#Abigail Scrooge

[theystoleallthenames]

A: E-Ebenezer!

E: Hush down, my love. We’re only getting started~

HAPPY NEW YEAR BTW!!!

[quill-pen]

Three OCs featured in my latest ficlet: Oliver Sprague (25), Abigail McClintock (23), and Debbie Little (25)

We will definitely be seeing a bit more of them in future.

[chelleinyy]

Based on @asharkapologist 's Inkember post.

I can imagine Abigail in Isabel's part here, and and Justin, who is Ebenezer, just disregards her. Them in Ivory Hill - Capitol Peak fr.

[spoonsand]

PART 2

RIP RED DEAD CHARACTERS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED

Dutch- podcasts (making his own) + AITA Reddit stories, Coca Cola, monocles

Hosea- bingo, 70s disco music, swing dancing

Arthur- little toy dinosaur dig kits with the teeny tiny shovels, trampolines, Nanaimo bars

John- remote control toy cars, divorced dad music, Mountain Dew

Lenny- antiques, Epic Rap Battles of History (he would duel Sean and sometimes Karen),

Sean- roblox trolling, bell bottoms, GTA

Strauss- flootie pajamas, ebeneezer Scrooge outfits, cold calling

Trelawney- earl gray tea, crashing weddings, throwing pies into people’s faces

Charles- flower crowns, rock tumblers, surfing

Pearson- papas’s games (pizzeria, freezeria, ect), embroidery, floral scents

Micah- court ordered anger management, Andrew Tate, FailArmy videos

Javier- zyns, woodworking, eyebrow slits

Kieran- Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, model trains (him, Sean, Lenny, Arthur, Tilly and Sadie would be absolutely mystified by the set Susan bought him)

Bill- short shorts, petting zoos, animal shelters

Uncle- Leslie Neilson films, heating pads, aligator meat

Reverend- online gambling, Pink Whitney, dap pens

Susan- wine, gold hoops, edibles on a late Friday night (shares with Dutch)

Mary-Beth- choose your own adventure books, Our Souls at Night/The Book Club/And so It Goes, lip lining

Molly- olives, grey’s anatomy, Butterscotch ice cream

Karen- scary movies, WWE, flip flops

Abigail- sparkling water, tiny hand bag sized dogs, face masks

Sadie - butterfly knife, industrial piercing, The Hells Angles,

Tilly- baseball, Star Wars, Volkswagen beetles

Jack- Roblox, Scooby doo movies, tootsie rolls

Bessie- Fleetwood Mac, block parties (she’d host her own), Subway

Annabel- Madonna, waist beads, jelly shoes

Issac- lava lamps, Lego video games, Trelawny

[verdemoun]

BOO!!! Did I scare you? What's Halloween like in timewarp au? What's the gangs first experiences with it, and do others help the ones experiencing it for the first time navigate the holidays? Also sorry for being the insane Micah bell fan in your asks but does Micah get a Scrooge moment for each Holiday

yes you terrified me silly

Bessie is so careful to explain Halloween because children in costume approaching house full of gang of outlaws that are used to shooting people who come on their camp 'territory' on sight is a recipe for a goddamned disaster. Like sit down conversation breaking down the concept and answering all their questions and begging them not to eat all the candy because it's socially acceptable to egg the houses of people who do not provide candy and various other tricks.

The 1899 gang are all together for their first Halloween and do end up loving it. Lenny forces Sean and Jenny to dress up in matching Dorothy, tinman and scarecrow costumes and go out clubbing. Hosea and Bessie go out for a fancy Halloween dinner party dressed to the nines like 19th century aristocracy.

Arthur gets to take Isaac trick or treating just wearing his actual timewarped clothes complete with replacement gunslinger hat (rip he never gets His hat back).

Kieran contently watches horror movies alone snickering to himself about how fake the effects look only to still scream in terror and need to be talked through a panic attack when Bessie and Hosea got home.

--

The whole gang come around to the idea of Halloween, only because 90% of them see it as a chance to wear their pre-timewarp clothes and get drunk.

John dresses as a pinkerton one year because Abigail Jr insisted on dressing up as her daddy the rancher and wearing John's timewarp clothes. His justification was it was the scariest thing he could think of, which still did not save him from nearly getting his nose broken when he went up behind Arthur and shouted 'this is the pinkerton detective agency!'.

At Abigail Jr's insistence Abigail is almost always dressed as some variation of princess goddess fairy queen angel. She then blank stared at John and said he had to be dressed as the frog prince but still as an ugly frog no one knows is a prince. She wanted to dress as a witch.

They usually do some sort of get together for Halloween, because there's something really innocent and fun (read: cathartically traumatizing) about being able to see each other in their canon era clothing. Of course, some still insist on dressing up but that's just as fun.

With the additions of Karen and their daughter Maeve, the MacSummers quartet+child finally complete Lenny's vision of a full wizard of oz group costume. Before anyone could poke fun of them for making Maeve dress as Toto they realized she absolutely insisted on dressing as Toto as an excuse to bite people. Sean is very proud of her. Karen also insists on being a sexy cowardly lion.

Arthur and Charles going on modern era dates in their canon era clothes making up for all the time they didn't get to have being in a relationship in canon era. Big scary outlaws having milkshakes at a 24 hour diner.

Between Abigail Jr being a witch and Maeve being Toto no one was save from bitten or whacked with a magic wand as Abigail Jr cursed them.

Micah in the club in outlaw garb getting offended when he boasts his costume is the famed gunslinger Micah Bell III only to be met with blank stares and 'who??'.

Isaac and Jack, who of course dressed as the fabulous killjoys, also go hang out with Isaac's gang and will absolutely be arrested for graffiti and trespass that is escalated to destruction of property when it is discovered they mixed sugar into the still-wet concrete slab of a commercial site being built on what should have been protected land.

At least once someone dressed as an O'Driscoll. Fuck it it was probably Micah and Sadie almost sent him to the next life before she realized it was Micah and was still contemplating using it as an excuse to kill Micah when Kieran, to everyone's surprise and slight pride, absolutely walloped him with a two by four and Micah spent the rest of Halloween in emergency with a concussion.

[maxwell-mtv]

To Wish Upon a Winter Star [Morris x G/N!Reader]

[HEY THERE, HI THERE, HO THERE! Sorry this took me a moment, I had to make sure this was perfect and then realized this would make for an excellent series so this will probably only be part 1 tbh. So my apologies for the offish end, but I assure you this intended to be a series now.

TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS: Spicy old men who will gladly kill each other if they were only able too, jealousy, and brief alcohol mention!

Any who-sies, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year to all you lovely folks out there <3. I hope you enjoy, and let me know if there's anything I can improve upon. I want to only produce the best for you all.]

“Morris Tod, the manager of Joja Mart, at our town's festival? That's ridiculous! What business does that corporate pig have nosing around our traditions? As if he has any right to intrude! He's the one who's actively ruining this town!” The shop owner slaps his newspaper onto his sales counter. 

With a careless shrug, the purple haired girl finishes shuffling through her backpack.. “I don't know, Dad, that's just what Sam was telling me. Seems like maybe he's really trying to get involved.”

Sniffing and narrowing his eyes, the hunched man takes a bitter sip from his coffee mug. “What are the odds he's only showing because of the new Farmer?” His question was framed more as an accusation than a genuine point of conversation.

“I don't know. I don't care. I just don't want you to have an aneurysm when you see him there like you did when he showed up to the Luau…” The young woman rolls her eyes as she slings her bag over her shoulder and heads for the exit.

“Language, Abigail!” The man nearly stands up from his stool. “And where do you think you're going with that bag?”

“Outside?” She responds incredulously, pushing her way out the store.

Sitting back in his seat, Pierre takes another sip from his mug but not before scoffing at his daughter's rude attitude. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

…

Looking like Ebenezer Scrooge in the way he dressed, Morris carried on conversation after conversation with the locals in town square. It was funny how despite his general appearance that the man could be so charming when he wanted to be. At least to him, all it took was a one-liner here and there, then a charming incentive to make them want more. For hours, every chance he got, he'd practiced and practiced for every possible scenario. Even in the mirror in those brief moments when he'd be tying his bowtie, he'd practice his facial expressions and the endearing expressions that would help charm those around him.

Despite his best efforts, these skills could only take him so far. Often only as far as the supermarket he ran. He wasn't as sought after as he may have liked, years of rejection and loneliness helped to drive that point home especially. Now, as he took his seat on a corner table, this point was driven home for him once more. No one came up to him, and with every passing glance of the locals, he swore he wasn't truly welcome there. Perhaps observing this town's tradition this year wasn't the best idea. He could have easily taken his one day off a year and stayed home. Or maybe he could even call his mother who he'd hardly talked to since he basically moved into the town.

Bouncing his leg, he glances over to spot the incoming farmer who seemed in a rush to get to the festivities. Glancing at his wrist watch, he saw why they were in such a rush. It was already nearly noon, halfway through the celebration hours.

Suddenly, his ideas of leaving, escaping, or anything of the sort disappear. He watches the young farmer as they start their rounds. But he's taken by surprise when a strange pang of jealousy bubbles within him as he watches them talk to Pierre before scurrying off towards the others. He stands and weaponizes this strange new feeling, planning his his attack while he approached Pierre's stall, he makes sure the farmer's back is turned for this next part.

Resting an arm on the desk part of the stall, he glances at Pierre. “Working year round, are we?”

“Save for Wednesdays, I have no choice.” Pierre responds coldly.

“What a shame, this wouldn't happen if you'd just close up shop and work for us. We could use a good numbers guy.”

“Oh really?” The tired middle aged man says sarcastically. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes, you know pricing all our items can become quite the daunting task. I'm sure a man of your caliber could easily achieve such low-brow work.” Morris says, finding himself to feel rather proud in the moment.

