Sand cat, Lionesses, Tiger, and Caracal I saw while at the WashDC Smithsonian Zoo with the peeps today! I took the pic of the Caracal cause I thought of you, @frostedpuffs , and thought you’d enjoy seeing it too~
Your post on Galra facial features--which is absolutely excellent, btw--reminded me: when I saw the first VLD ep, I assumed Alteans were designed to look mouse-like (like Allura's space mice) and thus friendly, but later eps made me see that they also look cat-like (like the Lions): Alteans resemble both prey and predator. From a symbolism stand-point, do you think this relates to the "dark history of the paladins" Allura mentioned?
I don’t really see the Alteans as mouse-like at all- especially because of how stereotypically we tend to imagine mice as round-eared. Alteans look a lot like humans, which might suggest they, like us, branched off of great apes (or something comparable) but my read on it a little more is…
Honestly, it really sticks out to me how the Alteans come across a lot like the fantasy archetype of elves. They’re sort of like humans, but they’re a little ethereal-looking, they have magic, and, y’know, the minor thing of they seem to live a really long time.
I mean… the castle was built six hundred years before the ten thousand year gap and Coran personally remembers when his grandfather was constructing it, which means at six centuries old, Coran is just starting to get “later in life”, suggesting he’s the equivalent of in his sixties considering his rather aghast reaction to contacting an “old people” disease. That could well mean that the average Altean lifespan is something like eight hundred years.
People have assumed that probably galra lifespans are comparable, but what if they aren’t? What if- adding extra context to Allura’s shock that Zarkon could be alive after ten thousand years- if the average galra lifespan, like humans, tops out at about a century, and Alteans just on average have eight times longer lives than most other sentient races in the galaxy?
As far as the dark history thing- I’m willing to bet that Alfor and his people were at least good-intentioned. Especially with the evidence suggesting Alfor was the prior yellow paladin, where compassion and nobility to the point of self-sacrifice are the stated virtues and something we see Alfor living up to. The Alteans didn’t have clean hands, and they weren’t perfect, but I don’t think they’re narrative wolves in sheep’s clothing.
That said… I keep kind of kicking around a bundle of headcanons and theories of like… what if the Alteans are basically the space Fair Folk? Their shapeshifting ability is certainly a little… alarming, especially if we consider Haggar shows us that they can be good enough to fool other Alteans unless the latter gets in a really good look. Magic is not exclusively their thing- the galra certainly seemed to have figured it out (I doubt the druids are all Altean), the balmerans have it to a tee, and seemingly even humans can take to some forms of it with training.
That said, the Alteans seem to be especially good at it. To the point that Haggar is a magical juggernaut able to do things like transfer souls and suck the life out of entire planets.
I mean, I think about relatively small things about like the extra color in Allura’s iris that switches (we’ve seen it pink, blue, and red) and it makes me wonder about like… what if rather than Alteans having a fixed ‘true form’ they default to and then deviate from, they’re shapeshifters in the sense that they also change with their emotions- and we haven’t seen Allura and Coran doing much of it because raised with proper courtly manners, turning all your teeth into fangs over an argument is something dreadfully improper to do.
“Justice.” Hawke squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Justice, no. Put him back where you found him.”
The spirit frowned at him, a truly forboding expression with the cracks of blue that shone from Anders’ skin and whited out his eyes. “I cannot,” he replied, his voice deep and echoing. “He is injured and underfed. And there was no sign of the mother. We must keep him. It would be unjust to leave him to die.”
“No. Absolutely not,” Hawke tried to put his foot down.
“Anders has a fondness for these infant felines,” Justice argued. “He has rescued them many times in the past. I see no reason why this should be an exception.”
“You can’t? I can think of two pretty compelling ones,” Hawke shot back. “One, we already have sixteen cats and two mabari warhounds in one house. We don’t have room –”
“Compassion is bottomless,” Justice said firmly. “As is justice.”
“ – and for two, that’s not a cat, that’s a mountain lion!” Hawke shouted.
“I fail to see the distinction.” Justice cradled the wild cub in his arms and tilted his head to one side, as if listening. “Anders concurs. He suggests the name ‘Messere Om Nom’.”
Hawke buried his face in his hands. He hated it when he was outvoted.
