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Shadows Deeper Than Nights Are Long || Sirius & Mary

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iomadaidh:

The comment, which from anyone else would probably have either made him smile in pride or sparkled just enough to have him preening, fell flat on her tongue and had him wondering if she was actually complaining about the party. She’d seemed to have been having a good enough time – the few times he’d seen her that night at Marlene’s side, but then again – who could tell these days?

Everyone seemed to be on a strange kind of ledge, unsure if they were going to jump off or let themselves cling to the cliff face until they got pulled off by gravity. Sirius had already thrown himself down and surrendered himself to the promise of an impact that would leave him dead. The day his father cursed the blood that ran through his veins and Sirius uttered what would be the first lie he’d ever told James, but hardly the last was the day he threw himself to the winds and let himself soar.

Soar down, yeah, but soar nonetheless.

He wondered what had Mary’s words snapping out from a mouth more likely to frown than smile, especially when she’d always been his girl. Her and Marlene, always more likely to send a giggle his way than a frown, and only ever scolded when he was dumb enough to raid their things for a prank. Mary’d been drifting away, and no one seemed to notice but Sirius – and her last comment only drove it home.

“Been sleeping alone since I left the family, MacDonald,” he murmured, reminding her of something he knew he’d already told Marlene, which usually meant he was telling Mary too, whether she was there for the telling or not, “Hard to justify having a bit of fun when it only means my lovely cousins will track her down and torture her as a warning to me.”

He pushed himself out of his seat and pulled a lukewarm can from the cooler they’d set up. The charms had faded out long ago, but the beer was still cold enough to not be too offensive to drink. He turned, and lifted an eyebrow, “Surprised Marlene didn’t tell you about that. I spilled that particular secret to her last year, right before summer break.”

“What’s been going on with you, Mary Mac?” he asked softly, “You might have everyone else fooled, but you know you can’t fool me.”

Her conversation had quickly spiraled downward, so much so that even Sirius Black couldn’t bring any sort of amusement to it, a reminder that just like that, Mary had distanced herself from everyone around her. All the light Mary had left, leaving nothing but a dull shell for people who looked enough to gawk at.

Leave it to him to maintain a tone of enjoyment when discuss the topic of being without a family. Sirius had always impressed Mary that way. It didn’t matter what had happened to him, he still maintained some sort of enthusiasm that was so infectious, it affected everyone within his radius. And here he was, wasting his light with someone like her.

“ ‘Fraid Mar did tell me, she’s never been able to keep a secret from me, just wasn’t my place to bring it up.” She shrugged. It was a shock when Marlene had told her Sirius had left his family due to irreconcilable differences, and with something that big, Mary had never expected to hear it from his mouth, yet here he was. “It’s a real good thing –“ She paused; good was a word that didn’t fit here. Nothing about making the choice to leave your family was good. “A real strong thing you did. Maybe it doesn’t feel like it, especially with how they’re treating you, but just cause you left your blood doesn’t mean you don’t have a family, you know?” Mary shifted, a leg folding under her, eyes traveling anywhere but Sirius, unwilling to come face to face with whatever impact her words did or didn’t have. Mary didn’t know a thing about his sacrifice. He’d left his entire life behind for the people who were now strewn about the common room, the same people Mary had been distancing herself from, only able to face them when they were too drunk to notice she was there.

She’d didn’t look at Sirius until he spoke again, his question directed at her obvious shift in character, and she could feel the uncontrollable look of surprise on her face. She’d expected people to notice. Marlene and Lily, only because the three of them were inseparable. She’d expected people to notice that something was different, but she’d never expected Sirius to, much less confront her about it. He’d always been so much bigger than her. She could have easily blamed their friendship on Marlene, but he had noticed and that was more than anyone else had even tried to do.

Her instinct was to lie, to swear up and down she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but be it the beer or the unbarred emotions that came in the middle of the night, Mary obliged. “I’m just not the same person I was. Everyone expected me to be, and I’m not and I’m not telling them why so they’re all distancing themselves because I’m uncomfortable to be around, and honestly I’m fine with it. It’s better that way. It’s easier to not have to explain why Mary from last year and me, aren’t the same person.” Granted she hadn’t poured out everything, talking about what had happened to her, in the small sense that she had was a relief. “I wasn’t even sure I’d come back this year, but when Mar found out she’d practically packed my bags for me, told me this year wouldn’t be any different.” It was a child’s foolish pipe dream, one that Mary had hoped would come true despite everything she knew. “She looks at me like I’m made of glass, and everyone else pretends not to notice and it’s easier to just not talk about it.”