Pierre gawks and nearly chokes on his own spit. “What's your deal, you slimy scumbag?” He spits out through clenched teeth. “What's your fetish with tearing me down and ruining my life every chance you get?”

Morris's grin widens as he gets this response. “I would say you're the one who's self-sabotaging, Pierre. After all, how hard could it be to just shut down shop and work for a more secure job?”

“Because I'd be letting you win.”

“What a childish way of looking at things.” Morris takes a pause to glance over his shoulder to make sure the farmer was nowhere in ear shot. He quickly turns and leans in, smirking at his glowering counterpart. “Why don't you just surrender this losing battle of yours? I'll gladly take your clients off your hands and in return you can spend more time with your darling family.”

“As far as I'm concerned, you can kiss my-” Before Pierre can finish his statement, his wife approaches with two plates sandwiched together. Morris takes this opportunity to leave and go to the tables of food and beverages, some of which this year proudly provided by the local Joja Mart. It was merely a small show of appreciation to the townsfolk for letting him join in on the local festivities.

As you finished your rounds, you took a deep breath. Now all there was to do was to give your secret person the gift, receive yours and then you could head out. As you approached Willy to say hello and hand him his gift, you're stopped by a familiar voice. 

“Well if it isn't my favorite soon-to-be customer!” Morris approaches, holding out a travel cup for you to take. His cheeky grin never falters as he eyes you over. 

“Oh, hey Morris.” You hadn't known the man outside of the few awkward encounters at and around Pierre's. You only ever went over the stream for the Library or Clint's so you hardly ever thought about Joja Mart. You glance warily at the steaming cup, wondering what it was you were supposed to do.

“Here, it's rather chilly out here, don't you think?” He gestures for you to take the cup before sensing your hesitance. “Don't worry, this is Joja's finest cocoa! It's soy, dairy, nut, and gluten free!”

“Then what's in it?” You question, skeptical of any and all Joja products, having worked for the central offices for so long.

“That's a surprise.” He winks at you, basically placing the cup in your own hand at this point.

You take a moment to smell the steam billowing from the cup, only for you to instinctually lean away. “Thanks.” Noting the oddly chemical scent, you lean away and subtly place the cup on a table behind you.

“Not a problem. I don't know why they hold this event outside. Wouldn't it be much more reasonable to have it indoors?” He glances around the set up. “Joja Mart is always happy to rent out our vast, open spaces. Our shelves are easily movable with the help of our able-bodied staff!”

“I heard they used to hold this in the Community Center before it crumbled apart.” You mention passively.

“I see, I suppose this way when it gets dark, we can all gather to see the star.”

“The star?” Was there really the legendary star? You'd never seen it before, of course it was a local legend for a reason.

Nodding the larger man turns to point you towards where the sea was. “Ah yes, the star. Haven't you heard the story yet?” He cocks a brow. “Everyone in town knows the story, even I do. Although if you ask me, I think it's all fantasy.”

Intrigued, you pry for the story. He tells it to you with less enthusiasm and color than Willy might have, but it was informative to say the least. If only you hadn't been interrupted on your way to the fisherman, it would perhaps seem more magical to you. “How would you like to meet me tonight on the docks? I’d be happy to point it out to you.” 

You didn't know why, but the way his crimson eyes stared into yours inclined you to say yes. “Sure.”

“Great! Meet me tonight at 10, I'll be waiting by the fishing shack.” He establishes, letting you go off to finish what you were inclined to do.

…

Hours go by, the festivities quickly wrap up with Pierre hardly making any gold. Exhausted, everyone goes back to their respective homes, others retire to the Saloon for a late night drink to calm their nerves. At the bar side, Morris sips on an Old Fashion and thinks over the day's events. What was up with that feeling inside his chest from earlier? Why did he so readily and easily insult and belittle Pierre? Sure they'd always had a strained business relationship, if one could even call it that. But he certainly went too far to go out of his way to shut him down like that. For a brief moment, Morris could feel some guilt festering in his stomach before drowning it with a final sip from his drink. 

Setting the empty glass down, he places down a fine amount of gold to match the generosity shown to him with the potency of Gus's pour. He strides from the Saloon and makes his way over the bridge to the beachside. Any minute now, he'd need to show the new farmer a star he didn't even know the location of. All he knew was he would know it when he saw it. 

Sitting on the docks, he lets his finely crafted leather shoes dangle over the water. Truly the drink had helped to let him relax more than normal. Leaning back, he takes a deep breath in. This was it. He was going to sell the farmer on Joja. Who didn't love to support a manager who went out of their way to create a relationship with them?

He heard the sound of steps walking over the creaking wooden boards which separated them from the sea below. Glancing over his shoulder, his hazy mind grew elated at the sight of you. His usual cheeky smile returned, but you could swear there was something different about it. 

“Hey! If it isn't my favorite soon-to-be customer!” He says, turning his attention back up to the night sky. His heart seemed to skip a beat, only to pound all the harder to make up for lost time. His cheeks flushed red, but you couldn't see that, much to his luck, under the night light. “Come join me.” He offers a place next to him, patting his hand on the wooden docks.

“You sure? The dock is rather wet.” You cautioned yourself, unsure of his intentions. It was clear that something was off about his demeanor, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“You don't have to if you don't want to. I've just always loved this spot.” He shrugs, continuing to get lost in the stars above.

“Are you okay? You don't seem like your usual self today. I mean, Pierre even told me how you absolutely tore him to shreds earlier. I don't know you very well but if I had to guess I'd think something was wrong.” You take your seat next to him, albeit carefully considering you weren't wanting to get hypothermia tonight if you happened to slip into the waters below.

Morris felt his stomach drop. Of course Pierre would tell the farmer about that. “Oh, yes. I don't know what happened with that.” He lies, looking into the distance. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.

You take a moment to look over the manager's features. His slightly feathered hair, his sorrowful, almost empty expression, not to mention his glistening red eyes. It felt as if this wasn't the manager you'd grown to know over time. “Morris,” you start. 

He looks over and into your eyes. “Hm?”

“You know you don't have to put on an act with me like everyone else, right? I hate it when people feel the need to wear a mask around me in order to gain my favor.” You confess, looking into his softening gaze.

“I don't know what you mean.” He chuckles, trying to brush it off.

“Listen, I know it might be hard, especially doing it all the time but you can let your guard down around me. Either way, I'm never going to shop at Joja Mart.”

That last sentence gets his attention, his glasses nearly tilting off his face with how fast he shoots you a look. “What!?”

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you but I'm in full support of Pierre. So please, stop pretending.” Shrugging, you watch as the man goes through several stages of processing.

For a moment, Morris wonders why he's even sticking around then. He knew he could charm anyone into shopping at his store, sometimes all it took was a big enough discount to have them reeling in. Then again, why didn't he try that already? 

He looks to you and sighs, slumping his shoulders and swallowing his pride. “I suppose that's only fair.” He relents.

You watch in surprise as he gets up and starts walking off the docks. Wasting no time, you rise to your feet, slipping a little as you rush after him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” He says, sounding defeated.

“You were supposed to show me the star.” You point out. 

“Hm?” He looks back over his shoulder at you, he'd nearly forgotten.

“Yeah, you were going to show me the star.” 

“You still want to see it?”

“Of course I do.”

“Willy would be far better for that.”

“Willy's not around.” You state bluntly. You were not about to let this man go so easily. At least, not in the state he seemed to be in now.

Turning around, Morris runs a nervous hand through his already messy hair. “Look, I won't lie to you, I don't even know where that stupid star is.” 

It was as if in letting his mask fall, he'd revealed just how exhausted he really was. And the alcohol in his system certainly didn't help with him feeling it.

“That's okay, we can look for it together.” You insist calmly. “Unless you'd like to go home, in which case I'm completely fine with that too. But I'd love it if you'd look for it with me.”

Your subtle plea peaks his fancy. “I-I can stay.” He says, wondering if he'll regret this.

But just as his doubts were getting the best of him, your warm smile washes any future regret away.

Cut to nearly an hour of sitting back on the slippery docks together, you two start pointing out stars. 

“I think it might be that one.” You say, pointing to another especially bright star. 

“No, what about that one?” Morris points up in his own direction. 

“Which one?” 

Morris leans in and tries to point your vision towards his. “There.”

“I don't know which one you're seeing, but you're definitely wrong.” You say, leaning into him more until you two are touching. It felt so right, considering the chilly outdoors, his warm body made the lovely view even cozier. Morris chuckles and shakes his head. “No, see? It's large and purple and-”

“That's a plane.” You burst out laughing.

Morris looks down at you and adjusts his glasses. “What?”

“Yeah, that's a plane! See? It's lights are flashing, that's why they look-”

“Ey, what're ya two doing out here at this late hour? Don'tcha know I'm trying ta sleep in here?” A scruffy voice hollers from the window at the top of the fishing shack. 

Both of you dart your eyes up to meet the fisherman's gaze. “Sorry, Willy.” You say. “I didn't even know you were in there.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But just so you two know, the Winter Star is over there.” He points in the direction of the town where a large, looming purple star is clearing shining upon the sandy beach. “Now get outta here ye two love birds!” And with that, you two are left to each other again.

For a moment, you stare into each other's eyes again before you eventually break the awkward silence with laughter. “Well, we found it!” You manage to say.

“Yeah.” Morris says softly, glancing at you with a new found fondness. 

Love birds?

This could be the beginning of something he'd been needing all along.

[legends-and-savages]

@vyrulent sent: you’re not as smart as you think you are. (For Regina from Scrooge)

abigail sentence starters| Accepting

"Oh?" She asked. "And I'm pretty sure you're wrong about that."

