young woman in a white hat

"Grocery shopping" (Villainous drabbles)

“Grocery shopping” drabbles 2

In the rare occasion Black Hat and company need to travel outside of their home, it’s usually when they need to buy groceries. It is Black Hat’s worse nightmare, shopping like a normal human being.
Black Hat’s eye twitched when Dr. Flug pulled at Dementia’s leash as they went through the sliding doors. Dementia was on all fours, barking at terrified passerbys making Dr. Flug struggle against her. He tug at the leash, his sneakers sliding across the market’s floors.

“Dementia! Heel! Heel! And stop biting the leash!” Dr.Flug yelled out. Dementia spat out the leash and growled at him. “If you keep acting like that, you won’t get any candy!” Dementia’s tune swiftly changed and stood up, her arms hanging from her sides.

“Okay-” She sighed.

Black Hat growled deeply in annoyance when he saw the shoppers exchanged glances at the odd group, murmuring amongst themselves.

“Dr. Flug! I do not wish to be here any longer than I need to be!” Black Hat snapped. “Where is 5.0.5 with the blasted shopping vehicle?”

“You mean the cart, Sir?” Dr.Flug replied softly. Black Hat whirled at him with a glare, causing the good doctor to raise his hands up in defense.

“Don’t try to correct me, Flug!”

“Sorry Sir!”

“Now, let’s hurry and get what we need on the list.” Black Hat said, straightening his collar. He pulled out the folded up piece of paper out of his breast pocket, just in time for 5.0.5 to show up with the shopping cart. Dementia quickly jumped inside with a large grin, making Dr.Flug tie the end of the leash to the handlebars of the cart. Black Hat rolled his eyes at her and tossed the paper into Dr.Flug’s hands.

“I want everything on that list and into this cart in ten minutes.” He said. Dr.Flug opened up the piece of paper and like an accordion, it fell to the floor. Flug’s eyes nearly bulged out of his goggles from the amount.

“T-ten minutes, S-sir?”

“Did I stutter?” Black Hat snarled, making Flug gulp and Dementia giggle. Black Hat pointed at his wrist. “Tick-tick, Flug…better get moving.”

“Y-yes Sir! Come on 5.0.5!” The trio raced off down the aisle, knocking aside any unsuspecting shopper as Dr.Flug scrambled to get the groceries. Black Hat was left alone, standing silently in the produce section with annoying background music playing in the intercoms. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. He noticed the other shoppers avoiding him, most even avoiding eye contact with the villain. He does have a reputation, which made his chest swell with pride when he saw the fear in their eyes. But, waiting around and doing nothing was quickly became boring. He gritted his teeth and looked at his watch. Dr.Flug has nine minutes and thirty seconds left. Black Hat yanked his arm down and snarled to himself for not giving the cowardly doctor five minutes instead of ten.

“Free sample, Sir?”

His brow raised and turned around, seeing a young woman behind a small table. She was dressed in a white apron, wearing a chest deli hat and holding out a plate of cheese.

“What?” Black Hat said, his sharp teeth showing with disdain.

She held out the plate, giving him a smile. “Free sample? This is our new type of cheese, it’s monterey jack mixed with Munster cheese.”

He stepped forward with his hands behind his back, staring at the plate with suspicion.

“Hmm, what’s the catch?”

“No catch Sir, just cheese.”

He gave her a glance and with a frown, he picked up a piece of cubed cheese by the toothpick and lifted it up to his face. He gave a sniff and put it in his mouth. He chewed it slowly before swallowing it. He shrugged, unimpressed.


She lifted up another plate. “Would you like to try another type?”

He rolled his eyes and gave out a heavy sigh. “If I must.” And he grabbed another piece.
It wasn’t long until he was sitting on one of the spare sitting stools that the employee had behind her counter. Black Hat tossed his fifteenth toothpick into the garbage. He saw Dr, Flug having a bit of trouble with Dementia, who somehow got out of her leash and was now jumping on the shelves in between aisles. Black Hat blinked when he smacked his lips.

“Not bad, what was that one?”

“West Country cheddar.” The employee replied. Black Hat cleaned his sharp teeth with the toothpick before tossing it away.

“I’ll take it.”

“Very good, Sir.” The employee said. She reached behind the counter and pulled out a pound of the cheese, wrapped in a tight plastic. Black Hat grabbed it without giving her a glance. “Would you like the coupon that goes with it? It will save you one dollar.”

“A coupon?” He turned and grabbed the piece of paper. “This thing will help me save money? What kind of idiot designed this? I would rather keep every penny.”

“Which is why it’s limited Sir, only one for each cheese.”

“Hmm, well I suppose I should use it, no sense wasting it. Dr. Flug!” Black Hat yelled out, his voice reaching through the store. “Time’s up!”

