#irish design jewelry
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#Celtic Cross#Celtic jewelry#Irish Jewelry Company#Celtic heritage#Celtic Cross history#Celtic Cross significance#Celtic craftsmanship#Celtic Cross designs#Celtic Cross pendants#Ancient Celtic symbols
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gerry keay (classic flavor):
skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life
eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers
his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:
- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.
- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.
- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.
- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.
he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.
black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.
we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.
the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.
sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.
he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.
gerry keay (tmagp):
goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.
we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!
no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.
the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.
loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."
he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.
his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.
there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.
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My Date With the President's Daughter
part one: Blue Bunny
prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 6.3k+
note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?
warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.
The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.
Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.
You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.
Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.
Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.
The gala was crowded.
Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on.
Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.
The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.
By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.
The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.
You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.
With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.
"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.
"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"
He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"
"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."
Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"
You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."
He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"
"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"
"Daddy won't be mad?"
"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.
The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.
"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "
"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"
"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."
"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."
"Of course," she rushed.
"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."
Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.
After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.
"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.
"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.
"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."
"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."
"That bad, huh?"
"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"
"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."
"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."
"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."
"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."
"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."
"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."
"Can't tell me you're not tempted."
Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."
"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."
"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."
"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.
Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.
You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.
He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."
"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.
"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"
You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.
"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.
"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "
"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.
"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."
"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "
"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "
In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."
You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.
"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"
You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.
"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"
"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.
"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.
"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "
"The fuck are you - "
"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"
"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."
He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."
"Daddy - "
"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."
"I'm not yours to command - "
"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "
"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.
"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "
"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "
"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "
"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.
"That so?"
Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."
"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."
"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"
"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.
"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "
He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.
"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.
"Bruv!"
"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.
"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.
"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "
"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.
"Lem!"
"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.
Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.
You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.
There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.
You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.
However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."
"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"
"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"
"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"
Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "
But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"
The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!
Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.
"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.
"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.
"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"
Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.
"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.
"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.
"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"
You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.
"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "
Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.
Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.
Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.
You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.
"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.
"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.
"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"
"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"
"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."
"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."
"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."
You sniffled, "You seen my family?"
"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."
Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"
"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."
"I'm sorry."
"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."
"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."
"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"
"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.
"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.
"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."
"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."
"I understand, sir."
"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."
"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."
Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."
"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."
"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."
You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"
"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.
"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."
"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."
Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"
"Absolutely."
"Don't make me regret this."
"Not in this lifetime, sir."
"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."
After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.
In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.
When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.
In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."
"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."
"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."
"I-I'm glad you were here."
He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."
"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."
"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"
"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"
"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, sweetheart. 'S been a helluva night."
Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#bullet train tangerine#tangerine x reader#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x f!reader#tangerine x oc#tangerine x you#tangerine x y/n#tangerine smut#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine angst#tangerine hurt and comfort#tangerine fluff#tangerine headcanon#tangerine atj#atj tangerine#atj character#atj x reader#atj x fem!reader#atj#aaron taylor johnson#bullet train#bullet train movie#bullet train 2022#bullet train x reader#tangerine imagine#tangerine fic#tangerine fanfic
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after a full month theyre finally done . these designs took a lot out of me to make but i really like how they all turned out. more design info for each under the cut
patton: black cis man, he/him, 6'0 (the tallest except for remus*). 4b hair. he has patches of skin that developed into frog skin following the events of svsr. its functionally similar to vitiligo, as it was caused by the high amounts of stress patton went through, but not the same. his shirt was a gift from janus that was suggested by remus. he has chronic back pain (not a part of the design but this is important to know). he wears the bff bracelet that roman made for him when they were young. he has stretch marks around his shoulders and chest.