Joker+Harley x bruises? do with that what you will! ;) (doesn't have to be sexy times it could even be joker finds bruises on Harley or something like that hahaha)
Other Anon:Prompt: one night after date night joker finds scars &/or bruises &/or cuts &/or hickeys(idkk?) on Harley’s body (pick and choose what you want!) and he starts to freak out and be possessive and either thinks she’s cheating on him or demands to know who hurt her so he can end their life.
I already have a fanfic where Joker finds a bruise on Harley (x) So I modified these asks just a little.
“Wow, what a view!” Harley gaped over Midway city, “Must be nice working on the 115th floor.” She whined, the penthouse she and Joker lived out was nice but you couldn’t see every building, every street, all the people walking on the ground looked like ants.
A gasp from beside her.
Harley snapped around, gun drawn she found no one.
The blonde’s eyebrows pulled together, confusion etched on her pretty pale face. She looked around the top floor of the ‘James LaCour’ building. Dead bodies littered the ground, blood pooling the nice wood from Harley’s rampage not a minute before. She had gone through ten men, to get to the millionaire CEO James LaCour. Only to find that no one sat behind the desk at the back of the wide room that now reeked of the dead. Harley’s adrenaline was still buzzing from the battle, her body singing for more murder.
LaCour owed her Joker money and Mr. J would get his money.
Harley looked for the source of the gasp, glancing over the dead men’s face to ensure that they were actually dead. No one was getting out of here alive.
A shadow moved just slightly from behind the desk, Harley walked around and saw a grown man crouching under his desk. A drawn pocket knife in his hand, he jumped when he saw Harley notice him.
“Please, don’t kill me.” He gasped, sweat dripping down his bald head.
Harley crouched down next to him, lifting one finger up to his face. She pulled out the photo of James LaCour that Frost had cut out of the newspaper. Harley glanced back and forth between the paper and the terrified man a few times before she clapped.
“Yahtzee!” Harley screeched, crumbling up the photo and threw it behind her, “It’s a match!” LaCour jumped at her sudden high pitch tone, “Hi, I’m Harley. I’m here on behalf of Mr. J, I believe you owe him some money.” She stuck out a hand to the horrified man.
“Y-yes,” He stammered, “It’s only a few days late. I was gonna give it to him by tonight. Please! I promise!”
Harley’s eyebrows rose, “Well as much as I’d love to sit here and talk like this, how about we get into a more comfortable position?” She asked suggestively, winking at him.
LaCour was still hiding under his desk and Harley was crouched beside him.
“Here,” She said, “I’ll even let ya sit in your chair.” She stood up and positioned the chair for him to sit. LaCour looked at her smiling face before shakily climbed into his chair and sitting down. “There, relax.” Harley whispered close to his ear.
Just like that chaos erupted. Harley drew her gun and pointed it at the CEO’s head. Every door on the top floor was opened at once, giant guns drawn behind their masked faces and nice suits. Harley laughed as Mr. J’s henchmen littered the room.
“Hi boys! Nice of you to join us!” Harley placed the gun back into her holster and walked around the desk. The man behind her whimpered. “Would two of you handle this?” Harley pointed a thumb at the sweating CEO. Two henchmen walked forward immediately and took hold of the man, one pointed a giant gun at his head. He groaned, whispering a prayer under his breath.
“Ms. Quinn,” Frost said still panting walked closer to Harley, “I have a request.”
Harley rolled her eyes, “What is it, Frosty?”
“Ms. Quinn, I request that you stay with us, please.” Frost begged, eyes on the floor. He knew not to look at her for too long, “I request that you stay close to us so we can storm the suspect together, please.”
She knew why he was requesting this, it was his job to make sure Harley didn’t walk out with a scratch on her when Mr. J wasn’t around. If she ran ahead, then he couldn’t look after her and his life would be on the line.
That’s why Harley ran ahead.
“That’s not how I see it, Frosty.” Harley frowned, wiping off her bloody knife on his tux sleeve, “How’d Mr. J like to hear that you put me in danger cause you couldn’t keep up?”
“He wouldn’t like to hear it, Ms. Quinn.” Frost sighed agreeing.
“That’s right.” Harley smiled at him, turning around and walking back towards the CEO, “Now what do we do with you?”
Just like that the CEO stupidly, bravely had a knife in his hand. The CEO lunged forward with the knife Harley jumped away so the knife didn’t end up across her neck, but it did scratch her upper arm. Through the sleeve of her nice brand new ‘DADDY’S GIRL’ red and black shirt. The henchmen immediately ripped the weapon out of his hand and forced him onto the floor, however, they knew better than to kill him.
