#fur coat was really OP

[blackbackedjackal]

Honestly the biggest offense to me personally was the lack of Furfrou merch. They literally gave that thing a million forms with the cuts plus the shiny forms also looked great. And all Furfrou got was a kids figure, MPC plush, a couple cards with some of the cut variants, and a metal charm set with all the cuts featured.

[wachinyeya]

Armed with Backpacks of Seeds, Local Pooches Enlisted to Help Rewild Urban Nature Reserve https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/saddled-with-backpacks-of-seeds-local-pooches-enlisted-to-help-rewild-urban-nature-reserve/

Inspired by an innovative Chilean forest restoration effort, the English town of Lewes is enlisting the help of dog walkers to rewild a local nature reserve.

Heavily degraded by foot traffic, the project co-ops dogs’ tendency to run about in the woods to spread wildflower seed from saddlebags strapped to a harness around the dog’s abdomen.

The idea mimics the function that wolves once played in that part of England, roaming over vast distances getting grass and flower seeds stuck in their coat, only to fall off and germinate somewhere else.

This helter-skelter seed-spreading is actually how many plants evolved to reproduce, and it’s key to maintaining a biodiverse and native ecosystem.

“We’re really interested in rewilding processes, but they often involve reintroducing big herbivores like bison or wild horses,” said manager Dylan Walker from the Railway Land Wildlife Trust who organized the project back in 2019.

“In a smaller urban nature reserve it’s really hard to do those things. So, to replicate the effect that those animals have on the ecosystem we aimed to utilize the vast number of dog walkers that are visiting the nature reserve daily.”

The saddlebags are filled with a variety of perennial plant seeds mixed together with sand. This allows the seed to be spread for longer across larger distances, while also providing a helpful tracking sign to inform the Trust’s employees where dogs are walking.

[gavillain]

I was talking with @marciabrady the other night about ships and the aesthetics of our favorite couples, and it made me really want to do a break down of one of my obscure crossover OTPs:

Grimhilde/Cruella, a.k.a. EvilPuppies!

Because I feel like Grimhilde/Cruella, out of all my ships, looks the most like crack at first glance, but there is so much more to it than just sticking two random Disney Villains together.

So, first and foremost, I started shipping them because of Kingdom Keepers Book IV, Power Play:

Despite the fact that Frollo is on the cover of the book and was the heavily promoted new Overtaker before the release of the novel, the main villains of the novel are actually Grimhilde and Cruella. The premise is that after Maleficent and Chernabog were captured at the end of the previous book, the Disney Villains who are trying to take over the parks have had to take on new leadership to get Maleficent and Chernabog out of Imagineer-prison. Grimhilde is the next in the chain of command, so she's in charge and has Cruella De Vil as her companion who follows her everywhere. They are ALWAYS together in the book, and Cruella, naturally, has a very flirty and complimentary demeanor towards Grimhilde that the Queen naturally just adores. Their chemistry is great, and there is even one part where the main hero finds the two of them asleep together on an air mattress and a bundle of furs (it makes sense in context) and, well... yeah XD The novel really glued the two of them together in my head.

And that togetherness, as you can see above, blends over into the parks. Grimhilde and Cruella are the only two main Disney Villainesses who are out with some regularity as face characters in Disneyland. All of the villains in the Disney Parks have a familiarity with each other, and you can get similar gal pal dynamics with them and Maleficent (and Lady Tremaine) around Halloween time. However, because Grimhilde and Cruella are out together for so much of the year, they tend to carry the brunt of that sort of "evil besties" friendship, leading to cute photo op moments like this...

So Disney is already doing a lot of the leg work to make them come across as girlfriends and to give them chemistry and a ship dynamic. However, if that was all there was to it, I probably wouldn't love this ship as much as I do. I need that interesting and thought through layer of shipping, and thankfully, these two have it in spades.

So, despite being from different time periods and wildly different worlds, Grimhilde and Cruella are aristocrats through and through. Grimhilde is literally royalty, and Cruella an over-financed heiress to the remnants of England's aristocracy (and she's the head of a corporate fashion empire in the Glenn Close movies). The House of De Vil dates back to medieval times, and evidence of that extensive and wealthy history is littered all around Cruella's mansion.

Cruella is in essence, the remnants of an old world that no longer exists, one of royalty and station that Grimhilde herself was a part of, and though the times have changed, Cruella keeps that class and regality alive. In that way, I think it blends perfectly with her taking on a lover who is quite literally OF that time period, and it also helps tie Grimhilde in with the modern world, giving Grimhilde a sort of immortality and transcendence that I think she'd very much value with her desire to be eternally young and beautiful. And, along those same lines, they are both very strong examples of matriarchal authority and power with Cruella bemoaning the uselessness of men and the pitfalls of women losing themselves to marriage, whilst Grimhilde murdered her own husband in order to reign alone without a man over her. They fundamentally get the sort of twisted villainous feminism that they are peddling.

Next is the themes of beauty and glamor. These are two women who are fundamentally motivated by vanity - Cruella wants to design her original Dalmatian puppy coat and stun the art world with her ruthless originality whilst Grimhilde wants to kill her stepdaughter so that she can reign as the Fairest One of All. For them, beauty and aesthetics are absolute, and they share a willingness to buy their glamorous ambitions with the blood of the innocent. They would fundamentally GET each other in that regard. However, and this is important, they GET that same motivation for vanity, but they don't COMPETE with each other. Cruella is a pretty woman, but she's older and she's a chain smoker whose habits have caused her to become a bit emaciated. She's beautiful in her own way, but she's never going to rival Grimhilde as the Fairest One of All. Likewise, though Grimhilde has extravagant fashions and jewelry, she's not setting out to be at the forefront of clothing design and art. She would certainly WEAR outfits Cruella designed for her, but she wouldn't want to supplant Cruella either. They're going to make the world kneel before their beauty, but they're going to compliment each other rather than rival each other or have to set aside their vanities for each other.

Then one of the big important elements that makes this ship appeal to me so much is the motif of DUALITY. Cruella is noteworthy for her hair that is half-black and half-white. It's her signature style, she's well known for it, it ties in with the black and white dogs, and it ties in with how she has her likable and admirable public face but also her sinister and dark side that the rest of the world doesn't see. Grimhilde also has the duality motif. Hell, she has BLACK HAIR as the Queen and WHITE hair as the hag, and the whole black and white motif shows up in her potions ("Black of Night" and "To Whiten My Hair, a Scream of Fright"). Grimhilde literally has two faces and two forms. She is two villainesses in one, which is such a tasty match for the woman with infamously two-toned hair. And what I like about that too is that Cruella BLENDS with both the Queen and the Hag. With the queen, she has the aristocratic and blue blood regality and beauty that I mentioned before, but with the hag, she has the cackling maniacal bloodthirsty side that would have an absolute riot bringing death to innocents. It's so symbolic, and they're the only Disney villains who have that duality motif in that fashion.

And the fact that they have all of these interesting parallels and motifs while also being from two different worlds and two different time periods (medieval and modern) is a lot of fun purely from a crossover perspective but also as ANOTHER manifestation of their duality motif! And THAT is the type of tasty shipping fuel that I LIVE for!

So with Grimhilde and Cruella being of two different time periods, they also simultaneously coexist in one time period. Cruella in the original animated film may have been released in the 1960s, but her animator, Marc Davis, designed her to be a throwback to the old Hollywood glamor of the 1930s. Most specifically Tallulah Bankhead...

And Marlene Dietrich...

Cruella is pure Old Hollywood 1930s glamor trapped in a late 50s/early 60s modern domestic setting. And you know whose movie was made in the 1930s and has a very 1930s cultural aesthetic to it?

And Grimhilde herself is designed based on ANOTHER 1930s film villainess, She (Who Must Be Obeyed):

A movie that was famous for its Art Deco sets, and Art Deco is one of the main aesthetic motifs attributed to Cruella in the Glenn Close movies. So stylistically speaking, the two of them despite coming from different time periods and different worlds coexist in a way that is very old Hollywood. And with that combined link to the 30s, it helps the two of them to coexist peacefully and harmoniously in the same time period. They meet in this glamorous and mythologized liminal space. Heck, with Cruella's aesthetic links to the 1930s, I personally headcanon that she grew up absolutely obsessed with old Hollywood and making a concentrated effort to emulate that energy in her own style. Since Grimhilde is kind of an Old Hollywood character come to life, it's almost like Cruella can be a fangirl of something that she's admired for her whole life when she gets with Grimhilde, and you know Grimhilde is gonna LOVE that attention.

In addition, I personally like to be very cognizant about my ships with regards to what the individual character is going to look for in terms of a romantic partner and why the character that I've chosen for them suits that specific need. With Grimhilde, we know that she was married to Snow White's father and that she killed him, so we know that she didn't have any real love for that man, possibly any man. She rules over her kingdom alone and doesn't want anyone to rule beside her. In the Snow White comics and deleted scenes from the film, she showcases a sort of romantic rivalry for Prince Florian, but her affections for him are never about wanting an equal. She wants him because he is young and handsome and compliments her beauty and elevates her image in a way that helps give her more power through her beauty. So for Grimhilde, she needs a lover who can fill that niche - not someone to rival her or rule beside her, but someone who can be a perfect accessory to her beauty. Cruella being all about fashion and style is absolutely that person. She's very cognizant of appearances and what can accentuate or take away from beauty and aesthetics. That inherent utility to their relationship means that it would be something that Grimhilde would be open to indulging, and from there deeper feelings can develop under the right circumstances in a way that they wouldn't without having that utility first.

So that's Grimhilde's side of things. But what about Cruella? Well, we see Cruella's relation with love mostly revolving around this sort of one sided attraction that she has to Anita. And at first glance that seems contradictory to her getting with the queen, because Cruella is obviously going after a dainty and demure woman who she can kind of steamroll and collect as another fashion accessory. However, I think what makes this work so well is that it really showcases that Cruella has an attraction to traditional feminine beauty and women in general, and Grimhilde is of course is the fairest woman of all. The Glen Close movie adds an interesting dynamic to Cruella's attraction to Anita in that she enjoys the creative interaction that she has with Anita. Never really noticed Anita until the two of them started to collaborate creatively, and I feel like that's a big thing that Cruella needs and wants in a partner, someone who engages that creative side of her brain and understands her drive for aesthetics and beauty. And, as previously stated, who better to do that than the Queen of beauty herself? Grimhilde is a perfect model of unlimited dramatic creativity wrapped in a feminine and beautiful package that would set Cruella's heart ablaze.

Together the two of them fulfill that perfect niche for each other and foster a creative, beautiful, and bloodthirsty ruthless energy that would make them feel seen and supported. They effectively create their own little world of 1930s fantasy glamor when they come together, and that's just beautiful to me.

Those are the biggies, but some other really fun pieces of shipping fuel: *I love the aesthetic they have with them both being tall women with dramatic almost drag queen makeup and outfits that have tones of black, white, and red in their own signature styles. And Cruella has the flowing fur coat with the red liner and Grimhilde has the flowing cape with the red liner and so they can be very flouncy and twirly with their styles. *Grimhilde keeps a royal huntsman who can kill all of the animals for Cruella whenever she wants. *They both have similar structures to their stories - they start out on friendly or familial terms with the protagonists before they show their true colors, then they entrust men to kill the innocent creatures needed to enact their plan but those men fail them, forcing Grimhilde and Cruella to take matters into their own hands, and then the finales showcase them both transforming into frightening demented versions of themselves (old hag and crazy demon eyes Cruella during the car chase) madly pursuing their goals until they ultimate bring about their own defeats by the environment turning against them *Cruella has the green smoke of her cigarette which echoes the green and smoke of the Magic Mirror, and also Cruella's chain smoking being a sort of poison in and of itself links back nicely to Grimhilde's literal poisons. *OUAT gives Cruella magic powers and ties to the Author, and Grimhilde also has magic powers and is a literal storybook villain.

So, yes, at first glance, EvilPuppies may seem like just a crackship, but it's really not. There is SO much here in both their canon interactions and in their numerous parallels, and there are honestly probably even more that I'm forgetting. They are the crowning queens of femslash for me for good reason, and I adore them, darlings!

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps,  except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet. 

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket.  She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind.  Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.”  A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul. 

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.”  As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.” 

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin.  As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face. 

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?”  You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder. 

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm. 

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home. 

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs. 

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.” 

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!” 

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes.  All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you. 

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!” 

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce. 

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.” 

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity. 

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else. 

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears. 

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind. 

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows. 

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting. 

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ” 

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion. 

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys. 

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile". 

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

[ithrilyann]

Thorin’s BOTFA costume details in 4K.

“For Thorin’s Erebor reclaimed costume I started weaving op strips of leather to create a dark tunic that would be worn over gold. It was almost like a cage, trapping the gold against his chest (lots of symbolism there) and had a certain streetwise quality to it, a roguishness which was something we wanted. The gold was bringing out the mean streak in Thorin so a certain thuggish, biker-gang quality to his coat subtly reinforced this shift in character.