He scowled when he saw the doctor pushing the cart with 5.0.5 struggling to keep Dementia inside the cart and attached to the leash. The mountain of food rocked back and forth as they made their way towards Black Hat.
Black Hat took out a small notebook from underneath his top hat, along with a pen. He glanced back at the employee.

“What is your name?”

“Amanda, Sir.”

Black Hat scribbled the name down and shoved the notebook into his hat. “Congratulations, “Amanda”, you have now made the list of humans to show mercy to.”

She tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

Black Hat ignored her when he strolled up to the cart. Dr.Flug was hanging down from the handlebars, breathing heavily as he lifted up a finger.

“W-we got everything, S-Sir Black Hat.”

Dementia shoved a bag of jaw breakers in front of Black Hat’s face. “And I got candy!”

Black Hat immediately shoved the bag back into Dementia’s face. “Cut it out! Now! Let’s go!” Black Hat began to walk towards the door, but Dr, Flug stopped him when he asked.

“What about paying for the groceries?”

Black Hat’s neck snapped when he turned his head completely around like an owl. He gave the trip a devilish grin. “Who said anything about paying?”

No one really stopped them.

I hoped you all enjoyed!

imusuallyobsessed  asked:

Olicity in a turn-of-the-century frontier town. (I'm watching "When Calls the Heart" and it's stuck in my head.)

The sun was high in the sky and the dry dust swirled around his booted feet as Oliver Queen, Star’s sheriff, walked through the streets of his town.  At this time of day, crime was limited mostly to men getting charged too much for the rotgut they swilled in the saloons along the optimistically-named Glade Street.  So that meant he could leave his deputy, Roy Harper, watching the jail while he paid a visit to his sister and took her to lunch.  

He nodded at the townfolk who greeted him and did his best to steer well-clear of women like Miss Helena and Miss Susan.  They were both fine women, of course, but Oliver wasn’t ready to settle down.  Not when he had his sister to bring up and a town to protect.  Not when he was still atoning for what he had done during the War Between the States.

Soon, he arrived at the small house he shared with his sister.  Taking off his hat as he stepped onto the porch, he opened the front door and called out, “Speedy?”

“In here, Ollie!”  His sister’s voice floated out of the room their mother would have called a parlor, but which they called the sitting room.  Since after all, they weren’t back East anymore.  

“Thought you might want to get lunch with your brother, if you wouldn’t be too embarrassed–Oh.”  

Thinking his sister had been alone, Oliver hadn’t thought anything of tugging his shirttails free of his pants and unbuttoning a few buttons while walking into the sitting room.  He had sweated through his shirt in the dry Arizona heat, so he knew Thea would insist on a fresh shirt if she was to go to lunch with him.  

But his sister wasn’t alone.  There was a young woman, with blonde hair twisted haphazardly into a knot, wisps escaping around her pink-and-white face.  Behind her spectacles, her eyes the color of the sky were wide, and her naturally pink lips were parted in an O at the sight of him in his unkempt state.  

“Ollie, really?” Thea asked as Oliver quickly put himself to rights.  He nearly dropped his hat until his sister plucked it from his grasp and stepped away with it.

“You could have given me a warning,” he muttered at Thea’s back before turning to his sister’s guest.  “Beg your pardon, ma’am.  I didn’t realize my sister had a visitor.”  

“No … no, it’s quite all right,” the young woman said, sounding rather dazed.  That made Oliver take another look at her, wondering if perhaps the heat was getting to her.  She had the look of someone newly arrived from the East; perhaps she was feeling light-headed?

Thea returned from the hall and said airily, “Oliver, I’d like to introduce Miss Felicity Smoak of Boston.  Miss Smoak, this is my brother, Sheriff Oliver Queen.”  

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Oliver said, nodding to the young woman.  “Welcome to Star.”  

“Thank you,” Felicity said, fidgeting a little with the handkerchief in her hand, before rising to her feet.  “I don’t want to intrude upon your no-doubt-limited time together as siblings, so this seems like a perfect time to conclude my visit–”

“Oh, no,” Thea replied.  “If Ollie’s gonna take me out to lunch, he can take you out, too.  That way, you can explain more about your problem and he can start to help you.”

Oliver knew at this point he should protest Thea’s high-handed treatment of not just himself, but Miss Smoak, too.  Yet … there was something about the woman in front of him, in the bright blue dress.  Some spark about her, even though he had only just met her, that made him want to get to know more about her.  And after all, if she had some business that required the sheriff–well, he was the sheriff.  

“I couldn’t possibly–” Felicity began, but Oliver held up a hand and she shut her mouth so hard, her jaws clicked together.  

