heart, until either Sarya or his stomach tell him otherwise, at which point he makes sure both Sarya and Buddy are good first before he sulks off somewhere for a meal at some bar or a certain cafe...

4. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚?

Well his seiyuu has the vocals; makes my heart swoon for real y’all. (Multiple videos for your listening pleasure; also fun tidbit but he also played Japanese Olaf, so have these for some fun. And also this from the 2019 Disney live; I take anything I can get in Shunsuke Takeuchi content and will push out his content whenever possible.)

*Coughs* So, um, yeah I’d say Barawa’s an okay singer. He’ll probably sing songs he learned back in his military days, and probably won’t sing unless really jovial or really drunk on sake, and his singing voice is more on the gruff and raw side, but it’d still warm your heart and make you smile hearing it.

5. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨?

Like I had said further up, if his hands are really rough or dry, he’ll scratch or peel off the dry skin without even noticing he’s doing it. He will also start speaking louder when nervous (yeah, you didn’t think this guy could get any louder, huh?), though it’s more of embarrassed-nervous than anxious-nervous; he doesn’t actually get the latter feeling too often. What he does often get is frustrated, either by logic puzzles he makes / is made for him to solve and he can’t actually solve anything logical (which has at least resulted in busted down doors and literally ripping apart a guillotine), or by the logic of basic things around him that he forgets time and time again (buying captain alcohol even though at the time they were underaged for starters).

6. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 / 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧?

Detective-type clothes! Though I’ve also considered his fashion a little steampunk as well, though maybe I just get that from his very brown color scheme or his waistcoat. But his usual style is brown/beige designed waistcoat, white button up with sleeves rolled up and shirt never buttoned up all the way (he’s a draph; I can understand his concern if he did try that), long brown pants and brown combat boots (or sometimes the stylish shoes from his light sr), his leather garterbelts on his legs/hip and around his arms (I don’t know what they’re actually called, help) probably to hold very important things, and his ascot.........Because why not an ascot? I like his red one better, so let’s say that’s his usual one. He also wears a hat (fedora-esque and brown) with steampunk-like goggles attached. Occasionally he either pairs it with a regular brown coat, or the fancy brown coat from his light sr. His color palette (minus the red ascot) is really muted or earthy. This is the fashion he wears literally everywhere; he can’t afford other clothes, nor does he desire to buy anymore clothes.

7. 𝙄𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤?

Depends on his state and the person he’s giving the affection to. If it’s anyone younger than him, oh you can bet that they’ll get the headpat or hair ruffle at some point, whether on accident or on purpose, but only if he likes them or trusts them well enough (or, if they’re an actual kid, if they just look like they need it). He’ll also be the type to give you a good slap on the back if you’ve done a good job or he thinks you need some pep in your step, regardless of age. Only if he’s very drunk, very concerned over you / deduce that you need affection immediately, or if he is very comfortable with you as a romantic partner or best friend, will he then go for hugs or cuddles (though for the latter he is always big spoon, no matter what).

8. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣?

He’s the type that can sleep practically anywhere and in any position except standing up. In talking about a regular bed, though, it’s usually on his back with either his arms crossed over his chest like he’s mad, or his arms by his side but looking like he could reach for something at any moment. But he’s probably both the heaviest and the lightest sleeper among the crew, depending on what’s happening around them, and can either wake up in an instant or take half the day.

9. 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢?

Oh, absolutely. Not matter where you are in that hallway, you will hear this man muttering/talking up a storm and stomping around, no matter what.

Tagged by: @aethxria

Tagging: youuuuuuuuu!!!

#;prompts #;no more thinking! ( barawa )#( thank you again hun!! )

2 notes · View notes

starbuck · 4 years

Text

All of Armitage’s Looks: Rated

Well, this was inevitable, wasn’t it? Being someone who very readily admits to having Armitage’s entire wardrobe memorized (and who will not apologize for how weird that is), I feel that I’m the perfect person to make this post, although perhaps not the most objective...

So, without further ado, allow me to present to you: every single one of Armitage’s Looks in chronological order: Rated.

#1 - Enjoying The Birthday -- 11/10

Unlike most named characters, Armitage does not appear until episode 4 but oh what an entrance it is... Look at that smile!!!! Actually, take an extra good look because you’ll never see it again.

Outfit-wise, this is just his normal steward uniform but I like those boots. Probably not unique to him but they’re very nice and remind me of a pair I own.

Bonus points for being the second person on the tackle-pile, following Tozer.

(You could accuse me of rating too high right off the bat, but look at his smiling face again and tell me I’m wrong.)

#2 - “Mr. Armitage, what do you report?” -- 8/10

And thus we are introduced to Armitage by name. Appropriately, he is partaking in his most consistent character-defining activity: protecting Tozer from harm (which, in this case, is the Not-Bear which has just come out of nowhere and ripped part of Heather’s skull off).

I’m gonna be honest: I don’t like how this style of coat looks when it’s fully buttoned-up. I think it’s awkward and boxy (see Gibson’s coat in the mutiny-planning scene at the beginning of ep 7 for a better idea of what I mean) and this is before Armitage figured out the belt trick that corrects the problem so I’m deducting points for the coat.

Luckily for him though, his hat is of my favorite variety in the show so I’m delighted to see it despite it just being his uniform. Also loving our first look at his blue sweater (peeking out beyond his coat-sleeves) and his gray gloves.

Further points added for this being the first of many scenes where he carries a gun, endlessly confusing the fandom at large about what the hell his job is.

#3 - tfw You’re Responsible For This -- 5/10

So I’m just gonna come right out and say that this is one of my favorite images of him in the entire show but, just as Look #1 was rated higher due to the context of the scene despite the outfit itself being average, this one’s rating, in turn, must suffer.

Things I love about this: the hat (obviously), the fact that the coat looks worlds better just because it’s slightly unbuttoned, the delicate dusting of snow, the way his face looks at this angle.

Things I don’t love about this: literally Everything Else.

Aiding in the racist kidnapping of an innocent woman and then not owning up to it twenty minutes after your introduction is not a good look, no matter how emotionally conflicted about it you are.

#4 - Who the Fuck is This Guy? -- 6/10

October 20th, 2019 was not the day that my obsession with Armitage began, but it was the day that I took a screenshot of this exact moment because I had no idea who this man was or why we were getting a close-up of him. It would take me two more months to figure his identity out.

But, to the point, not much to say here since it’s just his normal uniform again except that this is our first proper look at his hair which I absolutely adore. Also loving the little anchor buttons on his jacket - very cute!

Once again, points deducted for the unfortunate context.

#5 - Slops! -- 7/10

This look is noteworthy for a few reasons. First of all, we see his tan slops for the first time! Slops just sort of look horrible by default unfortunately but I’m enjoying the hat + slops combo here... it works for him. Secondly, Armitage disappears for the entirety of episode 5 so this is the first time we’ve seen the man since the lashing scene. I guess it was so traumatic to witness that he had to take a break.

He has a gun again though, so things can’t be all bad.

#6 - Big Carnivale Hours -- 8/10

I have given up on trying to figure out what the hell is going on with the marines and their costume theme. Are they knights.... with crowns? That’s all I’ve been able to figure. Who’s idea was this? (Despite having no evidence, I blame Pilkington.) So what does that make Armitage? Is he a squire? Or a knight that just doesn’t have a crown like the others because they ran out of them? Whatever the case, he’s clearly a part of their theme despite not being a marine himself which I think is adorable regardless.

Speaking of adorable, let’s just forget everything that happens for the rest of this episode and appreciate how he’s hanging out with Tozer and Heather. Isn’t that nice? God I’m distressed.

Taking a look at the costume itself, you’ll see that it’s essentially a cut-up burlap sack and a sheet over his regular uniform but realism is not the goal here and the DIY vibe is actually quite nice imo.

#7 - Enter: The Belt -- 10/10

The belt has arrived on the scene! Note its success in not only making the coat itself more appealing but making the coat + slops combo work against all odds.

We really get it all here: belt, (unbuttoned) coat, hat, welsh wig, gloves, and slops! What more could I possibly ask for in an outfit? It’s both stylish and practical.

And plus, I like his attitude in this scene - optimistic-leaning realism about the dangers ahead. I can get behind that.

Overall, no complaints from me - this is a perfect look.

#8 - tfw You Allowed This -- 7/10

This is a Significant Look mostly because we see his hair again, for the first time since episode 4! It’s a bit longer and more unkempt but still maintains a pleasing shape overall. Honestly, I think it looks good this way and its a pity we didn’t get to see it more in the transition stages (assuming it was steadily growing out since ep 4 like most people’s). Additionally, there’s a bit of stubble going on here which I respect.

Rated lower than it might be simply because, as has been established, slops on their own are just kinda ugly. I don’t have a lot to work with here outfit-wise. His face is lovely but this screenshot is a sepia-toned nightmare.

A bonus point for his desperate “please explain this clearly illegal thing we’re doing in a way that makes sense to Little” glance at Tozer, who is already on it.

#9 - Agony -- 8/10

It took me awhile, even after becoming aware of who Armitage was, to appreciate how truly miserable he looks in this scene. And I mean, why wouldn’t he be miserable? Tozer, a man who Armitage risked his own life to drag to safety at Carnivale, is about to be executed for something that’s arguably just as much Armitage’s fault and there’s not a thing he can do about it.

So... that’s depressing.

But, looking at the outfit itself, we see that it’s pretty similar to some past Looks. In fact, it’s identical to what he was wearing when the Tuunbaq attacked Heather with the exception of the belt which is, of course, a new addition since then! And look at the difference a belt can make... You almost don’t notice that the coat is buttoned up all the way.

#10 - The Same Outfit But Now He’s Saving Tozer So Its Cooler -- 9/10

Y’all ever think about the fact that, when things went to shit, Armitage’s first instinct was to grab a gun, find Tozer, and rescue him? I mean you probably don’t but I do. Constantly.

Obviously I love this part and the outfit is still solid (note how well the belt shows off his figure!) but it loses out on being a perfect 10/10 because he must have dropped his hat while picking up the gun so we never see it again. A necessary sacrifice but one that I mourn nonetheless.

RIP Armitage’s cool hat, ??-1848.

#11 - The Blue Sweater -- 8/10

It’s warming up so that means we finally get a look at the lovely layers that have been hiding under Armitage’s coat. It’s important to me to bring special attention to the sweater because, although (as I’ve mentioned) he has it on all the way back in ep 4, this is one of only two scenes in the entire show where we get a proper look at it.

Further, not only is he wearing the blue sweater, but he also has a blue vest on over it! Now, I’ll admit, these aren’t exactly complimentary shades of blue but it still works for me.

Note also that the belt he had around his coat has been repurposed to aid in holding up his slops-pants over his normal pants (which are held up by the suspenders). Does this man’s resourcefulness ever cease?

As much as I’d love to give a higher rating for the blue sweater, I can’t ignore the new beard which is... it isn’t... it’s Not Great. I don’t have as much animosity towards it as I used to but I can’t pretend that I love it.

#12 - Let Us Fly These Deadly Waters! -- 9/10

I’m not sure why but I’ve always found this outfit very appealing. The tan slops-pants go nicely with the white shirt and blue vest. It’s a solid look - I’d wear this irl honestly.