[iomadaidh-blog]

Double Shots and Dead Men Walking || Kai and Edra

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iomadaidh:

They gave him a twelve year old this year. The girl. She’d looked up at Kai on the train from Four and asked him how he’d survived while the boy (he was fifteen or sixteen – closer to Kai’s age when he’d been reaped but that wouldn’t save him, Kai already knew) stared out the window and refused to talk. He’d looked at her, and poured himself a glass of whiskey and told her the truth.

“You won’t.”

Now, with the Capitol in full view before them as they ride the elevators down to the meet and greet the Capitol always held, he could see the steel beginning to form in her spine. If she kept that growing, if she kept the anger boiling out of her in waves and managed to keep her wits about her, maybe, just maybe, she could have a chance.

He doubted it, but there was always the slightest chance he could be proven wrong.

The boy would die the second they hit the starting cannon. He’d probably off himself. Kai had seen him crying over his pet dog when they’d brought the families in to say goodbye – there was no way he’d make it through killing the other tributes if he couldn’t even bare saying goodbye to mangy, starving, flea bitten animal.

The elevator slowed and Kai took a breath, glancing at the two of them and shrugging, “Talk to the Capitol people. They’re here cause they’re rich enough to buy the tickets, and they’re bored enough to want to talk to you walking headstones. If you win them over, they’ll be your patrons and you might get something good enough to give you an edge.”

The speech is recited, and he gives it a monotone voice that he can’t remember starting to use, but has been using since the first set of tributes he mentored got ripped to pieces in the games right after his just as he was sending them a first aid kit from patrons. It’s not a comforting speech, and they both blanche as he looks right through them.

He hadn’t even bothered to ask their names. They wouldn’t have names in forty-eight hours anyway – just be cannon shots and dead tributes.

The elevator doors open, and he steps out ahead of them, headed to the bar in the back corner and the Capitol whiskey that always puts him on his ass. He doesn’t even bother to see where his tributes go, or even if they step off the elevator after him – it doesn’t matter. They could run for all he cares. Least that might give them a higher score and more of a chance when they inevitably get caught and thrown into the arena.

Swathes of Capitol party-goers separate as he goes, parting like waves crashing on rocks (they part before him, but take pieces of him as they go, eroding him down to skin and bones, to liquor and caustic pessimism, to a ghost of what he was – soon they’ll wash over him like he was never there, like he never existed. Soon, but not soon enough) and he can hear their mutters a brief exhalations of awe as he passes.

He’s got twenty minutes before the bravest of them comes to talk. Kai pours himself a double whiskey, slams it back, and pours another to sip on while waits. He wonders, briefly, what other victors are there, and then remembers they’re most likely sheparding their tributes about as though they actually care.

He swallows the bile down hard, and sips his whiskey.

Another year, another dead twelve year old looking at him with hope in her eyes.

“Happy fucking Hunger Games,” he mutters under his breath, scowling across the room at some bimbo with bright neon pink hair.

It’s the worst part of the Games; even worse than watching the children she was there to ‘protect’ get slaughtered in front of the entire nation. Her tributes Stylists have spent hours brushing, curling, painting and waxing the three of them in an effort to have them appear as a solid, uniformed team.

Her tributes are clad in material that’s supposed to look like lightening is striking every time they turn, but Edra only sees yellow and white streaks. They had picked a similar material for her, a ballgown-esk dress that upon seeing, Edra threatened the life of her own tributes before she’d ever slip it on. So they opted for the second choice; a simple black form fitting dress, with black rhinestones that would spark if rubbed the right way. Fucking power district fashion.

They were natural tributes. The girl flashed a bright smile that rivaled the look of her dress, while the boy took the hands of the wealthiest women, offering a dance that would ensure some sort of parachute once he entered the arena. While other tributes stood in the shadows, unsure of how to handle such an event, her tributes immersed themselves, taking in all the glitz and glamor they could.

Take in their warm welcome before they start cheering for your life to end.

It’s the same crowd she remembers from her Hunger Games, but only the risky ones approach her, making small talk about how ‘they always knew she’d come out the victor.’ The same bullshit speeches they gave her every year. Some even go as far to bring up her past as a Capitol Darling, suggesting they’d pay top dollar for her time. Her hands tighten into fists, but Edra’s smile remains. Smile for your tributes. Smile for your tributes. Any lashing out on her part will have direct consequences for her tributes, and granted their already dead men walking, Edra doesn’t want the extra weight of being directly responsible for their death.

She excuses herself as courteously as she can, eyes scanning the room until they landed on the only face she wanted to see. Champagne in hand, she makes her way through the cloud, ignoring the few people who reach out or call to her. The few moments of conversation she’s had has left her exhausted and on edge, the perfect combination for snapping the wrist of someone who reaches too quickly.

She’s quick to close the distance, knowing that if she doesn’t get to him, someone will work up the courage to approach him themselves, but knows no one in the room has to spine to approach the two of them together. It isn’t until she’s in earshot that she slows, careful to not catch him off guard. His features don his usual scowl as she slides into the space next to him, nudging him slightly before leaning against the bannister to observe the scene in front of them.