Beneath the leather Thorin wore a velvet tunic to which we attached his chainmaille, something which came about with a lot of input from Peter and produced a staunch, unfussy look. Thorin's great cloak with its fur collar gave him an even bigger presence. It was always intended that this was formerly one of his grandfather Thror’s cloaks and by wearing it we were showing how Thorin was taking on Thror’s mantle both literally and figuratively, and with it, assuming all of Thror’s problems as well. Just as was done for Thror before him, the cloak was designed to add mass to the actor’s shoulders. We put huge folds in the back to give it more breadth”. - Bob Buck, Costume Designer

“Thorin, being such an important character, went through a lot of development. His costume had to reflect the journey he was going through internally.

Peter, Fran and Philippa went back to the lore for a solution, and that is where the raven theme came from. The Dwarves of Erebor have always had a close relationship with the ravens of the Mountain; they were very important to their culture. The Dwarves can talk to them, so it was a nice touch to reference that relationship with the costume, and it was dark. The entire costume was gold and black, a really fitting metaphor for how the gold was changing Thorin.

The other cool thing was the link we could build between Thorin and Thror, who wore almost identical armour. Thorin would look at himself in this armour and see his grandfather. There could be a moment there in which he would recognize the same sickness that corrupted Thror and make the choice not to be the same”. - Matt Appleton, Weta Workshop Costume Supervisor

(from ‘The Hobbit Chronicles: The Art of War’)

[quickspinner]

Substitute Santa

For @verfound, queen of hilarious prompts, as part of the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Secret Santa.

Her prompt was: Jagged Stone is Santa Claus. However you want to interpret this: Jagged is literally Santa and Luka is his son (a la Hallmark "find a Mrs. Clause for Christmas"). Jagged is dressed up as Santa for an event/Because Jagged. Luka caught Jagged dressed as Santa as a kid and now firmly believes it (Jagged snuck in with gifts for his kids? Last Christmas before Jagged left? Party Anarka drug him to?).

So here we go!

Luka was not pleased at the best of times to be called out of the workshop, up to his father’s “office” (he would have said playground, but it made Penny frown at him). But to be called up today, of all days? 

This really can’t be good , he thought, sighing through his nose as he climbed the spiraling stairs. 

He didn’t bother to knock, since knocking could almost never be heard over the racket of the workshop below and Jagged’s own…extraness. When he walked in, though, he blinked in mild surprise. The iconic red suit with white fur lining was missing, as was Jagged’s usual ebullient attitude. Normally Jagged was bouncing off the walls on Christmas Eve, ready to rock his way around the world while his cool but stressed assistant tried desperately not to lose her lunch in the passenger seat of the sleigh.

Tonight, though, Jagged was sprawled with his long legs hanging over the overstuffed armchair that they normally only used for photo ops, wearing his favorite purple striped pajamas instead of The Suit.

Luka turned and almost walked right back out again, but Penny and her clipboard had somehow appeared behind him, blocking the exit. 

“No,” Luka said to her, but to his annoyance, it was pleading rather than firm. 

Jagged let out a concussive sneeze that shook all the knicknacks in the room, and blew his nose like a trumpet before pointing a woeful glance at his son.Luka knew exactly what it would look like, though he refused to turn around to confirm.

“No,” Luka—whined. He was whining. He was man enough to admit it. “No way.” He pointed an accusing finger at his father. “Santa Claus does not get sick on Christmas. There’s gotta be magic or a—a rule or something.”

“There is a rule,” Penny said stiffly behind him, and Luka jumped a little, moving inadvertently further into the room. Penny stepped after him, shutting the door behind her. “The rule is you , Santa Junior.” 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Penny…” he whined again, and Penny rolled her eyes. Jagged sneezed again and moaned pathetically. 

“Oh, grow up,” Penny snapped irritably, and Luka actually wasn’t sure which one of them she was talking to. She stalked over to the wardrobe and yanked it open. “I don’t have time for your bullshit today.” She pulled the red coat out and turned towards Luka, holding it out.

“Now?” Luka switched tactics. “I haven’t even had dinner yet?” 

“Then you should have plenty of room for cookies,” Penny replied, unsympathetic. “Now shut up and get dressed. I’ve assigned you an assistant and she’ll be here any minute.”

Worse and worse. “You’re not coming with me?” Luka asked, accepting the inevitable with the coat.

“I’ve been exposed,” she replied, throwing a dark look at Jagged. “Some of us can handle illness without being reduced to invalids.” She looked back at Luka, and suddenly he could see the tiredness in her expression and the tightness around her slightly watery eyes. “Still, I have a monster headache and I’m going straight to bed once your butt is in the sleigh.” 

“Right,” Luka sighed, slipping on the coat. “Sorry, Penny. I know this sucks.” 

She acknowledged it with a nod. “I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s got to get done.”

Luka nodded morosely. It was a responsibility he accepted when he came to live with his dad, although he’d been more interested in the workshop than the top job. He’d spent the whole year building instruments for tonight (and being teased about his slow, methodical way of working), and he wasn’t about to let all that work go to waste just because his dad was a dramatic whiny baby. 

Not to mention an entire world full of kids who would wake up disappointed on Christmas morning if he didn’t step up. 

He swallowed any further whining objections and pulled on the stupid fluffy red pants with nothing more than a long-suffering sigh. 

“You’re so his son,” Penny muttered, and Luka gave her a pouty look that did nothing to disprove her statement. It turned even more mulish as she held out the boots.

“Do I have to?” 

“You know you do. You’ll trip in those things anyway. They don’t have enough heel to keep the pants off the ground.”

Luka kicked off his shoes without further complaint and put on the stupid boring black boots. He even tied the laces when Penny continued to glare at him. The boots adjusted to fit his feet. At least the vaunted North Pole magic was good for something. The suit shrank a little as well to fit him. Luka took the hat from Penny and stuffed it in his pocket. He’d have to wear it, or the glamor wouldn’t kick on, the one that made him look like viewer expected - chubby and white-bearded, the usual thing. 

“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” he warned Penny. “I mean, I can drive the sleigh and stuff but—” She was already waving him off.

“All you have to do is drive and drop the presents. I went over the route and double-checked the lists with Marinette this morning; she’s very organized. Although,” she added, looking up at the clock above the ostentatious mantlepiece, “punctuality has never been her strong point. Make sure you stay on schedule.” 

“Yeah, okay—wait, Marinette?” Luka looked up sharply, fixing his eyes on Penny and feeling his stomach flip. “The one that works in the fashion design department?” The one that he seemed to bump into far too often coming into and out of this office, often literally. Jagged gushed about her every time, delighted to have secured such a talented and creative person for his workshop. If there was one thing you could say about Jagged—well, it was that he really enjoyed being revered and loved by all the children of the world, which translated to wanting the best to come out of his workshop so that those children kept adoring him. 

He sighed to himself. Even a substitute Santa probably shouldn’t be such a cynic. And Marinette—

If there was another thing you could say about Jagged, it was that he was not at all subtle, and Luka was mortally convinced that his frequent brushes with Marinette in this office were intentional. He should have been doing everything in his power to dodge her, but…

Just then, she barreled in through the door, and his mouth went dry and his breathing quickened. She was flushed from the run up the stairs, eyes bright and eager, and she tripped over her words as she apologized profusely to Penny. She had a tablet tucked under her arm and she was wearing the traditional elf uniform, green with striped stockings and a silly belled hat perched between her pigtails. 

She was stupid cute and he felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears even before she turned to smile at him, clearly nervous but also excited. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Before they could say anything, though, Jagged groaned loudly, and Luka just caught Marinette’s arm before she rushed to the poor invalid’s side. “Don’t get too close,” he warned darkly, and winced when she turned wide eyes on him. “I don’t want you getting sick too,” he added quickly, dropping her arm. He felt like an idiot but the look she turned on him was grateful.

“You’re so right, I wouldn’t want to spread anything to the children.” She returned a sympathetic smile to the pitiful look Jagged gave her. “You stay home and rest. Don’t worry about a thing. Luka and I have got this!” She pumped a fist in the air, and Jagged threw her a goat and a grin that actually seemed genuine, and genuinely tired. Luka felt a tiny stab of sympathy, but it disappeared when Jagged blew Marinette a kiss and hoarsely told her she was the best, adding, “Keep the kid out of trouble!”

“Right!” Marinette grinned. Then she turned to Luka and his stomach did that weird flip thing again as her eyes darted over him. “Shall we go?” she said, checking her tablet. “I’ve got our schedule and route all worked out and when I stopped by the stable, they were just finishing up loading. Do you have your hat?” 

Luka pulled it from his pocket and waved it, and her smile brightened, making his knees weak. “Lead the way,” he managed to get out, and when she turned he followed right behind her. 

Penny whispered, “You can thank me later,” while he passed, and he nearly tripped on his own feet. 

Fortunately, his face cooled by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, so he hopefully didn’t look any more like a tomato than the suit already suggested when Marinette turned to him. 

“All right,” she grinned at him, linking her arm through his. “Let’s go save Christmas!”

He let her tug him towards the stable, chuckling a little at her enthusiasm. Well, if he had to do this, there was no point in sulking the whole time, right? It was just one night.

Marinette was a whirlwind, checking the packing, checking the harnessing, giving firm but polite directions when she found anything amiss. Luka wasn’t really sure what to do with himself, so he climbed into the sleigh and waited, until Marinette bounced up into the seat beside him.

“I’ve always wanted to ride this,” she confessed, flashing a grin at him. “This is so amazing. Ready when you are, Santa.”

“Luka,” he corrected automatically, but he was smiling as he picked up the reins. He couldn’t help it. “Hold on,” he said without thinking, and suddenly Marinette was pressed tight against his side, both her arms wound around his right arm. 

“Can you move okay?” she asked, looking up at him. “There’s not much else to hold on to,” she added, blushing, and he realized he was staring at her.

“Oh—yeah, sure, you’re fine,” he said, and flapped the reins with a little more force than was wise.

He had to admit, as the reindeer started off, gliding across the snow faster and faster before lifting sharply into the air—the sleigh was a rush. He couldn’t help laughing for pure joy at the swooping feeling in his stomach and the sudden surge of adrenaline. Marinette squealed a bit as they came off the ground. She sounded more excited than terrified but he risked a glance at her to make sure she was okay, and saw her grin in a flash of the bouncing lamplight.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she said again, letting go of his arm and sliding over a little bit as they leveled out. 

Luka grinned. “Well, we’ll get to do it a few thousand more times.” 

“Right,” Marinette said, pulling up her tablet, suddenly all business. Well, that was understandable, but it did kill Luka’s good mood a little. Right. It’s not like he was taking her out for a joyride—or a date.

He really wished he could, though. He’d run into Marinette half a dozen times, but always with Jagged in near proximity, which didn’t exactly bring out the best in Luka. She’d caught his eye every time, but he’d never managed to be walking out of Jagged’s office at the same time, and once he was back in the workshop with his tools in his hands, he tended to forget anything except the vision he had in mind. Luka wished now he’d been a bit more proactive. He could have come up with some excuse to visit her department if he’d thought about it. If only Jagged weren’t so damn pushy, then maybe…

Before he could get too far down that train of thought, it was time for the work to begin, and Luka didn’t have much time to think of anything except getting in, leaving presents, and getting out. Marinette was a good assistant, and everything he needed was right to hand when he needed it. They made a good team. Luka made sure to bring some of the best cookies back to the sleigh for her, to show his appreciation. He loved Penny but Marinette was a lot more fun—especially since Penny got horribly motion sick in the sleigh. He didn’t know how she managed the trip every year, but he supposed someone had to keep Jagged in line.

“Oh, these are good,” Marinette said, as they sailed between towns. Luka glanced at her and saw that she had a molasses cookie in her hand. 

“They were,” he agreed. 

“My parents own a bakery,” she said, taking another bite. “These remind me of home.” She giggled. “Who would have thought when I was putting out cookies as a little girl that I’d end up actually working in Santa’s workshop?” 

Luka chuckled. “I bet you were adorable. I can just see you in fuzzy pajamas, arranging the cookies and worrying about whether Santa has food allergies.” 

Marinette barked a surprised laugh. “It’s like you know me,” she said, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried not to choke on her cookie.

Luka grinned. “Maybe not yet, but I feel like I’m getting there.” He winked at her, and she blushed, and he grinned all the way to Budapest. 

Luka had no idea how the Christmas magic worked, only that it messed with time, so that Santa could make it everywhere that welcomed him before daylight. When Marinette announced happily that they were running ahead of schedule, though, he had an idea. 

“Do you think we can squeeze out fifteen minutes or so before we get to Paris?” he asked. “There’s someone I’d like to stop and see.” 

Marinette frowned. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nah,” Luka chuckled. “She already knows all the secrets. I just want to stop and say hello.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, her tone a little strained. “Well, okay…I think we can probably make that happen, if you don’t mind eating your cookies on the go.” 