[captainsupernoodle]

uuh whichever christmas special is the one with the 11th doctor and the sharkmobile A Christmas Carol time

directed by toby haynes and written by steven moffat

sharkmobile

I forgot exactly how adhd matt smith played the doctor and i really do enjoy it. leaning in to the big alien brain noticing everything all the time and juggling, say, a ship of four thousand (and three) people while christmas carol-ing scrooge and getting engaged to marilyn monroe

the pendulum between the doctor's "hey girl wanna ride in my space ferrari"/apparent irresistibleness to historical figures and his bewilderment around abigail and scrooge kissing. it's good. "top of the list of things humans like: sex appeal! i can do sex appeal, no problem. wait, they spend how much of their time thinking about it??"

like obviously there are certain lines/scenes that are supposed to be the doctor being a Cool Guy who Gets All The Girls TM but also * insert david tennet saying 'he's a fairly asexual creature' * You could probably write an essay on watsonian reasons for those scenes but i might come back to that later

the bit where they've sussed out scrooge and is sitting in that armchair going "on your own head be it." nice. love that. a more goofy doctor but also a very old, very angry creature with a great potential for callousness preparing themself to take on an opponent.

but also "WOE! CHILDHOOD WHIMSY BE UPON YE"

the bits where scrooge is like "have you ever experienced pain like this?? can you imagine it???" and i'm like yeah, yeah they have

LOCATION: the slightly carnivorous not-honey not-moon

we've got another "hey are you okay" for the count! a count i'm starting right now! reaction to amy asking right after they completely saved the day and gave abigail eight christmas eves instead of leaving her locked in a freezer for the rest of her life: "yeah i'm good" mhm right i believe it

this is a fun one on the whole meddling aspect. yeah scrooge is the doctor's enemy but he's also a child the doctor visited every christmas eve on his request while in the middle of trying to save four thousand people that child had grown up to kill from sheer apathy. mmmmm crunchy. also the bits where they careen out of the room and into the video of scrooge's past and pop back to the future for the passcode? absolutely brilliant use of casual time travel.

"i am a responsible and mature adult!"

[vyrulent]

this is a multimuse roleplay blog with muses that i’ve rp’d from over the years. due to working a full time salaried job, i am a primarily queue based blog. i’m 30+ and have been rping since like 2014/15.

i'm foxxy. she/her. selective. no discord available.

( rules ) ( memes )

muse list beneath the cut:

TV

Chloe Decker ( Lucifer ) Ebenezer Scrooge ( OUaT ) Frederick Chilton ( Hannibal ) Hadley Rockefeller ( TWD ) Jack Frost/Snow Miser ( OUaT ) Jolene July ( NOS4A2 ) Lisa-Marie Andrews ( TWD ) Russell Edgington ( True Blood ) Santiago ( Interview with the Vampire ) Simone Grove ( Why Women Kill )

MOVIES

Aleera de la Fuente ( Van Helsing ) Abigail Samuels ( IT deleted scene ) Amy Peterson ( Fright Night mythos ) Anna Valerious ( Van Helsing ) Ariel Triton ( The Little Mermaid ) Damien Thorn ( The Omen mythos ) Deacon Frost ( Blade mythos ) Harper-Lee Smith ( Texas Chainsaw Massacre mythos ) Kristof Lazar ( Abigail ) Lawrence Talbot ( The Wolf Man mythos ) ( HIATUS ) Lena Dupree ( Scooby Doo on Zombie Island ) Lydia Deetz ( Beetlejuice ) Sibella Dracula ( Scooby Doo & the Ghoul School ) Simone Lenoir ( Scooby Doo on Zombie Island ) Tiana Broussard ( The Princess & the Frog ) Winnie Talbot ( Scooby Doo & the Ghoul School )

NOVELS/MYTHS/LEGENDS

Amber Davies ( Wolf Creek: Desolation Game ) Hades ( Greek mythos ) ( very low activity -- ask interaction only ) Jack Seward ( Dracula ) Lucy Westenra ( Dracula ) Micah Nicolescu/The Big Bad Wolf (The Company of Wolves/Little Red Riding Hood) Minthe ( Greek mythos ) Psyche ( Greek mythos ) Virginia Dare ( Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter & The Last American Vampire ) Zeus ( Greek mythos ) ( very low activity -- ask interaction only )

FANDOMLESS/OTHERS

Anita Bergese

[krinsbez]

Pulptober 2023 Prompts Elaborated, Part Two

Before we begin, link to part one:

Again, plus sign next to an alt means it was @maxwell-grant's idea, asterisk means I haven't read the source material.

6-The Lone Ranger/The Mask Does What The Badge Can't: Another fairly straightforward one; despite the core concept of the Hero Pulps being that the protagonist is a vigilante, seeking to bring justice outside the legal system, etc. many Pulp Heroes are, are *part* of the legal system. Today is for them. Alternates: The Whisperer, Dick Tracy*, The Black Bat (Yes, DAs count also)

7-The Spider/Tortured Justice: The weed of crime may bear bitter fruit, but fighting against it is no picnic either. Some Pulp Heroes go through not just physical, but also emotional Hell on the regular, enduring tremendous loss, heartbreak, and angst whenever they "suit up". Today is their day. Alternates: Elric of Melnibone*+, The Moon Man

8-Nita Van Sloan/Remember The Ladies: Today's theme is a famous quote from a letter that was sent to future US President John Adams by his wife Abigail, a power couple that, unusually for the time considered each other to be equals, and worked as a partnership. Similarly, many Pulp Heroes work alongside a Love Interest who is more than just a Damsel In Distress, but an partner in the crime fighting business. Alternates: Nora Charles*, Dian Belmont, Margo Lane*.

9-John Blacksad/Heroes Don't Have To Be Human: For almost as long as human beings have told stories, some of those stories have been about animals with human characteristics. It is not, therefore, a surprise that the same applies to Pulp Heroes. Alternates: Scrooge McDuck, Inca the Siberian Cat+*

10-The Grey Seal/Gone But Not Quite Forgotten. Pulp Heroes have been around for over a century, and there are *a lot* of them. It is, therefore, not surprising that so many of them have fallen between the cracks and been almost forgotten, even those that were important contributors to the genre's evolution. Today is for them. Alternates: Phra the Phoenician*, Reverend Dr. Syn*

[hchewittauthor]

Took in the High Tea at the United Church for Dickens weekend! Even almost got arrested by the Bobby! So much fun! Abigail and I were on the Full Gospel church float in the parade and ended the evening at the Cornerstone Theatre watching the amazing play “Twenty-three Scrooge-Doo” Fantastic job everyone! #dickensfestival #carlyledickensfestival #winterparade #carlylehasit #carlylesaskatchewan #hightea https://www.instagram.com/p/Clsa2lGA_rI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[quill-pen]

Somewhere Out There

Wait, no--wrong fandom!

Consider this something as a continuation to 'Like George'. At least for the part with Oliver.

Summary: Bess discovers her fiancé, Oliver Sprague, isn't quite as decent as she once thought.

Warnings: Drama--cheating and breakup drama specifically; cursing, physical violence (doesn't last long), heartbreak and angst that comes with it, lack of self-confidence and self-esteem, self-loathing, mentions of wishing and wanting to die (said in the heat of the moment), just a young woman with a broken heart being comforted by her father and her best friend.

Theme:

Lebanon, Ohio--October 1842

Bess Sullivan, despite her youth, did not lead and had never led the most carefree life. From the moment she was born, it was as if the Devil himself had taken one look at her and decided, "Yes, this one, in particular, is offensive to me. Make her suffer!" Her birth father had abandoned her and her mother, and her mother blamed and loathed her for it. Most people who knew much about her held grudges against her simply for the fact she'd initially come from England (revolutionary sentiments still held a bit of potency); and more than a handful were convinced she was the bastard of a high-ranked British official and the reason she and her mother had fled from England was in order to escape ridicule and the rumored man's wife. Bess had grown up friendless, only making her first real friend her age when she'd been fourteen. Due to horrific circumstances, that girl was long dead now, leaving Bess to deal with the aftermath of what they'd both been put through, alone. A life like that tends to beat the optimism right out of you and only leave you with the barest minimum of realistic expectations. For Bess, those expectations were simple: Loyalty and honesty. The fact she had gotten neither of those, was why she was currently sitting in the dining room of a fancy hotel, waiting for her beau of nearly four years, Oliver Sprague, to come waltzing through the door.

"Any sign yet?" Bess asked her friend and roommate, Debbie Little. She was relying on Debbie to be her eyes, as her back was to the door so Oliver wouldn't spot her. Oliver and whoever else he would be with.

Bess had suspected it for months now--the infidelity. Actually, if she were being totally honest with herself, she'd suspected it for years, as Oliver had always been a flirt with other women: The young man knew he was attractive and enjoyed the attentions of the fairer sex. Of course, during their courtship, he'd always assured Bess that she had nothing to fear, that he was hers alone, and the women were merely friends or that flirting was just part of his personality. (How could that possibly be when he'd never flirted with her?) For reasons she could never quite understand, Bess had always let it slide, even when she knew she shouldn't have. But then just after New Year's, she'd caught it: The whiff of perfume that was not her scent on his clothes. When she'd asked him, he waved it away saying a client had embraced him and she liked to wear heavy perfume. Bess couldn't say for certain that wasn't the case, so she'd let it go. But her gut had screamed otherwise; she'd stayed vigilant.

More and more often she smelled that same scent on his clothes. Then she'd seen the lipstick stains on his collars. Then later on his neck as well, as if he'd just simply not taken care to wipe them off and hide them. Again, he blamed overly friendly clients. Bess had been bold enough to state that time that she wasn't sure she believed him, and the boy had shot back: "The fact that I didn't wipe them off and try to hide them is proof that I'm telling the truth. If I'd tried to get rid of them before seeing you, then I really would have something to hide, wouldn't I? This is me being honest with you, Specks." Bess' instinct had screamed that was manipulation; but again, what proof did she have besides her gut that Oliver was lying? So she'd held off again.