“My boy’s already pegged yours as a target. He’s either going to pair with the careers until they deem him unnecessary, or they’ll kill him right off the bat. No way in hell the career pack let a cocky shit from Five gain the benefactor’s favor.” It’s become some sort of sick game between the two to determine how each of their tributes will earn themselves a canon blast. Edra’s eyes take in the crowd one last time before the fall directly on him.

Kai looks just as she’d last seen him, finding comfort in how easy it was for her to fall back into their usual pace. He’s the only thing that keeps her monotonous Hunger Game ritual worthwhile, the source of craving in her chest each year as the Reaping’s grow closer.

“Long time, Kai.” A phrase that hides more than it actually means.      It’s been too long.           I hate the time we spend apart compared to the time we spend together.                You are the only person who can relate and I miss being around someone who understands what I’ve become.

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diaphoroi:

iomadaidh:

And of course, Summer couldn’t help but let her eyes roll as she thought it, they were already ganging up on her. She’d never had luck with roommates at the boarding schools her mother had tried to send her to, and she’d had even worse luck when it had ended up being three people in one room.

Inevitably she was always the odd one out.

She rolled herself up to sit criss-cross on her bed and glared at the two of them for a moment, before the word bar slipped into her ears and sounded like the sweet, sweet music of her people.

“Fine,” she conceded gracefully, waving a hand to the last bed for Dakota to keep, “I’m Summer, and I’m only letting you stay because you said bar and I was honestly not looking forward to heading out on my own again – last night ended with me barricading myself in here like I was some extra in Les Mis while he begged for ‘one night between my thighs,’” she affected an accent for the last part, hardly caring if it fit or not, and gigged, “Least the police who came to take him away were cute.”

She glanced over at Jack, “So – you coming out or is it just us girls out on the town,” she lifted an eyebrow, “And, no offense, but I think your only option is to come since I’m not leaving someone I just met alone with my stuff.”

The bed felt nice. The bed felt so so nice and it’d been a long day playing on the street, a long night sleeping in a park, and a longer month on a series of trains running from, well, everything he could. The last thing he wanted to do was go to some place on the Plaza Nueva with one girl who looked like she could singlehandedly organize a girl scout cookie sale and then embezzle the profit, and another who looked like she ate the souls of the innocent for fun. 

Tallying the money he had left he couldn’t help but snort at Summer’s story. “I’m sorry.” he chuckled “I just have this glorious mental image of him sitting on the other side of the door, weeping into his hipster mustache singing,” clearing his throat he put on his best weepy voice and sang into the room, “On my owwwwwwwwwwwn pretending she’s beside me…. all alone…. I sit in this hallway til the cops come.”

He rolled his shoulder under the thin fabric of his shirt, pushing his long hair out of his face, “Fine. Plaza Nueva it is. But so help me god there had better be shots and they had better be plentiful.”

Sighing he held the door open for the women, “First round’s on me.”

They seemed normal enough; normal enough that Dakota wasn’t too worried about ending up as the victim in a new Amanda Knox trial, though neither seemed particularly keen on splitting a room with two strangers. Hence her alcohol suggestion. In all her travels, she’d only met a handful of people who hadn't jumped at the chance to grab a beer; those were the roommates Dakota had only graced with her presence a night or two.  

Still, Summer’s story was enough to insight a quick, loud laugh. “Foreign guys, man. They think they can say whatever they want, and we’ll drop our pants the second we hear the accent.” Her laugh continued, though the tone changed to something similar to confusion as Jack bellowed a familiar tune she couldn't quite place. “Alright, let’s leave the singing to the professionals, yeah?”

Quickly unzipping her pack, she pulled out a small satchel, containing the necessities she needed before heading out, stopping only to fake a look of betrayal. “Do I honestly look like someone who would suggest a bar where shots aren’t plentiful? I base my adventures solely around places that have alcohol.” She smiled, passing him through to doorway, extending her hand to pat him on the chest. “That’s what I like to hear. Just might have to get you drunk enough that all the rounds are on you.”

Quick steps took from the room, down the hallway, into the lobby, and then out the front door, taking a deep breath of Bilbao night air. Shoving her hands into her back pockets, she turned to her newfound companions, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “So, what’s your story? How’d you guys end up here?”

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Updated my to do page a bit, and edited my muse page to just my active muses

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bloodiedrhetoric:

He knew what was to come and he braced himself for it. No matter how many times he’s been through it it still hurt just as bad, and the whiskey she offered went straight to his tongue, taking a swig to numb the pain. The mouthful of sharp, smokey liquid was a welcome distraction from the sensation of the needle moving through flesh. He couldn’t help but wince, directing his focus to the alcohol with each thread of the needle, willing it to be over. His nostrils were flared, jaw clenched, his grip on the bottle easing as the bandages were dressed. “Thank you.”