Harley frowned touching the rip in the shirt, drops of blood running out of her arm. Then, she started to laugh this is gonna be even better show than I originally thought… the wound wasn’t bad, but Mr. J would see a severed arm.
“You’re so stupid.” Harley giggled, glancing at the blood coming out of her cut. The foolish man seemed to realize what he had just done. “Prepare him for puddin.”
After she said this, three henchmen were on the CEO. Pushing him against the wall and holding him there, the CEO had multiple guns on him quickly. Harley rose her phone to call Mr. J but not before getting one good hit with her bat into the CEO’s stomach.
“Mr. J?” Harley made sure to put on her sad, hurt voice. The Joker picked up on the second ring, Harley was told not to interrupt his fun, happening in a lower floor of the building, unless there was an emergency.
“Spit it out, Harley.” His growled into the phone, she could almost feel his anger and she grinned wider.
“I think you should get up here, puddin.” She stared at the terrified CEO’s face, “Someone hurt me.”
The Joker roared with rage, she heard gunshots ringing out and bodies hitting the floor. As the gunshots grew closer, the CEO started to beg for his life. Apologizing repeatedly to Harley, saying he would raise the deal by two million, three million, ten million if she wanted. He just wanted to live. Harley ran a finger across her burning cut.
“I loved this shirt,” She pouted, ignoring the CEO’s pathetic attempts to stay alive. She wanted to be the one to kill the CEO for hurting her, but for the show it was worth it to wait for Mr. J. Harley heard a familiar laugh, footsteps, and more gunshots coming closer to the room Harley and the CEO were in.
“Puddin!” Harley voice broke, frowning, she held out her arm. The Joker was growling as he walked over to her, he didn’t take his eyes off the cut.
“Let me see.” The Joker grasped her arm with rare care, her ran a gloved finger up the stream of blood running out of the knife wound.
“Am I gonna lose it?” She asked, tears coming to her eyes.
“No,” His eyes unblinking as his free hand grasped her chin and looked over her face, “Stay strong and I’ll make it up to you at home, pumpkin.” He growled, snapping his head around as he tried to control his anger. Harley giggled, excited.
Mr. J walked up to the CEO, charisma and anger radiating off of him as he drawled his gun. Joker kept strolling towards the sobbing man until he was right in his face, his gloved hands grasping his cheek.
“I’d like to set up an appointment.” Joker grinned at him. “Are you tied up?”
“Joker, I didn’t mean to!” LaCour cried, “I’ll give you a bonus! A giant bonus! Two times, five times, ten times more! How about that, Mr. J?” He begged, “I’ll give you ten million instead of just one! Just let me live.”
“Isn’t it so funny?” The Joker smiled, “The will to live. How the rat will continue to fight when it’s between the cats paws? How the gazelle will attempt to run after seeing the lion?”
“Fifteen million dollars!” The man shouted.
“How a human will still beg with the killer draws the gun?” He laughed lowly, his gun rising until it was under the CEO’s chin.
“Puddin, it stings!” Harley let out a small whine from behind Mr. J, she frowned as she held her arm. Her cry seemed to awaken the demon in the Joker.
With a sharp growl the CEO had a hole in his head from the bullet, his pathetic whimpering ended. The Joker killed the henchmen that held the CEO down too. It was their job to make sure the Queen didn’t have a scratch on her, they failed. Frost was spared only because he knew where to steal the dead CEO’s money.
Today I went to the school’s psychologist (because I wanted to skip a class and was feeling meh)
I told them I have issues on explain my emotions and problems to people and to start conversations They said pretty nice stuff like “You might see people as lions but they just are big cats” and that I was already improving by talking with them about my worries
also the number of the students they talked with today was impressive…I hope they are all okay…
You woke up dazed and confused as the events of last night
slowly came back to you.
Dinner had been amazing, despite the smoke alarm chaos,
filled with laughter and flirting from both of you. As the wine flowed, you
quickly lost your inhibitions and started to relax, letting your nerves
disappear so you could simply enjoy your evening with Chanyeol. You started to
open up and let your guard, getting to know him better and he you.