Then she'd heard the gossip; rumors from people in her and Oliver's circles that only further confirmed Bess' suspicions. When her beau had come to her and informed her that he was traveling for a job and would be away for the weekend again--something that had started to become more and more frequent--Bess knew she had to put it to rest. Through his roommate, Albert, (who seemed to be as fed up with the whole ordeal as she was) she discovered Oliver was planning on heading to Lebanon and would be staying at the Golden Lamb. Immediately Bess had begun making secret plans for the journey. She would catch Oliver in the act if it was the last thing she ever did, no matter how painful it was. This bullshit needed to end! Now!

Debbie had insisted on coming with her and, despite her better judgment, Bess had agreed. If everything went how she expected it to, she'd need a good friend. She would pay for everything, of course; no matter what it bit out of her savings, Bess would not allow Debbie to spend a single coin out of her pocket for this man, even if it was in aid to her. Though she may have needed moral support, this was Bess' fight.

"Not yet," Debbie sighed, her dark eyes locked on the entrance to the dining room. She looked away to grab her glass of wine and lift it to her lips. Her gaze shifted back to the door as she sipped and she choked, snorting into her glass.

"He's here?" Bess asked, voice remaining low.

Debbie nodded, still coughing on the wine down her windpipe, eyes watering slightly.

"Is he with someone?"

Again a nod.

"Someone we know?"

"Oooohhhh, yes," Debbie drawled, a significant look on her face.

Intrigued and worried by that answer, Bess carefully turned and peeked over her shoulder to see Oliver standing with the maître d' at his podium. Hanging off his arm in an obviously new and very fancy and rather risque dress was none other than-

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"

This wasn't how she'd planned it going, nor was it how she wanted it to happen and she knew she'd be mortified and furious with herself later. Causing public scenes was not her thing; Bess was a private person who wanted to stay out of view of everyone and hated drama. But at the moment she couldn't help herself: The wave of humiliation and rage and pain of betrayal that had instantaneously crashed down upon her without warning was so something only Jesus himself could have withstood the maddening force of. Bess quite literally had no choice but to let it carry her. And now she was standing in the fancy hotel dining room, surrounded by dinner-goers who had all fallen dead silent and were staring at her with expressions ranging from curious to repulsed.

Thankfully Bess was so enraged she didn't care. Nor could she really register anybody else but the two fools, now white as sheets still, standing with the bewildered-looking maître d'. "WHAT THE HELL, OLIVER?!" she screeched again.

Oliver had never looked closer to death or more emotional in all the time she'd known him: All of the blood had drained from his face, his gray eyes were saucer-like and filled with disbelief and scandalized horror as he stared across the room at his livid fiancée. "Bess?!" he yelped. Almost instinctively he turned to face the dark-haired woman, pulling the girl on his arm behind him, either to protect her or try and hide her it was unclear. "Wh-What the hell are you doing here?!"

"What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here with Abigail McClintock?!" Bess' eyes were fixed on the redhead huddled behind her fiancé, peeking out around him with glittering gray-blue eyes and an impish, ruby-red smirk. The bitch--she was enjoying this! Bess could have stormed over and ripped that carrot-colored hair right off her scalp, just as she'd tried to do when they were children. There wouldn't be much of anyone to stop her now. She had at least fifty pounds and a good five inches on Abigail--she would definitely be able to take her and make her sorry for ever showing up here!

"How did you find out where we were gonna be?!" Oliver demanded, sounding and looking angrier and less fearful now. He clenched his fists and stepped more directly into Bess' line of vision, cutting off her eye contact with Abigail and forcing her to look at him. "Are you stalking me? Going through my things?"

Bess rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. "Right, because I have nothing better to do with my time than track your every move! Albert told me. By the way, he's kicking you out of the flat--he's sick of having to cover your half of the rent for the last six months. But you didn't answer my question: What are you doing here with Abigail, Oliver Howard Sprague?"

All at once Oliver looked nervous again. "Uh-um... w-well..." he stammered.

"It's our anniversary," Abigail piped up, her nasal voice mocking and acidic in tone, just like Bess always remembered it being. The girl pushed her way out from behind Oliver and wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing herself right up against his side and making sure to angle herself in just the right way so that her ample breasts were made even more prominent. She smiled sweetly up at the young man in her arms before snapping her head back to Bess, her lips curling wickedly again.

Bess knew what she was looking for: Confirmation that she was hurt, upset, emotional in some way. It was just like they were back in school again, only it was somehow much more humiliating. Or it would have been had it not been for the fact Bess found herself feeling completely dumbstruck and blindsided by the information she'd just been given. "An-Anniversary?" she rasped, her mouth and throat suddenly dry as chalk.

"Yes!" Abigail chirped. "Six years ago we began courting." She smiled back up at Oliver, who actually smiled just as lovingly in turn.

"Excuse me?!" Debbie shrieked incredulously from behind.

Bess had never felt so sick. She would have been sick right there on the fancy carpet if her stomach hadn't plunged so deep that it disappeared. "Six years," she repeated. Her voice sounded alien to her own ears, hollow, distant, scratchy. She and Oliver had been together for four; that meant Abigail and Oliver had been courting an entire two years before he'd ever asked to court Bess. What was worse--Abigail had known! She'd known Bess and Oliver were courting--considered each other sweethearts! They'd gone on dates right under Abigail's nose, sat there while Abigail worked at the same pub and waited on them!

Oh, Lord, no--the pub! Bess' stomach wanted to heave at the very thought of Mack's: Every time she and Oliver had gone out, that's where they'd gone without variation. Abigail had been working every time they'd been there--waited on them every time! "Was that the point?" the question escaped Bess' lips before she'd really even known she's formed it. Her eyes flitted from Abigail to her fiancé. "Was that why we always went to Mack's, Oliver--so you could see her while you were seeing me?" Bess felt her heart clench as another thought occurred to her: "Was it some sort of joke? Huh? You take me to a seedy pub, feed me disgusting, badly cooked food and flat beer, and then take her out to have a laugh about it after you drop me off back home?"

"That was never the intention," Oliver admitted a bit awkwardly. He still looked rather nervous about all this (that was the least of what he should have felt) but it didn't stop him from holding Abigail tight about the waist. That was something he never did to Bess; not even when he hugged her.

"But it's certainly happened from time to time," Abigail piped in again, bitingly, her smirk and gaze growing even more mocking and mean-spirited. "Your first Valentine's Day was particularly funny! Remember, Ollie-Dolly? How she was made up all pretty and thinking she was going to a nice, fancy restaurant and then you took your hands off her eyes and she finds out she's at the pub!" Abigail began laughing. No, not laughing--cackling--like the vilest witch. "Oh, StrawBessy, you should have seen your face!" Abigail daintily wiped her eyes so as to not smudge her makeup. "I've never seen anything so funny!"

Bess felt her face flush burning hot; she was sure she looked like what had earned her that infuriating nickname, but she was much too enraged to be embarrassed by it right now. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms; she was snorting air so hot it could have been steam spewing out her nostrils. She wanted to run away screaming, rip somebody (preferably Abigail or Oliver) in two, and collapse to the floor bawling all at the same time. "Well, I'm glad somebody enjoyed that evening," she snarled, her eyes shifting back to Oliver to glare daggers at him. She was just about ready to lunge across the room and strangle the life out of the boy--she didn't care if they hanged her!

A small but firm hand warmly gripped her shoulder. "Okay, hey," Debbie said, trying to smile between the parties. "Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere else? These fine folks didn't pay for dinner and a show, right?" She gave Bess' shoulder a gentle, supportive squeeze.

Bess was not paying attention. "Why?" The word came out more emotional and desperate sounding than she wanted it to, but there was no changing that once it was out in the open. As if taking that as the go-ahead to let loose, tears began pricking at Bess' eyes, making her blink much more than she would to try and control them. Her vision started to swim. "Why do this, Oliver? If you had her and were happy with her, why would you..." her voice faltered with an undeniable quiver. Bess took a deep shuddering breath and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "What was the point of... me?"

Oliver and Abigail shared a look again and both smiled softly at each other, Oliver bowing his head to press a kiss to Abigail's perfectly styled hair. "My little goldfish isn't exactly... ideal wife material," he stated, somehow managing to make it sound loving. (Oliver Sprague sounding loving--Bess' head was about to explode.)

"It's true," Abigail lamented with a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately I'm not very... domestically inclined. Comes from growing up with so many brothers, you know." Smiling up at Oliver again, the girl reached up and pinched his cheek fondly. "Oh, but my pwecious Owwie-Dowwie deserves a wife who can keep his house clean and cook him whatever he likes whenever he likes." She looked back at Bess, glaring down her snubbed nose at Bess despite how much taller Bess was than her. "Even if that wife is you," she grumbled with disgust.

Bess felt like the wind had been socked out of her; a bitter coldness settled over her insides; she was sure her heart completely shattered. It wasn't as though she'd believed Oliver was really in love with her, and over the years had come to suspect that Oliver only wanted to marry her because of her domestic skills. But to have her suspicions confirmed, and from Abigail McClintock, in a crowded dining room no less, was an absolutely sickening blow.

Bess wanted to scream, to curse out both Oliver and Abigail, to throw every insult and offensive word into their faces and tell them both what she really thought of them. She felt idiotic, just standing here in bewildered silence. But she had no voice. She wasn't even sure she remembered how to talk. Before she could stop it, a tear dripped past her eyelids and began to trickle down her cheek.

Thank God for Debbie! She immediately came to Bess' aid. Wrapping a protective arm around her friend's broad shoulders, she pulled her into her side, angling them so that she stood a bit between Bess and the couple--protective, motherly. Debbie glared at the pair. "So what, Oliver?" she spat like his name was the most vile thing she'd ever tasted. "Were you gonna move Abigail in after you married Bess and you two were gonna live like the happily married couple while she was chained to the housework?

"She would've been taken care of," Oliver declared rather defensively.

Debbie arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so you would've been a bigamist?"