roman: italian + latina bigender woman, she/he/star, 5'10. he dyes her own hair often but favors stars natural color with streaks of blond. her sword is longer than that when star actually uses it. i fucked up the proportions when drawing it and didn't have the strength to fix it. she had an entire royal cape but he opts not to wear it in most situations. similarly he owns a lot more jewelry than just the stuff stars wearing in the picture but its often not practical. her bff bracelet is in a drawer in his room right now.
logan: indigenous (specifically mayan) agender person, they/xe, 5'6 (the shortest except for remus*). xyr hair has gone gray from stress despite attempts to fix it, so they have accepted their fate and moved on. xe has a nose ring because virgil is a terrible influence on them. the heart on their cheek marks the first spot that virgil ever kissed xem. xe's been carrying around that orange book a lot recently for some reason. xe has stretch marks around their chest, shoulders, armpit, and hips.
virgil: irish (she makes their skin gray just because) genderfluid person, she/he/they, 5'8 ½. he took up smoking (though they prefer weed over cigs) to try and reduce her and thomas's anxiety. it's seemingly working but now their room smells like weed. her rat tails are 100% real. after accepting anxiety she cut off their jacket sleeves and jean shins to show off more of his body. we love body positivity. the scar on his face is remus's fault. they have many anxiety reducing habits such as can tab collecting and biting her nails. enrichment. the heart on his neck marks the first spot that logan ever kissed her. he changes hair color in accordance with shirt. she has stretch marks around their hip and armpits.
janus: french + spanish trans male, he/hiss/venom, 5'8. the cane is not optional. despite having the fashion sense of an upper class victorian man hi is actively socialist. ve claims he's "reclaiming the style". the tree patterns on hisses overcoat and gloves have absolutely no symbolism related to them whatsoever. the eye he wears around venoms neck is made from serpentine. the ring pattern on hisses gloves is solely because its hard to put rings on over gloves, even though it doesnt matter at all and ve could simply summon rings on hisses fingers if he wanted to. the snake pattern around venoms coat is not sentient.
remus: italian + latino unlabled person, he/it/that thing, height is incredibly unstable but averages to around 5'10 most days. it can see out of the eyes on his earrings and right sleeve. the spikes on that things clothing are indeed real teeth. it misses his friends. it wears some sort of weird lingerie under his uniform. that thing ended up getting the uncontrollable hair genes and it dyes its hair in shrimp colors. he wants to dye its hair with virgil again. the chain can be stored inside of the mace handle, allowing the mace to be used as a morningstar. the preportions on it are also bad sorry. that things shoes are sentient and want to kill you. it wishes janus wasn't so busy. he doesn't want to be alone.
#patton#roman#logan#virgil#janus#remus#art#sanders sides#patton sanders#ts patton#roman sanders#ts roman#logan sanders#ts logan#virgil sanders#ts virgil#janus sanders#ts janus#remus sanders#ts remus#platonic royality#analogical#a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. i am free#also dont ask why theyre not to scale. i tried my hardest
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I think I recalled you saying this was your fave on his latest album 👀 so this one please! 🥰
Hey so I have NO idea where this came from but here it is!
pairing. Irish Mobster!Andy x Reader
wc. ~1400
warnings. Talks of violence, mention of abuse toward reader (not from Andy, abusive ex!Ransom, guns
Thank you so much miss @cocoamoonmalfoy I hope you like it!
The bar was certainly old. The wood paneling had a lifetime of lover’s initials carved in its wood. The red leather padding on the seats cushioned you as you settled in the corner booth, making sure you could keep an eye on the door. Cigarette smoke left a heavy haze over the place, clouding your vision and making you cough at the smell. Probably the last bar in Massachusetts you could smoke in. But the man you were looking for was here, at The Black Rose.
Andrew Barber.
A waitress came over asking if you wanted a drink. Normally when you drank, it had been fun fruity cocktails with your girl friends. At least until you started dating Ransom. Then you didn’t go much of anywhere. He’s why you were here tonight.
You ordered a rum and coke, figuring that was a standard anywhere, and settled in as much as you could. Not that you had long to wait.
