The warrior, the commander, the general, the fighter, the dragon-slayer, the challenger, the individualist, the child, the fighter, the thrill-seeker, the reckless, the impatient, the first, the pioneer, the bold, the brave, the fearless, the voyager, the entrepreneur, the stunt person, the dare devil, the competitor, the experimentalist.
The empress, the earth mother, the preservationist, the hedonist, the sensualist, the materialist, the greedy, the grounded one, the realist, the good samaritan, the solid citizen, the bon vivant, the Honest Abe, the confidant, the protector, the adherent, the thoughtful one, the bully, the gentle giant, the dependable one, the musician, the peaceful one, the epicurean.
The jester, the fool, the student, the thief, the comedian, the light-hearted, the one with the Peter Pan complex, the playful one, the one who never takes anything seriously, the imp, the trickster, the messenger, the gossip, the herald, the journalist, the practical joker, the sarcastic one, the class clown, the communicator, the talk-show host, the doppelganger.
The girl/boy-next-door, the protective one, the helper, the giver, the intuitive, the witch, the wizard, the nurturer, the maternal figure, the caretaker, the defender, the fairy godmother, the kind one, the supportive one, the counselor, the angel, the giver, the enchantress, the siren, the mother, the crone, Mother Nature, the loyalist, the companion.
The hero, the noble, the generous, the ace, the chosen one, the hooker with a heart of gold, the dramatist, the performer, the creator, the star, the show-stopper, the narcissist, the praise-seeker, the braggart, the champion, the diva, the king and queen, the guiding light, the actor/actress, the headliner, the entertainer.
The detective, the scholar, the observer, the thinker, the inquisitive, the critic, the intellectual, the bookworm, the author, the contemplative, the investigator, the perfectionist, the expert, the scientist, the research, the planner, the adviser, the mastermind, the scribe, the analyst, the nurse, the medicine man, the selfless.
The sweetheart, the darling, the charmer, the idealist, the romantic, the flirt, the sensualist, the enthusiast, the partner, the diplomat, the schmoozer, the pretty woman, prince charming, the star-crossed lover, the femme fatale, the flirt, the people-pleaser, the judge, the mediator, the peacemaker, the debater, the advocate, the just ruler, the lawful good.
The magician, the spy, the vampire, the bad boy/girl, the shaman, the healer, the transformer, the psychologist, the criminal, the obsessive, the passionate, the mysterious, the broody one, the anti hero, the reluctant monster, the seducer, the temptress, the survivor, the one with a tragic backstory, the manipulator, the alchemist.
The sage, the philosopher, the academic, the teacher, the professor, the explorer, the adventurer, the preacher, the mentor and guide, the seeker, the wanderer, the traveler, the untameable, the happy-go-lucky character, the globetrotter, the fortune-hunter, the gambler.
The good kid, the role model, the CEO, the mob boss, the aristocrat, the manager, the captain, the responsible one, the rags-to-riches story, the determined, the achiever, the successor, the pragmatist, Father Time, the Grim Reaper, the authority figure, the emperor, the guardian, the laborer, the master.
The liberator, the outlaw, the maniac, the alien, the visionary, the catalyst, the inventor, the genius, the innovator, the eccentric, the pirate, the true believer, the creative, the wild man, the misfit, the lovable rogue, the rebellious spirit, the rule-breaker, the devil's advocate, the mad scientist.
The mystic, the wise elder, the psychic, the oracle, the blind seer, the martyr, the dreamer, the saint, the sinner, the savior, the sufferer, the empath, the knight in shining armor, the damsel in distress, the escapist, the innocent, the shape-shifter, the starving artist, the storyteller, the spiritualist, the old soul, the last.
With raucous humor and brilliantly orchestrated mayhem, Meddling Kids
subverts teen detective archetypes like the Hardy Boys, the Famous
Five, and Scooby-Doo, and delivers an exuberant and wickedly
entertaining celebration of horror, love, friendship, and
many-tentacled, interdimensional demon spawn.
SUMMER 1977. The
Blyton Summer Detective Club (of Blyton Hills, a small mining town in
Oregon’s Zoinx River Valley) solved their final mystery and unmasked the
elusive Sleepy Lake monster—another low-life fortune hunter trying to
get his dirty hands on the legendary riches hidden in Deboën Mansion.