“I think I can manage.”

Landing reindeer on a boat was a no-go, so Luka left the sleigh nearby, hopefully out of sight. He turned and offered Marinette his hand to help her down.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude—” she began, but Luka snorted. 

“You won’t be, trust me. You ought to get out and stretch your legs, anyway.” 

She let him take her hand and pull her down from the sleigh, though she still looked a little unsure. He kept her hand as he pulled her gently along behind him towards the boat at the dock. The garish paint job was masked by thick swags of twinkling multicolored lights that seemed to dance when they reflected on the water. 

When they were standing on the deck, Luka let out a loud “HO HO HO,” in a credible imitation of Jagged’s voice.

There was a thundering sound from inside the boat, and an older woman popped out of the door, scowling. 

“What did I tell ya about showin’ up on my boat you old—” Luka pulled off his hat, and she stopped her tirade, blinking, as Luka grinned. “Luka, m’boy!” She laughed, and threw herself forward. Luka dropped Marinette’s hand to catch and hug her, enjoying his mother’s bone-crushing embrace. “What are ye doing wearing the suit, lad?” 

Anarka stepped back, looking at him, and Luka shrugged. “Old man’s sick tonight, so I got stuck with the job. It’s good to see you, Ma.”

Her face softened, and she smiled. “Aye, it is that. I know ye probably cannae stay long, but come downstairs for a moment and have something hot to drink. And you too, lass,” she added, leaning a little to look around Luka at Marinette. “Got stuck with babysitting duty, did ye?” 

Marinette giggled, and nodded, while Luka pretended to look wounded. “Ma, this is Marinette,” he said as they followed Anarka down the stairs into the ship’s galley. “Marinette, this is Anarka Couffaine, my mom. Where’s Juleka, Ma?” he added, glancing around. 

“Passed out on the couch about an hour ago,” Anarka told him, jerking a thumb towards a lump topped with long black hair curled up at one end of the couch. “Never manages to stay up on Christmas. Pretty sure it’s that magic shit. Kids who try to stay up and see Santa never manage it.”

“There should be a loophole when you’re related to him,” Luka muttered. “And she’s hardly a kid.” 

Anarka shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I don’t truck with that Christmas magic bullshit.” 

“Maybe because she still believes,” Marinette suggested, and she blushed when Luka turned to look at her. “I mean, she knows Santa exists, so she still believes in him, so the magic still works on her.” She spread her hands, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just a thought.”

“Well, maybe.” Luka went over and kissed his sister’s forehead, tucking a creepy-ass doll he had picked out just for her under her arm. “Tell her I love her, okay?”

“O’course,” Anarka brought him a cup of—

“Coffee!” Marinette squealed, and then immediately put her hand over her mouth, eyes round.

“Aye,” Anarka laughed. “I know ya don’t have it ‘up north.’ Cocoa’s fine but,” she grinned at the blissful look on Marinette’s face at the first sip, “sometimes ye just want a good ol’ cup o’ joe. That much sweet all the time, sometimes ye need a touch o’ bitter.” Anarka winked at Luka, who realized he was staring at Marinette with what was probably a very stupid expression on his face. “Or spicy, eh?”

“It’s lovely,” Marinette sighed, fortunately not noticing the way Luka flushed red.

“Ye have to go, I expect,” Anarka sighed, when they handed the empty cups back. 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, glancing worriedly at her tablet. 

“Don’t apologize,” Luka told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s the job. Ma understands.”

“Aye, that I do,” Anarka said, rolling her eyes. “Get on wi’ ye then. Thanks for stopping to see yer ol’ Ma.”

Luka kissed her cheek, and hugged her. “Bye, Ma. I’ll come by again when I can.”

As they loaded themselves back in the sleigh, Luka said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted to stop and see your own family.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, waving a hand. “They’re surely asleep by now. Bakery hours, you know. And if they weren’t, we’d never get out before dawn. You don’t know my dad.” 

Luka grinned and clucked to the reindeer. “Tell me about him.”

The night seemed to pass like lightning after that, conversations pausing and picking up between deliveries as if they’d never been interrupted. Marinette told him about her parents and her life before the North Pole. Luka told her about growing up on a houseboat with Anarka and his sister, and then finding out as a teen that his father was THE Fucking Santa Claus. For the first time Luka thought he could actually feel the magic working, and they left their last delivery and turned back north just as the sun was lightening their section of sky. 

“So that’s that,” Luka sighed. 

“Yes,” Marinette agreed, and leaned back with a sigh. “I won’t say I had no idea how much work it would be, because obviously it’s hard, but it’s different to actually experience it.” 

“Would you do it again?” Luka wanted to know, and Marinette laughed.

“In a heartbeat,” she giggled, and then sobered slightly. “Would you?”

It was a bit of a loaded question. Somewhere in the dark of the night he had confessed to her his misgivings about taking on the mantle one day. 

“I think I might,” he said slowly. “The right company makes a big difference.” He smiled at Marinette, and to his delight, she smiled back, in a shy way he hadn’t seen from her before. “We make a pretty good team,” he dared to add, and Marinette nodded.

“And we made so many people happy,” she pointed out, looking back towards the horizon where the sun was rising. “It feels good.”

Luka nodded thoughtfully. “So yeah, maybe I’d do it again.” He shrugged. “I don’t think the old man’s gonna retire anytime soon, so. I’ve got time to think about it.” He grinned. “After I’ve slept for like three days.”

“Agreed.” Marinette covered a yawn. “And I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think I’m going to want to look at another cookie for at least a month.” 

“I’m with you,” Luka laughed, and then licked his lips a little nervously. “So, after we’ve slept for three days…do you have plans for the New Year?” 

“N-no, not really,” she stammered, reaching up to check her belled hat, which was slightly askew after all this time, but still there. Luka’s heartbeat sped up at her nervousness, which he thought was both adorable and a good sign. 

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Luka suggested. “Find a good cup of coffee and ring in the new year together?” 

Marinette visibly swallowed, blushing before she met his eyes. “Maybe kiss at midnight?” she suggested, quietly but boldly.

“I’d like that,” Luka managed to get out, just barely. 

“Hmm. That sounds nice. But…I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

Luka’s hands were on her face and his lips on hers in a heartbeat. The reindeer knew the way home, after all—but at the moment, he honestly didn’t care whether they made it or not. Another few laps around the world was sounding pretty good as Marinette’s arms wound around his neck. 

Fiction Master Post

[randofics]

Road kill Transformers headcannon

Heavy gore!!! Animal gore!!!

I wrote about this topic in another post and figured I'd do an entire headcannon on it. Basically it's what the cybertronians would think of organic gore. Roadkill is an everyday example that they would run into.

HEAVY GORE UNDER CUT!!!

-------------------

Bay OP- He didn't really notice the small animal corpses on the side of the streets and roads at first. Sure he'd notice the odd bump at night driving along, or the rank smell that he'd occasionally drive through but he thought nothing of it. He had also seen animals crossing the roads but never close enough that he had a hard time stopping. However one rainy night when the fog was thick and the moon barely shown through the thick canopy of trees on either side of the road it happened.

He hadn't been going very fast but even still the impact was brutal. With his extreme weight and momentum the poor creature never stood a chance. When the deer jumped out onto the road she was merely a few feet from his grill. The nine ton bot rammed into the helpless animal killing her on impact. Blood spattered over his windshield and the lifeless body rolled under his tires scraping along his undercarriage and more blood coating the crome pipes and cables. He swerved off the road and into the ditch coming to a stop in the soaked dirt. He was stunned and not sure what to think he reversed swinging around on the slick asphalt and driving towards the mangled corpse. He stared at it for several minutes still conflicted with his feelings about the situation before transforming and gently collecting the brutalized animal in his servos. He walked into the woods and dug a hole for the body, gently laying it to rest as he'd seen the humans do with their dead. With his respects paid to the creature he walked back to the road transformed and returned to base.

As he drove into the well lit hangar gasps, wide eyes, and optics met him. Cornel Lennox ran up to him asking what had happened. After an explanation Lennox showed him to the bots wash station to clean him up.

BayBee- Bee being closer to road level had been one of the first introduced to roadkill. He had been driving with Sam when it happened. It was daytime and the city streets were littered with dead leaves. The squirrels were busy gathering food for winter and because of this they tended to get more bold when crossing the roads. He had been going 35mph at most when the little fur ball hopped into the road. It looked left then right trying to decide which way to run but by the time it chose it lept right into the path of bee's tire. Curses from the radio flooded the cab. It was an unpleasant feeling for him, and it took a few tire spins for the body to fall off his tire. He parked on the side of the street and Sam stepped out with a water bottle in hand. He nearly gagged when he saw the carnage on bee's tire. Bits of fur, fresh blood and pieces of flesh was stuck to the treads. He opened the bottle and did his best to wash everything off but he knew he'd have to wash Bee later. Bee and Sam never really spoke of the experience.

BayCross- Cross had a similar experience to Bee though his was of the featherd variety. Driving through a wooded rural area a bird flew low across the street in front of him hitting his grill and over his hood and windshield. It left feathers and blood in his grill and on his windshield. He didn't really know how to react so he just returned to base and hit the wash station.

TFP OP- Optimus was driving down a canyon road at night when it happened. A coyote ran across the road and was struck by his bumper. It was killed on impact and got sucked up into his front axel. The body got caught on corners of metal and was torn apart. Blood coated his wheels and undercarriage with fur and flesh stuck in the nooks and crannies. He'd been lucky enough to not have seen much organic gore yet only really seeing minor wounds on the kids and some more serious injuries on military personnel when he was working with them. But this was on another level entirely! Cybertronian gore was mechanical and jagged, the only similarity being liquid lifeblood. Organic gore was messy and flowing with almost no jagged edges. It seeped between his panels and plates like ichor, and became sticky like glue. The red lifeblood was warm still from the just living creature. There wasn't anything he could do except keep driving, so that's what he did. He came across a lake and drove right into it letting the impact and rushing liquid remove the bloody remnants of the animal. He transformed and roughly waded through the water to scrub off any stubborn specs. Once he was satisfied he returned to base. He never brought up the subject to anyone except Rachet.

TFP Bulkhead- after dropping miko off at base he had wanted to go for a late drive on his own. He was minding his own business when two pronghorns bounded over the road. The first one made the leap but the other wasn't so lucky. It smashed into the apex of his grill flipping and crashing through his windshield. It's neck was snapped and it's legs were badly mangled as it lay dead half inside his cabin. Blood dripped from its muzzle onto his seat, glass scattered across the seats and floor. He had to call arcee for help not wanting to get the kids involved in something so gorey. She pulled the mangled corpse free and lay it on the side of the road. When they returned to base he went straight to the wash station not letting miko see the blood on his seats. The kids did ask what happened and he told them the truth. He was slightly surprised when they nodded in understanding and left it at that.

[aloeverawrites]

Tips for dark academia fashion

I've had a difficult time coming up with outfits for a few reasons so these tips are especially helpful for trans masculine people, autistic people or people who have sensory issues, and people trying to dress vegan.

-Try looking for clothes in second-hand stores.

It's better for the environment, and for the you.

The clothes are cheaper, so not as big of a deal if you change your mind about them later.

If you accidentally buy something that's made out of animals, like fur, leather or wool, it doesn't cause as much harm. Your money isn't going directly to a company that exploits/kills animals.

There's also a larger variety of clothes, so you can find things with the right textures that won't mess up you up.

Finally, a lot of the things are donated because they're older or out of fashion, which means it's a good collection of vintage clothing.

-Items to add to your wardrobe.

Waistcoats are really nice, especially if they're made out of a soft fabric. I have one made out of polyviscose with a polyesther lining, and it's so comfortable. And since it's secondhand, I don't feel bad about buying plastic. As for sensory issues, the waistcoat is kind of a nice sort of pressure and it makes me feel better when I'm walking around in public. Feels like a hug, 10/10.

Plaid flannel button-ups. I didn't think that it was particularly dark academia but it actually works really well as a second layer. Under a coat it just looks like a sweater vest or something, they're really nice. Again it's important that's it soft, and if it's a re-purposed pyjama top no one has to know. Plus flannel is usually vegan and made out of cotton, which is ethical and really comfortable.

Solid colour button ups. These are easy to pair with coats and plaid flannel layers. I bought a bunch of really comfortable button-ups from an op-shop, you can sleep in them if you wanted, they're lovely. The one I'm wearing now is a polyesther/cotton blend so again it's vegan.

Coats and jackets. I bought a jacket recently but it's a bit scratchy so it's been banished to the depths of my closet, lol. But hey it cost five bucks so who cares really. I also got a coat that is the love of my life. It's kind of heavy so that's a really nice pressure to have when you're out and about, very grounding. It also has inside pockets. I really recommend the inside pockets. Coats are very timeless and you see them a lot in like British tv (Endeavour, Doctor who, Sherlock) so I really associate them with vintage/dark academia. I'm not completely sure what my coat is made of as the label was torn/chewed off (part of the op-shop charm), but the lining feels like the lining of my waistcoat, kind of a viscous silky feeling. (Though hopefully it's not actually silk.) The outside is kind of a soft cottony feel. I don't think it's wool because I have a wool allergy and I would have perished by now.