“Well well well… who might you be?” A low voice purred with the hint of an Irish brogue to it. You turned and swallowed as you took him in. Tall, was the glaringly obvious term. So tall you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes and found there were an intense shade of stormy grey. Not many were brave or dumb enough to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure which category you fell into.
He wore a black peacoat over a navy-blue button up; the top buttons open to reveal the Celtic knot tattoo on his collar bone. You were sure there was even more drawings and designs all over, judging by the designs on his hands, highlighting the silver rings he wore. Including a Claddagh ring. It was similar to the one on your right hand, pointed inward to show you were taken.
Ransom had ripped it off your hand himself to turn it around. Nearly dislocating 3 fingers.
You finally found your voice to tell him your name and he repeated it, making you shiver. It had been a long time since you’d heard your name said so thoughtfully.
How before I heard it from your mouth
My name would always hit my ears
As such an awful sound
“Are you…Mr. Barber?” you asked as he settled across from you.
“Please love, call me Andy. Now, what I can do for a little thing like yourself?” The waitress set down your rum and a coke and a whiskey in front of Andy. Even though he’d never ordered one.
“Well, uhm. I need...” You held the drink tightly in your hands as you considered what you were genuinely about to ask him for. “I need you to take care of someone.”
Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Is it the same person who gave you that shiner?” You touched your hand to your face gently.
That was 2 weeks ago. You’d accidentally burnt dinner. You’d thought it was healed enough that you thought you could cover it up with make up but you in Andy’s line of work, he saw enough of them to know when someone was covering it up.
“Yes.”
You took the photo of Ransom out of your purse. It had been your 3rd date; he’d taken you to a local carnival and won you a teddy bear. 3 months later he trashed the bear and called you stupid for holding on to it. “His name is Ransom Drysdale. I can give you his schedule, whatever you need. I just. I need him gone.” Andy took a long sip of his drink and leaned in close to you.
“You don’t seem like the type to want someone dead, sweetheart.”
“I’ve tried to leave him. I’ve talked to the police. But his family has money. He has connections. So, I thought. If I came to you…” You bit your lip “I don’t have a lot of money. But I have some jewelry I could pawn.” You clenched the golden locket around your neck.
“Your ma give you that?” You nodded, thinking of the woman who’d raised you by herself for 15 years. Andy smiled. “Ain’t that like them? Gifting life to us again.” His voice was low, as if you weren’t meant to here it.
He took the photo and studied it for a minute, then looked back you. There was something about his eyes. There was a burning fire behind them but a concerned sadness weighed down his face.
“He did something bad. Really bad, didn’t he?” You paused. He looked at you as if he had all the time in the world to wait for you to answer. You knew you had nothing left to lose, so you took a long sip off your drink to muster your courage.
“A few days ago, I tried to take care of him myself. I bought a gun, figuring the next time he came at me, I could threaten him or it would be self defense. Instead, I came home and it was sitting on the table. He told me if I did something like that again. He’d use it on me.”
Andy was silent for quite a long time and you couldn’t quite read him.
“You can keep the locket, sweetheart. Consider this a pro-bono job.” Your jaw dropped.
“But why would you do that?” Andy looked away from you, then reached over to take your hand and you were shocked to find how warm his was.
“I’ve helped a lot of women over the years. Usually, I help them get away from assholes, get them set up in a new place with a whole new life. And I’d always take care of the ex as a bonus. But you. You went the direct route. Asked me to kill the bastard myself. You were even willing to do it yourself. You have a sense of self perseverance. and that makes you so brave and beautiful.”
To share the space with simple living things
Infinitely suffering
But fighting off like all creation
The absence of itself
The way Andy spoke to you made your heart feel lighter than it had in such a long time. Not chained down. Not to mention the way he stared at you as if he wanted to cherish every moment with you.