And he would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for those
1990. The former detectives have grown up and
apart, each haunted by disturbing memories of their final night in the
old haunted house. There are too many strange, half-remembered
encounters and events that cannot be dismissed or explained away by a
guy in a mask. And Andy, the once intrepid tomboy now wanted in two
states, is tired of running from her demons. She needs answers. To find
them she will need Kerri, the one-time kid genius and budding biologist,
now drinking her ghosts away in New York with Tim, an excitable
Weimaraner descended from the original canine member of the club. They
will also have to get Nate, the horror nerd currently residing in an
asylum in Arkham, Massachusetts. Luckily Nate has not lost contact with
Peter, the handsome jock turned movie star who was once their team
leader … which is remarkable, considering Peter has been dead for
The time has come to get the team back together, face
their fears, and find out what actually happened all those years ago at
Sleepy Lake. It’s their only chance to end the nightmares and, perhaps,
save the world.
A nostalgic and subversive trip rife with sly nods to H. P. Lovecraft and pop culture, Edgar Cantero’s Meddling Kids
is a strikingly original and dazzling reminder of the fun and adventure
we can discover at the heart of our favorite stories, no matter how old
A Firefly type show based off the Crimson Skies universe following the adventures of Zachary and his Fortune Hunters would probably work pretty well. For now this little compilation of scenes from the game mixed with the Ballad of Serenity will have to do though.
I also believe the maker of the video may have mixed up Betty and Tex.
Summary: You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in town, and you’re bound to inherit his business and that is how you met Sir Thomas Sharpe, a mysterious English man that is just about to find out that you rule town and you want things your way, and your way only.
A/N: I’ve never done a Thomas one shot, and actually, this was a mere exception for a dear person of mine. Enjoy!
You saw him walking out of the main office. His
suit seemed to be a bit old; you could tell from afar, but it was quite well-kept
for the years it must have had. His black hair was longer than the usual for a
man, and if you really looked at him, behind that pristine skin, he showed some
sort of misery, the typical misery from a life that was most probably not easy.
He was tired; the bags under his eyes gave him
away, but you couldn’t quite decipher if it was because of the long journey
from one side of the ocean to the other, or because his soul was a rather tired
one. You were taken away from your thoughts as your boss coughed loudly next to
you. You took a deep breath and looked up at him.
“Miss (Y/L/N),” Mr. Hughes started with his
deep voice, “could you please take our future associate somewhere nice tonight?”
He pointed at the slim, tall man with his fat fingers. “Maybe going out for
dinner? Perhaps a show at the theater? Get creative.”
“What do I look like to you, Mr. Hughes?” You
asked in a melodic voice. “You know, there are special women for that job, and
as far as I am concerned, I am not that, am I?” you smiled widely and from the
corner of your eye you saw the man, the future associate, trying to hold back
his laughter. “And I’m quite sure he’s a grown up man and he could get by on
his own, right?” Mr. Hughes tried to say something, but his words got stuck on
“As much as I’d like to, ma’am,” the black
haired man chimed in, with a dazzling English accent, “I have arrived here just
a few days ago, and I still don’t quite know my way around town, but it seems
like you have something else to do, so it’s quite alright—”
“Well,” you sighed dramatically, “someone’s got
to save the company, right?” You rolled your eyes in exhaustion. “Lucky you,
I’m the heir to this so-called throne,” you stood up and extended your hand to
the English, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I hope after
tonight we can really be associates,” you flashed a smile, ignoring everything
that happened around you, Mr. Hughes included. His green eyes were like a
siren’s song and you were nothing but a fool sailor on the way to doom.
“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” he held your hand in his
pale one, and leaned forward to gently brush his lips on the back of it, “the
pleasure is all mine, I hope.”
“Mr. Hughes,” you said as you took your jacket
from the back of the chair, “if my father comes tell him I’m making business, nothing
to worry about.” You pulled from Sir Thomas’s hand and lead the way out of the
You took him for a walk near the park, just to
get to know him better. He was Sir Thomas Sharpe, the last Sharpe –along with his sister—in a long line of
Sharpes. He had a big, old, house back in the mother land and he had nothing to
rely on more than the family business that had been kept forever: clay mining;
something you never thought it could be a thing. His sister, Lady Lucille,
hadn’t married, and she still lived with him; unfortunately –not for you—she wasn’t able to come
along with him so she had to stay at home taking care of both the house and the
“Are you and your sister very close?” You
asked. “For the way you speak of her, you must be.”
“Quite close, yes,” he nodded, but in his voice
you could tell there was a taint of gloominess.
“And do you miss her?” You bit your bottom lip
nervously. “Do you wish she was here now?”
“Not as much as you would think,” he shrugged
carelessly, and obviously absent from the conversation. Once he felt the
tension in the air, he asked, “and do you have any more siblings?”
