𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐄.

[sweetsister]

                                             #SWEETSISTER.    

     THIS IS A TREADSTONE INSPIRED / BOURNE SERIES BLOG FOR EVIE FRYE, THE DAME OF UBISOFT’S ASSASSIN’S CREED SYNDICATE. THIS BLOG WILL CONTENT EXPLICIT CONTENT, 18+ ONLY. VIEWERS BE ADVISED. PLEASE READ THE RULES AND GOOGLE DOC BEFORE INTERACTING!

             assassinated by saturn / this is a sideblog to @bornbshell

                                                GOOGLE DOC  |  RULES

[vintagefeeliings]

[andremichaux]

Gemma Arterton - Olivier Awards in London

[acecroft]

GEMMA ARTERTON as Polly in The King’s Man (2021)

[omniastudios]

Crossed daggers in polished brass with warm golden labradorite.

[literatureluggage]

A star once looked me in the eye

From high above my window,

Murmuring

“The sky is gruesome,” it said

“How small you must feel.”

[piichougraph-deactivated2022112]

[sweetsister]

coulsonx​:​

      he wouldn’t huff at being back in the field. years served behind a desk recovering from something he scarcely remembered only served to dull senses that coulson would always argue were best served with dirty hands. he’d taken the operation and headed it with little argument - a toe in the water, something easy … where it blew itself into a chase that seemed as if it would last years. evelyn frye had been the thorn he hadn’t expected, something that took him entirely off guard … kept the mission interesting. her involvement seemed to be the scratch on the surface of something deeper, with s.h.i.e.l.d.’s interest running into the root of something even he wasn’t quite privy to - not yet. coulson long suspected it would come to light when he dug a bit closer to home … but not a moment sooner.

      this was not the first even that he had to gussy himself up for. a three-piece suit and his hair slicked back —he might pass for one of the london socialites to anyone who didn’t know the false name given at the door was a cover for something else. and perhaps phillip coulson belonged here - he made enough money, squirrled it away into savings to keep himself comfortable - but that wasn’t his life. no, tonight he pretended, tonight he laughed at the snobby jokes and acted as if he saw the world from down his nose, when in reality he kept that gaze to the corner of his eye. it was how he noticed her —the little thorn, forever buried in his fingers, where his flesh would scar over it, where she’d be forever apart of him, somehow.

      “ whatever do you mean? ” his tone held a lilt, something boyish  as if challenging her to answer the question so openly, in such a place where she could easily blow it for them both. she brought out something feral in him - uncertain, where coulson could feel each and every one of his more common senses slip away. caution thrown to the wind, as they said. perhaps it was her most dangerous tool, that affectation, how sternly it gripped him.

      HOW EASY IT WOULD’VE BEEN TO PLAY THIS GAME FOR THE ENTIRE NIGHT? skip along the outskirts of morality and sheer playfulness just to get steam pumping through her system. a worded toss back to pass time, wait out for moment to take a hit felt like a disaster waiting to happen. one minute counting, starting now. it was so unlike the professional to saunter about a warm evening toying with an agent who kept his weary eye on her and she imagines that term to be loose as there is another player to be aware of --one with common interests. 

          such a debonair image he presents, irresistible. her chuckle was soft as it leaves her, right from her belly as she coils around him,  “  milan. london. across the states,  ”  she lists with gesture, diamonds hang off her wrists as digits twirl along. no eye contact was needed, just the velvet lightness of her voice carrying on gives insight to taking her verbal turn.

        the very last of her drink was consumed without another word. well, not just yet. eyes were trained on along the extravagant golden territory housed by snobs and socialites. the disgust she feels --not just for the dress she sports but for the crowd.  “  gets tiring after a while, you need your rest,  ”  her tone candied, perhaps there was mockery beneath it. the crystal glass kept between her fingers by its neck turns downwards to the floor. as soon as a saucer passes them by, glasses full, she places it just in time,  “  i counted seven of your ‘guests’. any more i should be aware of?  ”

[jln-sakai-deactivated20190911]

[ronamov]

Tell me again who is the more impulsive twin…

[eyecandynosugar]

Ralph Lauren Fall 2012 Ready-to-Wear

[acecroft]

This is… my God this is Michel Reuge’s vault.

[arsenicinshell]

Antique six shot 2mm pinfire ladies’ ring gun, engraved 'LA FEMME FATALE'. Probably made in France or Belgium, c. 1860 - 1880

[localbookshop]

*✧ ancient weapon appreciation ･ﾟ✧

[deniablyobvious]

[lesbianshepard]

one of the stained glass rose windows of Notre Dame Cathedral; the techniques used to make this no longer exist. 

[sweetsister]

       A WALK IN OBSCURITY BENEATH HER DARK CHAFFON, NOT A SOUL WAS aware of her presence, no matter how many interpol agents spread across london like roaches cowering for food. a little excitement to amp up the next target on her list. it was hardly a task for evelyn to achieve. go in, scour the area, keep her filthy paws away from all surfaces, boots clean off each floor she walked across and slice the throats of those who deserved their six feet drop. and of course, that was before her encounter with shield. her last escape nearly exposed the whole operation, scrapes off her knees and bruises across her back. what felt like simple wear and tear ended up being more with one particular agent. 

       every nook and cranny of london was known, not a single space was untouched. tonight was yet another undeserving soul to prowl the streets with no justice. digits held her glass of the last few sips of champagne. word beneath the city spread quickly over shield’s involvement on her moves. fine. a challenge never hurts. a gathering to mask the target, semi casual as she floats between bodies that disguise her presence. eyes trained on a few familiar faces by the agency that was breathing down her neck. she recognizes him immediately; a matte black and perfectly pressed suit. before she knew it, light steps circle the agent, aware to keep the clicks of her heels in tune with the others that pass. her words travel sickly sweet, just around the corner of his shoulder,  “  you’re quite persistent, aren’t you?  ”

@coulsonx​