Oliver blushed hotly. "No!"

"Ah, so Bess would've just been your glorified maid with no rights or benefits as a wife?"

Oliver was looking very angry now, the veins in his head and neck popping out through his reddened skin. "It's not like she would've been locked in a cell!" he fumed.

"No, just locked to you," Debbie snarled. "And with nothing to show for it."

Abigail rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please, she wouldn't be able to show anything for it anyway."

Bess, who had fallen into a bit of a stupor, immediately snapped to attention at that declaration. "What the hell does that mean?" she demanded, her voice croaking. She took a step towards the ginger, her intense gaze cemented on her and only her, daring her to come out and say what Bess knew she had to be implying. She both wanted and didn't want to hear it: The idea of anyone else knowing--especially someone like Abigail--would destroy her, Bess was sure. But if Abigail did know, Bess needed to be aware; she couldn't stand the thought of people being privy to her secrets without her knowledge or consent.

A wicked fire gleamed in Abigail's eyes. It seemed, for the first time, she'd come to realize it: the power she held; the ability to hurt Bess, her life-long enemy. A cruel smile pulled at her lips. "I think you know exactly what it means," she replied, tone venomous. She cocked her head and gave the black-haired girl a patronizing look. "Even if you lived as Oliver's wife, you'd never be able to show anything for it, because you can't have children, can you Bess?"

Bess released a slow shuddering breath, the rage beginning to flare back up in her veins. She whirled on Oliver; if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead on the spot. "You told her?" she demanded, her voice deathly quiet. Her fists, which had relaxed a bit, clenched again, harder than ever.

Oliver was smart enough to look frightened and cower away at that. He shrugged, looking baffled. "I-I didn't mean anything by it, Specks," he insisted as if that would make it any better. "I didn't make it like a joke or anything--honest!" He turned his gaze back on Abigail and pulled her closer, nuzzling into her hair. "It's just Goldfish was nervous about what might happen if... things ever happened between us and... you got pregnant. So I told her so she would stop worrying.

"Oh, how noble of you," Debbie growled.

Bess took it a step further. Practically on their own, her feet began moving, and in a few long, swift strides she'd crossed the dining room. Then was winding up her left fist--THWACK!

Oliver stumbled back and fell to the floor with a pained groan. Abigail shrieked and rushed to his side. A chorus of stunned gasps and cries resounded throughout the dining room, and Bess was sure she heard the maître d' drop his posh act and exclaim, "Goddamn!" But she was much too upset to focus on any of it: Her heart ached, with betrayal, tears streamed down her cheeks, and now her knuckles were throbbing too.

"You rat bastard!" Bess bellowed, glowering down at the young man as he clutched at his right eye and cheek while Abigail tried to soothe him. "You turn me into the other woman, humiliate me, and spill one of my darkest secrets to someone who has no business knowing about it?! I've done everything I can to be the best girl and fiancée for you! I've cooked for you! I've cleaned and mended for you! I've done nearly everything that you wanted to do and never complained or forced you to do something I wanted to do--not once! And you're telling me it may all as well have been a lie?! I WASTED FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE ON YOU, OLIVER SPRAGUE! FOUR YEARS!!! AND FOR WHAT?! YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR ME! YOU USED ME!"

All at once Bess was laughing like a mad woman, her hand covering her mouth as tears continued to fall down her face. "And-And you wanna know... you wanna know the really pathetic thing? As angry as I am with you, it's nothing compared to how infuriated I am with myself! Because I wasn't happy with you even without knowing all this, and I knew I wasn't going to be happy! But I stayed with you because I was a pathetic coward so afraid of being alone, I would've taken literally anyone no matter how horrible they were! Or so I thought, because now I realize that I do have a limit for bullshit--so thanks for that I suppose!"

With that, Bess turned her attention to her left hand. Without a second thought, she yanked her engagement ring off her finger. For a moment she held and studied it, getting one last look at the opulent garnets and strange seashells and scallops and oceanic theme that had tormented her for two years. She would not miss it in the slightest. "Honestly, I have half a mind to chuck this godawful thing down the toilet," she stated, sniffling to try and keep her runny nose under control. "But out of respect for it being a family heirloom, I won't." She turned her eyes to Abigail, who was now examining the cut and rather impressive ring-shaped bruise beginning to form on Oliver's cheekbone, and whistled sharply to get her attention. "Here. I'm guessing this is really yours." Bess flicked the ring unceremoniously in the couple's direction; it hit the floor with a sharp ring and bounced and rolled out of sight somewhere in the foyer. Bess couldn't have cared less. "I hope you choke on it." And with that final word, Bess stormed out, Debbie hurrying after her.

Bess flew through the lobby and up the stairs toward their room shoving and blowing past and through people, knocking more than a couple bellhops out of her way. People scowled at her and cussed her out, but she didn't care or even hear them. Tears streamed down her red face, but she wasn't sobbing yet. She couldn't bring herself to let a crowd of strangers see her break down. Go ballistic on her ex, sure; but the humiliation of people watching her cry her eyes out was just a bit more than she could handle in one sitting. Especially since she'd just been royally humiliated by finding out she'd been the other woman for her entire relationship.

"Bess!" Debbie's voice called from behind her. "Bess, wait!"

Bess didn't hear her. Approaching their door, she reached out and--thank the Lord they'd left it unlocked--threw it open and dove into the darkness beyond, slamming the door behind her. The girl threw herself down on the nearest bed, and finally let go of everything she'd been holding back: Burying her face into the duvet, Bess cut loose and wailed. She wailed until her throat hurt and voice cracked. she wailed until her sides felt like they would split; she wailed until her head hurt and rang with her own screams.

She didn't hear Debbie come into the room. She hardly felt it when her friend came and curled up next to her and wrapped her arms comfortingly around her. She heard Debbie's sympathetic words, only because they were right in her ear.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart," the swarthy girl murmured sorrowfully. "I'm so, so sorry. He's an idiot, Bess, and she's a class-act bitch! I'm so, so sorry you have to go through this. I'm sorry."

Sniffling, Bess pulled her head from the blankets for a moment. "You... You wanna know... the worst thing?" she hiccuped pathetically. "I-It's not even Oliver I'm heartbroken over--it's the life I thought I was gonna have with him. And I was dreading it!" Then she was sobbing into the mattress again overcome with her own miserable self-pity.

Debbie had nothing to say after that. All she could do was hold her friend as tightly as she could and rock her, trying to offer any sort of comfort. But how did you comfort someone whose world had just been turned upside-down and corkscrewed 'round?

»»————-　❦ ————-««

First thing the next day, Bess and Debbie were on the first coach back to Cincinnati. Thankfully they had it all to themselves, so there was no one else who had to witness the absolute mess Bess was. The girl hadn't slept a wink, and she hadn't bothered to put herself together apart from dressing that morning either. She looked horrible, but she didn't much care; at least her outsides were in unison with her insides.

Riding on opposite sides of the cab, neither girl said anything. Debbie, after having at first asked Bess if she wanted to talk and being given a glum 'no', had her nose in a book. Bess lay across the bench seat she occupied: Very unladylike perhaps, but she couldn't have cared less--it was the best way to avoid looking at the romantic cover of Debbie's book without putting a crick in her neck or looking like she was trying to avoid it. Silently she stared at the roof of the cab, watching the light make intermittent patterns on the wood.

As silent as Bess was outwardly, inside her head and heart was anything but. Her mind was spinning in a million different anxious directions; her heart was caught in the middle of a crashing storm of emotions ranging from depression to confusion. Tears continuously pricked at her eyes; she blinked them away, biting her lip to keep the sobs down. Above everything, one thought kept crashing into the forefront of her mind: What now?

It was mid-morning when the girls arrived home. The minute they entered their apartment, Bess went to her room and locked the door behind her. Not bothering to unpack except to dig out her nightgown, she stripped, got back into her gown, and crawled into bed. She wasn't hungry, despite the fact she hadn't eaten anything but a roll at the hotel last night. She wasn't really sleepy either when it came to it; she was just tired. So tired--with no will to participate in the world. Her bed was the best place to wallow in her misery: And maybe, if she got lucky, she'd manage to fall asleep and perhaps escape her misery for an hour or two.

But of course, with her luck, that didn't happen.

An hour passed. Then two. Then three. It got past noon and Debbie finally came to her door to knock and ask if she needed or wanted anything. What Bess wanted and needed nobody on this Earth could give her: She said 'no'.

Another couple hours. And another. Debbie did not come back to her door. Bess did not rise from bed but once to rush to the bathroom to be sick after having spontaneously burst into an extended and horrid fit of sobs. Immediately afterwards she was back in bed.

It was going on six o'clock when another knock finally came. It wasn't Debbie.

"Mudpuppy?"

Instantly, Bess was scrambling out of bed, her body practically moving of its own accord. In two strides she was across her cramped room and throwing open the door to launch herself into the big, burly arms already waiting to catch her on the other side. The girl was so desperate for a hug--so desperate to be wrapped up in pure, unquestionable love; and she found just that in his embrace.

"George!" she choked out. Wrapping her arms tight as she could around the big man, Bess buried her face, already wet with freshly falling tears, into his barrel chest. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing again, as hard as she had the night before, if not harder. She instinctively knew she was safe with him; George, the man that had chosen her and loved her as his own, the man who had adopted her and given her his name--her father. With her mother, she never could have been half as open as this, but with George it was different. He was safety, and he was love; he would give her as much as she needed of both for as long as she needed it. She would need it forever.

George closed his muscular arms around her, cradling the young woman close to his heart as possible. He nuzzled into her tangled, ratty hair. "There, there," he gently soothed, voice as soft and tender as butterfly wings against her ear. "I'm here now, Mudpuppy. I'm here--I gotcha. I gotcha." Automatically he began rocking the girl, swaying back and forth on his feet.