And bonus points for his trying to convince Tozer to leave Hickey, even though he was ultimately unsuccessful.

(P.S. - yes, the title for this one is a Moby-Dick reference... Did you really think I would make it through this entire post without one?)

...and now, last but not least, I present to you my absolute favorite Armitage Look™... all the other times I said some other outfit was my favorite, I was lying because what I am about to show you is truly the cream of the crop. Without further ado:

#13 - Kidnapping is Bad So At Least Look Good Doing It -- 12/10

Are y’all seeing this? Are you SEEING this????? It is episode fucking 10!! Everyone is dying!!! And yet here’s Armitage waltzing up in his best outfit of the entire show. What the fuck!!!!!!!

Do I even need to explain why this is exceptional? Just look at it! Look at how the vest is buttoned up and tucked into his slops-pants! Look at the suspenders over top which match the slops-pants in color! Look at the gun and keyring that look like they were made to accessorize this outfit specifically! Heck, even his hair and beard look much better from this angle.

Now, I’m not trying to discount the fact that Armitage was absolutely miserable throughout this entire episode, and understandably so, but, even with that in mind, I can’t bring myself to rate this look any lower. It’s just That Perfect.

If one must inevitably die horribly in the arctic, this is an excellent outfit to die in.

Well, that’s that! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! I’m glad that my ridiculous opinions about Armitage’s wardrobe finally came in handy for something other than my own amusement.

#the terror amc #the terror #thomas armitage #hell yeah let's tag this nonsense!#tbh i'm very proud of this post tho #it literally did take me all day #12 hours from conception to completion (with many breaks of course!)#and worth every second!#I love this man and his exceptional fashion sense #and i need you all to appreciate it as well #like i said - i hope y'all enjoy and thanks to those who read through my rambling!#love y'all!

74 notes · View notes

prolestariwrites · 4 years

Photo

Time To Go [9] Epilogue: How To Lose A Fortune In 10 Days

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 9/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3.

It’s the last chapter!!! I’m so excited to have this story wrap up, but it being my first DMC fic it’s also a bit bittersweet too. I want to give a huge thanks to @copper-wasp for being such an awesome beta, and to @solynacea for being an amazing friend and cheerleader.

I have some new fics in the works and will be publishing new stuff in the next couple of weeks! Meanwhile please leave me a comment or emoji to let me know how you liked the story. I’m also planning a sequel so if you liked the fic and want more, let me know! Please enjoy and thank you to everyone for reading!

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Nero lounges on the couch, feet up on the ottoman, Kyrie curled up next to him. Her head rests on his shoulder, his hand rubbing her thigh as they watch a movie. It has been a few weeks since he had found her again, and he savors moments like this now, when the kids are in bed and the house is quiet and it can be just them together. Most guys his age are probably at a bar or club, but Nero must admit he likes this domesticity. Even though it was barely a full twenty-four hours, her disappearance had affected him, and only reinforced his determination to protect their family.

He turns and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Kyrie smiles up at him and wraps her arms around his, snuggling closer. "You look thoughtful," she murmurs.

"Just thinking of you," he replies.

Kyrie rests her head back on him, and Nero moves his arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Protect their family. The words had taken on a new meaning since his search. Particularly where Dante and Vergil stand; Nero has found his patience with them both is lasting a bit longer, his willingness to overlook their more ridiculous traits a bit easier. He had even started calling Vergil every few days to check on him or just say hello, even though the conversations are stilted and at times, uncomfortable. Dante is easier, but he always had been, their work allowing them a more natural way to bond and his natural goofiness not allowing any room for awkwardness.

He goes back to watching the movie, thinking about whether or not he should get Vergil a cell phone—a piece of technology the man is strangely against but would make all their lives a hell of a lot easier if he would just give in—when his own rings. Kyrie eases back as he fishes it out of his pocket, sighing when he sees Dante's number on the screen. "Yeah?" he chuckles as he swipes to answer.

"Hey kid, you home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Cool."

The line goes dead and he frowns. Kyrie is sitting up, having paused the movie, and Nero looks over as she asks, "What was that?"

"Who knows."

Their front door bursts open, making them both jump. Dante and Vergil stroll inside, and it isn't so much the intrusion that has Nero gaping as what they are wearing. Vergi is in what is best described as a tuxedo; but it is purple, possibly velvet, with a tight doublet and a puffed collar, the monocle he wears and cane he carries completing the look of some medieval count. He flicks the tails of his coat behind him as he sits in their recliner, grinning.

Dante has taken the opposite track. His suit is bright orange, the shirt underneath unbuttoned to nearly his navel, several gold chains hanging on his chest. He taps his cowboy hat as he walks through the room, and when he does a turn Nero is startled to see he is wearing snakeskin boots that jingle with each step.

"What the actual fuck?" says Nero.

"Nero," Kyrie chastises with a laugh, her hand pressing to his arm as he continues to stare. Dante places a briefcase on the coffee table, and Nero shakes his head to see his fingers have several large, clearly fake gold rings.

"Wait until we tell you what happened," Dante says.

He and Kyrie exchange a glance. "Oh, I can't wait," he sighs.

Dante holds up his palms. "Get this. We were thinking, right, about what those dinguses said who took Kyrie. How mom's family had money. So we went to look, me and Vergil." He gestures between them. "We found the old house, and let me tell you, it looks like hell. But it's still there. I thought for sure there'd be some kind of, I don't know, strip mall or something there by now. But the land is untouched."

Nero looks between them. "Which means what?"

"Which means it still belongs to the Sparda family," Vergil says. "Not the bank. Which means Father and Mother had already paid it off."

"So we went to city hall in the nearest town," continues Dante. "Found the deed and everything. Sure enough, Eva Sparda, right there."

He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Nero. Kyrie peers over his shoulder as he reads, and just as Dante had described, it is a deed for two hundred and fifty acres of land, paid in full. "Wow," he says. "This must be worth a lot by now."

"Yeah! So Vergil and I went to the bank. We figured we could take out a loan, and use the place as collateral."

Nero frowns up at Dante. "You really think that's a good idea? Getting in more debt?"

"We didn't have to," Vergil says.

"What do you mean?"

Dante gestures excitedly as Vergil explains, "Once we gave our names, the banker recognized us. Said we had a safety deposit box there, that could only be opened when we came together."

"It's been there since we were born!" Dante exclaims. "It was opened when we were only a month old."

"So what was in it?" Nero asks, his own excitement starting to spark.

"Tons of stuff," Dante says. "Papers from the house, our birth certificates. Who knew I even had one?"

Nero chuckles. "You're official."

Dante nods. "I existed this whole time and never even knew."

"You've left out the best part," Vergil scolds him. "The deposit box also had the fortune those dinguses were after."

Both Nero and Kyrie give a gasp at the same time. "What do you mean, fortune?" Nero asks tightly.

"Stocks. Bonds. Stakes in all sorts of businesses." Dante grins and puts his hands on his hips. "Worth at least a million dollars."

The blood drains from Nero's face as he takes it all in. Their family, millionaires? This could be a game changer. They could move, get a bigger house, get out of the city like he's been dying to for years. They could afford to formally adopt. Samuel will be going to college in a few years—hell, Kyrie has been talking about taking classes too, and it can happen. A home, school, their futures secure.

His eyes slide to the briefcase on the table. "So what do we do?"

"Well," Dante says, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't as easy as we thought. We called Morrison, and he hooked us up with his lawyer guy. We cashed in the money and paid off the debt we owed."

"You owed," Vergil interjects.

"Well devil hunting isn't easy. And I didn't exactly have a steady stream of income spending three months in hell, you know," Dante argues.

Nero shakes his head. "Wait. So there's nothing left?"

"Well I wouldn't say that," answers Dante. "I paid off the building, so I own it outright now. Then I paid the utilities, and the insurance I owed, and what I owed Lady, and what I had borrowed from Morrison, and paid all the back taxes."

"And I paid off my apartment, and the fines for um… some of my run-ins with the locals," Vergil adds.

"We also used some for these cool business outfits," Dante says. "What do you think?"

Nero blinks, but Kyrie answers, "You both look wonderful."

"We took your advice too, Nero," Vergil says quietly.

He frowns at his father. "My advice? What advice?"

"We hired a private investigator. Paid up front," replies Vergil. "We want to find out what happened to Sparda, once and for all. He is going to find us all the information he can, and then we're going to figure out where he is, and if he is alive."

"You'll come too, right?" Dante asks.

Nero hesitates for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "Sorry, I'm still processing all this." He glances at Kyrie, who is smiling broadly at him.

"It's amazing," she says sincerely.

"Yeah. Find Sparda, huh?" Nero chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'd be down for that. Sparda Family road trip, part two."

Dante cheers as Vergil chuckles, and Nero holds the deed out to return it. But Dante waves him off. "No, you keep it."

"What?"

"Vergil and I talked about it. You deserve something too, and neither one of us can take care of the place. You can sell it, or rebuild, or do whatever you want." Dante shrugs. "The property belongs to you now."

Nero looks between them in shock as Kyrie grips his arm. "Really? You're giving this to me?"

"Of course," Vergil says. "You're Eva's grandson. You should inherit her house."

"I don't know what to say." The money is gone, just like that; but that's okay, isn't it? In the end, they all got what they needed, and Nero smiles. "I'm happy for you guys," he says slowly. "I really am. And this… thank you." He looks over the deed one more time, his chest tightening a bit.

Kyrie kisses his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts. "So what's with the briefcase?" he asks.

Dante grins and sits on the floor, laying it down to fiddle with the clasp. "Last of the money in here."

"Oh yeah?" Nero slides forward, wondering how much. Maybe a few thousand?

Instead, there are four Big Macs and a twenty-piece McNugget inside. "Celebratory dinner on us," Dante says happily.

He hands Vergil a sandwich before tossing one to Nero, which he looks down at in a mixture of amusement and confusion. "You guys really know how to live well," he laughs.

Dante pretends to "clink" his Big Mac with Kyrie's, and they dig into the meal when Nico appears at the door. "You guys still on your date?" she calls obnoxiously before gawking at them. "Hey! You got McDonald's and didn't tell me?" She plops down next to Dante, leaning over him to scoop up some nuggets. "Halloween was a week ago, you know," Nico jokes, eyeing his outfit.

"Hey, I make this look good," he says.

Nero laughs, listening to them argue and then team up together when Vergil jumps in. Kyrie leans against him and he puts his arm around her, giving her cheek a kiss. His eyes fall on the deed to the Sparda land as he smiles to himself. Protect their family. Yeah, absolutely.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc nero #dmc vergil #nerokiri #dmc kyrie #dmc nico #dante sparda #vergil sparda #fan fiction #time to go #myfic #it's all done!#please help me celebrate :)

15 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Anaticula Pt 11

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 -

…

“Idris, you’ll have to behave.” Again his beak ruffled through your hair, “You’ll be with Fawkes soon enough.” A low melodic sigh left him in his move to climb into your carrier bag you had for him beside your open trunk. Inside of which you tossed the latest of Charlie’s letters filling you into all the dragons he had befriended with the use of the Draconic you had taught him. Pictures included with a final sheet coated in another heartfelt apology and slew of hopes you could find happiness with understanding why he had to end what little form of relationship you had.