“Miss Smoak, I don’t know much what Boston’s like,” Oliver said, gazing down at her.  She was so much shorter than he was, yet her presence seemed to fill up the room.  “It’s probably not that different from Philadelphia, where Thea and I were born.  Yet out here on the frontier, people take care of each other.  We help each other.  And we certainly give newcomers a warm welcome.  So please, allow me to treat you to lunch and help you get the lay of the land.”  

She bit her lower lip, her white teeth sinking into her very plump, very kissable bottom lip.  Oliver swallowed, trying to get his thoughts–and his body–under control as he waited for her response.

“Thank  you so much, Mr. Queen.  Sheriff!  I meant Sheriff Queen.  Although I do regret that I might have need of your services as sheriff, instead of just getting to enjoy lunch with you.  And your sister, of course.  I–I would gladly accept your invitation.  ‘Your’, in this case, being both yours and Thea’s invitation.”  Felicity took a deep breath, her face going even more pink.

He couldn’t help staring at her, a small smile growing on his face.  For an Eastern girl, she wasn’t polished to a boring perfection, this Felicity Smoak.  She would be the last kind of girl his mother would have wanted him to become acquainted with.  Yet in that moment, Oliver Queen realized he was going to become more than acquainted with Felicity Smoak.

Someday, she was going to be his bride.

The “Tell it to the Marines/Flight of the Albatross” Crossover nobody asked for...

[Struggling with Chapter 3 so I felt it prudent to write something funny to take my mind off the frustration. This is set in @tsume-yuki ‘s One Piece universe of “Tell it to the Marines”

And of course, Leith belongs to me. Hope you guys enjoy~]

Leith scowled, glaring into the middle distance as she contemplated her predicament.

She’d been minding her own business on the Moby Dick, intent on taking a nap somewhere, preferably one of the crow’s nests so she could take off her shirt without any gawkers. (Not that she minded too much, but she liked having quiet time to herself every now and again) When suddenly her vision had gone… weird.

Keep reading

Traveler and Demon

She had forgotten how long she had been walking. Dressed like a poor farmer, her white hair pulled up and hidden inside of her pointed rice hat, the young woman walked along the edge of the dirt road. Most people avoided her but she didn’t quite mind. She would rather avoidance than people chasing her again.

Winter gave a soft sigh, shifting the pack she carried on her shoulders. Towards the end of the day it always felt so heavy, she’d have to find somewhere to make camp soon. Shifting her hat so she could peer out before her, she squinted in the light of the early evening. There was a village in the far distance but she doubted she could make it before nightfall. Best take a rest here. 

She moved a small bit off the empty road to a clear spot before a field, laying down her things with a soft sigh and wiping her sweaty brow. She heard a twig snap rather close by and tensed, picking up her stick and holding it defensively before her as she whirled around. 

“Who’s there!”


[Gorillaz]: Magic Murdoc AU - “El Diablo”

So in case you didn’t know, @piixieguts and I basically spent 2 whole days fleshing out an entire AU, appropriately dubbed the “Magic Murdoc AU” where Murdoc is a male stripper and Noodle is the young uni student that he inevitably bewitches :P You can learn more about it by looking through the tag here. If you want to read the summary of the AU that I wrote and also see the mock cover of the AU that Lainey drew, go here

So because there’s been such great art of this AU so far, I thought I’d write out the scene where Noodle and Murdoc meet for the first time. Should be a fun, flirty read for you all, and I’d appreciate any comments you have. We’re really excited about this AU :)

Title: El Diablo

Words: 3648

Characters: Noodle, Murdoc, a.k.a. “El Diablo”

Summary: Noodle isn’t sure if this whole male strip club thing is her scene. But the thought is completely thrown out the window once a performer names “El Diablo” takes the stage and leaves her stunned. 

Keep reading

The Language of Flowers (1885). George Dunlop Leslie (English, 1835-1921). Oil on canvas. Manchester Art Gallery.

Two young women in a drawing room with an overflowing trug, single flowers and leaves spilling out. One woman, in a white dress, sits on a leather upholstered sofa looking up flowers in a large book, a wide brimmed hat tied round her neck and resting against her shoulders. The second woman lounges across the arm of the sofa, studying a pair of scissors in her hand in a slightly bored fashion.

I'll look after you

Request: I love love love your writing, it’s so cute, the interaction between Newt and the reader are always adorable. Could I maybe request a story with Jacobs sister and newt, fluffy fluff fluff, maybe she’s a nurse or something, I don’t know.


You are much to kind, that sounds sweet.

 Warning- newt faints from exhaustion, but he’s fine, you’re  there to look after him.

Originally posted by mozarlin


Newt had woken up this morning to the fantastic aroma of tea and fresh baking pastries, he flung his long legs out of the bed, followed by the rest of him. he padded his way across the bedroom, still in his pyjamas, he considered grabbing his wand, but decided against it, if he was being burgled, they didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, and thought he might as well join them for the delicious smelling breakfast.


