he is the most dapper


Poirot’s chief personality characteristic was undoubtedly his overweening - but lovable - egotism. On rare occasions he would present an appearance of modesty, but it was patently so forced and false that it fooled no one. Some of his own evaluations from one story or another: “Hercule Poirot… is of a cleverness quite exceptional;” “impossible to deceive Hercule Poirot;” “me, I know everything.”
- Russell H. Fitzgibbon, The Agatha Christie Companion

Wait For Me? - Chris Evans Imagine

summary: You need a break from it all, but what if when you’re ready to come back, Chris hasn’t waited for you? What if he moved on while waiting for a sign? 

words - 1500+

warnings: angst (barely) / fluffF

a/n: I felt like this story in my drafts deserved to see the day of light, it may be crap but oh well you win some you lose some. 

“I’m not ready yet, Chris. I can’t be with you because I couldn’t fully commit to you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Tears ran down my face, as I began to walk away from one of the best men in the world. He was everything I wanted forever in a man, but I couldn’t… I had to find me before I could find us. As I walked away, my hands slipping from his own warm and protective hands. I could feel sobs rise in my throat as I walked away, trying to swallow the sobs until I could scream for hours in my car. 

“I’m going to wait,” Chris shouted. Or maybe I had imagined that? 

Turning around, I wiped my eyes, sniffled and wrapping my arms around myself for warmth since Chris’s no longer held me tightly. “I’m going to wait,” He repeated, walking towards me and cupped my face in his huge hand that somehow held my head perfectly. 

“YN, I will wait. Until you are ready. Whether that’s two weeks or two years. I want you, no one else.” I shook my head, pushing his hands away. I was angry at myself and him for ending up in this mess of heartache. 

“No! That’s… not fair to you! I can’t ask you to wait for someone you don’t even know is worth it.” My voice broke and I was backing up, trying to not let Chris touch me. Because if he did, I wouldn’t be able to push away this time. But he came towards me, taking safe steps, with his arms out pleading.

 “You may not be done, but I am. And I know what I want, and no one can deter me from it. You are… everything to me, baby. I want to wait for you, and I will. I’m one phone call away, and you know that. You can’t make me give up my love, YN. This is what I want, baby.”

 I smiled, shaking my head in the words I heard from his beautiful lips. 

“I’m going to New York, I bought a loft,” I whispered, looking up at him innocently. I saw his face perk up from my suddenly uncynical words, “Would you answer my calls even if it was just to talk?”

Chris moved closer to me, taking a hold of my left hand, where a tattoo of a lightning bolt was placed just days ago on the right inside of my middle finger. 

“I would answer you, just to hear your voice.” His gentle voice replied, putting his fingers in between mine, intertwining them. Little and big fingers that somehow felt so right together. 

“I-I.. um…” I swallowed the lump in my throat, knowing these were our last words. 

For now. “You should know one thing before I leave, Chris .” Our eyes pulled up together, coming closer, as I put my right arm around the neck, letting it linger slightly. 

“That phone call will come. I promise. I don’t know when, I don’t even know what I’m fucking look for criteria of being able to start another relationship but all I know is that you, are my first call, Chris. I promise Blue Eyes. I swear…” I let the tears slip as I saw his eyes gloss over, spilling tears of his own that I hate to admit I was causing.

 “I swear, baby. Pinky swear.” I held out one pinky, my left hand. His left pinky swung and locked with mine. He kissed them and then my forehead. 

“Goodnight, lovely. I hear from yo-u soon.” 

Chris tried to speak with his most dapper voice but I knew he was dying. The tears still there, residing on his perfectly cold pink-pinched cheeks. 

“Ce est pas la fin.” 

We were in August, yet the air was bitter in Boston. 


And that was it. Chris and I parted ways, until December the following year. 

When the call I was terrified to make finally happened, I was expecting to hear he had moved on. I owed him at least this call, though, regardless of whether he’d given up. This call was never for me, it was always his.


“H-Hi, Chris .” My accent was pushing out stronger from my nerves, his name sounded silky smooth even though his name had been turned into a Parisian Keer-is.

“YN? What’s up it’s nine here, aren’t you in London? I saw you on E net..-nothing. I saw you… on twitter, yeah twitter.” I smiled to myself from his nervous chattering in my ear. 

He had seen me and cared. It didn’t matter whether it was on a celebrity entertainment show. Chris felt that I was enough to remember.

“Anyway, um, isn’t it like three a.m. over there… are you okay?”

“No, actually. I mean yes, I’m perfectly fine but, it’s not three a.m. over here. Although the weather sure feels like Paris.” Chris chuckled softly, I knew he was rubbing the back of his neck now, stressing out on what to say next.

“Well, where are you then?” 

I knocked on the door, “Hold on, YN. There’s someone at my door. How have you been? Ya know… soul seeking, find yourself. All that good stuff?”

I heard him walk down his stairs, but not through the phone. 