After the meal, still eager to have Chanyeol around, you
both decided to watch a movie. In the beginning it was awkward, sat up straight
with your shoulders so close to Chanyeol’s and yet not touching. This time
however, he took the first step, stretching his arm up and casually wrapping it
around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.
His touch was so calming and relaxing, you didn’t remember
the end of the film.
Feeling fresh from what felt like the best sleep of your
life, you rubbed your eyes open and looked around your living room, confused as
to why you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t alone either.
Heavy breathing alerted you to Chanyeol’s presence before
you realised that it wasn’t the sofa you were lying on but his side, a strong
arm still lazily draped across your body. The clock on the wall told you it was
nearing eight o’clock so the pair of you must have fallen asleep watching the
Being careful not to wake him up, you turned slowly so you
could face him. When he was sleeping, all of his handsome features were
relaxed. There was a hint of a smile on his soft plump lips. When you looked at
them, you immediately thought of the abrupt kiss outside your apartment, and
your cheeks were quick to burn. Your gaze moved up to his eyes, his lids a pale
lavender shade. Without much effort, you could imagine his beautiful brown eyes
making you squirm in your place. Throughout the night, his messy chocolatey dark
hair had dropped over his forehead.
You couldn’t help yourself. You reached up to brush the hair
off his face, running your fingers through his fluffy locks. He really was
breath-takingly handsome. Not being able to stop your admiring gaze, you let
your fingers move down to tickle his cheek, just as Chanyeol started to stir.
His eyes fluttered open, looking around the room until settling on you, a wide
smile growing on his face.
My thanks to @kathrynchristie for the in-person inspiration for this one, even though she made it look entirely easy. ;)
Kate Beckett yanked on the messenger bag that doubled as a diaper bag, clenching her teeth until it pulled free. She didn’t stumble backward, but it was a near thing, and Lily, of course, giggled from her car seat.
“Oh, very funny, isn’t it?” she muttered at her daughter. “Why do you insist on making everything difficult for Mommy?”
“Mommy,” Lily said solemnly, and then her face broke open again with giggles. “Cat. Big cat!”
“Alright. I know. I promised. Hang tight for one more minute, Lily-girl. I gotta figure out the stroller.”
Kate thumbed the key fob and the trunk of their rental car clicked and popped open. With the back door still open and Lily strapped into the car seat, Kate was banking on the early morning hour to keep them from both getting overheated as Kate unfolded the stroller.
Also a rental. Castle seemed entirely adept at it, had made it look easy, but it was decidedly not.
And Castle wasn’t here to enjoy Kate’s sudden whimsical promise of big cats at the DC National Zoo. It was free, one of the Smithsonian’s, and it opened early enough that Kate hoped to get in and out before the crowds. Rick had a lunch break at promptly one this afternoon, and she had thought to give Lily something to do other than half-drown herself in the hotel pool.
She double-checked the backseat, Lily was using two fingers to fish crackers out of the snack container (shit, Kate thought that had been in the bag, now what was she supposed to give the kid when she got cranky and hot?) but at least she wasn’t working to get out of her seat.
Meanwhile, Kate flipped the locks on the back folded up metal bars and shook the stroller out by the handles and-
How did Castle make it look so damn easy?
Kate examined the clasps and turned one of the bright red knobs, and suddenly one of the wheels slid right off and clattered to the pavement.
“What the hell?” she muttered.
The stroller was an absolute pain.
Forget it. Kate was sick to death of struggling with the thing, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to keeping a death grip on Lily’s hand and reining her in everywhere. New York City wasn’t stroller friendly like DC was, and theirs at home mostly sat in the closet.
Kate scooped up the wheel, tossed it in the trunk, laid the lamentable stroller on top, and she slammed the lid down. “Forget it, baby cakes, we’re going without.”
“Yes, exactly.” She bent in over the two year old and worked at the straps that Lily had managed to twist in knots. She had to unthread the cloth strap from buckle in order to even get it out of the clip, and even then it was work.
“You bet it’s hard,” she laughed. If she didn’t laugh, she’d probably cry. “Mommy’s too old for this, kiddo. You might be stuck an only child.”
Lily beamed, clasping her hands together, batting her eyelashes just like her daddy had taught her. “All me!”
She grinned, leaned in and kissed Lily’s cheek. “Thanks, needed that.” She had never been so grateful that Castle liked to teach their toddler ‘tricks’.
Of course, if Lily said ‘merde!’ in the crowd today, she might not be so grateful. But until then, her husband was being the perfect partner even in absentia.