He shuffled to the kitchen, to find Jacob and y/n whisper shouting at each other ‘he takes two sugars and a splash of milk, you dingbat’ you directed towards your brother, as you checked the Danish pastries ‘well he usually makes the tea, he is English after all’ Jacob noticed newt standing in the doorway, a slight smile on his sleepy face, as he turned to look at you ‘aw sorry, did we wake you up?’ Jacob wore a guilty look on his face. “no, no, but what are the pair of you doing here?’ newt asked, stifling a yawn.


You bustled towards him, slipping a plait laden with treats on to the worn wooden kitchen table, you grasped his shoulders, and gently guided him to a seat. “we are looking after you today, you have been working much to hard lately and you’re utterly exhausted.’ Newt took the cup of tea from you, grateful for steam, he could blame his red tinted cheeks on that . He sipped the warm liquid, a small smile on his lips, it was perfect.


Newt took a crescent shaped pastry, that he knew would be full of vanilla custard and fresh apple jam.  He closed his eyes as he chewed, it was amazing the sweetness of the custard dancing on his tongue with the tartness of the apple, waltzing about his senses. You chatted quietly as you ate together, about nothing in particular. After Newt had eaten his fill of the pleasant pastries, he went to stand up, only to receive incredulous looks from both Kowalski siblings. “what are you doing?’ Jacob asked almost looking hurt, ‘I need to feed the beasts’ Newt said a little confused. “well at least let us help’ a concerned smile gracing y/n’s  beautiful face.


“alright, let me get dressed first. Is that aloud, or do I have to do my rounds in my jammys?’ he joked lightly on his way back to the bedroom, he blindly grabbed a pair of tweed of trousers, an off white shirt, and a blue knitted jumper. He didn’t bother with the suit jacket, knowing that it would just end up on the floor of his shed, covered in goodness knows what. Once he had brushed his teeth, he grabbed the case and brought it back to the kitchen. He allowed Jacob to climb inside first, it was a struggle but he made it. Newt then offered his hand to you, to guide you into his case. It always gave him a slight jolt in his chest, whenever you excitedly stepped inside his world.


Newt allowed his tired mind to wander back to the first time that you had met, you were just as excited then.



Newt was on his way to Jacob’s bakery, Tina had told him that the occamy bread rolls filled with raspberry and white chocolate were amazing. That was when a large blood hound came bounding towards him, sniffing at his case furiously, Newt crouched down to allow the dog to sniff his hand before scratching behind it’s floppy ears. A distressed voice pulled Newt from his chat with the dog ‘Albert Kowalski, you get back here right now’ a young woman in a nurses uniform, her hat off to one side, from her running came darting after the dog, , who was nudging Newts hand for more ear scratches, while he continued to sniff at the case. “what do you think you’re doing you big silly’ Newt looked up at the woman from his position on the ground, eyebrows slightly raised. “oh not you, you’re not the big silly, well you might be I don’t know.’ Trailing off the woman joined Newt on the floor, and started checking the dog over for any possibility of injury or discomfort. “thank you so much for catching him, I’m so sorry to have held you up.’ A slight dusting of pink on her cheeks. “it’s quite alright, it was no trouble at all. I’m love, He’s lovely’ newt said as he scratched the dogs chin, getting slightly flustered.


The woman remained silent for a short while, “wait, are you, are you Newt Scamander, the one with the animals?’ the nurse asked, gesturing towards the unassuming case, disbelief causing her brows to furrow. “yes’ newt answered utterly confused, as to how she knew who he was. “Jacob’s told me so much about you and your case, it sounds just wonderful’ her bright eyes lit up even further with pure wonder and excitement. “ah you must be y/n, Jacob’s younger sister?’ Newt said finally connecting all of the dots, you simply nodded in excitement. “I was actually just on my way there now’ Newt mentioned, gesturing towards the bakery that you had just ran out of.


You both headed to the bakery in a comfortable silence. The bell rang it’s happy little twinkling as newt held the door open for you and Albert, who was still fascinated by the old case. You strolled to your brother and gave him a peck on the cheek. “look who I found’ y/n said excitedly nodding her head towards Newt.




The three of them got to work feeding the creatures, Newt had a wistful smile playing at his lips from the memory. He grabbed the sack of seed for the fwoopers and made his way to their enclosure. He didn’t usually like to put silencing charms on them, he rather enjoyed their songs and chirping, but his head was thumping, so he did his checks as quickly as he could and made his way back. As he was approaching the erumpent, getting ready to feed her, Newt’s head started to spin, the erumpent made a worried sort of whimpering sound. the beautiful creature in front of him blurred in and out of sight, he tried to raise his hand and comfort her but it was as though someone had blown out the last candle, and he was swallowed by darkness.