“I’ve been great. I got to do some shooting on this new 1940’s movie, I loved it so much! That was really extraordinary. We filmed in Rome, Florence, and Naples, and I swear. Anywhere you stood, the sight was just indescribable…” I had to pause when I heard him get closer to the front door. 

My nerves were causing my heart to pulsate faster, and I felt the warmth rise in my cheeks, 

“a-and I think you would’ve loved it, C.”

His shadow showed up at the door and my heart jumped into my throat.

“Are you sure?” Opening the door, he was smiling ear to ear, and I couldn’t help but let out the most girlish giggle and squeak I have ever been able to conjure up. I showed toothy grin that only occurred when my heart can’t take the amount love or happiness I’m feeling. 

He still had his phone to his ear and I had my to mine. “Because I really love the view I’m getting right now.”

 I let my phone fall without a care and ran to him, even though he only within ten feet of me. We embraced and held each other close. Never wanting to let go of the other for fear that we’d slip away from each other, again. 

We were precious to one another, we always had been. Having Chris in my arms was like finally holding the one thing that I’d been missing for sixteen, painfully slow, dull, Chris-less months. 

“I missed you so much Chris,” I mumbled, almost letting out a sob from the ache that had finally been lifted from my chest.

“I know, I know. I missed you too, Jellybean.” I kissed his shoulder when I heard the nickname Chris glued to me. One he only ever called me when no one was around. That way it was just between the two of us, forever only our intimate secret.

“Did you give up on me?” Chris shook his head no, smiling into my hair. 

“I don’t give up when I’m in love, babe. Ever.”


LATW AMADEUS CD, a lifetime treasure!!

Finally got it!!
At frist it said this would be released in February, and I thought I can get it when I go to NYC for “Wakey, Wakey”, then it delayed to March.
Thanks to my dearest friends in NYC placed order, took it to “Wakey, Wakey”, asked him for autograph, and sent to me.

Thank you so much, girls!!

He is one of the most dapper debonair gentlemen in the world!!

Here is my AMADEUS repo:


Trick or Treating

Based off of these posts and this PERF AS FUCK ART.


Though as the kids got older Dipper was able to manifest more often and for longer periods of time, it was still best to formally summon him if you wanted him for a set amount of time and physicality.

Like Sunday dinner.

Mabel pricked her thumb and wiped it against her Summoning Apron and hollered, “Dipperrrr!”

He phased through the floorboards from the attic where he had been going through basic musical notation with Hank, eyes alighting when he saw the table groaning under the weight of all the food assembled on it.

“Dinner?” Mabel asked.

“Deal,” Dipper agreed, coming from the Dreamscape into this plane. “Are those mashed potatoes?” he asked and started to reach two fingers towards the bowl only to get his hand smacked with a wooden spoon.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper shook his fingers and his uncle looked at him.

“Hey, if I can’t sample, you can’t either.”

“KIDS. HENRY. FOOD!” Mabel yelled, practically in Dipper’s ear.

“Jeez Mabel, I think I’m deaf now,” Dipper griped, but halfheartedly. He took his spot between Mabel and Willow at the table as everyone came to the kitchen to eat (they probably didn’t need to space the kids between each of them now they were six but old habits died hard).

The first five minutes of dinner was usually silent as everyone was generally focused on shoving food in their mouths, but Henry eventually broke the nomming by looking at the triplets and asking “Have you three thought about what you want to be for Summerween?” (Henry wasn’t quite used to two Halloweens in one year, but in the other hand, it did mean there were lots of mini Snickers in the house for a month after so…)

Hank and Willow looked at Acacia, who beamed at her dad with a big, gap toothed smile. “Something scary!” she said.

“Scary like Grunkle Stan in the morning?” Mabel asked and everyone laughed.

“Har har har you want scary, I could show you scary,” Grunkle Stan grumped.

“No,” Hank cried. “Scary like Uncle Dipper!”

Willow tugged on Dipper’s sleeve. “Can we dress up and be scary like you?” she asked.

Dipper grinned. “Of course! I’ll even teach you how to scary laugh.” He then began to cackle wildly and the entire table lit up with blue fire.

Henry, cutting up a piece of chicken for Hank, didn’t even look up as he said “Dipper, no eldritch fire at the dinner table please.”

Dipper stuck his tongue out at Henry, which made the triplets giggle, but he stopped. He happened to catch Mabel’s eye and-

“Mabes? Are you okay?”

Her eyes were large and her mouth hung open a bit. “Little suits…” she said reverently. “It’s my greatest challenge yet.”

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lithiumlaughter  asked:

So, if the blurb on the book "Goldenhand" is any evidence, you are a fan of Garth Nix and the Old Kingdom. AS SOON AS I THOUGHT YOU COULD NOT GET ANY COOLER I AM PROVED WRONG.

I had tea with Garth Nix in London last year. He is one of the nicest, most dapper guys you will ever meet, but I was still freaking out the whole time.