“Let’s go see the lions, Lily-cat.”
“Mew,” Lily preened, climbing out into Kate’s arms. “Mew, mew, me-ow.”
Kate hiked the diaper bag onto her shoulder, shifted Lily in her arms, and then slammed the back door shut. She locked the car, setting the alarm, and then lifted her head.
prompt: I love you blog, it’s so cute !!! and your writing is unpeccable so i’d like to request a newt one because he really is the cutest. I myself am also a sucker for angst, and therefore, i have an angsty request (i hope). so y/n lives in new york, but doesn’t really have a home? she has a pet kneazle (a cat/lion thing) and while in new york, newt sees the kneazle and they sort of bump into each other and y/n becomes interested in helping newt. sorta vague but an angsty ending would be 👌 thanks 💖 – anon
theme: fluff & angst
warnings: idk you might cry my dudes because D E A T H and it’s hella long
author note: I like Disney as much as the next gal but I’m not about that ‘I met you a day ago and now I’m in love with you’ stuff so ya.
You had bumped into him previously, an old friend from your childhood summers. An old summer lover of sorts but it’s okay because you had ended on perfectly good terms with only a few unsolved feelings for each other. He was drawn to you by your kneazle, which he thought was wild, and the two of you had sort of just re-met when he followed it to you. You smiled to him and his eyes darted around and he smiled and the two of you talked a bit and a sudden blossoming of old feelings erupted between the two of you. But that was nothing more than a coincidence and that didn’t mean you should get involved in what was going on.
You kissed his cheek, “I do hope to see you again before you leave.”
He smiled a bit and touched his cheek, “I’ll be sure to find you before I do. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”
To say he was surprised to see another kneazle in New York was by far an understatement. Nor was in coincidental. And it was understandable that it might be roaming without detection since it did look like a house cat. With a slight genetic deformity. People weren’t about to shriek in horror if they saw it but they might think that it had some major issues. Oh, and he was definitely about to follow it, especially when he saw the little red collar it wore and he knew you were out. He looked over his shoulder, past his friends to what was the happenings; listening to the screams of the people of New York and he knew he needed to help.
His creatures had already escaped and well, it was a bit difficult to catch them. Sure, there was a problem going on but a little detour wasn’t about to hurt so he briskly walked with his small posse of new friends trailing behind to get the creature. They didn’t know what was happening but they did follow him. It wasn’t like Credence was destroying half of New York or anything.
He followed it a little further before spotting you. And you spotted him. The kneazle in one arm and your wand in the other. Of course, the feelings were still sitting in each of your guts and you shrugged a little and then your kneazle disappeared. “I heard the commotion. Came to help.”
He looked at you with a long pause and then placed his case sharply in your arms. “[y/n], if I don’t come back. They’re yours.” He trusted you with the creatures and then he disappeared. You looked at the three people and then handed to case to the No-Maj quickly.
“Newt’s trying to get himself killed again.” You spoke quickly and then followed behind him. You knew the brunette woman was following too but it was fine. The more help the better since things like this weren’t seen regularly. No, they’re never seen as far as you were concerned. You were taught that these days it was almost impossible, but here you were. Going after a grown man you once–still loved to chase a dying boy who didn’t know what to do.
It all went down in the subway though. You were silently listening to Newt pleaded with the boy, trying to make him understand that this wasn’t his fault. That he just needed help and that Newt could give it to him. Then there came the man, Graves, you had known him. He was strange but no one questioned his odd devotion to the law. Like he was playing his part of bit too zealously. When you heard a crack, not sure what it was that cracked, you pushed yourself out from your spot and shot at the man.
He looked at you, eyes wide for a moment before then going after you. And God, you hoped the boy was okay. That Newt and the woman were able to calm him down while you tried to distract Graves as long as you could. Eventually, he over powered you.
Newt’s eyes snapped over to you, your body slapped against the ground, head slamming back. He watched as your lifeless body lay there, unable to move himself to you. “[y/n]!” He screamed but you couldn’t answer him and he knew that.
When it was over he went to you and pulled you into his arms. One hand going to your face, “this can’t be. If–if I had never been here. They knew what I was doing. If I hadn’t of–” His body shook and tears threatened to spill over. “They wouldn’t be dead.”
The people in the subway watched the man for the longest time, “they were suppose to be the one that lived.”