Unbeknown to Newt, Dougal had been watching his actions, trying desperately to wait patiently for his extra apple that newt usually snuck him. Knowing that something was wrong with his friend, Dougal jumped down from his perch and tried to wake the kind man. That’s when the demiguise decided to find help, he was sure that he had seen two others.


Jacob was chattering away to the mooncalfs when he felt a pair of strong long arms covered in impossibly soft fur wrap around his neck. Recognising the peaceful creature, he smiled. Getting impatient the demiguise began tugging on his hand trying to get him to walk. Jacob seemed to understand as he began to head in the direction that the creature was pulling him.


Seeing the heap that was newt on the floor, who now had several creatures surrounding him. Thankfully Dougal parted the protective circle around the tall man, so that Jacob could get a look at him. It was no good he didn’t know what he was doing, he would have to take him to the shed and find his sister. Pulling Newt up from under his arms, Jacob had to drag him, ‘for such a skinny guy, you’re bloody heavy’ Jacob groaned as he managed to drag newt as best he could to the shed. Jacob placed Newt on his work table, and called for you.


“what the heck happened?’ you said breathlessly from your run to the shed. “I don’t know, Dougal took me to him’ Jacob’s voice was filled with concern and panic for his friend. You began the routine checks, as you placed the back of your hand to his forehead and down to his freckle sprinkled cheeks, his eyes slowly cracked open.


Newt continued to watch as you worked, allowing you to push up his shirt sleeve in order to check his pulse. He heard you mumble something about it being too fast. Well how could he help that, when he had a stunning woman stroking his wrist, and looking at him with such concern and love in those striking eyes, that so often came into his mind.


She stroked the curly hair off of his forehead, ‘you silly man, you’re going to work yourself into the ground’ her voice was soft, and so full of concern. “well then, I’ll have to keep it up, if it means you doing this’. A slightly dopey smile on newts face, his scratchy, he lifted his own hand to capture hers, he brushed his lips against her knuckles. “oh Newt, you don’t have to work yourself into an early grave, I’d do this gladly’ her words were full of sincerity, Newt’s heart fluttered. he gently let her hand go, moving his own up to cup her soft cheek. Guiding her, to rest her forehead against his own.


Just then Jacob came rushing down the ladder, the glass of water that you had requested for newt, in his hand. He smiled at the scene, you had been dancing around your feelings for each other for far too long. As quietly as he could, he set the glass down and made his way back up the ladder.



I’d love some more requests

Have a great day and be safe

lunamusings  asked:

A small gray and white woman stops as she is walking past, carrying a basket. "Nice hat! Want a cookie?" -thelithiumprojectlm


“Ooo cookies, thanks stranger!” the young man gobbled the treats in a blink of an eye. Giving food was a extremely quick way to win his attention but he leaned on his intuition when it was about trusting people he didn’t know beforehand. 

 “Who are you by the way? Wanna join our crew?”

anonymous asked:

Psst please share some of your pre-plague Yharnam theories; I love hearing bloodborne fanon!

The spires loom large against the early morning sky, but the flickering lanterns illuminating the buildings from below take all the menace from the dark gothic architecture. The sun slowly rises over the Upper Cathedral Ward, tinting the city in soft pastel colours, and the cloudless sky promises a beautiful day. Dust hangs low over the streets and the cobblestones are still wet from the nightly rain. As the morning grows older, Yharnam slowly awakens. Windows open, letting fresh, crisp air into the warm bedrooms of the residents. Bakers are starting their business and soon the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the yet calm streets. Here and there little bells can be heard as Shopkeepers open their doors. The large market square in the middle of the town is soon bustling with merchants preparing their wares and their low voices are drifting through the air. Hungry cats scurry between the stalls in hope to find some pieces of food on the ground. As the sun rises higher, more and more people step out of their houses and soon the market square is busy with early shoppers.

A blonde woman with a pretty red brooch and a basket over her arm is looking at some fresh fruit while her little daughter eyes the white ribbons in neighbouring stall hopefully. An unusually tall man steps behind the woman, embracing her and planting a kiss onto her hair. She turns around and smiles, giving him a small wave as he heads towards the ally leading to the church. His daughter comes running after him and he lifts her up and spins her around, making her laugh.

A man with impressive mutton chops sitting in a small café observes the family and smiles to himself before turning to his book again. He is wearing a strange white garb that doesn’t quite seem to fit in. Every now and then he peaks up and looks around, as if admiring the architectural work of the city. A woman in a brash red dress saunters over, sitting beside him and starting a casual conversation which, for some reason, makes him blush. Another man dressed in the same strange outfit appears behind him and slaps him grinning on the back while the woman laughs.