Victoria had a point. He needed bedrest and he certainly wasn’t eager to restitch himself anytime soon but her points, though valid, were unrealistic. “I’ll be careful.” He said as he eyed her his lips reclaiming its position at the rim of the bottle. Numbing the sharp ache was his primary concern, even as he adjusted his gaze took in his surroundings, internalizing every object in the room. It had occurred to him that this was the first time he’d ever set foot in Victoria’s residence, and he whirled his head about to asses. The quarters were small, run-down, but the decorations were nice. A woman’s touch. Or she simply dressed the place up to appear more inviting than it really was. It wasn’t much different than Davy’s own, really, so it was an all too-familiar atmosphere. But he was surprised she was living in the run-down apartment she did.

“You ever thought of moving?” He mused allowed, taking another drink, its burn settling in the back of his throat. “You’ve got the funds, right, sure you could get something a little more nice and high-society, yeah?”

“No need to thank me.” It’s a sincere statement. Creatures of the underground have to take care of each other because no one else will. His reply was an unexpected yet welcomed response; pleasantly surprised that Davy was smart enough to know when revenge could wait and rest was needed. She moved around, picking up the mess of bloodied rags and gauze, keeping her peripheral on him taking in his surroundings. Rarely did anyone ever step foot in her apartment, and the fact that Davy was the first “visitor” in a long time was something that made Victoria wonder if she should get out more.

There’s a laugh that follows his question, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the state of her apartment was brought into the conversation. “I’ve thought about.” She grabs herself a glass, taking the whiskey from his hand to pour herself some before handing it back. “But when you’re busy running one of the largest underground alcohol supplies in the city, finding time to pack my things is hard to manage.” She mused back, settling herself in the chair across from him. “Besides, I’m a bit nostalgic about this place. First thing I ever really got to call my own.” The apartment was a milestone that she had finally been able to provide for herself, granted now it wasn’t much to show, but then these rickety walls were an accomplishment.

“You’re one to talk, Lloyd. Given the part of town your place is in, I can’t imagine it’s much better.” Victoria teased, knowing full well that Davy wasn’t exactly one who strived to obtain the finer things in life. “Who knows, maybe when we retire from a life of crime and bloodshed we’ll open a string of high class apartments.”  She’s never imagined her life any different that the way it’s played out. For Victoria, the hand life dealt has never been interchangeable and she’s always been content with the idea that this life will end before it gives her the chance to do anything else. 

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IF YOU’RE IN THE LONG INTO THE ABYSS VERSE YOU SHOULD COME TO ME IMMEDIATELY FOR PLOTTING

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I’ve been updating my muse page for like 3 hours and it’s not even close to done I am so

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Street Takeover || Chase & Kylie

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iomadaidh:

He should’ve known she would be the one to greet him. Everything in her file said she was the alpha, the one in charge, the one he would have to convince if he was going to get close enough to take their weird little family down - and everything in her file said that with a car like his, she’d be drawn to him like a moth to the flame. 

Chase let himself smirk (refusing to listen to the small part of himself that was saying he was letting the natural responses take over too easily, that it would only make it harder for him to walk away if he let himself sink too deep), and unfolded his lanky frame from the car (too low to the ground, he noted mentally, gotta tell them to give me something with a bit more lift, or the first pot hole I hit I’m fucked), “First time here,” he murmured, shutting the door and leaning against it, “I did the Louisiana scene for a couple years, dropped off to try the college scene, and found myself here.” 

It wasn’t a lie, either, which was either the best part or the worst part, depending on which part of himself he asked. He could remember it easy, still remembered all the names of his contacts in the bayou, and none of them knew he was a cop so if she reached out to the Kings he was still safe. 

It was all going too smooth. 

His heart jumped a beat in his throat, and he forced his breathing to remain calm. Years of racing and keeping a stoic face would hide his fear from her, but he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hell he was dropping himself into. 

Her brother’s rap sheets playing in front of his eyes as he nodded to her car, “Quite the beauty you’ve got there,” he grinned, “Do you race it yourself or let your boyfriend do the dirty work for you?”

He knew the answer, knew the reaction it would evoke, and knew it would be his segue into the next transition of the plan. All he had to do was get Harvick in the lane next to him and she’d be hooked, and he’d be in.

Once they saw what he could do, they wouldn’t let him leave.

There was no going back from here. 

Chase bit his lip, and waited, a mask of sheer arrogance blocking his whirring thoughts from Kylie’s probing look.

She’d seen newcomers try their best; hit the gas too hard too fast and blow the pistons, take a hairpin to sharp and spin out. New racers who’d tried to prove themselves and ended up laughed off the unforgiving streets.