"O-Oliver!" Bess gasped out before she knew what she was saying. Her voice was muffled into her father's shirt. "H-He...! A-And Abigail! They're... I wa-wasn't... h-he wasn't... Oliver was going to... he told her... I broke it off... the ring...!" A million and one things were trying to rush out of Bess' mouth at once as she tried to explain, and none of it made sense.

It didn't matter to George--he understood completely. "Shh, I know," he soothed, stroking a large, work-roughened but gentle hand down her trembling back. "I know, Bess. You don't gotta say anythin'--I know. Debbie told me all about it--I know."

"H-He... betrayed m-me, George," Bess squeaked. She clutched at the man, fisting the back of his shirt into her hands, out of anger or a desire to hold him tighter, it was unclear even to her. "Ol-liver be-betrayed me. He d-didn't really wa-want me--he wanted a m-maid and cook. H-He used me, George! He used me!"

George's grip on her tightened protectively, and a savage growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. "The smarmy little rat bastard," he hissed. "He better pray I never see him again: I'll knock his teeth down his throat on sight!"

"You'll have to get in line," Debbie remarked drily. She approached the duo holding steaming mugs in either hand and offered them a small smile. "Here, I made us all some cocoa. Let's sit down and make ourselves comfy."

»»————-　❦ ————-««

"I thought I'd prepared myself to see Oliver walk through that door with someone else," Bess grumbled as she stared glumly into her cocoa, "but I was not ready for that someone else to be Abigail McClintock."

As Debbie had suggested, all three of them were seated in front of the fireplace; George and Bess side by side on the loveseat, his arm draped over the back around her; Debbie perched in the little rocking chair. All three held big mugs of hot chocolate--a perfect drink for this dreary, chilly autumn evening. It was a rather comfy, cozy situation. Or it would have been except for the topic of conversation.

"Yeah, I thought you said she used to bully him in school, too," Debbie remarked. She sipped gingerly at her steaming beverage.

"That girl was a menace to everyone if I remember right," George said. "Even adults. Coddled too much, I say."

"Well, when you're the only girl out of twelve kids, that's bound to happen," Bess sighed. "Abigail always said what she liked and got what she wanted. So I guess if, somewhere along the way, she decided she wanted Oliver, she'd get him too. He always did think she was pretty now that I'm remembering it. I think he might've even had a crush on her."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Why do boys always go for the bitchy ones?" she huffed. "Even when the girl's bitchy to them, they chase after her like a dog chases a stick."

"Hmm. It's the challenge," George stated with a shrug. "And sometimes... it works out." He swigged his cocoa, shooting his stepdaughter a meaningful look out of the corner of his eye.

Bess smiled softly back at him, warmth enveloping her heart for a moment. A man enjoying the challenge of trying to win over a cold woman was exactly the situation that had brought George and her mother together. What George had ever seen or did see in her mother, she'd never know or understand, but in the end, Bess didn't really care because it had gotten her an amazing stepfather. She would have been lost long ago without George.

Silence fell over the room for a long while, the crackling fire, creak of the rocking chair, and occasional, soft slurping of cocoa the only sounds to break it up. All at once, Debbie broke out into a snort of laughter. George and Bess stared at her in some alarm.

"S-Sorry," the dark-skinned girl giggled. "I was just seeing when you punched Oliver in my head again: I've never seen anything so funny or satisfying! Damn, Bess, you're a beast--you cleaned his clock! And you didn't even flinch!"

George chuckled a little smugly. Turning his eyes on his daughter, he smoothed a gentle hand over her crown and brushed some wild strands out of her face. A proud smile curved his lips. "That's my girl," he murmured fondly.

Bess tried to smile back, tried to feel some sort of positive emotion towards the memory, but she couldn't. She just felt sick and depressed all over again. "Yeah, well, I learned from the best," she sighed, leaning her head back against George's arm. "And most of the damage done was thanks to that godawful ring."

"Lord, I hated that thing!" Debbie groaned. "It was such an eyesore on you, Girl--did nothing for you at all. It was like that was the first thing anybody saw and the only thing they looked at on you. I don't know how you could stand to wear it as long as you did--I'd've been taking it off whenever he wasn't around!"

"It certainly wasn't meant for you, Darlin'," George stated. "Took from your beauty rather than added to it. As did the boy himself." The big man was unable to hide the derision in his voice, making his feelings for Oliver Sprague known once again. He'd never liked the boy; ever since Bess had come crying home from school after being teased with the nickname "Specks", George had begrudged Oliver. Anyone that hurt his little Mudpuppy was not a good person.

"Amen to that!" Debbie agreed, raising her mug high in cheers. "You were always at your best when Oliver wasn't around, Sweetheart. I say good riddance!" She gulped at her cocoa almost triumphantly.

"Maybe," Bess rasped quietly as she watched one of the logs start to crumble into embers in the fireplace. "But now what?" She turned her eyes to her friend, tears starting to sting her vision once again. "With Oliver gone, now what? What am I? What am I supposed to do?" There was a soft challenge in her words that left the other girl befuddled.

Sighing heavily, George took Bess' mug from her grasp, leaned forward, and placed both it and his on the coffee table. "Bess," he groaned, sitting back again and holding her gaze with his, "you know as well as I do that boy wasn't the One for you."

"No, he wasn't," Bess agreed, her voice strained. "But..." she stopped and took a deep, shaky breath to try and control the urge to break down again, pulling her gaze from his tender, loving one as she did, "... but I don't think... that there is a One for me, George."

"Bess, don't say that," George gently scolded, giving the girl a hard look. "Of course, there's a One for you."

"Honey, I'm a much harder personality to put up with than you," Debbie added in, "and more high maintenance. If there's a One for me-" she held up her left hand so her engagement ring glittered in the firelight, "-there's absolutely a One for you."

Bess stubbornly shook her head. "Yeah, but you're not..." her voice faltered as a lump suddenly formed in her throat and she looked away, her vision swimming. Screwing her eyes shut, she breathed deeply, slowly, trying to rein herself in again. This time it wasn't working.

"I'm not what, Bess?" Debbie gently prodded.

Bess bit her lip and tilted her eye back as she opened her eyes, thinking, maybe, that would keep the tears from being noticeable and falling. "Damaged goods," she croaked. A sob escaped her before she could stop it and with it, the tears began falling again, so Bess lowered her face and buried it in her hands as she started to cry all over again. She'd never felt so pathetic.

"Bess, don't you dare say that about yourself!" Debbie snapped, lurching forward to the very front of her chair.

George was a bit softer as he wrapped his arm around the young woman again and pulled her into his side to cuddle her. He smiled sadly as Bess instinctually turned and leaned into him, just as she always used to do growing up. Even now, at nearly 23 years old, she was still very much his baby girl.

"Hey," he murmured, giving Bess a gentle squeeze, "what have we talked about, huh? I don't ever want'cha to use those words for yourself. Not out loud, not in your head, not at all, yeah? 'Cuz they're not true, Mudpuppy."

"Yes, they are!"

"No, they're not. And what have I told ya 'bout tellin' lies?"

"But, George-"

"Don't 'but, George' me, Young Lady. "Damaged goods" is a nasty phrase and a wicked lie and that's all it is. Elizabeth Felicity, you look at me right now." George waited until his daughter had pulled her face out of her hands and peeked meekly up at him. The tears cascading down her freckled cheeks and the pain in her eyes made his tender heart break into a million pieces. Oh, Mudpuppy... "Elizabeth," he started sternly, slipping a large, calloused finger under Bess' chin to force her to look at him, "I've said it to ya a thousand times, and I'll keep sayin' it till ya start believin' it: You are strong; you are kind; you are brave; you are smart; and you are so beautiful and special."

Bess' lips quivered. George's words were so wonderful, but they were also so full of bias. He was her dad--why wouldn't he think and say those things about her? The rest of the world certainly did not share the same viewpoint, and that was the one Bess was most inclined to believe: Majority rules after all. "George, please-"

"And I know how hard it is to believe me when I say that, especially when you got everybody else whisperin' all the bad stuff in your ears; but ain't a word of it true, Mudpuppy."

"Not a word," Debbie agreed with an adamant shake of her head.

"Yeah, well, if you guys are right," Bess countered rather bitterly, "you're the only ones who can see any of that stuff, apparently, 'cuz seems like no one else can. So how is that any better? The truth of the matter is, I just broke it off with someone who was going to have me anyway regardless of whether or not he could see how special or pretty or strong or anything I am or am not; and the odds of ever finding something like that again are next to impossible for someone like me!"

Debbie gave her an unimpressed look. "Something like what? A passionless, loveless relationship with someone who wouldn't even hold your hand in public? A marriage to a man who was in love with and would be sleeping with another woman while you did all the work around the house and acted like a glorified maid?"

Bess looked into the fire and grumbled: "It wasn't such a bad prospect until Abigail."

Debbie scoffed. "Bess, it was always a terrible prospect and you know it! You even said yourself last night that the life you thought you were gonna have with Oliver wasn't something you wanted."

"But at least it would have been a life!" Bess snapped, still gazing into the fire. "It would have been something beyond... whatever this is--whatever I'm living now! It would've been something closer to normal--regular! It wouldn't have been walking down the street feeling eyes on me and knowing people are wondering if the rumors are true. It wouldn't have been getting catcalled and leered at and propositioned by disgusting perverts. It wouldn't have been looking in the mirror every day and wondering if I will ever be good enough for someone to marry."

The tears were coming hotter and faster than ever now, making Bess' vision blur-out until she could see nothing but bleary, wavering shadows and orange-red light. Her breath caught sharply in her throat, causing her to stutter-gasp. Self-pity and self-loathing wracked her soul in unison, each emotion making her feel even more of the other until she was swimming in nothing but utter misery. Bess hated herself. She really and truly did; more so than she'd ever be able or willing to admit. And she would have given anything to stop.