Scarves. I bought a light blue viscose scarf which is really soft. You can also buy really light square scarves to hang on the walls for a bit of drama, especially if they have nice colours or pictures.

Pants. As for pants a straight leg black or brown pair would work with most outfits. I bought a polyester pair on sale at a hiking goods store, and they're really light and comfortable because of that.

Hats. They really do make an outfit vintage but, yeah. I've yet to find a hat that doesn't make me look strange. The reputation of fedoras have been forever sullied so we're not even going there. I'm currently on the hunt for a baker boy cap that doesn't make me look like an idiot, I will let you know if I ever succeed.

So some general tips when it comes to dressing vintage/dark academia with these limitations:

-Dressing to "pass" as a transmasculine dude.

They weren't lying button-ups really do help.

If you dress vintage, you might be read more a a guy. In the 1920s or similar time periods, people were more strict on separating men's and women's clothing, so old-fashion clothing is generally read as either feminine or masculine. Kind of depressing for people back then but at least we can use it to our advantage now-

If you're wearing a coat, flannel and button-ups, all of those layers can hide your chest so you don't have to worry as much about binding. Also the cut of the coat might be able to give you a more "masculine" shape and provide that good gender euphoria.

These layers don't cling to the body as much as cotton t-shirts, so even if you're just wearing one button-up it can hide things well and give you the shape you want.

These are donated by a bunch of older dudes so if you're like me they'll look huge on you. A lot of fashion sites say not to do this but personally I prefer looking like I'm drowning in a shirt. But if you want them to fit better you can alter them or kind of fold them into a waistcoat.

Rolling up your sleeves and buttoning them is pure gender euphoria. I love it.

-Dressing with ethical materials

Second hand clothing reduces your environmental impact and keeps clothes out of the landfill.

Using plant-based fibres instead of animal based ones means that animals aren't being harmed for your wardrobe. The moral issues with fur are present with all kinds of animal clothing, eg (and trigger warning) leather means that calves are shot, wool means that sheep are cut during shearing and eventually sent to slaughter, silk means that silkworms are boiled alive.

It can also be better for the environment as animal agriculture is a leading cause of climate change.

It can help human rights issues, as having to kill/handle animals can be mentally and physically harmful to workers. There's also the problems with leather tanning affecting water supplies and causing cancer in workers.

-Dressing for sensory issues

A lot of these materials like cotton, viscose and flannel are really soft so they won't cause sensory issues.

Feel free to go through op-shops and just touch fabric until you find something that's really comfortable. You don't have to settle, take home an outfit made of clouds and dreams. Plus op-shops have a lot of cool dark academia things like doilies, candleholders and antique paintings, so you'll probably want to go through them anyway. Might as well get some clothes while you're at it.

The low-cost can make it easier to quickly create a new wardrobe that doesn't make your skin want to escape.

Heavy coats or waistcoats can provide a pressure that's grounding and comfortable.

So there you have it, a very specific dark academia fashion guide. Hope it's helpful!

[orionthecreator08]

My OCs

Okay, so...

Okami Kuki is someone who is intersex but goes by she/they pronouns. However, they aren't very feminine besides having long hair and being a bit curvy under her baggy clothing. They wear a binder under their clothing (you can see a little of it) which makes them always be mistook as trans a lot. They don't mind it, but others pushing more questions about her sex piss them off.

They may act cocky but, really, they aren't. Honestly, Okami's very modest and, even though they're choosing to be a Daylight Hero, doesn't actually like being in the spotlight. She just wants to help others grow and be seen. They're very strategic, but her overthinking and anxiety holds them back unless they say "Fuck it, I'm yolo-ing it!"

Her quirk, Wolf Inferno, is like Shoto's: Two different components that aren't related for one power. I based it off of that game "Okami" where you're the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu. It was cool and I had a fun time playing it. Although Okami has the capabilities of a wolf and can manipulate fire, there are a lot of limits I put because of how OP I made the quirk. The only part she has no problem with is the emitter part of their quirk, easy to control, but stresses her nervous system as that's what control it. Her overuse sign is a heavy migraine and ringing in the ears.

Their enhanced senses and physical being are in the way most of the time as she has no control over them.

The pros:

She can hear from 6 to 10 miles, smell up to a mile

Insane stamina, as wolves are the best animal marathoners, with the possibility of traveling up to 100 miles in a day with no rest.

Speed can be 5 mph when walk (or trotting) and 30-45 mph when it comes to short distances.

Strong vocal cords to produce sounds for communicating large distances

The cons:

She can hear from 6 to 10 miles. Imagine how many secrets they've figured out on mistake because a mutant quirk never shuts off. Imagine the stress to keep said secrets a secret. Also, hearing like that can be damaged if not taken care of.

Insane stamina = Extra Energy. Burning off energy that can be used to walk 100 miles shouldn't be taken lightly. Also, Okami isn't really high energy. They don't sleep well as they should, which make 100 miles more like 15.

Wolves are carnivores (meat-eaters, so you don't have to search it up) that can eat up to 9 kilograms of food in one sitting. Okami craves meat a lot because of this and it need to be in their diet. Luckily, wolves also eat vegetation to keep healthy, so she has a substitute.

There's always this hood of loneliness over their mind, because wolves are pack animals. Her instincts really impact their relationships with others, because she needs affection to calm said instincts. Also makes Okami very protective of people she cares about. There are times of certain... urges, but they aren't relevant right now. Yes, she's 15, going onto 16. But "that" I only made apply to actual love, not simply physical attraction.

Finally, grooming. You read right, grooming. A fur coat is high maintenance, matted (clumped up) fur is very uncomfortable.

Now let's talk trauma, we have:

Parental Issues - From foster parents, calling her a mutt and a dog

Domestic Abuse - Many of her things were thrown into fire. Makes them get emotional attachment to certain things and cause her to become feral

Psychological Bullying - A mix of both homophobia and transphobia from the female population of their school. Caused misogynistic tendencies towards most girls her age. Why not Maya? Even she doesn't know

Amnesia - Little to no memory of their parents, and it became a touchy subject

Abandonment Issues - Was told their parents most likely abandoned them and didn't want her. A wolf needs a pack and she only found it when she moved to Hawaii... temporarily that is

Imposter Syndrome - Always feels like something is wrong with them, like she's a fake and they don't belong

Kuki was originally from the MHA timeline (born like a month after Midoriya) but got into a quirk accident when she was 13 years-old. This accident changed her entire life as she was sent back to when the glowing baby showed up and quirks started to appear.

With little to no memory of her past life, they attacked police officers at the scene (out of fear) and were sent to a mental asylum for investigation.

Back at where her parents (who are pro heroes) are, they were able to make a worldwide search for the culprit. The culprit was found but the search for her was dropped and made headlines. Parents during the present timeline literally say to their children "Be careful. You don't want to end up like that kid from 2 years ago."

With Okami, she was put into foster care where they assumed Okami would be well taken care of. Spoiler Alert! She wasn't. They got treated like trash, at both school and at home, and ended up on an isolated island called Hawaii because that was where the only family that would take them live for the next year.

(Hawaii has major history with Japan. There's many Japanese tourists in the summer and transfer students. Thought it'd be a nice detail for rich kids. Hawaii's school campuses, from elementary to college, are also very open due to the law. No building can be taller than the tallest palm tree.)

Now, Maya Aoitori Takami is Hawks' adopted daughter on paper. However, due to their close ages, they act more like siblings. She's your average girl: sticks to dress code, meh grades, very lean and flexible when it comes to physical build.

She's small but she's fierce, and feeds into Okami's affection need a lot. Maya's quirk, Peregrine, allows her to do anything a peregrine falcon can do. This includes their amazing eye sight and ability to dive at high speed of 240 mph, which makes them the fastest bird in the world. Her quirk, however, is transformative, not a mutant-type.

(You don't wanna know how long it took to get her wings right. Also, I get my facts straight from Wild Kratts, very trusted source right there!)

Her quirk isn't that problematic or hard to deal with as Okami's. Just, wings are heavy, even if they have hollow bones, and also the need for extra blood flow. Maya's overuse sign is that she goes anemic. I've mentioned that the wings need blood, yes? Her feet can also turn into talons, which I've incorporated into her hero costume. Her costume's in the works, I have what it needs, but I haven't done the full design. Unlike Okami's who costume wasn't planned to be complex, until the winter costume that is...

Also, Maya has ADHD, it doesn't affect her fieldwork, but her grades show the impact. Maya's quirk was, in fact, based off Wild Kratts. It's cheesy, I know, but Maya's character design has evolved over the years.

Maya was originally named Tristan before I discovered one of many things about myself. What can I say? Middle school is my time of discovery.

She also doesn't have as much trauma as Okami. Just abandonment issues as she lived on her own in the streets because, well, she was abandoned.

(I need to put more thought into her character bg, I know! I just don't want to put too much as I want her to be a little happy-go-lucky to contrast to Okami's sharp attitude. I'll also re-upload the pictures after I get to hero names and all that in my story.)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Let me proposed you an idea

Crewel is a dog person, and his half-Fae daughter is big time animal person who liked to get dirty while restoring stuff and also can be prim and proper

Since TW universe have characters based on stories both new and old, imagine that Crewel Grandma and Grandpa is the Big Bad Wolf ( I think the Grandpa married in to the family and unique magic is based along of summoning monsters or beast + he's a wolf/dog beastmen ) and the Grandma is The Little Red ridding hood ( who's is the matriarch of the family and unique magic is go along with sounds + she's a human )

I liked to thing Crewle looked up at his grandmother alot because she is full of class and also can kick ass with her crop and also like to hear about his Grandpa old days when he was still living in ShaftLands or Land of Proxy

And his daughter enjoy to dressed similar as their great grandmother early to late 1940s clothes, since their archane magic is weak as hell but for some reason their mana is high energy even with their fae half it didn't bother them as what great-grandfather taught her how to summon beasts with a special whisle to help summon them

That leads to this scenario as they wear a nice sleeveless knee high black dress, black sunhat and their fur coat while having her dalmatian with her as it's a free day at her school to visit her father place of work, while doing so they see a gargoyle statue and admire the details and that how they meet Malleus and is very polite just talk to him like any other person and asked them if they know where her father classroom at

Because of that small gesture of kindness that is not from fear or in a high pedestal of respect, he gotten yandere and not knowing what to do and asked Lilia for help

“Aren’t they so intricate? It makes the school so much more charming than it already is.” 

The horned individual turned to see you in white and mostly black looking at the gargoyle from behind your giant glasses

He noted your dated style and made a simple connection between your father and you

If this was the magically weak reader I can see them not knowing Malleus is a part of the group that rejected them

But since this is restoration reader I can see them just being really down to Earth 

“You…appreciate the gargoyles, here?”

“Of course gothic architecture happens to be some of my favorite kinds to look at. And in my uh…line of work I restore stone pieces all the time.”

“Your work? Are you…a builder?”

“He-he I guess you could say that. I’m (Y/n).”

“Greetings…(Y/n)”

“Oh, by the way you’re a student right? Mind telling me where I can find your teacher: Crewel?”

He gave you directions reluctantly bidding you goodbye 

From there he can’t stop thinking about you 

Leading him to wander off more often, looking at the gargoyles in hopes of seeing you again

And he does but he finds himself unable to approach

Your presence was like a treasure that everyone was searching after 

Usually making it hard to even get close to you 

Of course he’ll go to Lilia 

The ex-general should have some tips on competing with others for your attention

“Oya (Y/n)-chan is an easy person to get a hold of just text them.”

“Text?”

“Oh boy…”

When he finally does figure it out he’s been hit with a devastating bout of news

“You are leaving? Already?”

“Yeah, I get like one more day before I have to go back to my school. Princesses never sleep..I guess.”

So maybe against his better judgement he took Liliia’s advice and  invited you for some tea 

Tea that would keep you with him in your intense slumber

Unfortunately for him your princess school is quite adamant when they want you back

So he’ll finally have you resting in his bedroom about to place his lips on yours only for you to be enveloped by a puff a smoke and for you to be gone

You’ll wake up back in your dorm not even making the connection that the Prince of Thorns is behind your early slumber

It’d be crazy if the most op yandere was thwarted by simple circumstance

[glittercake]

Multi-chapter:

Glory Days (mobsters au pt1)

Maybe there’ll be photos in the papers tomorrow of this exact moment—Jimmy blowing a kiss and Sam smiling the way he is, but no one’s ever gonna know the truth.

And that is: Jimmy Piper’s whole world is up there. He’s never been an honest man, but he means that without exaggeration. Everything he’s got—this car, his house, the stupid thousand dollar shoes, the gold around his neck—he’d give it all up for that man. He’d drop it and never look back. Long as he’s got Sam.

That’s God’s honest truth.

