PICK YOUR POISON
1. THE GREAT GATSBY Parties, rich folk, people being morons, people dying, people being morons again, funerals with only one sad guest staring at the man he fell in love with that only had eyes for someone else, this is all coming back to you, right? That's how everyone read it? Anyway, here's for your party people or your tragic backstory people we guess, and overall just don't get obsessed with the green light.
2. CHICAGO So, like... Did he deserve it? Your husband, when you killed him? Whether you're a femme fatale, a fancy lawyer, a dumb schmuck husband, or someone that's going to get murdered, we have to know. Did you do it? How are you gonna get out of it? Watch out and make sure you don't get got.
3. THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG This is your family-friendly option. It's still set in the 1920s, but there's magic, fantasy, hard work actually getting you somewhere... Unbelievable, we know. Still, it's fun to pretend, right?
4. MISC Choose your own adventure!
WHO ARE YOU?
1. THE RICH You're rich as balls, whether you're new money or old money or like 150 years ago but not enough to be old money. ANYWAY, you're the financier of all this bullshit, really. It's a good racket. In any case, are you loved? Liked? Does anyone give a shit at all? Does anyone even come to your funeral?
2. THE POOR Man, all you want is to get ahead. You work your ass off to get nowhere and really, that sucks. Maybe you turn to a life of crime. Maybe shit goes bad before you can. Maybe your WIFE KILLS A DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?
3. THE CRIMINAL Whether you're a small-time petty thief or a top-of-the-line mobster, here you are. Plan your crimes, work through them, rule the city...or just the dumpster. We all gotta start somewhere, right?
4. THE FUZZ Say you're a cop. You want to catch the top cat of the crime family in town but you have to work it out. Maybe you just arrested a murderess. Maybe you're a prison matron. Maybe, just maybe, you're a crooked lawyer making mad bank off of dumbasses that get themselves caught.
5. THE DISILLUSIONED You know everything is bullshit. You do, but no one listens to you. Everything is terrible and depraved and people are dying because they're being idiots but they won't listen to REASON and you have to watch the world fall down around your ears. Have fun being the only smart one.
6. MISC Make up some shit, we know you're creative.
As always, these are just suggestions. Make up anything you want, as long as you're having fun! |
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bakerstreet2020-01-10 11:27 pm
chloe price | life is strange | ota
Annabelle Cane | The Magnus Archives | OTA
Alfred Pennyworth | Gotham | OTA
Llewellyn Watts | Murdoch Mysteries | OTA
Ashe ☠ Overwatch ☠ ota
Richard Starke | oc | ota
Philip Lombard | And Then There Were None | ota
Sherlock Holmes || Sherlock BBC || m/m
Dean Winchester | Supernatural | OTA
Livvy Ashburn || OC || M/F for fooling around
Mary Crawley | Downton Abbey
Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son
Alastor (The Radio Demon) || Hazbin Hotel
Phryne Fisher <> Miss Fisher's Mysteries <> OTA
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She tries to make herself even smaller, letting the shadows and the boxes and barrels shield her from the prying eyes of those gathered around the corpse at the centre of the old warehouse.
First, she can't be found. She'll be in so much trouble if she gets found - she shouldn't be here, for one, and now that there's police hanging around the troubles have just mounted.
Second, that corpse is Ed, and that's a whole issue all unto itself.
And third, nobody can know that she was here when he died, because then whoever that guy who killed him was (and she has a very rough idea where to look) that could get both her and her gran into trouble.
No. Better hide and hope that nobody comes back here and hope that the coppers and their lot will go away eventually and she can run.
If it just wasn't so terribly cold... And she needs to pee. And damn if she isn't hungry. She pulls her too-thin coat tighter around herself. It's really cold. And her leg is falling asleep. But she cannot move, or they'll notice her.
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A macabre little hobby she's turned out to be quite good at was murder. Oh not doing it of course, but solving them. Much to the dismay of the devilishly handsome Detective Jack Robinson. What a prefect foil he was for hr, witty and straight faced to her charisma and panache. Such involvement could draw her out of a party like she'd attended earlier when word had it there was a body to be found.