The church bell tolls, announcing noontime. The residents of Yharnam are slowly leaving the streets to have their lunch and soon the vibrant smells of cooked meals float through the open windows. An elderly woman in a dark, feathery coat is sitting on a park bench, feeding half of her loaf of bread to the crows who have gathered around her. She is soon joined by an old man in a bright yellow outfit who shakes his head at her, but gladly accepts a piece of bread she offers him.

A man in an ashen grey garb walks past them and gives them a short nod. He is accompanied by multiple dogs who all seem to follow on his heels. When he turns the corner he almost bumps into a stressed looking manwith an unruly head of black curls who wears a school unifrom and carries multiple scrolls in his arms. He mutters an apology and hurries towards the church. 

Afternoon is always the busiest time in the streets, as the children are returning home from school and come running through the narrow alleys, shouting and laughing and playing. A man clad in dirty clothes observes them with a stern look in his eyes, but the person walking next to him, a beautiful young woman with a long ponytail and a bushy white feather on her hat, laughs and soon the older man joins her. A young girl bumps into the woman and hastily apologises, but the lady just bends down and hands the girl a pretty white flower. She bows and then runs off again to join her friends. The man observes his companion with an almost loving look in his eyes.

As the sun begins to disappear, the tall buildings are coloured in a warm orange. The noises slowly die down and the windows of the houses close to keep out the colder growing air.  As the day is coming to an end, clouds appear on the horizon and soon rain washes through the alleyways. But the residents of Yharnam are safely in their homes, the lights of the windows reflected in the puddles that are forming between the cobblestones of the streets.  The full moon rises high in the sky and the city is calm again. The houses lie quietly in the darkness and there is only one window still illuminated. Up in the church, an important looking man stares out into the night, wondering if the peace in his city is going to last forever.  

Hunting the Wolf- A Red Riding Hood Story

Summary: A young Lady of good social standing, a Huntsman with a reputation, and a slew of mysterious murders. Can they stop The Wolf before he claims another victim?

(Red is a minor character in The Girl Fairy Tales Forgot, this story is set 25 years before the novel and features more mature themes. Warnings for very brief mentions of murder/ sexual assault)

~Happy Halloween!~

It was almost typical for the scene of a grim murder. Rain pelted the muddied streets, creating puddles of dirt and filth, filling the air with its putrid stench. The night was dark and gloomy. Few people lingered on the streets, for one reason in particular.

This was no ordinary murder.

“The Wolf again, Constable?”

A lone figure hid in the deepest of shadows, cursing the starkness of her white hood. She craned her head around the archway as much as she dared, her fists clenching when she heard the name of the spectre haunting her fellow women.

She could just make out the Constable, his hat lowered from his bowed head. He clucked his tongue, no doubt accustomed to the gruesome nature of the murders by now.

“’Fraid so, lad,” the Constable muttered, his tone stiff as though he was trying not to inhale the aura of death. “Third one this week, the monster’s getting brave.”

Quite suddenly, the young Watchman retched, emptying the contents of his stomach into an archway already filled with the stench of blood and other unmentionable fluids. As he moved, the white cloaked woman caught sight of a pair of lifeless legs, and tore her eyes away. She’d seen enough, had seen enough when she’d discovered the first victim. It was seared into her mind, and she didn’t need to look to know what lay beyond those bloodied heels.

More determined than she’d ever been, she pushed away from the wall. Pulling her cloak tighter to shield herself from the rain, she disappeared down the street, seeking the name of the tavern where she was to meet him.

The tavern itself was calm and inviting, few customers milled about and the mood was subdued. As soon as she stepped across the hearth, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her as though she’d stepped into a Roman bath. For a moment, she closed her eyes. It took a lot of courage to be out at this hour, alone, courage she had to force from her deepest desires.

The Wolf had hunted tonight. It could have been her lying in the archway.

She shook her head, fighting the palpitations in her chest. It wouldn’t do to think about what ifs. She was here- and she would fight. The Wolf would cease to be a problem, and she would grow up to own her own tavern one day.

Her dreams grounded her and she opened her eyes, searching for the man whom she had planned to meet in secret. Her dark hair was damp, plastered against her forehead, and the hem of her white cloak was covered in filth. Wrinkling her nose, she tried not to picture the fit her mother would throw. It wasn’t important. Not now.

It didn’t take long to find the man she searched for. He stood out like a sore thumb, even in the deepest corner of the tavern.

As she crossed the room, she ordered a drink from the bar.

“So, you are the Huntsman?” she asked as she approached him. It came out harsher than she intended, but she supposed it was a good thing. Even sitting down, he was almost as tall as her. A giant of a man, broad shoulders and bulky muscles. She tried not to look. She failed.

The Huntsman took a swig of his drink, before wiping his mouth and silently inviting her to sit in the wooden chair opposite him. She did so, sitting up straight, not quite sure where to put her hands but making sure he didn’t know that.