In a pale golden dress over tall black socks in your boots you meandered down the steps to join the others. Eager grins spread across their faces in your path to the station once again through your Grimauld Place door. Around you the young Weasleys grouped while Molly was off on an errand helping at the Ministry entrusting them to Remus’ care on his day off while the others worked.

Tightly Neville’s hand latched onto your arm as you pushed the cart you were sharing holding both your trunks, your owl and Trevor’s small carrier. George beside you shared his cart with Draco, who anxiously was wondering where he would be sorted into while also hoping that his parents would accept any house of the hat’s choosing.

9 and ¾, confused the Grangers upon reading their daughter’s ticket. But quietly they watched the first of you pass through the barrier only to follow after their nervous daughter passing at Percy’s side after their shared cart. Topped with a medium carrier with an enchanted breed of cat, your aunt Lily’s cat Crookshanks to be exact when her parents worried about care for an owl, rat or toad through their cat allergy no longer an issue with the docile elderly cat. For a moment on the other side they halted, all staring up in wonder at the train on the other side and the bustling hoards of students hurrying to their own cars.

With a chuckle you accepted Remus’ hug and turned to your cart only to pause a few feet later staring up at the man passing you. A smirk eased across the face of the suit clad man with hair in a messy ruffle over thick sideburns and sleek glasses on, one quick wink later he softly stated in a weak Scottish accent, “Miss Black” then continued on to the waiting train car marked for teachers.

Beside you Cedric hopped up stirring a grin onto your face in his half hug you returned then carried on to your waiting car stealing another glance at the man who stole one of you in return.

Safe inside your car George eased the door shut and turned to you asking, “What was that, the pause?”

“That man, that was Barty Crouch Jr.”

Cedric, “He’s on the train?”

You nodded, “He was in Azkaban, in the cell across from mine. He seems, healthier though.”

George wet his lips, “You said he never got a trial.”

Fred nodded, “Maybe they know it’s him and they’re giving him a second chance.”

Cedric, “I doubt Dumbledore would allow a dangerous man in the school.”

Softly you mumbled, “Why would he be here though…?”

George, “On to bigger things, like, do we really let Terry try for the empty Chaser spot, already the twins were swapped out last year, Bo and Mo are glad to finally be off the alternates bench, though Terry, keeps flinching from the bludger.”

You shrugged and Cedric stated, “Well that can be worked out as long as we keep him on the skirts of it all for scoring. Wicked arm in his favor and he listens well.”

“At least we’ve a couple months to break in the new trio, Gryffindor won’t be so lucky swapping out their Seeker and Beaters.”

Steadily into the great dining hall you filed in again spotting the spectacle wearing Barty grinning at you while you took your seat. In a glance at Snape you caught his hint of a comforting grin twitching onto his face while he leaned in to continue his conversation with Quirrell.

A song of camouflage and subtlety from the sorting hat narrowed your eyes until its ending when Minerva stood stealing a curious glance at the hat again on her path to fetch the first years. Among them you felt a grin easing back onto your face spotting your group walking in the smallest group to date.

Ronald Weasley, “Gryffindor!”

Susan Bonds, “Hufflepuff!”

Hermione Granger, “Gryffindor!”

Two boys were next, another Crabbe and Goyle for , “Slytherin!”

Dean and Seamus followed, both for, “Gryffindor!”

“Harry Potter” silenced the hall and cheers followed at, “Gryffindor!”

Draco Malfoy followed and anxiously he sat on that stool folding his fingers around the edges of it only to smirk at your clap and grin hearing, “Ravenclaw!”

He was followed into Ravenclaw by Parvati Patil, with her twin Padma off into Gryffindor. The group dwindled and among the last few eventually sorted into Slytherin was Neville, who grinned on his trot to claim the seat by Hermione hearing, “Gryffindor!”

Through the meal you kept stealing glances at the Professor still stealing glances at you in return after being named as the new Muggle Studies Professor, “David Tennant”, just moments before the announcement that Quirrell was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Dinner had ended and you were off to your first night’s rest feeling not just Barty’s eyes on you but Quirrell’s too.

Something in your few weeks since seeing him had changed in him, once in your dorm you sent off a letter to your father about both Professors, one that with your owl’s help would reach him rapidly. Back in your own bed you sprawled out still fully dressed peering up at Opal and Idris in the hammock above your bed curling up for a long nights sleep. Deeper at Idris’ humming you fell into sleep, knowing full well what dream you would have.

“Close your eyes, Close your eyes,” Screams followed and your eyes shot open, behind your muffling charm you lined around the cutout for your bed your shriek went unheard by any. Warm tears streamed down the sides of your face as you shut your eyes whispering to yourself, “Three thoughts…just three happy thoughts..”

Around your head your hair shifted to its deep black shade as you latched onto a memory of a ride on your father’s bike, her hair flapping in the wind wildly shimmering in a pale teal at her joyful ride clinging to your father’s back as you sat in Remus’ lap.

“Two…” A muddle of thoughts poured through your mind searching for a happy one until your mind halted to you staring at yourself in a tall mirror back at home face coated in tears after another nightmare. Somewhere in your mind clearly the memory brought back your thought, an echo of Fawkes’ song in the early morning after a trip from visiting Tulip. Warmth spread through your body down to a prickling in your fingertips, peering down at them you saw heat lines flowing out from them, another glance up at the mirror white flames spread around you while your eyes shifted in rapid flashes between colors. Just in time to see your first change into a phoenix the twins found you. Scared you turned to them only to spot their wide grins as they both said, “Wicked!”

“Three..” a trip out to Italy had you tottering up a tall hill, barely tall enough to see over the swaying grass, wide eyed at the top you stared out over the ocean as a wave of golden light erupted around you lighting the world. Long curls pooled over your shoulders as your mother giggled whispering, “There you are, look at you,” you giggled softly as your father settled beside her grinning wildly saying in absolute awe, “My Loves, with smiles to light the world.”

Rolling over facing the wall you eyed the picture from that day in the folding picture frame set up with you in her arms as he smiled at you in awe, all coated in golden light as the grass danced around you. Closing your eyes again you felt more tears streaming over your nose trying to focus on that day instead of the one three months later when it all ended. For all your hopes to be rid of these dreams you refused the offer of draughts Newt Scamander sent your way fearing that your daily tie to your mother would be lost forever. It seemed all your happy thoughts muddled with painful ones leaving you picking and choosing which bits to focus on and which memories weren’t so painful to relive to focus on the good parts.

…

7:30 Breakfast, in a green t shirt and your worn jeans and boots you trotted down the hall between the twins in matching sweaters and scuffed jeans matching yours with Cedric in a dark grey t shirt with a deep green Kelpie on it. In the hall you found the attention on you again, filling up your glass by smoothing your finger around the rim while raising your fork hearing Hermione and Neville discussing their schedules after passing them yours.

Magical creatures 8

DADA 9

History of magic 10

Arithmacy Mon, Wed, Fri 10

Muggle Studies Sun, Tue, Sat 11

Herbology Mon, Wed, Fri 11

Break 12

Art Sun 12

Lunch 1

Break 2

Potions 3

Charms 4

Transfigurations 5

Divinations Son, Tue, Sat 6

Ancient Runes 6

Dinner 7:30

Curfew 8

Astronomy Wed 12

Out through the dew coated grass you joined your fellow students on the trot down to the edge of the Black Lake, today’s lesson built on a series of creatures around and inside it. Mainly the capture of tadpole and lobster like creatures you were to capture and place into the ant hill like tank he had brought to observe their interaction and advancing their dwelling. By classes end the whole class was still giggling at the escape of five of the lobster looking creatures with barbed flippers instead of claws that landed on one of the Slytherin boys who thought it would be funny to make faces at the tank between hard taps on the enforced glass.

You had almost forgotten the eerie feeling you had about Quirrell, at least until your path inside when the hair on your arms stood up at the snakes all coiled at the passing Professor in the wafting echo of muffled Parseltongue. Whatever he had said was lost to you but it didn’t take you long at all to know just who you felt on him at the memories of your mother’s death flashing back to you with the same raspy voice ordering her to join him.

Steadily you forced yourself to go to your seat and bring out your notebook and feather tipped pen. Around you the twins broke out the smaller pads from their pockets you used to communicate when apart copying into both of them seeing you write something in yours. Peeking inside after their first notice of the Parseltongue whispers their hearts dropped at your simple note of, “Riddle.”

Mentally your mind reached out and in a distant portrait your Ancestor’s head turned hearing your request to only let you inside with a special password you gave him through the sealing of several enchanted draconic locks you had added upon finding them to keep any from using the other entrances far below you in the dungeons. A subtle fold of your page had a second note vanishing as you wrote in its transfer onto blank pages in front of Snape, your father, uncle and Minerva.

Tentatively you sat through the class wondering why Quirrell was acting so out of place. The usual book steady class plans you had heard of from Percy were instead heavily based on verbal quizzes and demonstrations on clay dummies, most seeming far from being honorable or legal to employ. But finally you were freed off to History of Magic, where even Professor Binns was mumbling to himself about the odd hissing around the man who stole Quirrell’s turban.

Through your relatives the twins had gained a time turner to aid you in your schedules for overlapping courses. A sturdy floor plan was set, Arithmacy was first, three days a week, when you were through with History you grinned at Cedric. In sharing your schedules he had learned of your special tasks this year. In a group decision you would skip Arithmacy and head to either of your alternating Herbology or Muggle Studies courses and then in the break period after you would head to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to use the time turner and then casually slip into the crowds for the walk down the hall to Arithmacy.

Herbology as always went well. A basic first lesson to welcome you back. Again a yearly plant was assigned to each of you to trim and collect from for the other courses and hospital wing needing them and then the first lesson began. This year began with the man eating ones finishing with Devil’s Snare. All with tentacles or poisoned vines you required thick protective layers to handle for the the lesson with added charms to help protect those unwilling to pay attention to their plants. But as always with a brief waving send off you made your ways to the secluded bathroom where you found Percy with a planned time change of his own flashing you a knowing grin as you drew out the chains.

Peering down at the turner Fred took the honor to ease the dial back a turn after looping the chain around your necks. The clock along the wall rolled back and out the hall you followed Percy, him off to his course as you strolled down another path off to Arithmacy.

A simple introduction later and you were granted your first packets from the Professor eyeing you all as if to memorize which on her roster had matching chains around their necks to participate to avoid naming them in passing during this hour. With packet completed she passed out another quizzing packet to complete in the next two nights before your next class and saw the other third years who had signed up for it in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry off to Herbology across the school while the others left lazily enjoying their long two hour break until lunch.

Though in your new now two hour break you grinned making your way down to speak to and feed Tulip hoping to make her understand she wouldn’t be able to come for walks until Quirrell was dealt with. It ended up being for the best as she said it was time for her to molt and she didn’t feel like being around others for the three month long transition period.

With over an hour to spare till lunch you hurried back out of the chamber and made your way to Snape’s class where you sat outside it in the hall hearing the usual groans of the students in his first day from break test of his students. All through class you worked on the packet from Arithmacy after going through the assigned chapter to summarize for double DA.

To your left the heavy doors opened at the distant clock sounding from the tall tower to the East. Hastily you put away your things in your bag and at the end of students fleeing you four slipped inside closing the doors behind you. At the sound of bags being set on the desks he turned with a brow raised that dropped when he saw you. Leaving his stack of ungraded tests on his desk he walked around it to a couple feet away from you.