A throng of people crowded around the body, mutterings and murmuring and even gasps went up from the crowd, which made Phryne feel the attention was surely focused in the wrong place.
She skirted the crowd and scanned the rest of the dingy interior of the building. Tracks in the dust of the floor... no one seemed to notice yet but her. A hand sank into her purse to palm that gilded side arm and she followed the trail.
It wasn't long before she spotted the ragamuffin. Soot covered and cowering the girl looked all the worse for wear. Well she couldn't just leave her there could she? A girl cold and alone and possibly a witness to a crime who would likely get railroaded if she was taken by that mob.
No, no, that would not do at all. Phryne stooped and appeared to be tying her shoelace to any random onlooker. She hissed a quiet whisper. "You look like you could use a friend. I have a car down the block and a warm house with food. If I get you out of here will you tell me what you saw?"
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She blinks when Phryne addresses her and doesn't answer for a few moments, because that was not what she expected to hear. Or the kind of approach that she expected, really. Especially not from an obviously very posh lady.
Her eyes narrow. Why would a posh lady make such an offer? Surely she just could call the cops on her... but then Lilofee would be out of her hands, and apparently there's an interest that this lady holds in what she saw. Or in nobody else learning about what she saw, that is also an option. Can she trust her? On the other hand, if she says no and that means that the lady will cause a ruckus, that is in no way a better outcome, and even if this woman means her harm... Gran will be safer for her vanishing than for everyone learning that she saw, probably. Certainly safer from coppers giving her grief for Lilofee being with her in the first place...
She hesitates, staring at Phryne with wide eyes. She needs to make a decision quickly, but what should that be? ...Maybe she can use the lady to get out of the warehouse unseen and then make a run for it? What's the chances? Though she has already seen her...
She nods almost imperceptibly. She'll at least listen to the lady's plans.
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As expected the group jumped, saw and open door and rushed for it. "Thank you Jean Claude." Phryne grinned and slid out out of her wrap, she held it out to the girl. "Quick put this on and walk with me. Slow, they will notice running."
Once the girl was camouflaged by the large heavy wrap Miss Fisher put her arms around the girls shoulder and guided her to the other exit, just outside was Bert waiting with the car.
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Just concentrate on the thing this lady just did. Great idea. She needs to keep that in mind. Maybe work on her own ability to throw things - you probably need a good deal of aim and strength to hurl that kind of thing over that distance with precision...
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Adding the icing to the cake, her lawyer (or rather her mother's lawyer) was pretty obviously both drunk and incompetent.
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"I believe that there is a body yes, and there are certainly any number of possible suspects, so we really must look into this all very carefully." Greeted with blank looks from the detectives she extended a fashionably gloved hand with her card. "The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, assistant to no less than Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. I would be more than happy to lend my trained eyes and skills to this investigation."
Her tone said she wouldn't take refusal on the matter and she threaded her arm through that of the girl beside her. "Come along then, we need to get you some good food and hot tea and discuss what happened here." Phryne began to whisk the girl off in a whirlwind of pure brass and personality.
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"Yes Bert, and like the others I am quiet sure she is guilty of no more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. To the house if you please. Dot can fix her up with a room and a good meal." Phryne looked to her young companion and smiled.
"There, see? Nothing to worry about. Once we get to the house I'll make the introductions and you can decide if you want to talk to me and let me help you, or leave. I won't stop you." She looked out the window at the passing scenery.
"You'd do well at least to stay for the meal though, Mr. Butler is an excellent cook."
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She snorted. "I took them for over a thousand pounds between them despite asking four times whether a flush beat a straight or the other way round and twice which way round the table betting went. I think that's why someone set me up?"
"You cheated?" Bert didn't sound particularly disapproving given who the targets were.
"Of course not." Lydia sounded affronted. "I only cheat against cheats or to show people I like why they shouldn't play for money. I've a good enough head for figures to memorise 52 cards or even three packs at once and to work out odds in my head. And they didn't shuffle either well or often enough, letting me drew to an inside straight three times in four attempts."