"And... you think ya woulda been happy with that?" George asked softly. "Married to a man you didn't love who didn't love you? A man who teased ya until ya cried as a little girl?

Bess held her hands out desperately. "I dunno!" she exclaimed. "Maybe!" But not even that deep down, the girl knew that she wouldn't have been. However much she pretended and tried, no--she would never have been happy with Oliver, with or without the Abigail situation. She would have, at best, been merely surviving.

But how was that any different from what she was doing now?

Sniffling, Bess wiped her wet face on her sleeve and tried to clear her throat. "But it doesn't matter," she sighed, trying to act stoic and logical. "That life was never gonna be real anyway--it doesn't matter."

"Bess, of course, it matters," Debbie gently insisted. "Losing it hurt you."

"No," Bess insisted much more harshly through clenched teeth, "it doesn't. My feelings were based on lies--it doesn't matter if I didn't know or not. That life wasn't real--those plans weren't real--it doesn't matter, Deborah." Another shuddering breath rushed out of her lungs, and Bess quickly covered her face again, breathing deeply once more.

After a moment or two, she'd gained enough control of herself to be comfortable and she sat up straight again, looking determinedly forward. "This entire conversation, it's..." she sniffled. "It's all pointless to talk about. It's not real." Another quiet sob escaped her and her voice sounded heartbreakingly small and hopeless as she continued: "N-Not for me. Let's face it--nobody's ever gonna wanna marry me." Wishing she could disappear, Bess curled up into a small ball, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her face in them as her chest began to swell with more sobs. "Nobody's ever gonna fall in love with me," she squeaked to herself. "I'm not... l-lovable like that. And I'm not worthy of it anyway. I'm... nothing. Just... just nothing."

Without warning, large rough hands were upon her, forcing her out of her protective shell, and Bess found herself being forced to gaze into her father's eyes again while he held her face steady in line with his. The large man was knelt on the floor in front of her but was big enough that they were at the same eye level for once. His face, which was normally friendly and soft, was hard and serious, his usually gentle brown eyes blazing with an intense, almost angry fire that frightened Bess with its unfamiliarity. His hands, while they didn't hurt were gripping her much more tightly than was customary with them; Bess could only ever remember his grip being this tight when he held her in moments of absolute desperation or relief.

"Now, you listen here, Girl, and you listen up real good!" George practically snarled. He sounded savage, but in the same breath sounded sad too. His eyes shone with a thin line of unshed tears. "You are not nothin'--you are everythin'. Ya hear? You are everythin', Bess Sullivan."

Bess could not look away from her adopted father's eyes; his gaze held her completely captive. Again his words reached deep and tried to touch her soul and soothe the throbbing ache that pained it. She wanted to let it. She wanted to believe it with all her being, but something refused to let her. What that something was, she wasn't sure, but it wouldn't budge out of the way, no matter how much she willed it.

"You are such a special woman, Mudpuppy," George continued. "So amazing and gorgeous in every possible way. And you are gonna make some man incredibly happy someday."

Bess was compelled to shake her head, her chin and lips quivering. "Nobody could ever be happy with me!" she sobbed.

George shook his head right back. "You're wrong. That's them jackasses talkin' 'bout'cha again, Bess. I guarantee ya, you're gonna make some special man feel like the luckiest fella in the world. He's gonna come along and fall so head-over-heels in love with ya, he ain't gonna know which way's up. And he's gonna spoil ya with so much love and affection, you're gonna forget every bad thing anyone's ever said or done to ya." The tears in George's eyes were dripping down his cheeks now and into his thick beard. "Mark my words, Mudpuppy, your One's somewhere out there, waitin' for ya--I can feel it in my bones!" His hands fell to her shoulders and squeezed them tightly, reassuringly. "I know ya don't believe me," he murmured. "I know it hurts too much to hope. So let me be the one to hope for it. I can keep enough faith going for the both of us."

Whatever dams Bess had been able to hold up on her emotions came crumbling down at that. "Oh, George!" Waterworks unleashed, Bess threw herself into her father's arms and buried her face into his neck. She wailed harder than she had the night before. Harder than she had when her favorite horse had had to be put down from colic. Harder than she could remember having cried in years. She felt she would die this way. She would be fine with that; anything would be better than feeling like this--like her chest was about to explode from the pain of a broken heart.

George held her tight, rocking her just like he had so many times when she was little. Just like he'd done not so much earlier this evening. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, Bess, you cry. You just have a good cry, yeah? That's what ya need right now. I gotcha, Baby Girl--I gotcha." He stroked his fingers through her messy hair before cradling the back of her head like a babe's.

Tears pricking at her eyes, Debbie quietly got up and retreated from the room to give the pair some privacy. Bess didn't need her sassiness or blunt remarks right now.

"It hurts!" Bess bawled into George's shoulder.

The man gripped her tighter as if he could squeeze out the ache that plagued the girl. "I know, Mudpuppy," he crooned. He kissed her hair.

"It hurts so much, George!"

"I know."

"I wish I was dead--I wanna die!"

"I know ya feel that way right now, and that's okay. Just as long as you remember that ya can and will get through it. You got so much left to live for, Bess. And I promise ya it'll all be worth it."

"S-Some... where... ou-out th-there, yeah?"

"Exactly, Mudpuppy: Somewhere out there."

For a second, despite her better judgment, Bess almost felt she could almost believe him.

(Look, Bess--see? See? Your future hubby's just being a goofy gooferson and hiding!🤗 It's okay! Don't cry!)

(I love this scene--it makes me snicker like an idiot every time.)

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @christmasgaybusinessmen @crimson-phantom-designs @purgratoriat @witchypandamonium @girlbosseveyhammond @neonshoe @orangewierdo @crowwritesthings @beascrooge

[nerdasaurus1200]

A bit of an updated list on the TOWL fancasting:

Mia Wasikowska or Miranda Otto as Edith

Luke Evans as Dracula

Natalie Dormer as Carmilla Karnstein

Florence Pugh as Laura Hollis

Gerard Butler as Erik

Hunter Foster as Victor Frankenstein

Will Ferrell as William Frankenstein

Rebecca Mader as Lucy Harris

Deedee Magno Hall as Mina Murray

Kit Harrington or Harry Styles as Dorian Grey

Tom Selleck as Edgar Allan Poe

Robert Carlyle as Ebenezer Scrooge

Zendaya as Abigail Frankenstein

Euan Mortan as Renfield

Naomie Harris as Martha Dracula

Emily Blunt as Elisbatha Dracula

Arleen Sorken as Winona Dracula

Emilia Clarke as Geneveive Dieudonne

Donald Glover as Robert Walton

Idris Elba as Jupiter?

Gina Rodriguez as Melody

Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes

Martin Freeman as John Watson

AFV Cast as Addams Family

[tawneybel]

Female Goth Live-Action Characters

Note: And/or punk, emo, etc. Be free to suggest more! Cartoon list. 

Winter Anderson from American Horror Story: Cult 

Stephanie Boggs from American Horror Story: Murder House 

various from Jesus of Suburbia (American Idiot)

twins from American Mary 

Morticia Addams from The Addams Family 

Veronica Nix from Better Call Saul (Added 3/22/2023.)

various from Better Call Saul (“Piñata”) (Added 2/24/2023.)

Lola from Bones (“Mummy in the Maze”) (Added 2/24/2023.)

Allison Reynolds from The Breakfast Club

Jane Margolis from Breaking Bad 

Chanterelle from Buffy the Vampire Slayer 

Sunday from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (“The Freshman”) 

Sinead Lauren from But I’m a Cheerleader

Tiffany Valentine from Child’s Play 

Nancy Downs from The Craft 

Negasonic Teenage Warhead from Deadpool 

Katya from Derry Girls 

Wee Deirdre from Derry Girls

Enid from Dolls

Isabel from Dolls

Elvira from Elvira’s Movie Macabre 

Stokely Mitchell from The Faculty 

Marla Singer from Fight Club 

Dee from The Final Destination (Added 4/25/2023.)

Violet Moraine from Friday the 13th: A New Beginning 

Nessa Jenkins from Gavin & Stacey 

Girl in Alley from Ghost Rider 

Brigitte Fitzgerald from Ginger Snaps

Ginger Fitzgerald from Ginger Snaps 

Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter 

Female Cenobite from Hellraiser 

goths from Irn-Bru ad

various from Jennifer’s Body 

Pauline from Local Hero (Added 5/3/2023.)

Lisbeth Salander from Millennium (I’ve actually only read the books so far.)

Angie from Monk (“Mr. Monk Paints His Masterpiece”) (Added 10/2/2023.)

Lily Munster from The Munsters 

Fang Hellerman from My Soul to Take 

Taryn White from A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

Angela Franklin from Night of the Demons 

Yetao from Queens of Mystery 

Rachel Lang from The Rage: Carrie 2

Trash from Return of the Living Dead 

Blind Mag from Repo! The Genetic Opera

Amber Sweet from Repo! The Genetic Opera

Shilo Wallace from Repo! The Genetic Opera

Adriana from R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour: The Series 

Roxy Richter from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World 

Beth from Scream: Resurrection

The Night the Reindeer Died goth from Scrooged 

Punk Rock Girl from Spider-Man

Inessa from Stoneheart

Abigail Stapleton from Stoneheart

Jessica Stapleton from Stoneheart

Dottie from Stranger Things 2

Kali from Stranger Things 2

Mick from Stranger Things 2

Eden Bingham from Stranger Things 4 

Rebecca Buck from Tank Girl 

Tosh Guaneri from Urban Legend 

Morgana from Wishmaster 2: Evil Never Dies

[vanillann]

ew, it’s the government (spencer reid x reader)

warning: swearing, mentions of crime and sex, enemies to lovers

word count:

ew, it’s the government masterlist

chapter 3: thank god for jerick

“What the hell is going on!”

Agent Hotchner, or as I like to call him Scrooge, stood in the room while Mr. Ravioli stood beside him.