“You are certain of this?”

You nodded, “I know it’s him.”

Fred, “Even Professor Binns has been complaining about the hissing and can tell that something’s not right.”

George, “Even said that it was someone else entirely.”

Snape eyed Cedric and asked, “You are aware of this?”

Cedric nodded, “I got the most of it. But from what Percy has said of the Professor his lesson today is way off.”

Snape nodded, “I will have a word with Minerva, we will set up additional rounds, even bribe Peeves if we have to to keep Quirrell away from Harry. He hasn’t said anything to you.”

You shook your head, “Didn’t really give him a chance to. About-“

Again he nodded eyeing the students for his next class entering, “I will see to it. Off you go.”

You nodded and again off you went. A call from Terry to Cedric tore him from your side in a far from subtle hope on seeing how his try out was being taken by you three. Your move to join them halted when you heard in a thick Scottish accent, “Miss Black. A word? If your friends wouldn’t mind.”

Inhaling steadily you glanced at the twins who softly whispered while digging out the listening toy you had been working on shaped like ears on a tether, “We’ll be listening in.”

A grin flashed across your face and you joined the pinstripe suit clad Professor with slender specks, thick sideburns and tussled hair like an absurd looking cockatoo on a stroll down the hall and around the corner to an open breezeway. “Hope you don’t mind a stroll.”

You shook your head and flashed him another grin in your glance up at him in his glance at you mid turn of his head to see if you were out of earshot yet. “Not at all.”

A grin eased onto his lips in his next glance at you missing the pair of Phoenix flying behind him to land softly on the roof above you with a little ear dangling down. “I suppose you have caught onto the hoax.” After a momentary pause for his eyes to drop down to Crookshanks who strolled over circled his feet and flopped on one of them. “When you were being taken out of Azkaban my parents came to visit me. My mother knew she was near the end and took my imprisonment difficultly. We swapped places and my father decided in his infinite wisdom to lock me at home under an invisibility cloak using the Imperius curse.”

You nodded and he chuckled weakly, “However, that is not why you are curious about my being here. I managed to sneak free and knew I had to find you. I was locked away unjustly, but for a Lord I imagined to be following the just path. I waited to hear of his return. Though the longer I sat there, it began to dawn on me, I was faithful, I would do my Master’s bidding no matter the cost. However, he would never return for me. I would be cast aside.

My Master was defeated attacking two children and has been hiding ever since, and I wondered why. But then you had been thrown into the cell across from mine and I saw it, the reason why. He was boasted to be deathless, impervious to harm or being taken down. But in you, I saw it, the strength in you and I saw that I had been following the one attempting to usurp the name of mighty Salazar Slytherin. You are the rightful heir, and have my undying loyalty. The Dark Lord could never dream of matching you, survivor of the Dementor’s Kiss.”

“So, I have to ask, do they know who you are?”

He nodded, “Of course. Gave him my memories clearing me of the attack on the Longbottoms. Karkarov always hated me, said I got off too lenient in my testing to earn my mark. Said the Dark Lord was merely needing warm bodies. But yes they know and are supporting my new identity.”

“What’s with the accent?”

“Oh, ran onto this bloke who looked like this, muggle actor. Scottish,” he shrugged, “Accent is rough to master, though it works.”

“Why Muggle Studies?”

“Ooh, don’t you knock it, I actually have some great Physics lessons lined up. Got all above E on the 12 NEWTS, not many can say that, so I got the pick of the pie.”

You nodded then asked, “You…”

His head cocked to the side and he wet his lips, “Something’s been troubling you. I noticed Severus and McGonagall watching you, and he said to make sure to keep an eye on Harry and Neville. What aren’t they saying?”

“What do you know about possessions?”

His brow ticked up and he inhaled sharply, “Exorcizing them or actually possessing someone?”

“Exorcizing.”

“Why are you asking-,” his words stopped at the breeze blowing the dangling ear into his neck making him swat at it and turn his head with his mouth falling open asking, “Is this an, ear?” Gently he eased his foot out from under Crookshanks following the tether to the edge of the cover where he spotted Fred and George fifteen feet up in Phoenix form both blinking at him.

Turning to face you again his hand brought the ear up saying, “This is ingenious, albeit odd, but ingenious.” His finger rose, “The Twins I take it?” You nodded and he said into the ear, “You can come down now.” Then wet his lips looking to you, “Why possessions?”

Two red whooshes later the twins shifted around you with Fred bending to lift and cradle Crookshanks affectionately at the start of a cool breeze. George rested his arm on your shoulder after winding up the listening device he pocketed, saying, “Bit of a hunch really.”

Barty nodded repeating, “Hunch?”

His eyes landing on you as Fred said, “Can’t exactly go about naming your Professors as possessed without proof really.”

George, “But we aren’t the only ones who think so.”

Barty, “Does this have something to do with Quirrell. There seems to be a fuss about him.”

You nodded, “Though we can’t really talk to him about it.”

Fred nodded and he and George added, “Not without spooking him first.”

Barty nodded then said, “Alright, we’ll, if there is a way to un-possess him I think I know just where to find it.” A grin eased onto his face again, “To the library!” His enthusiasm making you three smirk following after him as he said, “I have been aching for an excuse to wander the restricted section for years now!”

Inside you four walked straight through the blocked off corner leaving Crookshanks to wander over to the self lit fireplace to lounge in the warmth as you all grabbed a selection of books to start with in the section on souls. Between books seemingly in awe Barty glanced over at you in your rapid scanning of each page mirrored by the twins joining you in sending the useless books floating back to their shelves. A final pair of books was all that was left both pointing to various methods, however you would have to uncover how he had been possessed. To not draw suspicion the books were taken back to your dorm by K and Barty escorted you to lunch.

“So, we just have to write out each form of uncovering how he has been possessed and try them out a few a day, then when we find the right one we know which spell to use.”

Barty, “Anything involving food best leave to Severus and myself to avoid the random bouts of edible gifts.”

Pt 12

#Off to Hogwarts #Hermione Granger #Neville Longbottom #Harry Potter #Draco #Fred and George Weasley #Barty Crouch Jr #Snape #First Round of Classes #Restricted Section #Possessed Quirrell #Cedric Diggory #Time Turner

19 notes · View notes

graveyardshift-writer · 7 years

Text

Endearment and Enmity: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh. Title: Endearment and Enmity Rating: T-M depending on chapter, M overall Summary: When you’re literally married to the person you despise. Warnings: Homosexual relationships,vulgar words and adult situations. Author’s Note: I don’t know why I wrote this.

Chapter 4: Blind Date

Wednesday was Jonouchi’s chosen day off - he worked weekends overtime for the compounded extra pay, since he kept a separate bank account from Kaiba still. He was keeping to himself in the loungeroom on his floor of the mansion. His angry texts to Honda had not yet received a response, so he was sulking over it. He’d already gone to the gym that morning and still his frustration hadn’t been worked off, so he was drowning his sorrow into a bowl of Kappa Ebisen(1), something he’d often indulged in as a teen but didn’t so much anymore (he maintained a healthy diet to keep up with his steadily slowing metabolism).

He was so alone. His sister Shizuka was still giving him the silent treatment over his ‘secret two-year-long relationship’ with Kaiba, Honda wouldn’t respond to his angry text messages (although starting them off with “You asshole” probably wasn’t the best conversation starter choice), Yugi and Anzu were currently in NYC for a Broadway show she was dancing in, Bakura was in Kyoto, and Otogi was too busy parenting to hang out with him, which Jonouchi knew because unlike his husband the dark-haired man was actually willing to respond to his texts.

Kaiba was most likely at work, as far as Jonouchi knew. He didn’t interact with his… spouse, very much. He hadn’t bumped into him in the mansion in three solid days so far. Usually he kept himself entertained with either electronics, are talking to the mansion servants. The main cook was pretty hot so he talked to her often. She had a penchant for short skirts too, which made Jonouchi really, really glad that Kaiba never put forth a dress code for his hired help. Not that he’d do anything with her, for one he would always respect the sanctity of marriage even if he hated who he was married to; and he also knew it would severely displease Kaiba, not because the brunet respected the sanctity of marriage, but because he didn’t want a scandal to make him look bad. For now he was content with looking but not touching.

“You look ridiculous.” He heard all of a sudden - his head snapped to the entrance to the lounge room, where Kaiba stood with his arms crossed. He hadn’t noticed the CEO enter, although it was hard to ever sense the guy coming because he had the lightest steps known to man. Jonouchi scowled - his attire consisted of a green plaid tshirt, which were tucked into blue jeans held up by a brown belt with a big metal buckle, and brown cowboy ankle length cowboy boots (under the jeans).

“Have you ever looked at yourself?” Jonouchi scoffed in return, referring to Kaiba’s overdramatic trench coat and BEWD worship dressing taste - he’d spent so long in Texas he’d adapted to the modern southern style, at least he didn’t do the ten gallon cowboy hat and shiny tassels that some of the older southern men still did. He loved his Red Eyes Black Dragon, sure, it was still his trademark card, but not enough to worship it and dress in tribute to it like a patron god.

“What do you want, Kaiba?” He asked between munches of prawn chips.

“Tonight at six, we’re going to Kozue.” Kaiba announced, because anytime he told the blonde something it was because they were going to do it, no if ands or buts about it.

“Kozue?” Jonouchi echoed, his brain scrambled for a second trying to remember the place he was talking about “…That famous restaurant in Tokyo?”

“Indeed.” The tall brunet clarified, Jonouchi gave him a long stare before speaking.

“…Dude, we’re two hundred mi- I mean, over three-hundred kilometers from Tokyo(2). It’ll take a whole day of driving to get there.” Jonouchi quickly converted from the imperial system of measurement to metric. He almost forgot that Kaiba most likely either didn’t know miles, or was at most rusty with that system.

“I’ll take us in my private jet.” Kaiba reassured in his ever present monotone. The blonde nurse groaned loudly at the thought of that embarrassing dragon themed jet that he remembered Kaiba having when they were younger. It seemed kind of cool when they were teens, but now that they were mature adults he really realized how childish it was. And people called him immature.

“Oh come on, Kaiba. Not after that business banquet we had to go to; I’d serious prefer camping out in duelist kingdom over the torture of another lame product related speech.” Jonouchi grumbled, but as usual his former rival wasn’t the type to negotiate.

“Be ready by five thirty(3).” Kaiba commanded “Put something presentable on.” His eyes narrowed a bit more at the blonde. It was no secret that Kaiba did not approved of the westernized style that he’d picked up. Jonouchi absent-mindedly nodded but said nothing, although he did make his eye-roll as visible and obvious as possible, as the CEO finally left him alone.

Jonouchi looked at the clock - it was only eleven in the afternoon; well shit he still had a lot of time to kill. He looked to his half-empty bowl of kappa ebisen’s, that talk with Kaiba really ruined his stress-eating appetite.

People of Domino, unlike his… spouse, didn’t really care about the way he was dressed, mostly because they were used to seeing American tourists and probably assumed he was one, and they actually minded their own damn business. It was a relief to not be talked down to as he walked the streets of Domino, many of those streets familiar from his late childhood and his teenaged years. He paused when he saw the all-too-familiar Kame Game Shop, one of the most common stops from his past.