Kings of Everything (mobsters au pt2)

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

The First Gentleman (first man/bodyguard)

Sam knew what he was signing up for when he married a senator running for Office. He knew what Riley’s job demanded. He knew the hours, the stress, the milling, and the perpetual buzz. Living his life constantly surrounded by everything, by an entire nation.

But he had always dreamed of a quiet life. A place in the country with the man he loves, acres of greenery and trees, and flowers around them. A long winding road they could drive down on a warm Sunday afternoon. A big old farmhouse with a wraparound porch and a French kitchen. Some horses and a stable, and a little creek covered with a blanket of mist in the mornings.

He gets what he wants in the most horrible of ways.

Don't shy from the light (boxers au)

When Bucky was younger he'd steal pages from his mom's gossip magazines of Wilson leaving some fancy club in a thick fur coat, or pictures of him arriving on the red carpet in a form-fitting suit and shiny rings on his fingers, and Bucky would… he thinks the word for it is swoon.

Most kids Bucky's age crushed on Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise. But Bucky had it real bad for Sam Wilson.

And now, he just signed up at Wilson's boxing club. There's no way Sam would actually be here; he retired from the sport back in 2011 after the fateful Simmons/Rumlow fight. But Bucky knows this is still the best place in the business if he wants to make a career of fighting.

Lighthouse (doctors au)

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

Shaken (barman/p.i au)

Sam Wilson runs a small, independent investigative firm with his college friend Steve.

He's renowned for solving and uncovering just about anything that lands on his desk until random strangers start disappearing in his city. With only a hunch and an address, he heads to a dingy dive bar downtown for answers.

What he finds is so much more than he bargained for.

To The Full Moon And Back (werewolf!sam au)

After serving his time in Special Ops, Bucky moves to a two-horse town, deep in the mountains. He buys an old log cabin in a large clearing surrounded by acres of tall, thick trees and dark woods- the only place for miles up there.

As he acquaints himself with the locals, he learns about the small town’s weird obsession with wolves and all the supernatural rumors, specifically around the area of his cabin.

Bucky thinks them all a little off-kilter until peculiar occurrences around his new home piques his interest enough to find out more.

And that’s when he learns that apparently werewolves are a very real thing.

Pity that Bucky doesn’t share the town’s caution when it comes to the woods and his cabin.

This ‘werewolf’ devoured his pizza and left the crust, how scary can he really be?

One-shots:

Line Up (I'll be waiting) (pilot/atc au)

Bucky is an expert at landing planes. He thinks he’ll try his hand at landing the Captain too this time. Cue: tireless flirting, one lucky bastard, and a storm threatening to ruin everything.

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special (cap!sam/modern!bucky au)

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Years in the making (military/air force au)

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is. OR Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

love me for the hell of it (human au)

Sam hangs on Riley's every word, his every breath, and Riley acts like he's suffocating because of it. He never sees Sam, truly sees him, and Bucky is helpless with thoughts of what he'd do if that were him instead. Oh, how he'd love that man given half a chance. He loves him now, even this way, even with his hands empty and reaching.

minutes to midnight (neighbors au)

"Oh hey, it's your neighbor from down the hall. I saw your lights were still on. And uh—"

Oh shit. Hot Neighbor dude. Bucky's seen him around, and he's that kind of cute that makes you immediately ignore the hell out of them. Makes you look away and pretend they don't exist. 

The Expert (archeologist au)

"Hmm." Sam has already taken off his jacket and hung it by the door; he's now just in that tight t-shirt clinging on for dear life around his biceps. He snaps on some protective gloves, circling the table, "How old did you say?"

"Oh.. uh, I'm twenty-five in March—"

Sam's eyebrow goes up, and his tongue wets his mouth corner.

"You mean the artifact." Bucky flushes bright red in an instant.

"I mean the artifact." Sam confirms, but he's holding back a smile again. 

as fate would have it (human au)

"Red very lost," It says, surprising the shit out of Bucky.

He stares at it and says, "What?!"

The bird honest to god sighs and repeats, "Red. Very. Lost."

"Yeah, no shit, pal." he murmurs, making his way down the sidewalk. "So, your name's Red, huh?"

"No shit, pal," says Red.

or, Bucky meets Sam in a very roundabout kind of way.

fighting but falling slowly (deaf!sam au)

Bucky once tried saying hi while Sam came out to get his Uber Eats, and the dude totally batted him and just went back inside, which is rude as shit, and so perhaps Bucky is very bitter because Sam is one hundred degrees of Fine.

the bad place! (jurassic park au)

“Tower A come in please. There is a rogue predator. I repeat, there’s a fucking carnivore roaming the front fields. Come the fuck in.”

Only static follows. Sam repeats the request with no avail.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  This is when things seem to get better with the Shelby family —at least with Polly— that a drunk client crosses the line with you at the Garrison. Haunted by his past insecurities and his burning jealousy, Arthur snaps. And he snaps very bad. For the first time since you've met, he reveals the beast he hides inside... And Tommy obviously uses the incident to blame you.

Words: 5k

TW: Angst, Obsessive behavior, extreme jealousy, graphic depiction of violence, murder, lot of blood, canonical violence, witch trial, allusions to smut, allusions to blood!kink, Arthur being an emotional and slightly psychotic mess

Notes:

✞ I don't condone Arthur's behavior. Also, keep in mind that Heaven is certainly a bit twisted too.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || Masterlist || NEXT

The sound of your heels hammering the cold pavement of Small Heath echoed in the nocturnal streets as you walked to the Garrison. Even though the expansion of the Shelby Company led the family’s interests away from the pub, they still hold the place dear to their hearts and sometimes they liked gathering there for old times' sake. Especially Arthur. Hence, rather than staying at home, reading in front of the fireplace, and dwelling on Polly’s odd behavior at the last family gathering, you decided to occupy your buzzing mind by surprising Arthur at the pub. A raven flew above your head and cawed, its presence stirring interest in you for he had followed you from the moment you had left your house. As you walked to the Garrison, you took a quick glance at the black bird’s silhouette, which was perched on a roof a few houses away. 

"Silly boy, want to tell me something?" You told to it, amused. The animal, dressed with dark feathers, replied with another caw. You chuckled and kept walking.

The white dress and fur coat you were wearing contrasted so well with the dull night that the few people you passed were not sure what they had just seen. Indeed, the moon's glow reflected its light on your porcelain skin, adorning your frail body with an almost supernatural aura. That was why some of them thought they had caught sight of an angel, just like Arthur did the first time you and he met.

When the dark wooden door of the Garrison opened, its noise overcoming the laughter, chatting, and sounds of glasses clinking against each other, a soft wave of warmth caressed your cold face. You had barely stepped inside when people almost all turned around, many pairs of eyes weighing on you. Curious and dumbstruck gazes looked at you, wondering what such a holy-looking creature was doing here — but you did not really care. Your petrifying aquamarine iris swept the room to become familiar with the place before you headed to the counter behind which you saw Arthur’s tall frame. The man was back to you, talking with his little boss-brother Thomas. Awesome, you thought, little King Shelby is here. Sarcasm filled your head at the mere sight of him. To be true, you were well aware that Thomas was always doing his best to avoid you, but it did not annoy you. Quite the contrary, you were more than satisfied with never seeing him — you still did not come to terms with him trying to strangle you after all. Nevertheless, you leaned over the counter, arms resting on its varnished wooden surface, and parted your juicy lips to speak. 

“Good evening, Mister Shelby. Care to serve me a drink?” 

Arthur’s whole being shivered with delight as soon as he recognized the enchanting and oh-so-peculiar tone of your voice — the same voice that had led him to you one bleak and sleepless night. Shaken to the core by your presence, he forgot about Tommy the moment you had started to speak and turned around to face you, the corner of his lips stretching in a genuine and blissed smile. Each time his steel blue eyes fell on you, it was as if God's grace struck him — even though you were living together. The thrills you gave him never left.

“Good evening, love. What is such a delicious little Angel like you doing here? It’s a bad town for such a pretty face ye know.” He almost cooed with his hoarse voice, his hands on the bar and his eyes sparkling with a teasing gleam.

“Fell from the sky and got lost in these streets, so I just followed the light.” Your fingers grazed the back of his hand and went up its skin, leaving pleasant tingles in their trail, until they reached one of the many rings he was wearing. The simple gesture, barely touching him, lit up a blazing fire in his soul. Thomas looked at Arthur and quickly understood that no matter what he would say or do, he held no power over his older brother anymore, “Evening, Tommy.” You said, finally acknowledging him.

“Thomas. It’s Thomas.” He retorted with a voice as cold as an arctic blizzard that could freeze Hell’s inferno itself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray and left without any single word, his shadow disappearing in the streets as he left the Garrison, for your sole presence seemed to bother him. Well, at least his opinion about you did not change. However, the lack of peculiar reaction from him reassured you: Polly had not told him what happened to the tea party yet.

“Don’t mind him eh,” 

You did not.

“I should probably give you one hell of a strong drink if you fell from Eden… Miss?”

“Heaven Lavey.” You winked, enjoying his silly way of hitting on you as if it was the first time you met, “A glass of red wine would do the trick… And the barman’s heart.” Your teasing grin widened, unveiling perfect white teeth. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils, enraptured by your whole being. From your smile to your bratty pout, you got him on his knees. Each time he would dive his eyes into yours, his heart would quicken in his chest and dopamine would rush through his veins — who would want to keep taking drugs after tasting you? Not even himself. He was already high enough by your presence in his life and God knew he never wanted to sober up from you.

“As you wish.” He leaned over the counter to lay a tender kiss on your forehead. The way his mustache gently tickled your skin made you chuckle. How sweet he was, not afraid to lavish you with sweetness even in front of other people. Then, he gathered all his strength to pull away from you and take care of your order — which was nearly impossible to do, for you were both attracted to each other like two powerful magnets. But still, he did and then poured the finest red wine the Garrison had in a glass before putting it in front of you. Then, he leaned a second time over the counter to bring his face close to yours again, “as for my heart,” he paused, his eyes abandoning yours to drop on your full lips he watched with utmost desire, “You already snatched it, angel.” 

“You’re incorrigible, Arthur Shelby.” You could not help but laugh when you noticed that, as you spoke, his focus was still fiercely anchored to your lips. The urge he had to devour them was almost palpable, electrifying the air around him. Yet, you resisted the need to kiss him, rather bringing your small hands to his neck to fix his bow tie with indescribable tenderness. The pair of eyes that were watching you since your arrival could not believe that you had managed to tame the brutal Arthur Shelby — how he behaved with you was so different from the way he was with the others it almost scared them, “I hope you like this little surprise.”

“You can’t imagine how much I do.” He purred, grabbing your hands and putting them on his cheeks. How he loved feeling your cold skin against his. You cupped his face, looking right into his fair eyes with a never-ending love, and he instantly melted. His eyelids half-closed, for you had brought peace to his scorching soul again, “Lemme clean a few things and we’ll go back home eh.”

“Take your time. Je t’attends mon amour — I’ll wait for you my love —“

“Yer comfy here?”

“Arthur,” Your eyes rolled, amused.

“Want a cushion to sit on? Want to wait in a quieter room?” 

“That’s okay.”

“Mmm’kay” 

You freed his face from your sweet grip, leaving him lingering for more. When he reopened his eyes he could not hold the little growl that escaped his lips for you had not kissed him. He blinked several times, trying to chase away the charm you had cast on him with your sole presence, and reluctantly left you. Stars still danced in front of his eyes because of your intoxicating beauty — so hypnotizing he struggled to come back to what he was doing before.

Waiting did not bother you. In fact, you preferred to wait for hours here, in the comforting warmth of the pub and its hullabaloo, rather than being left alone with your thoughts in the quietness of your house. Sipping on your red wine, you were minding your own business when a man sat next to you, his body collapsing on the stool as if walking had been quite a struggle for him. Which was probably the case considering he was drunk. Only a few people were still at the Garrison, the others went home stumbling or dragged away by a fellow friend. The suffocating smell of whiskey and sweat that was emanating from the newcomer made you wrinkled your nose.

“Hey doll, all alone by yourself? ”  The man said, bringing the whiskey glass to his chapped lips to gulp what was left in it. You glanced at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to do any kind of conversation, “Your glass is almost empty. Lemme buy you another one.” 

“I really appreciate it but that’s fine.” You answered with a polite smile — but even when doing the bare minimum your angelic traits never failed to captivate your audience. The man noticed your strong accent and saw the opportunity to carry on with the conversation.

“You come from France eh? I fought in France! Bloody hell, still got the mud of this country under my nails!” 

Maybe he talked a little bit too loud, or maybe Arthur’s senses were as sharp as a wolf’s, but the fact remains he immediately raised his eyes from what he was doing to watch over you. His steel blue iris shifted their attention from you only to cast their furious fire on the drunk man that was talking to you. His woman.

“You know, I always thought it was kind of sad that all the people here only link France with the war. This is a beautiful country.” You answered, taking another sip of red wine. Somehow, you allowed yourself to talk with the man. At least time would probably fly faster that way.