“They all died at a very young age,” you shook
your head, “I am supposed to be the oldest, but truth is that in time, I’ve
become an only child,” you sighed, looking away, “my youngest brother took my
mother away when I was just 10.”
“I’m so very sorry to hear that,” he gulped,
finding your eyes with his piercing ones; for a minute, and even though you
were sitting, your knees felt week. “So, are we really going out for dinner
“Yes, I’ll make the reservation and pick you up
at 9. Be ready,” you smiled wickedly and kissed his cheek goodbye. For a woman
your age, you were quite the daredevil and all girls gave you a nasty look just
because you couldn’t care less for their opinions.
Just a few minutes past 9 you arrived to the
restaurant that you had so carefully picked. The food was incredible, and with
his company, it tasted even better. With a bit of liquor, Sir Thomas seemed a
lot more eager to share his secrets; a life of abandonment, the constant
pressure that his sister put on his shoulders, and even the need for freedom
that he longed so badly and that in just a few days he was getting. He did say
he envied you, for being the only child of a very loving father, and the
freedom and financial independency you had from it.
“A woman involved with the economy and money?”
Sir Thomas asked as he took the glass to his lips. You tried to look away, but
the way they pressed against the clear glass was absolutely mesmerizing.
“America is quite a wonder, isn’t it? Are you sure you’re not interested in
politics as well?” He laughed, showing his perfect teeth in his wide smile. You
noticed how his nose wrinkled and his eyes slightly closed; you wondered how
long had he been without laughing so purely.
“Things are not that much different in this side
of the pond, Sir Thomas,” you replied with a quick rise of your brows and a
slight smile. “Although women do give me a strange look whenever I go around,
apparently I don’t fit in the pattern. You’d have to live here a lifetime just
to start understanding my conception of the American way. I can’t imagine how
things would be like in England.”
“They are much different, as you could assume,”
he give you a quick nod, “and are you happy with the life you’re living?
Doesn’t it get a bit lonely?”
“I don’t know,” you replied with a sigh, “I
have to admit that sometimes it does; men are too afraid of my personality and
my only friends are the maids at home. I talk to them a lot because I don’t
want to worry papa with my nonsense, he’s got a lot of work on his own to be
worrying about the female struggles,” you shrugged and took the glass to your
lips and let the amberish liquid run down your throat. “But I think my life is
bound to be very busy in a matter of years so probably I will have no time for
After hours of conversation and drinking, your
head felt a little light and your senses were numbed by the amount of beverage
you just had. It was not a common thing that you could drink like a man, but with
such a great companion and with an even greater conversation, hours flew away
and alcohol ran down your throat like water.
Somehow, you woke up the next day wrapped in
the comfort of your sheets but you were not sure of how you’d made it there.
Your maid knocked softly and made her way inside your room with a silver tray
full of things so you could recover your energies.
“A fine, English gentleman came around earlier
today,” Anna said in a melodic and accusing voice, giving you a knowing smile, “and
he wanted to see you.”
“What did you tell him?” You hurriedly asked,
feeling less hangover now.
“That you weren’t feeling alright,” she assured
you, “but he promised to pay you a visit at 7,” just when she was about to
leave the room, she turned her head to you and said: “Beware, (Y/N),” her voice
was now more serious, “he might be English and charming, and have a pair of
green eyes that would make any woman melt from the inside, but even I can tell he’s
a fortune hunter. Do what you want with him, but don’t let him trick you.”
“I thought you knew me better, Anna,” you took
a hand to your chest, “he might be everything you said, but I have an empire to
look after when the day comes. I have greater things in mind rather than a man
who might only like me for the fortune I have… Papa raised me well,” you
replied; it took you a second to realize how cold your words sounded and how
cold-hearted you actually were. “And he did not raise a fool, at least not
entirely.” She sighed in relief and left you alone with a hunger that was out
of this world.
At 7, and as promised, Sir Thomas Sharpe was
welcomed inside the house. You came down the long staircase wearing a long,
baby blue dress. Anna came down with you, giving you her final warnings on the
English. You told her that you knew quite well what you were doing, but being
completely honest, the minute you saw him there you were lost. His eyes were
all you could see, and the necessity of making him reveal his deepest secrets
grew ardent in you; well, not only that, but also the need of undressing him to
witness how England blessed the men.
You invited him to have dinner together; just
the two of you again, and he seemed a lot more reserved than at the restaurant.
Michael, your butler was there to keep an eye on the stranger just as Anna told
him. Nevertheless, he was still as charming as usual.