Yugi definitely wasn’t there, but his grandfather most likely was, as indicated by the sign on the door which was flipped to the 'open’ side. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jonouchi walked over and stepped into the shop, lo behold the old man indeed was standing behind the counter, talking to one of his customers.

“Gramps?” Jonouchi addressed, not realizing he was speaking English again. Nonetheless it seemed to gain both Sugoroku and the customers attention. The old man lit up at the sight of his grandsons best friend.

“Jonouchi my boy.” Grandpa Motou said with a gruff chuckle as he walked slowly over from behind the counter. He didn’t look too different from how he had eight years earlier, besides his gait and slightly cloudy eyes indicating the fragility of old age. “I wasn’t expecting the visit.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit… Busy.” Jonouchi said with a weak grin as he rubbed the back of his own head sheepishly. “I was walking and saw the shop and thought it was finally time to pay another visit.” Oh he had indeed visited before, Sugoroku lived in the game shop alone now, Yugi had moved out and his mother now lived in the countryside with her husband who had finally retired (4). They wanted to take the old man to live with them as was customary, but he refused, he wanted to continue to run his game shop.

“Jonouchi?” The customer inquired, the blonde nurse finally took notice of the man; he had short dark brown hair that was spiked at the edges and had a splash of violet at the middle of his hairline. He had sharp brown eyes with narrow pupils, slightly tanned skin, and stood a few inches under Jonouchi’s height, at maybe 5'8. He was also wearing a cream dress shirt with black slacks, and a dark green tie.

“…Ryuzaki?” He came to the conclusion slowly, and the other man slowly shook his head. It was surprising really, the brunet seemed to have grown out of his awkward phase and wasn’t cringy to look at anymore.

“Ah yes, he’s a frequent customer these days.” Sugoroku told the blond with a gentle smile still intact.

“You… Still duel?” Jonouchi awkwardly asked his old enemy; Ryuzaki used to be highly ranked in the region, up until Yugi and the gang entered the scene with their obsurdly skilled foes, and his popularity dwindled from there along with his running mate Haga.

Ryuzaki looked to the newly acquired card in his hands “Sort of, well, mostly to amuse my kids.”

“YOU have kids?” Okay, that was shocking too. “Well yeah - no! No, not my own.” Ryuzaki quickly and embarrassingly shook his head “My kids as in - I’m a primary school teacher. My students is what I mean.”

Jonouchi nodded at the explanation, this made slightly more sense; although it was still unexpected “Ahhh I see. You and Haga still… friends?” Were they friends or were they rivals? It was hard to tell with those two with their constant arguing.

“We’re more than friends Jonouchi… couldn’t you tell? We’ve been dating since Battle City…” Ryuzaki told him, straightening up his tie. Although the blond did not reply out loud, he couldn’t help but think of something he dare not say aloud, especially in the presence of Yugi’s sweet if old fashioned and very modest grandfather.

'Am I the only guy around here who likes pussy?’

Catching up with Ryuzaki by chatting over a quick half-hearted table duel proved to somehow lift Jonouchi’s spirit from the proverbial dumps they had been in earlier. The runt had indeed grown mature in more than looks. H e worked at the local primary school for students in Grade Three, and many of the ankle-biters loved duel monsters just as they generation of kids before them had. Although the violet-fringed man did not competitively duel anymore, he still taught and played the game during breaks with his students.

Jonouchi spoke about the antics of his coworkers and patients, and things that had happened while he had been schooling, and likewise Ryuzaki did the same but with students rather than patients; they found both groups to be trying at times. They also lamented the struggles of being male in female-dominated occupations, an issue they had a hard time discussing with their male friends, or even female friends if they were in similar situations, as it was quite the… different, experience.

It was refreshing to make a friend again, even if in the form of a former enemy. Speaking of which, it turned out Haga was working as a Entomologist for the local university; and was actually currently lecturing for a semester at Universiti Putra Malaysia, a research university in Seri Kembangan, Malaysia. He’d gotten far in life, that lanky nerd did. According to Ryuzaki, while they did live together they had no children, and did not plan for any, while Ryuzaki (surprisingly) loved children, his partner had very little patience and absolutely no desire for one, and he respected that.

Jonouchi surprised himself when he found himself to be disappointed when Ryuzaki left, mostly because he had seen so little of his friends and family, and didn’t exactly have the most engaging relationship with Kaiba. He was just so… so freaking lonely. The silver lining was that they exchanged numbers and agreed to hang out another time.

“Say, Jonouchi, what brings you to this part of town?” Grandpa Motou asked as he brought his surrogate grandchild a cup of green tea, which the blond thanked him for as he sipped it.

“I just wanted to kill some time before me and Kaiba are going to a restaurant in a bit.” Jonouchi practically muttered, drinking half of the cup in only a few sips..

“A date?” The old man inquired.

“…You can say that, I mean, usually it’s business gatherings. I don’t really make a point to ask Kaiba anymore because either way it’s lame and I don’t get a choice.” The blond complained.

Sugoroku stared at him for a hard minute, which made the nurse feel awkward because he knew that look too well, it was look he’d gotten so many times when he’d asked the old man to teach him how to play duel monsters, and subsequently trained him. “Why do you call him Kaiba?”

“-…” Jonouchi froze, no one ever questioned him calling his… spouse, Kaiba. It was just so natural of him, but he realized how strange it was to call your own significant other by their family name and never their first name, especially after supposedly dating for over two years and getting married. While he could lie about the whole facade no problem, he still had trouble making things up for small details like that. “W-Well uh, you know… it’s just, isn’t very respectful to call him by his first name with people who aren’t on a first-name basis with him too-”

“Are you lying my boy?”

“…” A hand fell on the blond’s shoulder, squeezing it softly but firmly.

“Are there… underlying circumstances to you marrying Kaiba?”

“Gramps…”

“You don’t have to tell me… but, if you’re unhappy, don’t be afraid to admit it. To me, or him. Or yourself.”

“I can’t believe you kept those ridiculous westernized clothes on.” Kaiba told him sharply, not bothering to look back from the steering mechanism of the jet as he scolded him. Honey brown eyes rolled in response, indeed Jonouchi had not bothered to change from what he was wearing earlier, mostly out of spite but partially because he just didn’t feel like changing. “Why are you insisting on trying to embarrass me?”

“…Dude you know I don’t like you right.” Jonouchi muttered; it wasn’t entirely true, he didn’t hate Kaiba or anything, he just didn’t like being bossed around by someone.

“Well you could have pretended to like me long enough for this dinner.” The blue eyed man sharply retorted, still steering his ridiculous jet that Jonouchi had the displeasure of boarding, and soon enough the displeasure of being seen coming out of it.

“Whatever, what kind of business dinner is this anyways? You trying to buy someone out or something?” Jonouchi only really had a vague idea of how business worked, mostly he knew about healthcare management when it came to the subject of business. Big-wig multibillion dollar gaming companies were a whole other topic.

“This isn’t business related, Katsuya.” Kaiba stated, irritated as if he’d just said the most obvious thing to the biggest idiot ever, which was probably how the brunet saw it.

Jonouchi exasperatingly placed his hands into his lap “Then why the hell are we going to some fancy restaurant in Tokyo?” Not that he minded dining on some of the fanciest food in Japan, but being demanded to do anything left a sour taste in his mouth nonetheless, and anytime Kaiba invited him for a meal, something terrible happened. Okay, so it only happened once, but that one terrible thing of ending up hitched was bad enough for him to always be on edge about it.

“Because we’re a married couple, you do realize we have obligations other than business and living arrangements right? Does your undersized brain understand how this process works or has the exposure to the anesthesia caused it to shrink even further.” Well there’s the jerk-Kaiba that Jonouchi knew all too well, but the statement did make the gears in his head slowly turn.

“We're… going on a date?” He had difficulty even suggesting such a thing, oh god he was pretty sure the word date made him throw up a little in his mouth. “That is something that married couples do, Katsuya.” Kaiba stated bluntly, not realizing the effect it had on the other man.

A date? A date with Kaiab of all people? Somehow that was worse than just being married to him, because being his hostage bride so far only required that he live with him and give up his original family name, not actually have to spend time with him for anymore than a few hours a week. Tonight’s sobbing into his pillow wasn’t going to be dry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(1)Kappa Ebisen (かっぱえびせん) prawn chips by Calbee (2) I imagine that since Domino city has docks, it’d be a coastline city, so I’d say close to the Japanese city of Tsu, which is roughly 198 miles from Tokyo, roughly about 321 kilometers. (3) I don’t know how fast the blue eyes white dragon jet it, but for the hell of it let’s say it’s mach one speed, which travels about 750 miles / 1207 kilometers an hour, they could very well get to Tokyo before six. (4) Yugi’s mother, although never seen in the 4kids dub, lives with Yugi and his grandpa in the game shop. Her husband, Sugoroku’s son, is supposedly always away on business. Authors note: Jonouchi’s negative feelings towards Kaiba are for the most exaggerated for comical purposes, he does in fact not hate Kaaba, but he doesn’t really like him that much either. This discontent could be seen as both of their fault, as Kaiba is work-oriented and Jonouchi won’t even try to get close to him. So Ryuzaki/Rex Raptor makes an appearance, unexpected I know. And apparently him and Haga have been dating this whole time. Will he show up again, and what was the significance of him showing up again? Will anyone else show up or make unexpected appearance? Will Jonouchi ever stop dramatically sobbing into his pillow? Will he and Kaiba ever get along? Is Jonouchi really the only guy in this story who likes vagina?

#kaiba #jonouchi #seto kaiba #seto #katsuya #katsuya jonouchI #jonouchi katsuya #jou #joey wheeler #joey #yugioh #yu-gi-Oh #yu-gi-oh!#puppyshipping #violetshipping #some people call it violetshipping

15 notes · View notes

sovinly · 7 years

Note

JMB and cooking?

(Thank you so much for your patience, I know it has been forever. Thank you also for an awesome prompt!

“It will be fun,” Grantaire had said. “It’s beer-and-cheesenight, it’ll be totally cool.”

And sure, everyone has been lovely, both the handfulMusichetta already knew and the handful she didn’t. And sure, the food has beenutterly delicious, generous and rich servings of raclette complemented by the eclecticsampling of beers everyone’s contributed to.

And sure, Joly has adorable springy curls and a charminggrin and dimples and makes rapid-fire puns. And sure, Bossuet is tall and baldand endearing and is wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon whale and also makesridiculous puns. And sure, they’re criminally adorable together and keep kickingone another’s feet and she’s already sure they’re all going to be the greatestfriends, and that’s fantastic, but.

“Oh no,” she whispers, when the door finally closes behindthem, “they’re hot.”

Grantaire laughs, the bastard.

“… All I’m saying is that if your superstrength isn’tconsistent, there should be a good reason for it, because, like, at least giveyour narratively-convenient variations a cool alien name or something,” Bossuetsays, not looking up from the onion he’s julienning while also somehow absentlyleaning against the counter. That seems patently unfair, as Musichetta can’tabsently julienne onions.

Musichetta nods, even though he can’t see, and shimmies tothe side so Joly can reach around her for the spices. “I mean, yes, that’strue. But also, if your moments of narrative requiring disappearing skills areall for damelsing your ladies, you maybe have a bigger problem.”