“If France’s as beautiful as ya, I’ll rush back to it by tomorrow, doll. The name’s Jim.”

You silently replied to him with a light smile, gently shaking your head at the fella’s attempt to compliment you.

You smiled at Jim — And Arthur broke the glass he was holding in his hand. It had been crushed by the pressure with which he had tightened his grip around it until it shattered into bits. Sharp pieces of glass had pierced Arthur’s flesh, blood dripping from his palm, but the tormenting anger that was building within him was so overwhelming he did not even feel the pain. As seconds passed, his face contorted with rage and his eyes darkened with jealousy.  You. Smiled. At. Him.

That was definitely not okay — the man did not deserve your blissful smile. 

Deafened by the sound of his own heart pounding in his tight chest, Arthur swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat in a vain attempt to keep control. To not let his anger issue show. The rational part of his mind was telling him to keep calm, for he knew you loved him and only him. You had told him plenty of times, after all. And he trusted you, really. But the other part, led by his insecurities and his mental instability, whispered foul insinuations to his ear.

Why would she stay with such a criminal like you? You’re sick. You’re old. You’re broken — and no one loves broken men. 

You’re stupid, far less clever and charming than Tommy. HE is a real man. 

You either scare or repel women. Linda told you. You don’t deserve Heaven. 

Useless. So useless… Broken. Crazy, you’re fucking crazy. She’ll see what you are. A monster. Monster. Monster. 

Arthur’s jaw clenched as his mind spiraled into a never-ending maze of whipping thoughts and insufferable feelings. Self-loathing was becoming too much to bear — so messy it had started to drown him. He felt his sanity slowly slipping through the cracks of his skull and the only thing he could to do make it stop was to break things. And by things he meant Jim. 

“Listen, Jim. I think you should go back home and rest. This is the whiskey talking.” You stated.

“Only if you come home with me, doll.” He ought to say, his grin widening. 

Breathless with rage, Arthur felt the heat pooling in his face. A few drops of sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook his wounded hand to clear his flesh from the shards of glass.

“You really should —“

“Come home with me and I’ll make you beg.” He cut off before you had time to turn his invitation down , bringing his hand on one of your thighs to strengthen his point.

Destructive anger flowed through his veins like lava,  exploding at the moment the man laid a finger upon you. Agile like a wild cat, Arthur jumped over the counter and rushed toward you, his shoulders tensed and his arms swinging as he walked.  Earth shook under his feet, opening the gates of Hell more and more at each of his steps. 

“AL-FUCKING-RIGHT THEN,” He blurted out, standing fiercely behind Jim. Arthur’s thundering voice almost made him jump — and it was enough for him to take his hand off your thigh and turned around to meet the Devil’s eyes. You froze on your stool, astounded by your man’s anger.

His face distorted with both fear and confusion at the sight of Arthur Shelby, green with jealousy and maddened with fury, “What the fookin hell did ya say, pal? WHAT THE FOOK DID YOU SAY TO ME WOMAN?” He roared, blue eyes shining with a threatening glow. At this point, Arthur was almost choking with rage. 

“Oh my God Arthur, I did not know she was your woman. I’m sorry! I really did not —“ Jim could not finish his sentence for Arthur had grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away from you in front of the few last clients' terrified looks.

“You TOUCHED her! You bloody touched her, ME ANGEL. ME HEAVEN. I can’t fucking believe it,” He spat, his words coated with bitter venom. Swirling in the chaotic vortex of his own fury, he did not hear the man’s bargains. And somehow, he did not care. There was nothing he could say to stop him anymore. Jim tried to utter another apology.

He had barely opened his mouth when Arthur’s fist crushed his nose with such a violent blow the sound of broken bones echoed through the Garrison. The man, almost knocked out by the uppercut, crashed on the wooden floor, a jet of blood gushing from his face, “Oi! Thought you fought in France. Come on, bastard! Fight me!” He snarled, teeth bared like a wild animal.

He’s going to kill him. That was what crossed your mind when you came back to your senses, overcoming the shock of seeing Arthur in such a frenzy state. You got up from your stool, “Arthur… Stop it please.” You called him, trying to be as soft as possible not to fan the flames of his anger. 

“I AM NOT GONNA STOP!” He barked, looking at you.

He looked at you 

and you saw the Hell in his eyes.

“Heard how he dared to talk to ye? Ah, you wanted to make me angel beg eh?” Arthur kneeled over the whimpering man, almost straddling his quivering body, to grab him by the collar of his coat, “Yeah that’s what you said right. But trust me, you sonofabitch, I’m the one who’ll make you beg!” He yelled, sending another powerful blast to the man’s face with his fists as sole weapons, adorned with thick silver rings. “BEG, YOU BASTARD!”

“P-please—“

Another disgusting sound of torn flesh and cracking skull filled the room. “By order —“ A third punch. Breaking teeth. Jim spat three of them at your feet. “Of the —“  Fourth. Fifth. His knuckles bruised and split under the strength of his blows but Arthur could not care less. All he wanted was to reduce Jim’s face to an unidentifiable slop of flesh.  “Peaky —“  Dislocated jaw hanging loosely. The horrible sight was accompanied by the cacophony of bloody gurgles. “Fookin — “ Jim had lost count of the punches that rained down on him. All he knew was that his body was giving up. At one point Arthur Shelby had stopped beating him, only to unstrapped the combat knife he kept in his holster, “BLINDERS!” 

“ARTHUR NO!!!”  Running to the scene and falling on your knees, you managed to grab his hands and keep him from stabbing the drunk man, “Don’t do that, please I need you. Please, please stop it.” 

Please.

Your voice, like a light piercing the thick veil of his darkness, snatched him from his murderous craze. Waking up by the smell of blood mixed with your sweet spring-like perfume, Arthur stopped in the midst of what he was doing and realized he was holding a knife above his head, ready to plunge it into a man’s chest. He took a look at you, noticing the shocked expression on your holy face, and all his anger disappeared into a void. His fingers loosened around the knife, which fell on the wooden floor with a metallic noise, “please Arthur, calm down… Call down, Mon amour.” You whispered, begging him with your eyes. Silence fell on the Garrison, as well as in his mind. The maddening voices had stopped and the buzzing hatred had vanished. Arthur left the unconscious man and collapsed in your arms, panting and shaking. Adrenaline made you shiver too, but you gently hugged his frame, one hand stroking his hair, “That’s okay… I’m here …”  You repeated just like a healing chant as a few men grabbed the severely injured victim and took him away from the pub.

“I’m … I’m sorry— Heaven, oh my god —“ Arthur stuttered, slowly realizing what he just did. He buried his face in your breasts, for comfort as well as to hide the blood that had splattered on him. He barely dared to hug your frail body for fear of breaking you.  Sometimes, he swore he had hell in his hands and he did not want to bring you down in the flames with him. 

“Shhhh… Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do it.”  You said with a soothing tone. With divine softness, you ran your fingers through his hair, not minding the blood he smeared on your clothes and bosom, “that’s okay, you’re a good boy..” But as you were trying to chase away your man’s demons, a far too familiar voice echoed in the room.

“What the fuck is this mess?!” Thomas Shelby exclaimed for he had just entered the Garrison, John by his side. His freezing blue eyes looked at you from above.  The king was here and he hated what he saw.

“John, bring Arthur home. Everyone OUT.” 

This was all it took to empty the Garrison from its remaining clients. When John gently put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, Arthur’s embrace tightened around your tiny silhouette for he did not want to leave you.  “No,” he managed to beg between two heartbreaking sobs. His face still hidden, not daring to look at you for fear of seeing disgust and anger in your eyes, Arthur refused to let you go. Somehow, he was convinced you would not go back home — why would you after what you had just witnessed? “Don’t take me away from her!”  He said, a bit more fiercely, which resulted in John taking a few steps back and looking at you, silently begging you to help him. In the midst of the chaos, only you could bring him back to his senses. A brief sigh escaped from your lips before you gently forced Arthur to look at you.

“Listen, chéri. I need you to go back home and calm down. I’ll be very quick.” 

“No, no, you won’t come back.” 

“ I’ll do,” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, accidentally smearing more blood on his face doing so, “and when I do, I’ll take care of you alright? I’ll keep you warm and loved.” Punctuating your sentence with affection, you slicked his hair back with a frail but oh-so-loving grin on your face. He finally accepted.

When he left alongside John, your smile vanished and you got up from the floor, legs still slightly shaking. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the pub, towering you with all his height, and looking at you with his cold eyes. His chilling stare followed your movements as you walked to the bar and poured yourself another glass of wine.

“I told you to keep a low profile,” He began. Thomas Shelby’s voice was dressed in an apparent quiet, but something in his tone was threatening — and even though he did not display any sign of emotion, you knew his blood was boiling.

“Oh come on Thomas, all I wanted was to make a surprise to Arthur.” You took a mouthful of wine — the much-needed alcohol calming your anxiety.

Thomas closed his eyes for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his dawning headache, “ A surprise… I hope you like the result then,” He retorted, before shifting his eyes back to you,

“Listen, I know you don’t like me but — ” 

“He nearly killed someone for you. What the fuck are you doing to my brother, eh?” Tommy slightly tilted his head to the side, a spark of resentment lightening up his icy iris. You remained silent, still not believing Thomas was really blaming you for Arthur’s outburst. Of course, you had not reacted immediately, but the shock had petrified you for a few long minutes — but was it your fault if he had beaten the man? Certainly not. At this point, Tommy was just lashing out at you for all the issues his family was facing. It was far easier than admitting his own flaws and responsibility. Visibly infuriated by your silence,  Tommy walked to you and stopped only a few inches from you, trapping your body between the counter and his own strong frame. He was close — so close your breasts were almost pressed against his chest, “Look me in the eyes when I fucking talk to you, Heaven.” He spat your name with disgust, as if he had just bitten into an apple filled with maggots.

“Get my pretty name out of your mouth,” You looked dagger at him, anger rushing through your veins at such an unwanted proximity. Yet you did not flicker.

“You fucking white Devil,” He hissed through his teeth, his low voice still calm in spite of his blooming hatred, “Are you happy to spread chaos in our life? What do you want from us ey?” He leaned over you, bringing his face closer to yours. With his brows slightly furrowed, Tommy’s sky blue eyes were probing yours, trying to understand the mystery they hid behind their aquamarine wonders, ”What do you want from me?! After Arthur is this me you want to control??” He growled. Your heart raced in your chest — shivers ran down your spine, and goosebumps appeared on your porcelain skin, for his unpredictable behavior was starting to worry you.

“I don’t want anything from you Thomas Shelby. Whether you like it or not I’m being honest with your brother. You know Arthur’s emotional, you can’t blame me for that.  You take away his meds, turn him into a killer, and now you’re surprised he snaps?? How. Fucking. Unbelievable! Do you know what I think? Well, I think you need me to be your scapegoat . You need to blame me for your sins. For everyone’s sins.”

“Fucking burn in hell,” He spat again but could not find something to retort properly. It seemed like the skies gave you the gift of shutting Thomas Shelby's mouth. Instead, one of his hands grabbed you by the neck and forced your face to get closer to his. His breath fanned over your skin, as burning as a dragon’s fire.

“Be careful with the Rule of Three, Thomas. For each spell you cast always returns to you three times stronger.”  You whispered. Then you gathered all your remaining strength to push him away from you, his musky and peculiar perfume almost making your head spin.  Not wanting to stay here any longer — and also longing for a hot shower to wash away the blood from your skin —, you headed to the Garrison’s door. Obviously, Tommy’s eyes followed you but he did not say anything, muted by his resentment. Admittedly, he was torn between the urge to bounce on you and the desire to see you leave. You were about to disappear, the cold breeze of the night jumping at your face and rushing into the pub as you opened the wooden door. But your instincts kicked in. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally decided to warn little king Shelby.

“By the way..." You looked at Thomas from above your shoulder.

"You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.” 

He froze. Confused and infuriated.

You left. Hurt and bitter.

When you came back home, you crossed your reflection in the corridor’s mirror.  Your body refused to work anymore and forced you to stop in front of it. Facing your own person was something you hated. With trembling fingers, you brushed the blood stain Arthur had left on one of your cheeks.

Mom! Mom, no!!

I’ll fucking kill you all!!

You clenched your jaw at the memory it triggered, but still, you kept looking at your tainted ivory skin as if you were slowly learning to come to terms with what you did and what you were. Your fingers trailed down your throat until they grazed the top of your bosom, where the blood had accumulated the most. Another painful memory assaulted your mind, replaying the aching, almost inhuman screams of your little sister when her flesh had been eaten alive by the hungry tongues of the pyre’s flames.

Only God knew how you managed to keep your mind from spiraling into the darkest pits of your trauma, but you did — maybe that was because Arthur needed you. That protective instinct was stronger than your own pain. That was why you tricked your body into moving away from the mirror and went upstairs to take a hot shower before joining your man in bed. John had probably managed to convince him to sleep. Or his body had collapsed on the mattress, exhausted by the energy poured in his latest outburst.