He surveyed her out of his one good eye, his blind one blue and unseeing. She’d been warned about his fearsome appearance, the white gashes against the side of his face so much more prominent in the candlelight. He looked older than his years, and had experiences to match.

“Remnants,” he said noticing her line of vision, “of a battle with my own wolf.”

She shifted, looking away. Every sensibility within her told her to apologise for staring. She could hear her governess screaming at her in her mind, yet she shoved those sensibilities to the side. Here, she was no lady.

“I see,” was all she allowed herself to say in response.

There was a moment where neither said anything else, and a barmaid came over to serve her the beer she’d ordered. She never got to have beer at home, and allowed herself the luxury here. It would help steady her nerves and her hands.

“You can be at no loss as to why I am here, Huntsman,” she muttered, leaning closer to him.

He tilted his chin, eyebrow arched, and she fought the urge to recoil under his intense gaze. He was sizing her up, and she’d be damned if she’d be found wanting. This was too important.

“A mysterious man, some say disguising himself as a wolf, doing unspeakable things to women before killing them as they lay at his ungiven mercy,” his face was hard as stone, the disgust in it giving her hope. He took another gulp of his drink. “It’s enough to turn the stomachs of even the hardest of men.”

“Then you know I’m here to ask you to help me,” she implored, fingers so tight against her glass that her knuckles felt as though they might burst from her skin. “Help me stop this monster. They say you are the best at finding those who don’t wish to be found, that you hunt more than just geese and game. Help me hunt The Wolf too.”

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somebody, particularly POC, help on me this please? i’ve seen captions that go with this to say that this sketch is racist because the ‘flesh coloured tights’ are really dark, arguably darker than the lady’s skin? but i just see a fabulously dressed woman (i have so much love for that dress and hat) freely purchasing goods which she needs, from a respectable establishment, as a presumably free woman, potentially a mistress? but my gaze on it may be different as i am a white man? it’s really captured my attention though irregardless, and i would really love to hear thoughts and opinions on this?

“Have you any flesh coloured silk stockings, young man?” “Life In Philadelphia” engraving by Charles Hunt, American, 1829.

pipermccloud  asked:

Undertaker's outfit always makes me think he's trying to be several things at once X) The clothes underneath his cloak seems like those a priest would wear (minus the collar) the cloak is something wizard-like, the top hat fits in the Victorian era but with a ridiculously long tail, his Mardi Gras bead necklaces, the scarf looks like he was using it as a baby sling or something and his boots are akin to a leather cotour fashion model's. While not clothing his hair screams hippie needs a haircut

//The Undertaker’s outfit is actually very close to being historically accurate to the Victorian era. Not to what an undertaker of that time would wear (unless they were moonlighting with another job within the profession), but it is inspired by the garb of what a Funeral Mute/Undertaker’s Mute would wear.

A Funeral Mute was an attendant and professional mourner who would often lead off the funeral procession. And would stand motionless and silent, flanking either side of the doorway that led to the wake or the funeral of the deceased; usually at the family home of the departed.  They would remain there all day, and all night, for as long as the event was underway, rain, snow, or shine.

They usually held a broom with mourning crepe draped around it, which was made out of the same material as the baldric (sash) that was draped across their torso and tied at the side.  The colour of their baldric, and fabric on the broom changed depending on who it was that died.
If it was a child, or a chaste young woman, the cloth would be white or light grey.  If it was an adult, the cloth would be dark grey or black.
The long liripipe-like cloth that draped from their top hats was also made from mourning crepe. It would sometimes change to match the colour necessary for the funeral, but it was normally black and matched their outfit.

The large robe the Undertaker wears is too inspired by the traditional garb of the Funeral Mute, and the cassock he wears beneath it is indeed similar to that of a Priest’s :)  You are correct, he doesn’t wear a clerical collar beneath it, but he does wear a high collared white shirt, which was fashionable at the time; William wears a high-standing collar as well.

And I’ve heard it mentioned that the strands of beads the Undertaker wears, are reminiscent of Tibetan prayer beads. Whether this is accurate to the characters actual design, only Yana can say.

It wasn’t uncommon for men to wear high heels, though the Undertaker’s heels are particularly high, and I think the many straps and buckles are a design all his own. They definitely are not a common Victorian fashion practice lol.

As for his hair, it’s known that he has had long hair well before he became a mortician, but when he was a working reaper he wore it tied back.
He wears his hair long/down, and covering part of his face for two reasons: It helps to hide his scars, and it hides his inhuman eyes.

So, the majority of what The Undertaker wears is very historically accurate. Yana is amazing with attention to detail!

anonymous asked:

You think branding someone is justified please get help you are clearly sick.

Did you not watch any of the season? I’m not saying it wasn’t messed up, I’m saying that’s fucking karma. Do I think it was healthy what they did? No I don’t but it’s not like Piper pulled Maria’s pigtail on the playground. They didn’t just pull poor little white girl Susie out of her home and brand her for no reason. 