“At least be up front about it,” Joly agrees, stealing oneof Musichetta’s carrot chunks as he ducks back. He’s wearing skinny jeans today,new and a flattering deep maroon, and they do wonderful things to his calves.It’s very distracting. “Damselium. The Curse of the Heteropatriarchy. Themysterious Shitty EXcuse Implying Stereotypical Things gene.”

She snorts at that as Bossuet’s witty retort seems to be cutshort, delayed in favor of whirling around to give Joly a high-five for theimpromptu wordplay, and as much as Musichetta is looking forward to theirevening of shitty superhero films and dinner, she’s having the time of her liferight now.

It doesn’t seem like it’s as much when they all live in thesame house, really, because there’s always something on hand and someone to goget take out if necessary. That’s one of the benefits of roommates andboyfriends. That’s also the benefits of lots of friends, because someone alwayshas a minute to run by at least with some noodles and tea.

Still, though, Musichetta hopes it still counts, as littleas this is. That’s why she runs to the store three times when Bossuet andGrantaire realize that they’ve forgotten some vital ingredient or that Bossuet’sjealously horded sausage from Bahorel has succumbed to abrupt freezer burn. It’swhy she shifts foot to foot cooking down lemon curd for the better part of anhour because anyone who says desserts aren’t a vital meal component is wrong.

And it’s nothing fancy, and it doesn’t feel like enough tomake up for the everything else, for the way that she can’t do more to ease Joly’spain or help his joints settle or make his doctors listen as thoughtfully asJoly would to his patients. But thenJoly stumbles from the bedroom, leaning heavily on his cane and banded aboutwith braces, bent with pain and restless with boredom. Then he sees the fullystocked fridge with portioned tupperware, each labled with a pun or a doodle, andhis eyes well up with easy-coming tears as he blinks, and his voice breaks alittle as he helplessly says: “You guys.”

And then, it feels like it just might be enough.

Musichetta feels silly and hopeless, standing in thekitchen, her fingers coated with ginger and lemongrass as she attempts to blother tears against her shoulder. She hasn’t cried all day, and even now it’s notthe ache of missing that’s brought her to tears, just the half-made soup thatshe’d really love to finish once her vision isn’t so blurry again.

It’s not even that her grandfather is gone, because she’s happy he’s not in pain, it’s just. It’s just.It’s the story her grandfather told them all, every time he ever cooked, thefamiliar cadence of the words, of the not-quite-trite story of how he didn’tknow how to cook when he’d married her grandmother, how it took her falling illfor him to realize how much she did, how much he took for granted. It’s the wayhe would always cup Musichetta’s face in his rough old-man hands and say “Lovesomeone who is humble enough to be wrong, and more than that, love someone whowill learn to make you soup when you’re sick.”

And she does, she does, she has two people who are humbleand kind and never take her for granted and she makes them soup when they’resick and they do the same for her, and she never got to say. And now all she has is half-made breakfast soup and a pot ofpepper she can’t blame for her red eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Bossuet says, careworn and gentle around theedges from his own losses, enfolding her in his arms. His cheek rests againsther head, and he only holds her tighter when her messy hands clutch helplesslyat his threadbare hoodie.

“How about I keep working on this, and you hug Lesgle and tellme how not to do it wrong?” Joly offers very gently and kisses the back of herhead.

Musichetta’s heart aches.

“Okay,” she says, and lets them help.

“I hear no one felt like cooking,” Bossuet calls, stompinghis boots free of the last traces of snow by the entryway. There’s the faintrustle of plastic bags, too, and the scent of warm spices begins to permeatethe air. “So I brought falafel and chicken wraps because I love you.”

“We love you too,” Musichetta sings, drizzling dishsoap inthe last of the bowls and setting it to soak. She dries her hands on the toweltucked into her belt and tilts her head towards the door. “You should come giveus food and also kisses.”

“We’re just wrapping up in here,” Joly adds, flourishing hisspatula and sending light gleaming across his splint rings, as Bossuet pokeshis head in. “I’d feel falafel if we ruined our appetites with dessert first,but thankfully you’re right on time.”

“It’s chickpea-k baking time in here,” Musichetta agrees,giggling at Joly’s puns even as she goes to tiptoe to kiss Bossuet. His cheeksare flushed red from the cold and there are little melting ice crystals dottinghis hat – her hat, technically – but his smile is warm as they break apart. “Ican’t believe you chickened out of it.”

“Don’t grill me on my life choices,” Bossuet complains,kissing her forehead before setting down his bags. “Besides, Bahorel and I wereon the lamb, there was a law school alumn event.”

Joly and Musichetta make a simultaneous noise of amusementat that. Still not abandoning the spatula, Joly coaxes Bossuet down for a kiss,kissing the tip of his nose after.

“Well, you’re safe from the law for now,” Joly informs him,going back to moving cookies from the baking tray to the arrangement of platesholding the rest of their endeavors. “But not safe yet, because you are doomedto an evening of cuddles.”

“It’s true,” Musichetta agrees. “After dinner, I’mma makechocolate and Courfeyrac has finally given us her churro recipe, and also thereare so many cookies.”

“Oh man, and it’s snowing outside, big lovely flakes.”Bossuet kisses Joly’s ear before turning to get plates and silverware, just asMusichetta’s stomach starts to grumble. “Grantaire may even be seduced home forchurros and cookies and cakes, but I feel like he’d be even more enticed if wethrew in romcoms.”

“Musical romcoms,”Joly pipes up, eager.

Musichetta hangs up the handtowel again and props her handson her hips. “I can’t even believe you’re trying to use R as an excuse, musicalromcoms are always the right answerin this house, especially if they come with baked goods and falafel-”

“- and fries-” Bossuet adds.

“- and fries,” Musichetta amends. “Also cuddles. Because it’smotherfucking winter.”

“I love you guys so much,” Joly sighs. “C’mon, c’mon, I amsore and starving and am too adorable to go uncuddled for this long. I will getblankets if you carry everything out to the living room.”

“That we can do,” Musichetta agrees, and feels like singing for all the warmth in her heart.

#sovin writes things #fic #jmb #joly/bossuet/musichetta #modern au #i am so behind but i have finished these prompts!#i feel like jmb is a good way to end prompts #yay writing things!#musichetta is wonderful everyone else can go home #joly is perpetually aware of the fourth wall #bossuet just runs into walls #dammit grantaire #embroideredcupcake

29 notes · View notes

previously-known · 7 years

Text

Tifdany shit 1

I woke up from my nightmare at 3 in the morning, my husband was knocked out still, which was good. I hated him seeing me like this, cold sweat and breathing hard, and scared. He didn't know it, and I couldn't blame him, I hadn't told him. I was pregnant. Around 3 weeks pregnant. And I was scared, in fear of ending up like my parents, well at least my mother. She was, fucked up. I shook my head and got out of bed and walked to the window, opened it and sat next to it (big windows, i live in a mansion). The night was beautiful. I lived in the rich rich area of Tartarus. The part that was underwater. The place was full of mansions, expensive cars, best bars and strip clubs anywhere (used to be a bartender at one of the clubs). And, of course some distance away, the kings castle. Which was, quite impressive. So under the large ass underwater dome that covered the rich portion was full of street lights, neon lights and was bright. Outside the dome, sea life and you could sometimes see the islands neon lights. Also, just because it's pretty cool, whoever made the dome was a genius. You could drop the payload from a b-24 and it would be fine. Plus, it simulated weather. Sometimes they had it rain by opening up small sections in the dome, and it would rain, run to drains, and back out into the ocean. It also had UV lights for sunshine, and they'd turn them off at night. Ran off of a clock so it was like being anywhere else in the world. Just there was no snow. Pretty damn impressive in my opinion. But I wasn't thinking of that. I was staring out the window, a lit cigarette between my fingers and staring out. It was cold, always was a night, and I let the cigarette burn until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped and looked, it was Tommy. His long black hair in his green eyes, pair of shorts was all he wore. And for a skinny guy, damn. He had some muscle. His skin was pale, and I could see his breath when he took one. "Babe, its still early, its cold out and smoking isn't good for you." he said. His voice was calm, and sweet and quiet. I nodded, tossed the cigarette, closed the window, but still sat by it. "Nightmare?" he asked, sitting down with me. I moved into his arms and rested my head on his shoulder. "Yes. But I don't want to talk about it." "I understand." he said, running his fingers through my hair. And I knew he meant it. Tommy had once lived in West side on the island. And just to make a living of some kind, and to keep his mother alive, he was thrown into the pits, as we called them, to clean the messes that monsters like the Grim Reaper or Ryan Richie which were only 2 or the dozens of rather well known ones. A few big ones from 8 years ago when he was there was Jack The Ripper, Hannibal the Cannibal, and the Executioner, and those 3 were, well some fucked up people who always made more messes than needed. Hannibal had been killed recently by Ryan and Grim, who were only 24 and 17 from reports. Which was rather impressive, that they managed to kill a pro like that without getting fucked up. Especially Grim, who from reports, only has one leg, and who did most of the work. Jack and the Executioner were still hiding, but we knew they were still in the pits. As I thought, about my nightmare and the hell Tommy lived through, somehow, I must have drifted off to sleep. Because Tommy woke me up at 7, as usual, with his cooking. Tommy, was a fantastic cook. I mean, like Italian grandma fantastic cook. I got out of bed, which I guess he had moved me back into, walked to the bathroom, showered with the water as hot as possible and the radio playing. When I got out, I put my brunette hair in a pony tail, put on Tommy's old dark red hoodie, black skinny jeans and a pair of black boots, issued to all cops. I slid my belt with my holster on it, reached into the bedstand and pulled my pistol out. I'm no good with guns, and never could remember names. All I knew was mine was a .45 caliber pistol and all black. And I always just called it Sally. Before I went downstairs, I grabbed 2 extra magazines and a small revolver (a .38 with a short barrel. I just called this one Wyatt. Like Wyatt Earp, cause Cowboys and revolvers.),slid that into my boots and went downstairs and to the kitchen, where i found Tommy cooking, but none of the servants were there. "Tommy," i asked. "Where are the servants?" Tommy looked up with that cute smile of his. "Let them sleep in. I know, you don't like that but i wanted to cook and clean the dishes for once." "But you do it all the time. We have servants for a reason." I argued, knowing i wouldn't win. "I know. But well, i wanted to do this." He said, handing me my bag and cup of coffee. I knew whatever he had cooked was in the bag, along with water, and some money. "Please be careful babe." He said, giving me a hug and a kiss. "I hate the actual island, and don't trust it. Please be careful." "I will." I said before heading out the door after another kiss and 'i love you's to the black sports car in the garage and driving to headquaters to meet with senior investigator. I was not excited about today. I didn't even get a chance to walk in the building. Senior investigator Wiley was already waiting for me by the beat up old suburban we took to the island. I got out of my car and to him. "Tiff, finally, lets get going and get this over with." He said. Wiley was a tall and lean older man, about late 50s early 60s. He had a cliché cowboy mustache, brown eyes full of hurt and his white hair was thin underneath his, he is a total cliché, cowboy hat. His body was covered by a black trench coat and feet by the same black boots as me. His voice was deep and had a slight southern draw to it. For a guy old enough to be my father, and looked as if he was old enough to be my grandfather, the guy was smart and quick. He could also walk into a room, and own it, and he was intimidating. Very intimidating. I can't think of one perp who wasn't intimidated by him. I mean, a tall guy who never smiles seems intimidating to me. "Yeah, lets go gramps." I teased as i hopped into the passenger seat and he got into the drivers seat. "Hello Tiffany." Josh mumbled from behind me. I jumped a little, smiled, and greeted him back. Josh, our profiler and strategist was shorter, but still thin. His hair was blonde, and always combed over. His eyes were blue, and no wrinkles around them at all. Or on his pale skin at all. He was 20, but there were no signs he ever showed facial reactions. Not even confusion or anything like that. He was quiet, and awkward around others. But, you put a gun in his hands and he'd never miss. Never. And Josh wore what he usually did, bitton up white shirt, black pants and same boots. Around his shirt was his black shoulder holster and on his head sat a fedora. He nodded, and looked back down at his phone, playing solitare or something. Wiley got in, started a car, and turned the radio to some oldies. Rule with him. Don't touch the radio. Ever.