“Plus, there is something I want.” Andy said. You clenched your hands, apprehensive at words but he smirked, playfully. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I know the owner and chef of a fantastic place in the North End.”
This life lived mostly underground
Unknowing either sight nor sound
‘Til reaching up for sunlight.
You felt like Andy was holding out his hand to pull you up out of the dark place Ransom was keeping you in for so long. You couldn’t put your finger on it but Andy made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. Even if this was only the first time you’d met him.
“Deal.” Andy lifted his drink and you tapped it against his, both finishing off your drinks.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight? Do you need a ride?” Andy asked, his voice full of concern. “Might I suggest you stay at my place until after tomorrow night? Then I can help arrange a safe place to stay.” Or convince you to stay longer, Andy thought to himself.
“Stay, at your place? Isn’t’ that a little bold?” your face heated up at the implications.
“Not at all, love. I’ve got plenty of bedrooms. Though mine is the comfiest.” Your voice caught in your throat And you felt the need to go splash some cold water on your face.
While you excused yourself to the restroom Andy pulled out his phone, calling Ari. His right hand.
“Hey Levinson, I need you to take Rogers and Barnes on a special assignment. I finally found that shitstain Drysdale who’s been creeping in on our area. And he put his hands on my girl.” He smiled as he thought back to how you’d made him feel when he’d seen you for the first time. Like a beautiful ray of sunshine had come into his life, but not without some thunder.
But you spoke some quick new music
That went so far to soothe this soul
As it was and ever shall be
“Get back to me when you have him. But I got some special plans, so he needs to at least be breathing. Even if it’s laboriously. In the meantime, I gotta call Vincenzo and make a reservation.”
#andrew barber#andy barber fic#st patrick's day fest#song fic#first time#hozier#fic request#mafia au
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ST BRIGID’S CROSS
St Brigid, also known as “Mary of the Gael,” is an abbess and patroness of Ireland. She is furthermore the founder of the first Irish monastery in County Kildare, Ireland. Born in Dundalk in 450 AD, St Brigid is accredited with first creating the unique cross which bears her name.
The distinctive St Brigid’s Cross design, made from woven rushes, is thought to keep evil, fire, disease and hunger from the homes in which it is displayed. The tale of its origin as we know it is as follows....
There was an old pagan Chieftain who lay delirious on his deathbed in Kildare (some believe this was her father) and his servants summoned Brigid to his beside in the hope that the saintly woman may calm his restless spirit. Brigid is said to have sat by his bed, consoling and calming him and it is here that she picked up the rushes from the floor and began weaving them into the distinctive cross pattern. Whilst she weaved, she explained the meaning of the cross to the sick Chieftain and it is thought her calming words brought peace to his soul. He was so enamoured by her words that the old Chieftain requested he be baptized as a Christian just before his passing.
Since that day, and for the centuries that followed, it has been customary on the eve of her Feast Day (February 1st) for the Irish people to fashion a St Brigid's Cross of straw or rushes and place it inside the house over the door.
This rush cross, which became St Brigid’s emblem, has been used in Irish designs throughout history, with many modern stylists using this now popular Irish symbol within the designs of Irish jewelry and Irish gifts.
This cross is normally hand created from rushes however occasionally straw is also used. The rushes were collected from wetlands and cut into pieces, 8-12 inches long. Rushes can be hard to get for city dwellers so ordinary drinking straws are a good substitute. Use rubber bands to tie up the ends.
HOW TO MAKE ST BRIGID’S CROSS
You Will Need
16 Reeds (or Straws)
4 small rubber bands
Scissors
What to Do
Hold one of the reeds vertically. Fold a second reed in half as in the diagram.
Place the first vertical reed in the centre of the folded second reed.
Hold the centre overlap tightly between thumb and forefinger.
Turn the two rushes held together 90 degrees anti-clockwise so that the open ends of the second reed are pointing vertically upwards.