He wouldn’t be one of them.

She’d heard about the Louisiana scene, but had never had the chance to see them for herself. A group of ruthless racers who called themselves the Kings. The type of scene someone didn’t get to willingly leave once they were in. She’d have to work that secret of out him if he decided to stick around.

“Frat life wasn’t as exciting as you thought it’d be so you decided to try yourself on the big city streets?” Her hip pressed itself against his side panels, arms crossing in front of her as she watched him study her own car.

She offered a small scoff at his statement, knowing exactly how he wanted his words to rub her. “Oh I can handle the dirty work all by myself.” Kylie grinned back, failing to address his inquiry about any possible boyfriend she may or may not have.

Kylie’s been in this scene long enough to understand how the men around her function. Some start out cocky right off the bat, thinking girls will swoon over the challenge. Some of them come off as sweet and endearing, and those ones never last more than week. Guys like this one are rare, and with her experience, end in trouble. He’s sure of himself, but she can tell he’s not the type to offer up too much, just enough to keep her interested. Keep your god damn guard up, kid. Her brothers voice rings in her ear. Aint nobody out there good for you except you.

“My family has a motto that you can tell a lot about a person by what they’ve got under the hood.” Kylie moves effortlessly around his car, eyeing him once more. “You mind?” She questions, hardly waiting for an answer before her fingers pop the hood, letting out a amused whistle as she takes in the engine underneath. Just about everything is top of the line, the kind of engine some of the racers here would kill for. But if anything catches her attention, it’s the lack of wear and tear on it all. Unless he’s the type to change every piece under the hood after every race, his belts should be discolored at the least. He’s either got parts to spare or he’s bent his truth. Keep your god damn guard up. She doesn’t let the train of thoughts in her head leak onto her face as she turns to him. “You let too many people see what you’ve got under here and they’ll be chasing after your pink slip.” She lets the hood fall and lock closed, taking the perfect amount of steps to close the space between them. “Don’t think you ever gave me your name.”

[iomadaidh-blog]

Shadows Deeper Than Nights Are Long || Sirius & Mary

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iomadaidh:

Sirius Black was, by far, the most conscious person in the Gryffindor Common room.

All around him students formed lumps on the faded maroon cushions on the sofas, drooling into their dreams, their snores filling the air of the common room with a dull roar that almost reminded him of a sleeping tiger if he didn’t think about it too much. He smirked to himself, as the light from the fireplaces dimmed into soft-lit ember glows, and watched the various pairs of his classmates who had found each other during the party, slipping upstairs one by one.

He half laughed to himself, quietly, from his perch in the window seat closest to the Fat Lady’s portrait, and took a sip of the cheap, shitty beer James had managed to wrangle in for Wormtail’s birthday. Poor kid always got the shaft end of the stick when it came to birthday parties. It was too close to the start of the year for the teachers to turn a blind eye to party favors, and always ended up coinciding with the welcome back party.

People forgot it was a birthday party all together, more often than not.

Sirius glanced over at the window seat next to him where Pete had managed to finally escape James’ over the top efforts to ensure this year was the year Pete finally got a real birthday party. As he watched, Wormtail’s leg twitched slightly, and he snuffled into a pillow.

Least he was having good dreams for his seventeenth, Sirius thought, shrugging mentally and focusing himself back on his beer.

And that was when he saw her.

Mary MacDonald.

She peeled out of the shadows by the bottom of the stairs to the girl’s dormitories, like she had been there all night, just waiting for everyone to calm down so she could come out. He watched as she delicately picked her way around the fallen bodies of her housemates like she was making her way through a field sown with grenades.

Or flowers she thought too pretty to crush.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, pushing himself out of the window seat, and tossing the now empty cup into a corner.

She’d looked forward to every new year at Hogwarts since she was eleven. A new year had always brought the promise of new and incredible things, but this year, all those childish hopes had gone, and Mary was left with the cold reality that even here among her friends, she would never have that joy back.

There were always the start of the year parties; the first unofficial house competition, something Gryffindor had always seemed to surpass the others in; at least, that’s how they all felt. A chance to start the year out right, to set the year in motion, a celebration that meant everything else could only go upwards. When had they gotten so naive? This year, Mary had been adamant about skipping it; keeping to herself in the girls dorms without her presence dragging down the festivities, but ever optimistic Marlene hadn’t taken no for an answer, and thus the two padded into the Gryffindor common room together, ready to ring in a new year with the rest of their house mates.

Mary had always remembered Peter’s birthday, mostly because James and Sirius had talked about it so much, it was like they were reminding themselves that their first party was for Peter. “Presents” sat atop on of the tables; items people could pass of as gifts that they’d actually remembered to buy for him. She’d set three journals bound in twine next to the rest of them, figuring that someone who wrote as much as Peter did could never tired of fresh pages. Then she mingled, slapping on a forced smile for as long as she could manage, just long enough for Marlene to have enough to drink that she wouldn’t notice if Mary slipped away.