13 notes · View notes

wayward-demons · 7 years

Text

Game For Anything PT. 13

Word Count: 2,575 Warnings: Okay here we go! Let the drama begin Tags: @crawegirl @nea90sweetie @littlegirlsdontplaynice @queen-of-moons-peace-out-bitches@gaysmutstiel@xolyssaaa @uruburock13 @lisa-horn @jencharlan @fangirl1802 @spn-4-eva ((If you want to be added to the list just let me know!))

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12

Sam’s bare feet padded against the cold concrete as he looked for his brother. He wasn’t sure where he could be, Dean wasn’t known for running away from situations. He usually just entered them, beat the crap out of anything in his way, and left after it was “solved.”

Sam mentally cursed himself for not putting on shoes, or at least a shirt. It wasn’t like he thought the bunker was going to be this cold. But what else do you expect from a place that was mostly underground and made of concrete?

“Dean?” Sam asked, turning into the garage. He could still see the Impala, which meant that Dean was here. “Dean come on, let me explain.” Sam said, spotting his brother in the vehicle. Dean’s knuckles white from holding on to the steering wheel to tightly. Sam sighed, opened the passenger door, and slid into his all too familiar place next to his brother.

Sam wasn’t sure how to start this, he weighed his options in his head, carefully choosing his words so that he didn’t make matters worse. “She had a nightmare and I didn’t want to leave her alone.” Sam’s voice was soft, and light in the air. But that didn’t calm Dean down at all. It made it worse. Like Sam was talking down to Dean.

Dean scoffed, hands falling to his lap finally. “Sure. That’s how it always starts.”

“Dean nothing happened.” Sam turned to his brother, rubbing his hands against his arms to warm himself up.

Dean shook his head. “Except I saw you with your arms wrapped around- Know what?” Dean raised a hand to block his brother from his peripheral view. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not anyone’s after all. Go ahead Sammy. You deserve it.” Dean still looked forward, unable to bring himself to look at Sam. Sam without his shirt still, Sam who looked like he still was holding you in his arms.

Sam tried to reach out for his brother, but fell short, knowing Dean would only start to raise fists if he had. “Dean. Come on.”

“I mean it. It’s been what? Years?” Dean looked over at his brother now, and instantly regretted it. He tried to focus his eyes solely on Sam’s face, because despite the need to punch it with his fists until he felt better, it was easier to look at that anything else right now.

Sam shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“I don’t care anymore.” Dean returned his hands to the steering wheel, and his vision to the front of his car. “I have a lot of asphalt to cover and a case to finish.”

“Wanna talk about why you left the case in the first place?” Sam asked, his therapy voice on. Sam had been trying to use it more and more on him, but he often tried to ignore it. Because it only made him want to punch him more, especially right now.

“Not really no.” Dean said sternly.

��Dean.” Sam pleaded, something he wasn’t used to doing.

“Sam, I said no. Now get out of the car.” Dean’s big boy father voice cut through the air and it made Sam flinch; like it always had.

“Fine Dean.” Sam sighed, shaking his head and opening the door. “But Dean-”

Sam was cut off by the sound of the door swinging open, one swift kick that you had placed upon it with your boot covered feet. You all but threw your bags into the back of your car and didn’t stop until you were sliding into it and turning it on. Sam and Dean had both watched you, eyes wide in confusion as they did.

You hadn’t bothered to say anything,all that you had come out of you were a few grunts from the weight of your bags. You sped off, tires squealing loudly against the concrete floors. You weren’t sure where you were going, but suddenly being at that bunker, surrounded by Sam and Dean seemed like too much.

You had overstayed your welcome anyway. This wasn’t supposed to be a long-term thing and suddenly you had been there for 5 days. 5 days longer than you had wanted too. Remember putting up a fight against the boys? Where had, that day gone? So here you were. Back out on the open road, just you and your car, your baby. The only thing you could depend on.

Sam and Dean were almost like figments of your imagination now. Just another case under your belt. You kept driving, unable to pay attention to anything but the road before you. Sitting in utter silence as you put the distance between you and the bunker.

After 30 minutes of fast driving you felt more at ease. Your chest felt lighter, you could breathe again; no more choked out staggered breaths. The road wasn't familiar, it never was, but that didn't matter. What mattered right now was that you were forgetting all about that bunker and those men.

You stopped at a gas station, walking up and down the aisles aimlessly. There wasn't anything that you needed, it was more of an excuse to get out and stretch a little before you had another long drive ahead of you.

“Can I help you little miss?” A male asked from a little farther down. It only took you a moment to look him up and down and get a good reading of him. He was what you would expect from a man who felt the need to talk to you while in this dive of a gas station. He cleared his throat, ready to ask you again.

You turned to him, a huge smile on your face as you did. “Oh, little ol me?” You asked, using the sweetest voice you could muster. It felt weird on your tongue, but you wanted to play along.

He warmed up, making his way down the way towards you. His hips sauntered as he closed the gap, his tongue darting out and moistening his lips. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Can I-“ He leaned his hand against the counter in front of you. “show you around a little bit?”

You giggled, pushing your hair behind your ear, “That sounds…”

“Perfect?” He interrupted.

“Perfect.” You repeated, your voice soft and flirty you set down your goods, placing them carefully on the shelf before you. He smiled, nodding as he understood what you were doing. He placed his cold hand on the small of your back, goosebumps covered you. Goosebumps that told you he was more than he appeared.

The air outside was thick with tension, tension he thought was sexual. But you had a whole new agenda in mind. He led you to his beat-up truck, paint shipped off the sides, you already knew the crappy noise that was going to happen the second he started it.

He took off his trucker hat, running a hand through his hair and placing it back on top of him. “So, sweet thing, what brings you all the way out here. Normally it’s just truckers and low lives.”

You bit back your tongue, resisting the urge to comment. “I guess I took a wrong turn and ended up here. It’s what I get for not using my GPS.” You lied, again trying to flirt. You placed your hand on his arm, and gigged again. You were growing annoyed with yourself.

“Its all good. I’ll help you get back on track. But first…” he trailed off, leaving his words open ended. Though you knew what he was getting at. He opened the front door of his truck, the small and yet large front seat looked almost more wore out than the truck itself. He held the door open for you, and watched carefully as you climbed in.

Your heart was racing, and you could hear it as he climbed into the seat next to you. He slammed the door and the whole truck shook. You could smell the old food wrappers collecting mold under the seat, could feel the scratchy seat under you, and hated every second of it.

You wasted no time. As his hand reached out to turn the truck on you reached out for his wrist. Placing your handy salt coated ring against his skin. You waited, seeing the reaction from him before acting out your next move.

He flinched, just as you thought he would. His eyes black as he hissed at you. He attempted to rip your hand from his, but you were quicker. And before he knew it you were stabbing him in the hand with a knife.

Your mouth moved quickly afterwards. Uttering out the Latin words to expel the demon inside of him. He screamed, cursing at you in every language he could. You watched as the thick black smoke left the man’s mouth and floated out through a crack in the door.

You sat back, letting out the breath you were holding out. The man came to quickly, groggy and rubbing his eyes. And then he saw the blood, felt the pain in his hand that you had caused. “What the?!” He screamed, finally laying eyes on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay now. My name’s Y/F/N.” You cupped his face in your hands and tried to calm him down. His breathing was still erratic, but he seemed calmer now. “Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head no. Eyes unable to focus on one thing. “Okay good. You’ll be okay. Here.” You pulled off your jacket, and ripped a piece of your shirt off. You wrapped it tightly against his hand, applying a slight amount of pressure to his wound. “Just, keep this on. And clean it as soon as you can. I am sorry for all the trouble.”

And out you went. Slamming the door behind you and running towards your own car. You could get gas at a different station. This one was compromised now, this one suddenly had eyes focused only on you now.

Your tires squealed against the asphalt as you took off. Speeding down the street to your next destination. If you thought your heart was racing before, it was even worse now. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, and right now you were riding it out as you created more and more distance between you and your problems.

Sam and Dean searched the satellites for you and your car. Only they were falling short. “This is starting to become annoying.” Dean muttered under his breath. He closed his laptop and looked over at his brother. “I don’t think we’re going to find her this way.”

Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You’re probably right. So how far could she have gotten?” He asked, closing his own computer.

Dean stood, unfolding a map across the table and laying it out flat. “Well I’m guessing she drove faster than me. So. About this far.” Dean pointed at a ring of places you could possibly be with his finger. “Would be helpful if we had any idea where she was going.”

It hadn’t taken you nearly as long as you thought to get back to the place you used to call home. Your car slowly moving forward over the speed bumps preventing you from speeding. You turned your music down as you drank in the surrounding’s. It had been so long since you had been here, so long since you had wanted to be here. And yet suddenly this was the only place you could imagine being.

Your apartment had an odd smell, one that mostly reminded you of mold and dust. It almost smelt as if you were walking into yet another abandoned building. You coughed, flipping on a light and seeing just how empty this place was.

You dragged a hand along your desk, fingers collecting the thick layer of dust. You sighed as you reached your home phone. A phone that seemed to be out of date and unused. Except for the bright red number 90 flashing at you. You sighed, and walked past it.

Your bedroom was clean, the bed freshly made and clothes packed safe and soundly into your dresser. You’d never seen this room so clean. In fact, the last time you had been in here you had trashed the place. Throwing anything and everything you could against anything else you could. You’d been so upset, so heart broken and unable to handle life.

You returned here after Randy’s death, entering the place with anger and sadness. Cindy stood confused and scared. She flinched as you started throwing things, starting with whatever was directly in front of you. You hadn’t even really seen Cindy in your blind rage. But after it was done, and you were sitting in the middle of your living room splitters of what you used to own surrounding you.

“It finally happened.” Was all Cindy said as she sat next to you. She handed you a drink and after a few hours the night became a blur. The next morning you left and never returned.

You silently thanked Cindy for picking up your mess. Assuming it was her who had cleaned it all up. You sat on your bed, letting the cloud of dust settle around you. This was more than you were ready to handle, more than you thought it would be.

It didn’t take you long to reach the fridge and find a bottle of whiskey to drink. And hell, who needed a cup when you could drink straight from the bottle? After about half of it you approached your voice mail, clicking the button so it would start playing.

“I know you’re not here, but I just needed to talk to you. Pretend like it was old times and you were there for me when I needed you. Its hard out here, it’s not fun and easy like they make you believe when you’re a kid. And now not having you? I just…” your voice trailed off, words floating around you as you listened to them.