As the running water of the shower was filling the bathroom with its regular and soothing noise, you slowly let your white dress slip along your body until it fell on the floor, as well as your lace panties. You stepped over the pile of clothes and, without waiting any longer, you hopped under the shower and welcomed its warm water with utter joy. A sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you tilted your head back, water hugging your body and raining down on your long white mane that cascaded down your lower back. You almost managed to empty your mind when, suddenly, one gentle calloused hand brushed your hip. Jumping in surprise, you turn around and saw that Arthur had joined you under the shower. His hands, arms, and face were still splattered with half-dried blood he had not cleaned. To be true, he had been too busy curling up on the bedroom floor, panicking about at the idea of you leaving him after what you had witnessed.

“You’re here…” His gravel voice said, water falling on his naked body whose millions of freckles drew magnificent constellations on his skin.

“Told you I’d come back.”  

He smiled, softly. His steel blue had stopped avoiding you and was now firmly anchored in yours.

 He took a step toward you.

You stepped back in response until your bare body met the cold shower wall.

Your pulse quickened, fascinated by the way Arthur looked. He had something in his eyes — a mix of limerence and pure madness who, combined with the crimson stains on his face, made your legs weak. His breath was slow but yours soon became erratic, even though he had barely touched you yet. 

“You ain’t scared, love? Please, tell me you ain’t scared of your Arthur…” He said, his lower lip trembling as his body perfectly interlocked with yours. A small growl escaped from his throat at the intoxicating sensation of yours curves pressed against his skin. But despite his inextinguible desire, he still looked at you with hesitation and genuine guilt — his puppy eyes would surely break anyone’s heart.

“No, I’m not scared,” You replied, not shifting your gaze from him. The corner of your juicy and honey lips stretched in a small grin, “You…” You paused, bringing one hand to his stained cheek, “you look pretty with blood all over your face.”  

Arthur’s eyes lightened with both surprise and ravaging desire, for you had witnessed the beast’s violence but still thought he was attractive. A twisted wave of arousal shook you to the core when he bared his teeth in a vaguely dangerous but oh-so-seductive smirk.

“Oh bloody hell, angel…” Not finishing his sentence, his lips captured yours in a fury kiss for he could not wait any longer. The need to possess you, to feel you, was too devastatingly strong to resist. At first, his lustful kiss surprised you, and even though you burnt for him l, a part of you felt it was wrong to feel this kind of twisted attraction. Last thing Arthur needed was someone encouraging his violence — but your brain soon shut down at the thought he did it for you. Only you. Your arms locked up around his neck to deepen the waltz of your tongues, sending fireworks in your loins. It was far than enough to turn Arthur on who, all of sudden, lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, already suffocating with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and the shower’s steam accumulating around you.

As water rained down on your two intertwined bodies, it washed away the blood from your skins. The tainted liquid disappeared down the drain, leaving pale red stains on the bathtub's immaculate marble. 

You kissed him harder. Rougher. Until his flesh dived into yours in an explosion of pleasure and shooting stars.

For you had seen the Hell in his eyes, and loved it anyway. 

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alones but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interested: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08

[kitkatopinions]

Nitpick Number Two: What’s with the lack of special outfits in Volume 7?

No winter outfits - and I know that they made up their dumb too late rules about auras protecting hunters from the cold, but I don’t care. I wanted winter outfits! I wanted them to have regular clothes with winter in mind - long sleeves, thick looking tights under skirts, no exposed thigh cut outs - but then I also wanted them to have hats, gloves, scarfs, coats! I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, I wanted to see Nora in fur trimmed stuff including viking-ish boots and Yang in a puffy coat and Blake wrapped up in a trench coat and Jaune wearing mittens and Weiss actually having to change her style up the least because she’s used to Atlas temperatures and walking around in heels and a windbreaker and having the others just staring at her incredulously while she says it’s ‘a bit chilly out.’

No special occasion outfits - I’m sorry that this show missed the opportunity to include Ruby in a suit or a suit jacket and skirt combo with her combat boots still on, but no, I will not be forgiving them. Jacques inviting everyone to his event was a great opportunity to show the group in some evening wear for the first time in seasons. Weiss could’ve worn a dress that was more her style (white, open collared, with a wider skirt, a direct contrast to the dress she wore to her father’s gala in volume four.) I don’t know what I’d like everyone in for this scene, but you can never go wrong with some actually iconic and fitted to each person event looks that CRWBY could’ve used as a way to show how far they’ve come from almost everyone wearing very similar styles (if not copy-pasted looks) during the Beacon Dance. Bonus, we would’ve gotten Ironwood, Winter, Qrow, and the Ace Ops in evening wear as well, which would’ve given us a chance to see what everyone who only wears uniforms might like in their downtime, and also I want to see Qrow in a sleek suit.

But sadly, all we get is the mostly bad V7-8 looks alone and then some Atlas style pajamas that honestly don’t look good on almost anyone and also why couldn’t they just??? Design the girls new pajamas that aren’t just Atlas uniform pajamas??? 

This season really said ‘we’re gonna be less iconic than RWBY V1 or V2 especially because we’re not going to care at all about what the girls wear besides the main outfits that are horrible anyway!’

I wanted winter outfits and I wanted formal outfits.

[mggssocks]

Followed- part 2

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: regular criminal minds stuff. (please let me know if i missed anything!)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 2.2k +

A/N: Thank you so much for the love i have received on my last chapter!!! It means so much to me. Also i’m going to try to update chapters as much as i can but i’m graduating in a few weeks and i will have a lot going on. But again, thank you guys!!! xoxo

masterlist // part 1

Although he was only going off of a few hours of sleep, Spencer came to work with a pep in his step today. His interaction with this girl was very brief but he still got butterflies with the thought. He was early as usual so he made himself a cup of coffee and sat at his desk, settling in. He pulled out his phone and reread the text messages that the two of you shared. When he finished reading the short message thread, his thumb hovered over the letter G. He wanted to type “good morning” but he didn’t want to come off as too clingy or overbearing. That in fact was the last thing he wanted. 

“Hey Spence” he hears from behind him, causing him to jump and quickly lock his phone before shoving it into his coat pocket. 

“Hi” he turns around to see JJ and forms his mouth into a straight line. 

She eyes him weirdly. Something was up.

“Everything okay?” She asked. Knowing how Spencer was, she wasn’t expecting him to answer truthfully. Especially with him jumping startledly like he just did at a simple ‘hi’.

“No- yeah. Yeah I’m fine. What about you? Are you okay?” He asked to switch the conversation around. 

Yeah. Something was definitely up.

“I’m… fine?” She answers confused

He nods awkwardly. She was just about to ask him if he was sure that he was fine but everyone else started to walk in and she knew if he was being this secretive with her, he definitely wouldn’t want everyone else to be in his business. So she drops it… at least for now. 

Garcia speed walked into the bullpen with a file or two in her hand, not bothering to say anything to the team. She goes straight to the conference room.

“Looks like we have a case” Morgan declared as he walked past the desks and up the stairs. Everyone else followed.

“And from the looks of it, it’s bad,” says Emily. 

They settle in their seats as Garcia passes Spencer his case file while everyone else gets on their tablets.

“We’re going to Wichita, Kansas.” Hotch says as he was the last one to come into the conference room.

“This sicko stabs straight through the heart. They chop off as much hair as they can before shoving it in the victim’s mouths.” Garcia speaks, a little disturbed a little while avoiding her gaze from the screen.

“Four victims within one week. There’s no cooling off period at all” Morgan said, swiping through his tablet.

“Which is why we’re debriefing on the jet. Wheels up.”

——————

After the team debriefed on the jet, Garcia chimed in through the video chat.“Guys, A store owner just found another victim.” 

The team looks at one another. Hotch sighs momentarily before speaking.

“Alright, JJ, you and Reid to the M.E. Morgan and Rossi go to the latest crime scene and Prentiss and I will go and set up at the station.” 

Everyone nods their head at their temporary partners for confirmation.

————

“So on the first victim, the person hesitated.” The examiner spoke factually.

“-And on the other four he didn’t hesitate at all” spoke JJ, trying to get the bigger picture. 

“Exactly. Now with the new victim… I noticed something strange. “ She walked over to the newest victim from earlier that day and the agent and dr followed her.

She turned the woman’s head and revealed a cat-like scratch with three of them synchronized.

JJ and Spencer looked at each other. After they called the other team members to fill them in, they walked to the car in pure silence.

“So… this morning” says JJ, walking to the driver’s side.

Spencer gives her a questioning look as he takes the passenger seat.

“What about this morning?” He asked in a suspicious tone and avoided her gaze by looking out of the window.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Spence, but I know something’s going on. Just tell me that it’s nothing bad.” She put her seatbelt on.

Spencer didn’t dare to give in “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

——————- 

After three days, they finally caught the unsub. The man was purely a sick and twisted psychopath. Jeffery Magnum. A 30 year old man who was severely abused as a child. His mother would make him eat the cat’s fur balls for dinner and when he refused, she would shave him bald. His mother died and that was the stressor that made him begin to kill.

As they boarded the plane, Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ sat together in the four seats. Rossi and Hotch sat together in the seats across from each other behind them. Spencer sat on the couch, far away from everyone. He wasn’t trying to distance himself. He just wanted to sit alone.

He pulled his phone out. He hasn’t thought much about that girl since he’s obviously been busy but now he was thinking about her. When he opened the app, he saw that she had posted a story. Before he watched her story, he clicked on her account and scrolled a little. She posted a lot of books and her cat too. Spencer really liked this one in particular.

26 likes

Yourinstagram I looked up from my book and seen this. thought it was a great photo op. 

View all 11 comments

He comes across a picture that really catches his attention.

11 likes

Yourinstagram okay just finished these two Jung books. He’s officially my favorite psychology/ prolific author. Freud’s got nothing on this guy.

View 1 comment

Spencer nodded his head approvingly. He swiped back to look at her Instagram story. 

He swiped up, thinking of a way to start a conversation. He just wanted to talk. About what? He doesn’t know.

spencerreid what’s tomorrow?

As expected, she didn’t respond right away. Instead of waiting for a response, Spencer picks up a book to occupy his attention. About 15 minutes later, his phone vibrates and an Instagram notification pops up. It catches the attention of JJ and she looks from the corner of her eye.

Spencer let’s 3 minutes pass by before responding because he didn’t want to seem too eager to talk to her. Although he definitely was.

yourinstagram nothing special! I’m a pastry chef so I’m just preparing them for the week! 

spencerreid Do you have some sort of bakery?

yourinstagram yup :)

Spencer didn’t know what to text back. So he started a new conversation with her.

spencerreid By the way I was looking at your page and seen that you read Carl Jung books.

yourinstagram you were stalking my page??

He started to panic. He didn’t mean it like a weirdo.

spencerreid I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to see what you were about, I guess.

yourinstagram relax haha I was kidding. And yes I do like Carl Jung books. What about you? Jung or Freud?

spencerreid I’m a fan of both, though I feel as if Jung was more open minded.

yourinstagram you, my friend, have great taste.

Although he knew “my friend” was just a term, Spencer couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. 

JJ notices and nudges Morgan who was listening to music. Prentiss notices JJ’s act and she gives her a questioning look. JJ nods her head towards Reid who was smiling at his phone. Emily who was sitting next to the window across from Morgan leaned over the seat to get a peek at Spencer.

She looks back to JJ. “What?”

“He’s been acting weird since before we left for this case. Like… secretive.”

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “You think he’s got something going on?” 

JJ shrugs.

“Hey” Emily says to Spencer.

He doesn’t necessarily jump but he was obviously startled. 

“What are you smiling about?” She asked. JJ and Derek watched as he fumbled over his words.

“I- uh-just- just a joke” Spencer cringed internally, because not even he, himself was buying it.

“What’s the joke?” Derek asked.

“It’s… nothing you would find amusing.” 

The three pretended to believe him and gave each other subtle glances before continuing what they were doing. Spencer turned back to his phone.

yourinstagram I’m y/n by the way. Just thought I’d formally introduce myself.

spencerreid I’m Spencer.

yourinstagram It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.

spencerreid It’s nice to meet you as well, Y/N.

After the jet landed, it was only 3:00 in the afternoon. Hotch gave them the rest of the day off so Spencer decided to head home and catch up on some sleep that he’s missed these past few days. 

He knew that it’d be terrible traffic on his way home. But since he stupidly decided to drive to work a few days ago, he couldn’t take the subway. He had to drive home. After about 10 minutes of sitting in his car calculating the fastest route home during traffic hours, he decides to take a way that he’s never taken before.

It would take him about thirty minutes but on his normal route during traffic hours, it would take him an hour and twenty. 

While driving, he catches a glimpse of a bakery and his stomach automatically growls. He decided that he’d stop by. Spencer walked into the shop and it wasn’t very busy. He looked over all of the options while waiting for someone to come to the counter.