The party had exploded and then fizzled out, leaving her housemates that couldn’t quite make it to their beds slumped over one another in chairs and corners. Some of them even seemed to still have smiles on their faces, and there was a pang of jealousy that they could still find happiness in their dreams when she couldn’t.

Mary stood in the silence that so rarely came over the lions common room, before his voice broke it, and her chance to recuperate from the exhaustion of pretending this year would be like all the rest had left with the silence.

“Couldn’t sleep through a party thrown by Hogwart’s most rambunctious? What’d make you think that?” It’s a line that should be followed by a laugh or smile, but now falls flat even in his presence. Sirius Black had always been the funny one; wether it was his antics in class or crude comments to those around him, she’d hardly remembered a time he hadn’t made her sides hurt. Now, she was positive she’d never feel joy enough to laugh again at all. “The last man at your own party, alone especially” she mused, finding the closest open seat near him, “doesn’t that go against the party throwers handbook or something?”

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We’ll the be the death of each other || Tiger Lily&Hook

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organizeddisasters:

There was no reason for him to step off his ship and set a single toe on her land. Nothing good would come out of it and he was most certain of that. Many wanted him dead, but he was certain few ranked higher up on that list than her. Did she have her opportunities to make that happen? Absolutely. There were plenty of times where his life could have come to an end by her hands and hers alone, yet he still stood tall. The same very well could have been said in turning the tables though and some had questioned it and him — though few lived to question him twice. There had been more times than he could count where her life could have been ended by his own hands, but she also continued to stand as tall as she possibly could.

It was rather bothersome to him, but that seemed to come fairly easy with the two of them whenever they went back and forth, and they always did without hesitation. He lost a hand, she got tossed to the crocodiles. It seemed to be a never ending cycle between the two of them when both very well could have ended it long ago. There really never needed to be anyone else to end it with the amount of times they had crossed paths.

Very rarely was it a coincidence that they came near one another. Once, maybe twice, but never more than that and it usually was only done on purpose. His crew going out to find and drag her on his ship, her people trying to find and end his life. Apparently they had yet to try hard enough, though he continued trying and now was no different as Hook found himself kneeling in front of her while yanking the bag from her head and feeling the corner of his lips tug into a smirk at the sight before him just the same as the words he heard the instant she saw him.

“Not that I see a lady around to begin with, but please,” he spoke the word with nothing but sarcasm dripping from the tip of his tongue as Hook pushed himself to stand up and look down at her. “I believe we still have much to discuss.”

There’s only a second of hesitation before his mens hards are gripping her arms, ripping her off the deck. “You know, this is hardly a way to treat a guest. Seems your men could use a lesson in manners.” But her remarks only received grunts from his crew, and Tiger Lily can’t seem to keep her mouth shut. “I haven’t given you enough credit Hook. You trained this big ape to do your heavy lifting.” She notions to one, and his hand quickly raises to her cheek, sending the rest of the crew into a fit of laughter. “No witty remark for that princess?” His sneers, face so close to hers that she can smell the booze on his breath. Once she’s off this bloody ship he’ll be dead this time tomorrow. Eyes narrow in the deckhands direction, and before he can grin at her for another second, Tiger Lily spits, sending him into a fit of rage, shoving her back onto Hooks path, throwing her into his cabin; leaving the two of them to their own devices.

“Quite the testy crew you’ve got yourself, Captain.” Tied hands rise to her lip, removing the spot of blood from her now cracked lip. She pushed her boundaries; he could have done more damage if he wanted, but she knows just as well as anyone else on board that Hook would be the one to really hurt her aboard his own ship. They’re a constant game of cat and mouse, and they’ll be damned if anyone else delivers the final blow to one another.

His cabin is exactly how she’s pictured it. Immaculate pieces he’s collected from years of pillaging. Maps and jews scatter the tabletops and walls. Only the finest for the infamous Captain Hook. Settling into one of his plush chairs, Tiger Lily leaned back, a slight smirk playing on her face. “Mind cutting me lose?” Her hands lifted in his direction. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” There’s a pause, her smirk only growing. “That, or you’re afraid I might kill you aboard your own ship?” A teasing eyebrow raised, their threats becoming second nature.

“So tell me, what exactly is there we have to discuss after you so rudely interrupted my days plans.” Business between the two of them was rare, and if he truly wanted something from her, he had to know she’d need something in return.

[knightleyfans]

Keira Knigthley | photographed by Carter Smith (2010)

[plusiieurs]

diaphoroi:

iomadaidh:

The fading sunlight was warm on Summer’s face, and she turned her head on her pillow slightly to catch a little more of it across her nose. The smell of it was almost intoxicating – like crushing berries for wine, or when her mother would slide petals in between her journal pages and she’d open them to the smell of the petals.