She used her knowledge of systematic racism and white privilege to her advantage and got a woman of color with a young daughter more jail time as well as lowered the quality of life for every single woman of color in the jail because she couldn’t handle competition. And she didn’t care what she was doing, or the consequences, she was only worried about herself. Also she started a white supremacist group and while she said she didn’t support it she did absolutely nothing to dissuade it even though she was its leader. And she literally gets off scott free for most things she does. I never said I was thrilled that they branded her. I wasn’t throwing my hat in the air and having a barbecue to celebrate. But I’m not crying over the decision at all, and I’m not gonna say that she didn’t deserve it. Sorry I wasn’t weeping for your white fav, sweetheart, but that doesn’t make me sick. 

Really wasn’t expecting anyone to come at me for this white girl since her getting the karma that’s been building up for her for the bast 3 seasons was the least shitty thing to happen this season. When there were innocent wocs who got everything they didn’t deserve for 4 years straight. Like honestly miss me with your Piper stanning, for fuck’s sake. 

There is something magical about old things.

They fill up entire antique shops, all of them touched by hands that lived decades or centuries ago, all of them quietly holding the history of the people who once adored them.

A weathered bronze pocket watch holds a black and white picture of a lovely girl- the first gift a young woman ever gave to her new husband.

An oil painting shows a willow tree overlooking a lake and the silhouette of two people embracing beneath it- the spot they sat together to watch the sunset every evening.

A hat stand holds a faded navy sailor’s cap, worn from salt and wind and sweat- the hat of a man who rescued dozens of fellow soldiers from the dark depths of the ocean.

There are creaky typewriters that have written hundreds of love letters, faded cameras that have captured joy and love and beauty, and rusty pocketknives passed down from father to son for generations.

These old things sit patiently on their shelves, asking for nothing, collecting their blankets of dust, silently carrying the memories of the lives before us.

And how beautiful it is that we can see a past long forgotten simply by looking at them.

—  Z.M.

I think people awaken originally to a spiritual dimension in their life in an incredibly wide variety of ways. Some people seem to open up to it through traumatic experiences, when people describe a near death experience or at a moment when they touch something much deeper than the traditional way that they thought about things. Other people arrived at that awakening through meditation or through religious experiences. Others arrive at it through sex or through drugs. There is a wide variety of ways.

I remember once lecturing in a hall back in the early 70’s. At that time most of my audiences were very young and they tended to wear white and they tended to smile a lot and wear flowers. At that time I wore beads and had a long beard. I recall that in the front row of my audience there was one woman who was about 70 and she had on a hat with little cherries and strawberries and things like that on it, false ones. And she was wearing black oxfords and a print dress and she had a black patent leather bag and I looked at her and I couldn’t figure out what she was doing in the audience cause she was so dissimilar from all the rest of the audience.

Our audiences were like a gathering of explorers clubs where we would come together and we would just share our experiences. So I started to describe some of my experiences, some of which were pretty far out and I looked at her and she was nodding with understanding, and I couldn’t believe that she could understand what I was talking about. I was describing experiences that I had had after using psychedelic chemicals, experiences that were very precious and far out. So I would try a little further out experience. I’d look over at her and there she was nodding away. I began to think maybe she had a problem with her neck that lead her to nod and maybe it had nothing to do whatsoever with what I was saying. And I kept watching and getting more and more fascinated and getting more and more outrageous in what I was saying and she kept nodding and nodding. At the end of the lecture I couldn’t resist, I just kind of smiled to her so intensely that she just had to come up and speak to me. And she came up and she said “Thank you so much. That makes perfect sense. That’s just the way I understand the universe to be.” And I said, “How do you know? I mean, what have you done in your life that has brought you into those kinds of experiences?” She leaned forward very conspiratorially and she said, “I crochet”. And at that moment I realized that the ways in which people arrive at spiritual understanding was certainly a much wider variety of paths than what I had anticipated. I had begun to think that my way was the only way, which seems to be a common illness of people who get into spiritual work.


Ram Dass, “Polishing The Mirror: How to Live From Your Spiritual Heart

Something to start your Morning or evening…Happy 11/11 :)

Losing Your Mind To Gain Your Soul

In the West we get rewarded for rational knowledge and learning. But only when you see that the assumptions you’ve been working under are not valid, when you despair of getting there through your rational mind, does the possibility of truly changing your mind arise.

Albert Einstein said, “A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move toward higher levels.” He also said, “The mind can proceed only so far upon what it knows and can prove. There comes a point where the mind takes a leap—call it intuition or what you will—and comes out upon a higher plane of knowledge, but can never prove how it got there. All great discoveries have involved such a leap.”

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