Hours had gone by and a bottle of whiskey had been ingested, and still your voice rang out against the stark quiet of the apartment. You hadn’t stopped crying, hadn’t been able to cope with your messages to your dead friend. You never realized you had called so many times, never realized that at some point you would have so many messages to listen to.

Finally, you were on the last message, eyes red and burning as your drunken words impaled you. “Randy, I wish you could answer these. I need advice. I need to hear your voice again. I need to hear you tell me what I am doing is a mistake. Remember when I promised to never get close to anyone again? It’s happening. And I don’t know what to do. They’re both perfect. Both so…” you stopped the message. Stopped hearing your slurring words.

Your door kicked open, wood flying past your face. Your reaction times were slow, the whiskey in full effect now. You tried to rise to your feet, only to meet with the ground under you.

Everything went black. You no longer could smell the dust and mold, replaced instead with the soft scent of lavender and spices. Then you felt a sharp pain to your head, and you were out.

((Pt. 14)) <Coming Soon

24 notes · View notes

thiswillbereportedtomanagement · 7 years

Quote

Sixty years of GQ means six decades of amazing clothes. And what you see here is a sampling of the amazing-est: the pieces that have stood the test of time and become modern essentials. If you were to start your wardrobe over from scratch with these 60 pieces, you’d be pretty much set. Because the clothes here are, above all, versatile. They’re classics. They’re the shirts, pants, suits, shoes, hats, rings, watches, and glasses that have defined our point of view since the Eisenhower administration. They’re what you need to look very GQ.If you want to buy these eternally cool pieces—and we're right there with you—you can click here. And if you want to see what inspired us, scroll down to wander through over a half-century of GQ moments that inspired this story in the first place.1. Slip-on Loafers (1965) They’re timeless because they’re versatile. Wear them with socks or no socks. Pants or no pants. (And by “no pants” we mean shorts.)2. Lace-up Wingtips (1986) The businessman’s shoe will be in style as long as there are businessmen.3. The Patch-Pocket Suit (1971) We hadn’t seen this one in a very long time. Then Prada brought it back. And you know how it goes: When Prada does something, so does everyone else.4. A Crocodile Belt (1985) Exotic leather suggests an exotic personality. People will wonder: Just who is that man with a reptile around his waist?5. The Flat Cap (1976) Who knew that the newsboy cap would outlast actual newspapers?6. The Repp Tie (1983) Just as “Bimmer” is an awkwardly spelled slang for your BMW, “repp” is an awkwardly spelled term for the diagonally striped ties worn by men who drive BMWs.7. Banker Pinstripes (1962) A thinly pinstriped suit is still the fastest way to look like money. Whereas a thickly pinstriped suit is the fastest way to look like you should be robbing a bank with a Tommy gun.8. Corduroy (1967) We love cords as the sweet spot between blue jeans and fancy trousers. For a great 1967 reference point, go re-watch Dustin Hoffman wearing corduroy in The Graduate.9. The Tweed Revival (2002) Tweed used to be so dusty and professorial. Then, about 15 years ago, designers started youth-ifying it. And now it looks like this.10. Zany Socks! (2006) Look, we love socks with some personality, but you don’t want to wear them every day. Unless you are the prime minister of Canada, that is. Then you can wear them every day.11. Tough-as-Nails Work Boots (2009) When you buy a pair of these, don’t baby ’em. Maybe even consider the radical notion of wearing them for manual labor. They look better scuffed.12. A Ritzy Dinner Jacket (1958) The next time you have a special occasion, make it feel genuinely special. Pull on the kind of jacket you might’ve worn to see Sam Cooke slay the Copacabana, had you been alive back then.13. A Tuxedo Shirt That Boogies (1968) Whether you do ruffles is up to you (we’re very pro, and so is Ryan Gosling). But definitely don’t shy away from color.14. Pre-Recession Cuff Links (2000) Please don’t let the president be the only man wearing cufflinks right now.15. The Indestructible Tank Watch (1973) Over the years, we’ve always championed wardrobe staples—like rectangular tank watches—that strike a perfect balance. They’re classics, sure. But they also evolve with the times.16. The Varsity Jacket (2010) Maybe you earned your varsity letter in high school and want to relive your glory. Or maybe you never did, and this is your revenge on all the jocks. Either way, there’s a jacket for you.17. Horizontal Chest Stripes (1996) By now you should know that horizontal chest stripes will bulk up your chest faster than any gym membership. They’re also an un-mess-up-able style move.18. A Perfect Camel Coat (1998) Kanye wears one. The old men at your grandpa’s law firm wear one. This is one of those pieces that’s never not in style. Just get one.19. Designer Track Pants (2015) They’ve been athletic staples for years. But it wasn’t until recently that designers figured out how to style them up into streetwear.20. Outlaw Boots (1979) Like anyone who’s seen a Clint Eastwood movie, we love westernwear. Start with boots and then work your way up to snap-button shirts and bolo ties.21. The Air Tie (1995) This may be the easiest style move of all time. The only trick to it is that you need a shirt with the right kind of collar. Basically anything other than a spread will do the trick.22. The Double-Breasted Power Suit (1987) Back in ’87, when Gordon Gekko was giving his “Greed Is Good” speech in a double-breasted suit, no man in America would dare wear such a thing with sneakers—or without a tie. We can’t wait to see how the DB looks in 2047.23. A Swankier Duffel Bag (2016) If you don’t want to be another one of those sad guys in the airport pulling a battered rolly bag, may we suggest a high-end duffel?24. Geezer Sneakers (2012) If you don’t know what geezer sneakers are, ask your dad what he wore when he was your age. Then go find the latest designer riff on those. Trust us, someone out there is still making them.25. The Shearling Coat (1977) It’s warm. So warm. It’s also a flex of epic proportions, because a real shearling is expensive. Then again, so are most things you’ll keep for 30 years.26. Masculine Necklaces (2003) The next time you and your girlfriend pass a jewelry store, pop in and look for the both of you.27. A Sleek Black Racing Watch (2005) Nothing is less badass than whipping out your giant smartphone just to check the time. Wear a real watch. Preferably one made in stealthy black.28. The Henley Shirt (1981) We like them with at least one button undone, the better to show the your manly-ass necklaces (or chest hairs?) you’ve got hiding underneath.29. An Oversize Logo Belt (1970) These things will draw attention to a very particular part of your body. So wear them with corresponding swagger.30. The Autumnal Toggle Coat (1980) Sometimes known as a duffel coat, it’s the official torso warmer of football season.31. A Statement Scarf (1988) By “statement” we do sometimes mean “scarves with writing on them.” But a statement scarf can just as easily be one that makes a statement through its size (usually big) or color (usually bold).32. The Preppy Button-Down Collar (1990) For extra prep points, refer to yours as an OCBD. That stands for Oxford Cloth Button Down, and it’s the kind of shirt that’s de rigueur at country clubs and frat houses.33. Aviators (1974) To stand the test of time, your glasses should look less like Tom Cruise’s in Top Gun and more like Michael Caine’s in...everything.34. The Three-Piece Suit (1978) Three-piece suits are some of the best values in menswear, because while they look polished and professional as a set, you can also pull the pieces apart and wear ’em as separates.35. One-Color Dressing (1994) This trick works with almost any color, but it works best with darks. The closer you get to wearing all orange, the more you’ll look like walking citrus.36. A Softer-Sided Briefcase (1997) Your briefcase should match your work persona: It should be tough and dignified, but also able to stretch and flex as needed.37. Don Draper’s Fedora (1964) We’re not sure whether Mad Men kick-started the menswear revolution or was just along for the ride. But during the show’s run, from 2007 to 2015, a generation of guys learned to care about clothes again—and menswear suddenly began outpacing womenswear in sales.38. The Turtleneck Sweater (1972) All due respect to Steve Jobs, but we’re not into mock turtlenecks—we like the full-on kind that keep you warm all the way up to your chin.39. A Big Plaid Coat (1960) We always say that a coat is the first thing people notice when they see you coming. So make yours count.40. The Military Cap (1993) Piece of advice: Keep the military reference in spirit, but maybe don’t go walking around in some old soldier’s hat that you found at the Army Navy Surplus store.41. A Fur-Collared Jacket (1963) Rebellion never goes out of style, especially if you conjure up your inner Marlon Brando with a leather jacket like this one.42. Rock ’n’ Roll Rings (1959) To paraphrase The Social Network: You know what’s cool? A ring. You know what’s cooler? A billion rings.43. A Minimalist Belt (1991) Fashion nerds (like us!) refer to this style of belt as a D-ring. Feel free to refer to yours as “the kind without the prong.”44. The Checkered Sports Jacket (1966) If we really had to, we could find 365 different ways to wear this jacket and simply never take it off.45. Albino Trousers (2004) White jeans have become a staple. Cosmopolitan and dandyish white trousers are the next level up on the swerve-o-meter.46. A Badass Biker (2001) You do not need to know how to ride a motorcycle to pull one of these off. Though it does always help.47. The Jean Jacket (1999) In these casual times, a good jean jacket is as crucial a piece as anything you own—because you can wear it with, over, or under pretty much everything else in your closet.48. Sweatpants for the Streets (2013) Did you know there was once a time when sweatpants were considered weekend cozywear that should never leave the house? That time seems very long ago.49. The Cleanest White Sneaker (2007) White sneakers should be a part of your footwear arsenal right alongside loafers, brogues, and boots. If you’ve got those four, you’re pretty much set.50. The Floppy Bow Tie (1975) Decade after decade, it never fails: If you want an instant attention grabber and compliment getter, all you gotta do is wrap your neck in a bow.51. The Retro Knit Tie (1992) As ties feel less and less necessary, the ones we want to wear are the ones with a little something extra: not kooky patterns, but interesting textures.52. The Old-School Tie Bar (2008) It does more than hold your tie in place. It holds your look together.53. The Foulard Dress Shirt (1957)—It’s pronounced foo-lard, and it’s what you wear once you’ve already conquered conventional stripes and dots.54. Arms of Steel (1982) A stainless steel watch is a little less precious (literally and figuratively) than gold, with a tough veneer that suggests it’ll keep ticking even longer than you will.55. A Plaid, Plaid, Plaid Suit (1969) Fear not the plaid suit. It’s an attention-grabber if you want it to be. But you can also ask for a “shadow plaid,” something like black on gray, which is subtler and easier to pull off.56. A Year-Round Beanie (2011) When guys started wearing knit caps outside the dead of winter, that’s when the beanie really became a style piece.57. The Puffer Vest (2014) We like it because you can wear it on the slopes…and then keep right on wearing it into town.58. The Beatnik Sweater (1961) What’s a beatnik sweater? If you could imagine wearing it to a smoky Greenwich Village café while grooving on some folk music—and, also, it has a funky pattern all over it—it’s a beatnik sweater.59. Faded Blue Jeans (1989) Most denim fits and washes go in and out of style. This particular blue, though, is as timeless as fashion ever gets.60. Alpine Boots (1984) Even if you don’t wear these to go hiking through Switzerland, you can always tell yourself you’re just not doing that yet.

https://www.gq.com/story/60-greatest-menswear-trends-in-60-years

#IFTTT #Feedly

0 notes