A girl soon trails around dusting her hands off on her yellow apron. Her hair tied back in a ponytail.

“Hi. How can I help you?” She gives a kind smile.

“Uh- can I have two of the Danish pastries And a water?” He asked.

“Of course! Will that be all?” She puts some clear gloves on and makes her way over to the pastries.

“Yes” Spencer answers, digging through his satchel for his wallet.

She puts the treats in an apricot colored box, closed with a sticker with the name of the bakery. 

She puts the order in and looks back up at him “That’ll be $5.37!” 

He’s finally able to get a feel for his wallet and pulls out his card, handing it to her. She swipes it and hands it back over to him after it was approved along with his box and a reusable water bottle. He murmurs a thank you before leaving and heading to his apartment, enjoying the delicious danishes and finishing up some case files.

*******

“Seriously, Y/n. There’s so many relationship opportunities in Virginia. And you’re thinking about someone from a social media platform. You’ve never even seen them.” Your older sister lectures you as you close up the shop.

“Woah woah woah. I never said anything about a relationship with him. He’s nice but I’m not going to date someone over the internet. For all I know, he could be from England. I just said we both have an understandable love for Carl Jung in common.” You explained.

“Mom is worried about you. You’re thirty and you haven’t even found someone you’re interested in.” She lifts her eyebrow.

“She doesn’t need to worry about me. And every single woman doesn’t need to get married and settle down in their thirties.” you argue back

“She wants grandchildren, y/n. And not just from one of her kids.” 

“Look. I’m fine. You guys need to stop with the pressuring. I’m happy and I have all that I can ask for right now. When that time comes then it comes but for right now, i’m content” You shrug as you lock up all of the treats in the display cases.

She gives up the argument. And there is a weight of silence that fell between the two of you.

“Alright. Dave and the kids are expecting me so I'm going to get some pizza and head home.” she says, breaking the silence.

“Okay. Love you. Be safe. Bye” you say to her. 

After locking up the shop, you head home and when you open your door, you are greeted by your cat, Luna. After locking the door, you kneel down to properly greet your baby.

“Hey, girl” you pick her up and make your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what options you had to eat for dinner.

You decided on some grilled cheese and tomato soup so that’s what you made.

*****

You throw the crust down on your plate, flipping the page of the book you were almost done with. You were curled up on the side of the couch with Luna sleeping by your feet. After finishing the last page, you were bored enough to go onto twitter and then instagram. 

As you make your way to his dm, you bite your lip, hesitant to say something. You didn’t often speak to people through social media. But he’s already texted first so the least you can do is text something first this time. You were uncertain, but you did it anyway.

yourinstagram hey

You mentally smack yourself as you look at the time. He’s probably already slee-

spencerreid Hi.

yourinstagram i was thinking….

spencerreid About?

yourinstagram I told you what i do for a living. I figured it’s only right that you told me what you do..

spencerreid I’m in the FBI. I’m a profiler.

yourinstagram that’s pretty impressive.

You didn’t know it but Spencer was blushing.

spencerreid Thank you.

yourinstagram you’re based in D.C right?

spencerreid That would be correct.

yourinstagram That’s funny.

spencereid Why is it funny?

yourinstagram because I live in D.C too.

[actuallyilya]

Black-Ops Characters I believe would have cats and/or dogs. Also, these are just the Campaign characters + some Warsaw pack characters!!

Dog Only

Lazar, Lazar gives off big cuddly dude vibes™ meaning he would want a pet he could bond with better. Dogs are (usually) very playful and loving. He also CONSTANTLY attracts dogs. I also think he would adopt a Golden Retriever. Idk. Vibes™

Sims, Sims seems like the type of guy who likes being outdoors. Parks, hiking, jogging, etc. So he would 100% rather have a buddy to do those hobbies with, rather than go alone. A bit into his childhood, he had another dog he grew up with from the age of 12 and up, but once he left for school/the CIA, he felt bad, and eventually, the dog died of old age :(. But I do think that he loved that dog very much and no dog would ever come close to the memories he had with him. I think he would adopt a Border Collie.

Woods, Look this mother fucker DISPISES cats. He thinks they're gremlins and refuses to ever pet one he hasn't had a bad experience, just doesn't like them, claims that 'they're satan's little bitches'. He also would rather have a pet that you can call do cuddle, rather than hope not to get scratched. He either would have a German Shepherd or Great Dane. He wants a dog that will make him seem cool 🥶😈 but everyone knows that man is a sweetheart.

Hudson, He is most definitely a dog person, He does not care about the dogs are better than cats argument. 'It's an idiotic argument, Besides, we all know dogs are better'. His dog is a family dog, she's very friendly to anyone who comes by Woods, Mason, etc and she loves his kids. At first, Hudson hated the idea of having a dog, it would be a liability, but he was the first person who genuinely fell in love with the dog. He would have a German Shepard, who is military trained because he wants to protect his family.

Knight, Look, with the very little of the information we know about him, I GENUINELY think this man would have a dog. We know he's a little on the bad side, but still, he needs some friends. Even if the friend is a dog. He would probably adopt a Kangel Shepard. Also, he loves to play with his dog very often and is super protective of the dog.

Okay, now to the people who would have cats!

Park, Look, Park is like those people who sit in front of a window with a computer/notes in front of her while her cat calmly sits in front of her sleeping or sunbathing. Okay? I love her to pieces and I know damn well she would get along better with cats than dogs. She has actually argued with Woods about it a lot. She would also have a Chartreux

"Suck it Park! Dogs are the best pets, they won't kill ya in your sleep!"

"Woods, Cats' cleanliness makes up for more than a few scratches here and there, unlike dogs who like to sit in their own filth."

Mason enjoys silence, dogs do not give silence, they are loud and he prefers cats overall, He has had his cat for a while, a few years before David joined the military, his home felt empty, He knew he had always been rough on Mason but the cat gave them a small bonding experience, Although he loved the cat, it caused an argument between him and woods (It wasn't an end-the-friendship argument but when they're drunk they definitely argue) He would have a Birman, he also heavily enjoys cuddling with a cat.

Wraith, She strikes me as those people who genuinely love working with cats or at shelters, maybe she had a cat growing up, maybe she worked at a shelter before she went all Warsaw pact. But regardless, knowing she can't stay in one place forever, she still tries to still somewhat work at shelters, she isn't open about it because it caused an agreement between her and Knight. However, he always had a friend tag along with her while going to the shelters. She wouldn't own any pets, but her favorite breed would be Burmese cats "their fur is a black as my soul"

Stitch, This guy just loves cats, As a young kid, he didn't really have many friends, he usually kept to himself, as a result, he would wander areas a lot, during one of his walks, he found an injured cat, He nursed the cat back to health and kind-of kept this side of himself a secret as his father was very 'men do the work while women stay at home' luckily it never rubbed off on him. However, Just like Wraith, he tagged along to the shelters, he didn't wear the gas mask, but a lot of his scars showed, but he found out the cats/kittens were less scared of him if he just showed his face. Although he has an edgy feel, he loves Maine coons, they are very gentle, friendly, and very intelligent (As you can see, you can tell who is my favorite Warsaw pact operator)

Who would have BOTH cats and dogs.

Adler, look this motherfucker does not want to admit that he loves both cats or dogs. He easily gets attached to animals, cats, dogs, the whole sha-bang. So either/or, He loves dogs because he enjoys working with them, such as training, jogging, etc. (Sims stopped going running with him after Sims adopted his dog, but Adler knew he couldn't be responsible for a dog knowing he's always out on missions). But he also loves cats, he loves how majestic they are, when they purr, kneed, etc. He loves it. He occasionally invites himself to Park's house to spend time with her cat, not even with her. Park doesn't mind as she knows she now has a free cat-sitter. If Adler could, He would have a Great Dane and for a cat, he would have a Bengal Cat

Naga, Over the course of his life, Naga has worked with tons of dogs. He had always appreciated them helping him in his line of work. Whether they helped him weed out a rat amongst his men, or helped make sure no one was stealing profit, I think he heavily enjoys their company. Naga has always been a little intimidating, But with a cat by his side, even more, on his lap, on his desk, such a tiny animal had so much subtle power. If the cat had a problem with you, he had a problem with you, He even decided he enjoyed having a dog so much, he adopted a dog, luckily, after a few months of trying, they both got along and peacefully sit in his office. He would defiantly adopt a Donskoy Sphynx, and for a dog, he would adopt a Cane Corso, mostly for weather reasons.

Perseus, owns both a cat and a dog, rarely going out for rough missions, he can have two pets in his life and properly take care of them, His current dog, a Siberian Huskey (perfect for the current climate) he's had for five years, his cat, a Korat, he's had for three years. He occasionally takes them both into his office as to not have lonely days, on the days he has to either a) leave fast such as for safety, Stitch, Wraith, and Knight were made responsible as they are his trustable people.

Finally, Bell. Bell loves both of them and never really owned any animals, while working for the CIA, they had a knack for attracting animals while going for walks, they usually arrived with one or two animals, even birds! Mostly kittens and puppies, but even the impossible is possible for them. Woods and Mason found this hilarious and tried not to fall in love with the animals (even if they were there for a short amount of time) Adler or Park always had to be the one to take the animal out of their hands because he knew no work would get done and a rule had to be implemented so it wouldn't happen again (news flash, it did happen, very often)

Solovetsky Ending: let's just say Adler didn't shoot Bell, Adler would take Bell to shelters and would even go with them to save stray (injured) animals. The two actually grew very close and it sort of became a hobby. Adler got his taste of animals and Bell go to feel happy for a few hours, they both learned a lot. After one night of dinner, they found a stray kitten with no family around, they waited an hour to try and see if the mom would come back since It didn't, They took in the kitten, it was an off-day for the workers, so they nursed the kitten for like four days before having to give it up to the shelter.

Duga Ending: After Perseus took Bell in, let's just say the same thing happened, they weren't allowed to be on the field because they weren't mentally able to handle war and risk of being kidnapped so they kind of stuck around the area, although it was rare, abandoned animals did sometimes appear. The first time it happened. Bell was wearing a large coat and returned freezing with only a t-shirt on. Perseus was at the front gate, waiting for some of the operators to come back, but instead, they returned, freezing, a small fluff ball was in their hands while they were slowly developing hypothermia.

"Bell?! What the hell are you doing without a coat?!"

"I-I know, B-But I-I saved a dog."

[sarcastic-clapping]

I posted 2,014 times in 2021

51 posts created (3%)

1963 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 38.5 posts.

I added 285 tags in 2021

#succession - 96 posts

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Longest Tag: 135 characters

#but i would guess there’s more to it than that and we just can’t figure it out bc they’re withholding that aspect of connor’s backstory

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

i’m sorry but it’s so funny to me to go into the wwdits tags and see people talking about nandor and laszlo being “confirmed bi/pan” this season. like yeah true the concrete acknowledgment is nice for sure i definitely get that. but were y’all not considering it “confirmed” when they literally fucked each other in season 2

184 notes • Posted 2021-09-17 14:08:23 GMT

#4

tumblr can’t even get spambot sugar daddy porn blogs off their site where nsfw content is banned because their reporting process is dogshit so i would love to know how they’re planning to police people who get reported for reposting paywalled content and screenshots of paywalled posts, which is inevitably what everyone on this website is going to do as a way of dunking on anyone who tries to put their fucking tumblr posts behind a paywall

286 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 02:24:55 GMT

#3

“well yeah that’s the OBVIOUS response but seriously, think about it on a deeper level. why can’t we root for flawed women as a society? why are female leads not allowed to be villain protagists? where are our likable and sympathetic antagonists who are women?”

“no dude seriously i feel you and think that’s a completely valid point about a very real and interesting issue and if we were talking about ANYTHING else i would be so on board with you right now. but like. again, she DOES kill and skin puppies so she can make them into fur coats”

389 notes • Posted 2021-02-24 07:34:09 GMT

#2

instead of a weird Premium Tumblr subscription model that is literally useless due to alternatives like Patreon and Only Fans that Tumblr stands absolutely no chance of realistically competing with how about you let me tip on posts??? like literally if y’all have to both monetize this site AND rip off another platform can you just steal the fucking Twitch Model™️??? let me donate based on my enjoyment of the content i could consume for free and then take your stupid finder’s fee you dumb little website

like “ah this post made me laugh. here is a dollar op. thank you for the serotonin”

“these gifs are really good and they must have taken a long time and also i got paid today so here is $5”

“so true, beloved mutual. here is $3. just because. why not”

“this person’s hot take is so terrible that i want to reply ‘here’s my two cents, shut the fuck up’ and literally donate two cents before i block them just to be petty. and i don’t even care if tumblr takes one of those two cents. in fact, in many ways that is even funnier”

✨ lean into the chaos of this platform and the impulsivity of your userbase you absolute buffoons. i am begging you ✨

1245 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 01:49:35 GMT

#1

this is humiliating

7050 notes • Posted 2021-03-18 16:19:17 GMT

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