She smiled nervously at Phryne. "So that's most of what I'm guilty of. And the other part is I'm not actually a blue blood and don't even pretend to be a virgin. But if you're still willing to help I think I need all the help I can get?"
Kitty | Changeling: the Lost | crosscanon welcome
Happy to AU her into a regular child or keep her being a Changeling.]
Aziraphale | Good Omens (show)
Beelzebub | Good Omens (show)
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Well as much as he enjoyed the fashion of the 1800s - finally something suitable for a human corporation - the 20's may be one of his favorite eras by far. Mostly because of the clothing that the - demon that he's just discorporated with a degree of finality reserved only for someone who really pissed him off - has left clinging stains to his sleeve is upsetting.
Nonplussed and totally calm outwardly, he sends Beelzebub a short message -
Come pick up your side's mess.
That mess is the remains of the demon Baladon - who had slithered up from nothing to murder a viable soon-to-be saint. Fostering the ridiculous human notion kept them happy but when they died like the man had - and that was a mess in and of itself...
He bares his teeth. Three minutes from then, the police would arrive and see the remains of a body killed by the mob who would go down in history as a "tragic murder" before his time. Never mind the man had been killed by demonic activity.
Features nonplussed, he continues brushing goo off his sleeve before he notes his counterpart and says flatly.]
You owe me a new overcoat.
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Seems like there's plenty of work in America right now, all things considered. With prohibition and the rise in crime, many demons had been assigned to this area, mostly for easy enough jobs, often a couple of them whispering words in the ears of members of opposite branches of different mob families. Whatever silly thing humans are up to, the metaphorical hellish crops have been plentiful.
Beelzebub has never made a habit of coming up here. They didn't really seek out the idea of dealing with humans themself if they could avoid it. Blasted things were hardly worth their time.
But the archangel's message reaches them, and, with an annoyed sigh, they set up to go meet him and deal with the issue. They rise through the ground in a damp, dirty alleyway, asphalt crumbling as the hellfire bursts out in a quick flurry. They step out, wearing something that while age appropriate seems just a bit strange enough to get a side glance from humans, should any see them. Their clothes are singed and dirty, a large heavy overcoat over an old vest, a newsboy-style cap on their head, and shoes that had seen better days. A medal hangs from the breast of their vest, and their sigil necklace makes an appearance as always.
They step out of the alleyway, hands in their coat pockets, until they're beside Gabriel. They give the charred, gruesome remains of Baladon a look, expression unchanging. ]
And you owe me a new agent.
[ Beelzebub looks up at Gabriel. ]
Is this what you're doing now? Trudging through the surface, hunting down members of the opposition yourself?
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One, because he wasn't entirely sure the principality was up to the task of actually smiting anyone. (They just handed out flaming swords to anyone when they were just kicking things off.) two, because he was very sure he'd given the boring little- he'd given him something else to do he just couldn't remember what.
Three, and finally, he enjoyed righteous battle but this wasn't righteous. It felt like casual murder of some worm.
He sighed.]
Did you order him to assassinate our Saint?
[He holds up a hand.] I know, I know it's a pointless program but it makes the humans happy and I just...
[Fuck.]
...Don't tell me you've never needed to get out of the office.
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[ Their tone comes off irritated, but not like they didn't entirely expect something like this. They're not about to provide the archangel and Heaven with any details about what they're doing down there, even when it is obvious. There's only one Plan they're all working towards, and that's all they'll ever bother to say anything about. ]
Better question is what are you doing here carrying out smitings yourself. Would have thought that was beneath the great archangel Gabriel. [ They bob their head slightly as they say it, clearly mocking him. ]
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What makes you think they'll hold a candle to our accomplishments?
[At the mention of his own smiting however he rubs his hands and squeezes his fingers. A bit of lightning crackles from them as he shrugs.]
What makes you think I don't handle smitings personally? You make a lot of assumptions.
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Maybe I do. Hardly think I'm the only one. [ They give him an accusatory glare. But glares just seem to be a thing they do naturally. ]
You've taken down one of ours and now we'll have to figure out just how far along they were in their tasks. So don't complain to me about your program or whatever ridiculous thing you were going on about.
Crowley / Good Omens / OTA