She frowned, just a bit, at the memory of her mother.

Where the fuck did that come from? She couldn’t help but wonder it, the words forming in her mind of their own volition, before she could banish them with a tiny shake of her head, her curls springing softly against her cheeks.

And it was back to smiles because the night was pregnant with possibilities and Summer intended to catch every one. She stretched, hands over her head and wondered what she’d wear, as the lights of the houses around the hostel began to flick on like a manmade Aurora Borealis.

Naturally that’s when her door opened, and she snapped around to face one grumpy looking boy in dire need of a haircut, and some girl whose face looked like it had gotten locked on bossy and she’d never bothered to correct it.

“Uh uh,” Summer raised an eyebrow, and settled one long brown hand on a hip, “I paid for a single, I’m keeping a single. Fuck off.”

This trip was supposed to be a pilgrimage. A solitary winding across foreign shores on his way to find… some fucking bullshit. 

But what it wasn’t supposed to be was him in the middle of what looked to be a cat-fight in the making. If he’d wanted that he could have stayed home and watched his older brothers for five minutes.

First the woman who’d sniped his room, and now the one currently in his room giving them impressive death glares…. he knew he should have just gotten back on the train.

“I can see three beds, there are three of us, and we’ve all already paid. Take it up with the front desk but I didn’t have a bed last night and I”ll be fucked if I don’t have one tonight.”

He hadn’t really meant to come off like a bastard, not entirely, but faced with the prospect of another night hunkered down on a park bench made Jack defensive of the territory he’d managed to rent for the evening. But a ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he turned back to the woman who’d pretended to be his companion at the front desk, “Clever move back there, though. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”

Ducking past the woman standing guard over her room he set his bag and guitar down next to an empty bed and flopped down on it, rumbling out a deep sigh of relief, “ ‘m Jack”

The little lies never hurt.

“Mate’s got a point.” Dakota seconded, adjusting her backpack before making her way into the room, taking in her new surroundings before turning back to Jack with a smile. “Ah, just a little something I’ve picked up traveling alone. Having a travel buddy, who I actually know or not, has helped a few times. Though I’ll admit that little trick has backfired one or two times.” Traveling alone had come with it’s fair share of hardships, but so far, Dakota had traveled from place to place in one piece, so her antics seemed to be working in her favor.

Throwing her pack on the last empty bed, her hand extended in the direction of his bed, “Nice to meet you Jack, officially. I’m Dakota.” She turned to the other girl, offering her a hand as well. “Look, sorry to invade your space or whatever, but hostels are gonna cram as many people as they can to make a buck. I’m only planning to get a good nights rest in hear anyways, so I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”  Dakota had come across her fair share of bent-out-of-shape roommates, so she took the girls attitude with a grain of salt.

“In the meantime though, I’ve heard there’s this cool bar at Plaza Nueva that I was thinking about trying out once I’ve showered, if either of you guys want to join. God knows I could use a drink after my train ride into town.”

[plusiieurs]

;;HUGE APOLOGIZES for not being around. I’m going to try to do some writing tonight, but to my partners, you can always reach me via message, skype, or kik! 

[trshkngs-deactivated20160725]

                                               drink up me hearties, yo ho -Behold the crew of the Calypso, the most ruthless set of pirates to ever sail the seven blues.

Jacqueline Monroe, the Captain of Calypso - played by Jess.

Ariadne Salazar, the Sailing Master - played by Audi.

Haru Akiku, the Surgeon Medic - played by De.

Holoki Kalani, the Master Gunner - played by Lauren.

Aarav Kapoor, the First Mate - played by Bumbles.

Imani Dia, the Deckhand - played by Katie.

[trshkngs-deactivated20160725]

                                           … L O N G   I N T O   T H E   A B Y S S

Immortal footsteps in the sands of time, whispers to the winds that sweep the seven seas. There are lores and legends of a mysterious boat that signifies the end of a sailor’s life; aboard it, the bringers of eternal night. Monstrous pirates that cannot die on a ship that cannot be found nor cannot sink. Each with their own curse, these pillaging seadogs are said to be doomed to the ocean blue forever, endlessly seeking their release from the world. Each with their own unearthly ability, any who find this scourge before their path have their fates already sealed. Aboard the Calypso are the illusive six; lead by a ruthless Captain that demands only the best from their crew, the five sailors beneath their leader’s tyranny plunder and pillage from every stretch of land they can, leaving no survivors as they wipe clean the slate of every destination on their map. The Captain is searching and they have all the time in the world.  Our tale begins at the small harbor of Pilante, where four promising survivors were taken from their homes and aboard Calypso since eternity can be dull with the same company. Who knows what holds in store for those aboard this ghostly ship?