The night was still warm; summer was on its
highest point and people walked around town as if nothing could ever interrupt
their happiness. You told Michael that you’d go for a little walk and that you
wanted to be alone for “as long as you needed.”
“Sir Thomas,” you said, when you were far
enough from the house, “you ought to know that I’m the kind of woman who always
gets what she wants, always” you
smiled wickedly, “and I hope my intentions with you meet yours towards me. If
you don’t feel the same, then it’s quite alright and we will never speak of
Sir Sharpe interrupted you by cupping your face
with his slim hands and pulling you closer, crashing his lips on yours to kiss
you so ardently, yet so softly that you thought you’d melt right there. Your
hands held on to his wrists, not wanting to let go of him because he was
without a doubt the best thing he had happened to you in many years.
He seemed so eager to have you in his arms, to
be finally able to kiss you even though it hadn’t even been 24 hours since you
two had met. It wasn’t love, you were sure about that, but what you felt for
him was more than that and you didn’t need to put a name or label on it. You
felt something for Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that was all you wanted to know.
Well, that, and that he was apparently on the same page as you.
You were not sure how, but in just a matter of
seconds –or at least that’s how it seemed
in your mind—you were back at the house, completely unseen by the staff.
You took him to your bedroom, and after you locked the door as you usually did,
the fun and games begun.
He kissed you again, and walked you to the soft
mattress in which you fell, and in the dead of the night you’d surely go
unnoticed. You slid away from your dress and started peeling off his vest and
shirt. The garments revealed a pale skin that seemed to shine under the
moonlight, and there were also some rough parts on it. His childhood must have
been difficult, otherwise you couldn’t explain why there were scars on such
His long fingers traced your side, moving along
with your curves and melting with your skin to be just one. His lips parted
from yours to kiss their way down your breasts and stomach, reaching your
throbbing innermost thighs, where his free fingers lazily played with your sex,
making you squirm and tremble under his greedy touch.
“So sensitive,” he growled in between kisses,
He positioned in between your spread legs and
when you were about to beg him to fuck you senseless, his mouth was capturing
your bud and sucking hard on it. You threw your head back and had to suppress a
loud moan. Your hands tangled with his soft hair and kept him in place while he
worked your folds so right that you couldn’t have sworn you were seeing stars,
and not exactly those up in the sky.
Once he decided it was enough torture, he
kicked off his pants and positioned himself on top of you. With his hands on
the sides of your body, he began thrusting; slowly at first, so you could have
the time to adjust to his size. He had his forehead pressed against yours, and
when you started to feel better, you nodded to let him know that he could
increase his speed, which he happily complied.
He glued your lips to you just for the sake of
keeping you silent as he had you at his mercy; you wanted him to do whatever he
wanted with you. You were his, and he was yours. He pounded you hard and fast, and
it was blissful. You were a mess; a shaking, sweaty and complete mess.
After coming, he stayed with you, caressing
your hair and just being a complete sweetheart. He looked at you with the most
loving eyes someone had ever given you, and if it wasn’t for Anna’s words
earlier that day, you would have given him everything.
You covered yourself with the silk robe that
hung on the door of the wardrobe, and saw Sir Thomas as he dressed up again.
His eyes were shining, and when he looked at you, a wide smile spread on his
“I have to go,” Sir Thomas said as he buttoned
up his shirt and fixed his hair, “my time here is very little…” if you didn’t
know better, you could say he didn’t really want to leave. “Thank you, for an
interesting evening and a pleasant night,” he bowed his head.
“Sir Thomas…” you bit your bottom lip, reaching
out your hand to hold his, “if you ever come back… we might have another dinner
just the two of us, wouldn’t you like that?” You lingered with his fingers,
tangling yours and not even looking at him; if you had, perhaps you would have
told him to stay there with you for an eternity.
“(Y/N),” he placed his free hand under your
chin and made you look up, “you have made me the happiest man in just a matter
of hours and I can never thank you enough for that,” his voice was softer than
ever, “but you know I cannot stay here even if I wanted to…”
“I know,” you nodded, shaking your head, “but
first…” you placed your hand behind his head and pulled him for one last kiss. “Thank
you,” you sighed.
You walked him to the backdoor, making sure no
one would see him sneaking out; he was one with the shadows and soon after, he
disappeared from your sight and your life.
The men aspire to marry into the affluent Schuyler family. The sisters’ beauty and intelligence is just a nice bonus. As Burr says in “A Winter’s Ball,” “Yo, if you can marry a sister, you’re rich, son. Sadly for them, the girls aren’t much interested in fortune hunters.(x)