“We believe a serial killer is after you,” Scrooge spoke.

“Oh really, I didn't think of that one.”

Mr. Ravioli rolled his eyes, looking at his partner that stood beside him. I looked out the large window that overlooked the bullpen.

Agent Boy and a boy woman stood together, gloves on as they looked at the bag with my face on it. Polly Pocket sat at a desk typing away on a laptop.

“Look I don't trust the government-”

“I couldn't guess.”

I looked over to Mr. Ravioli, giving a death glare before starting my sentence back up.

“But this isn’t my area of expertise, I just got my master in Political Science and year ago.”

Scrooge nodded, pulling out the chair from him to sit in. He folded his hand across the table and looked up at me.

“We are planning to stay between here and our agent's house until it is safe.”

I felt my heart rate pick up, the horror of everything setting in more and more as the situation went on.

“What about Jerick?”

“He is in a car on the way here now.”

I nodded, walking back to the window and looking back out. A woman with dark hair and bangs down joins the other two with the bag, talking with her hands.

Agent Boy suddenly looked up, making eye contact with me. I watched him move to the right slightly, hiding the bag completely from my sight. I didn’t know if I was thankful I couldn't see it or upset I was missing something in my own case.

“I swear if I get murdered-”

“We aren't going to let that happen,” Mr. Ravioli jumped in.

“Don’t make a promise you can't keep.”

The room fell silent, my eyes following the agents talking. Suddenly all their eyes moved to the elevator, all walking as two police men and Jerick walked in the bullpen. I let my feet take off, running through the door onto the ramp.

“Jerick!”

“Oh my god (Y/N), what's going on.”

I ran down the short set of stairs, not stopping until I was close enough to Jerick. His arms were wide open and I was pleased to finally be with someone I knew. I felt his finger grab the back of my shirt as he hugged me back.

“You left me with the police,” Jerick whispered into my shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve been stuck with Mr. Ravioli and Agent Boy.”

Jerick laugend and pulled his head from my neck, giving me a sad smile.

“I feel like that isn't their name.”

I shrugged and moved to his side, grabbing his head as I looked ahead.

Agent Boy and the two other agents stood watching us. From this angle you could see the bag with my face on it.

“Oh god.” Jerick looked me over again, small teas falling from the corner of his eyes.

“It's not that bad, maybe it's because I shop at Target a lot?”

Jerick slapped my shoulder, giving me a deadpanned look as he looked at the bag of rice again.

“You must be Jerick Dame, I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau.”

The blonde women moved away from Agent Boy, sticking a head out to Jerick.

“Has (Y/N) here given you a nickname?”

Jerick shocked her head, his head pointing over to me.

“I think I’m going with Barbie.”

Jerick nodded to the word, looking over at the woman and mouthing “sorry”.

“I actually enjoyed it, she made the room feel like a reality tv show,” Barbie smiled at me, she was the first one to really smile at me like I wasn’t trash.

“Oh, I like you.”

Barbie nodded and looked behind her to her teammates.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid-”

“Agent Boy.”

“-And Emily Prentiss.”

Jerick turned to me with his eyebrows raised. I shrugged and looked at the two agents who smiled at him.

“Could I speak with you in my office, I just want to ask some questions.”

Jerick nodded and followed Barbie out the room. Both agents turned back to the bag with my face on it, pulling at the paper.

“Wait.”

I sued the agent boy to the side with my hip, moving the picture of my face to the backside.

A copy of my last paper from college sat on the back, my handwriting bleeding through the paper.

“Do you know what that is?”

I looked at Prentiss and nodded, my eyes screaming the paper widely.

“This was my last paper from college, it was for Ms. Gil-”

I didn't let myself finish before I dropped the paper, my eyes watching the wall without thinking.

“So he's taking stuff from the crime scene?”

Emily jumped in where I stood seconds ago, looking at the paper which she picked up.

“No you don't understand, I didn't turn the paper in because I miss the due date. I wiped that paper from my system almost a year ago.”

i’m sorry about the bad chapter!!

cm tag list:

@itsarayofsunshine @m-n-m​ @aquarius-pisces-rose@victomizedbyreginageorge  @avaxreid @erinxneil​ 

ew, its the government tag list:

@thatsonezesty13 @spencerslatte @pianofirepirate @ellvswriting @peterspickledpepper @erinxneil @friendlyweirdobaby @thatsastro @acambridge @spideyparkerstark @ameliamonster @thecraziestcrayon @hurricane-abigail @linthebinbag @m-n-m @reid-lover @drreidshands @l0ve-0f-my-life @avaxreid @baby-iyania @victomizedbyreginageorge @gubler-io @duskangxl @bonitaangel @koc-help​ @sataninsatin​

[spiralcompendium]

Marleybonean Dog Breeds

Inspired by this post by @buccaneers-babey​

back to your regularly scheduled lore posting

Certain dog breeds seem to be associated with specific occupations/genders in Marleybone. I looked through many of the Dog NPCs in Marleybone (both W101 and P101) and Celestia, and I was definitely able to make some connections. Also, I had no idea that KI had models for twenty-four different breeds (at least). I would have guessed, like, five.

Borzoi

Associated with the Navy. Examples:

Lt. Springer (companion--P101)

Admiral Nelson (Barkeley Square--P101)

Beagle

Seem to range anywhere from wealthy businessmen to poor orphans. 

Oliver Twist (Barkeley Square--P101)

Professor Challenger (Barkeley Square--P101)

Cratchit (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Gerry Ramsden (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Bulldog

Pretty variable, but many seem to be in the military.

Bulldog Sergeant Major (Barkingham Palace)

Watson (Scotland Yard Roof) [Of note is the fact that Watson from the original stories worked as a doctor for the British Army.]

Ms. Conrail (Hyde Park)

Reed Treever (Regent’s Square)

Sally Newflower (Royal Museum)

Deirdre Parker (Celestia Base Camp)

Admiral Doggett (Barkeley Square--P101)

Colonel Smeagle (Barkeley Square--P101)

Judge Burble (The Glass House--P101)

Bloodhound

We only have one example, but this breed could easily be associated with detective work. 

Sherlock Bones (Digmoore Station)

Cocker Spaniel

Commoner women. 

Tracy Castleton (Digmoore Station)

Amy Brooks (Knight’s Court)

Corgi

This breed seems to be associated with the royal family... and with poor maids in gross taverns?? Maybe members of the Marleybonean royal family--never mind.

Queen (Barkingham Palace)

Nancy (Isle of Dogs’ Sewers--P101)

Dobermann

This seems to be the breed of (generally) high-society men. 

Arthur Wethersfield (Ravenwood)

The Maestro (Telegraph Box)

Mayor Pimsbury (Digmoore Station)

Mr. Rowley (Hyde Park)

Bill Tanner (Knight’s Court)

Mr. Brownlow (Barkeley Square--P101)

Corporal Iams (The Glass House--P101)

Redcoats (The Wreck of the Victory--P101)

Constable Talbot (Isle of Dogs--P101)

English Mastiff

Royal guards. 

Captain Dartmouth (Barkingham Palace)

Henry Wellingbrook (Regent’s Square)

German Shepherd

High-society men.

William Pugsby (Chelsea Court)

Private Kinchley (Wolfminster Abbey)

Corbett (Isle of Dogs’ Sewers--P101)

Dr. Glendon (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Golden Retriever

He sure did retrieve that message from Azteca.

Edward Halley (Halle’s Observatory)

Irish Setter

Aristocratic/high-society men. 

Lord Barker (Chelsea Court)

Clancy Pembroke (Royal Museum)

Mr. Smiley (Barkeley Square--P101)

Mycroft Bones (Barkeley Square--P101)

David Balfour (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Labrador

Commoners. 

Ernest Haldings (Chelsea Court)

Emily Chesterfield (Hyde Park)

H. G. Waggs (Kensington Park)

David Beeman (Knight’s Court)

Abigail Doolittle (Regent’s Square)

Andrew Coleman (Regent’s Square)

Officer McRuff (Scotland Yard)--desk sergeant

And many, many more.

Papillon

Commoner women. 

Ms. Marphely (Chelsea Court)

Felicia Worthington (Regent’s Square)

Rose Piper (Telegraph Box)

Poodle

Aristocratic/high-society women.

Lady Desane (Hyde Park)

Catherine Dalton (Knight’s Court)

Linda Milltop (Knight’s Court)

Sarah Tanner (Knight’s Court)

Pug

Commoner men.

Chief Whip (Barkingham Palace)

Terrence Heath (Chelsea Court)

Reed Treever (Regent’s Square)

Travis Pawman (Big Ben)

Schnauzer

Male scientists and engineers. 

Dr. Schnippi (Isle of Dogs’ Sewers--P101)

Abner Wickersham (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Dr. Nation (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Ebeneezer Scrooge (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Scottish Terrier

Police/army.

Officer Darby (Hyde Park)

Officer Terry (Kensington Park)

Walter Chaplin (Royal Museum)--doesn’t fit trend (Spiral Geographic Society member)

Admiral Kearns (Barkeley Square--P101)

Captain Harkness (Airedale Pier--P101)

White Terrier

Low-class men, scurvy dogs.

Dockmaster Nathan (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Crokagator Dundee (Isle of Dogs’ Sewers--P101)

Jack Russell Terrier

A beautiful good boy.

Lucky Jack Russell (Companion--P101)

Boston Terrier

Female scientists/engineers. 

Edith Benchley (Celestia Base Camp)

Emily Wills (Isle of Dogs--P101)

Gracie Conrad (Companion--P101)

Shar-Pei

There’s only one, and he’s a constable.

Angus Crankenhop (Regent’s Square)

St. Bernard

Male constables.

Officer Barkly (Digmoore Station)

Sergeant Steeg (Knight’s Court)

Weimaraner

There’s only one: another constable. 

Officer Stone (Newgate Prison)