T H E   C R E W.

THE CAPTAIN - JACQUELINE MONROE (ZOE SALDANA) THE SAILING MASTER (ILLUSIONS) - ARIADNE SALAZAR (LINDSEY MORGAN) THE SURGEON MEDIC (ICE) - OPEN THE MASTER GUNNER (STRENGTH) - HOLOKAI KALANI (JASON MOMOA) THE FIRST MATE (FIRE) - AARAV KAPOOR (AVAN JOGIA)  THE DECKHAND (WATER) - IMANI DIA (CANDICE PATTON)

T H E   C A P T I V E S.

THE EXOTIC FLOWER - TANITH HADASSA (SHAY MITCHELL - 18) THE GOLD MAGNET - DANTE ALFEO (LUKE PASQUALINO - 19) THE BORN SURVIVOR - CARMEN ASHE (KATRINA LAW - 28) THE ANTI-PIRATE - AI CHOI (JAMIE CHUNG - 29) 

A 5x5 fantasy pirate plot where the pirate crew of the Calypso have powers with their immortality. Roles and genders are completely negotiable and has endless possibility to the future of the plot. If anyone is interested, drop me a message!

[iomadaidh-blog]

Street Takeover || Chase & Kylie

He’d meant to say no.

He’d meant to tell his captain to go fuck himself, that he wasn’t an undercover cop no matter what he wanted to think, and that he made too much fucking money to end up dead because some idiot mafia don found out he was a fucking stiff.

Until they’d rolled out the goddamned car, and told him what the assignment was.

Exquisite detailing down the sides, the body a gorgeous baby blue that practically shone in the spotlights they rained down on it, and a turbo that would put the goddamn King of Louisiana to shame. Chase would know. And it was that knowledge that made it impossible for him to turn down a chance to get drivers like he used to be off the fucking roads before some other kid had to live his life with a goddamn disfigurement and no fucking parents.

And that was how he found himself rolling up to the trashiest LA race party he could have imagined. The girls, somehow, wore less than in the down dirty heat of Louisiana, and the rides were, not so shockingly, ten times brighter than the ones he was used to. Neon had come back in while he’d been taking his break, evidently.

And yet, as the bass thudded through the seat of his car, and he rolled inch by inch by girls and cars and boys with too little cock and too much engine, Chase couldn’t help but let the grin roll across his face. And if, maybe, it was because the part of him he’d learned to shut off, learned to keep out and away, was purring in glee at finally being home, well, Chase would just ignore that and claim it was because had to pretend to fit in.

Which was going to be just as easy as he expected, he couldn’t help but think, as he pulled into an open space in the field they’d taken over for their Race War, and stepped out of the car.

All he had to do was take it a quarter mile at a time – he was born for this, after all.

[plusiieurs]

She’s vibrating. It’s nights like these that keep her going. The lot filled. The roar of fifty engines signaling that they’re rear for the wars to begin. Men and women brought together for one singularly commonality. Cars. Where they’ve come from has never mattered; money or the street, the asphalt doesn’t discriminate. The street has owned everyone here, but they’ve all learned to adapt to it together.

There’s half a smirk playing on her lips; she’s happy here, it’s where she’s always belonged. Her brothers have always pushed her in different directions, away from the family shop that’s been nothing but trouble since they opened it. It was their livelihood; the place where Kylie would run to after school was out, where she’d run between brothers, under lifted chassis, and climb up to peak inside lifted hoods. She learned how to change oil before she learned to ride a bike. Was driving by thirteen, and tweaker cars to go harder and faster a few months after. The shop was where her family was a family.

It’s a gateway memory that she shakes from her mind before the darkness takes over. Race Wars have no space for sadness. Kylie could walk through the isles with her eyes closed, knowing who parked where, pausing every few cars to catch up with familiar faces and peak under hoods that have been improved since the last race.  

There’s faces she recognizes, and ones she doesn’t, never surprised when newcomers show up. The streets of LA are unlike anything else in the world. People recognize her just as easy; Harvick’s have a history after all.

Fingers drag across the hood of her GT-R, the pink hubcaps (courtesy of a brother trying to remind her that she was in fact still the baby girl) contrast against the matte black. Some of the racers build their cars for flash, hers is for speed, so when a bright blue car pulls in next to hers, it catches her eye. Kylie’s quick to study, and can tell by the roar of the engine, whoever’s driving it has done this a time or two.

She moves from her hood to his, checking out the car rather than the driver behind the wheel. It’s an impressive ride to say the least, and she hasn’t even lifted the hood yet. Positing herself in the center of the front bumper, her eyes finally move to the window, pleasantly surprised by the face behind it.

“With a car like this, why haven’t I ever seen you out here before?”