Fold a third reed in half and over both parts of the second reed to lie horizontally from left to right against the first straw. Hold tight.
Holding the centre tightly, turn the three reeds 90 degrees anti-clockwise so that the open ends of the third reed are pointing upwards.
Fold a new reed in half over and across all the rushes pointing upwards.
Repeat the process of rotating all the rushes 90 degrees anti-clockwise, adding a new folded reed each time until all rushes have been used up to make the cross.
Secure the arms of the cross with elastic bands. Trim the ends to make them all the same length. The St Brigid’s Cross is now ready to hang.
#st brigid#ireland#history#irish#irish culture#stbrigid#st brigid’s cross#st brigids cross#febuary#st Brigid’s day#st brigids day#Mary of the gael#ward
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I have a gift for you (it's the equivalent of poisoned chocolates)!
It's not like Soap expects Ghost to walk up to the pub covered in gold chains or something.
Even if he wasn't the spooky bastard he is, Soap's been in long enough to know there's no one universal way soldiers finally dress up when they're let loose onto the populace, and that you can't guess from how they are in the field. It's always the ones you least expect that turn up in Hawaiian shirts open to their navel. And the ones you'd think in more layers than a nun.
So it's not the lack of jewelry that surprises him, even if he knows Ghost well enough to know he's not the type to judge a man that wears a ring or six, like Soap and Gaz on a good day. He'd have figured Ghost to be like Price, wearing not a damn bit of flash and closer to someone's Grandad and getting eyes anyway. Ghost is surprisingly low-key for such a huge fucker. Smart enough to not wear all black, just muted colors and old faded-in-the-wash hoodies that won't draw any attention at all, camouflaging his size. But, Soap notices the chain.
It's dark, and thin, not meant to be seen. Probably would have escaped notice, if Soap didn't make it a habit to notice any and all things Ghost. Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is… fucked if he knows. A pattern, certainly. Ghost always wears a chain with something on it in his civvies. Low and close to his heart, from the lump under his layers. Not just his dogtags, clearly.
He finds out what it is the hard way, some drunk starting something and needing putting down. Ghost doesn't break a sweat, but the movement's enough. It pops out. No wonder he doesn't wear it in the field.
It's a ring, but Soap doesn't know what kind. Not a woman's ring, the size and shape and design is off, but it's no regiment token either. He wants, very badly, to get his hands on it. If only he didn't think Ghost would cut them off. But it nags at him, and he's looking at the thin, secret line of the chain on the small sliver of Ghost's neck he can see between the facemask and the Henley at the pub when the glass goes flying.
Not his fault, for once, and Gaz is on him in an instant, praising his thick fucking skull. Price and Ghost blink out of his sight and then back in, meaning he's probably concussed. And at an angle; it suddenly dawns on him Gaz has put him on his back and he huffs a laugh at that that makes all their eyes go tight and worried.
Ghost leans forward, over him, and the ring slips out. Soap's eyes get pulled to it, like a hypnotist's token.
"Why do you have it if it doesn't fit you?" he says without thinking, because there's no way it does, not on those massive fucking hands. "Doesn't belong to me," Ghost barks, eyes stricken like he answered just as mindlessly, and vanishes. Soap flails, trying to chase after him and finding himself pinned by Gaz who looks half worried and half intrigued, and by Price who looks gutted.
"Fuck, fuck, I should-"
"You should fucking forget about this," Price says, steely.
"But I need to apologize-"
"If you do, he will kill you," Price answers, "just don't ever speak of it again, alright?" He almost sounds sorry. And Soap well. Soap tries.
(Yes it IS a claddagh ring because I grow ever fonder of North!Irish!Roach)
OUGH noooo 😢 i love how soap is paying so much attention to him that he can't help but notice, and then speaking up without thinking it might not be his to ask about. the pain there, from both sides, is so evident :(
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LEO LARSON
full name: leonard "leo" michael larson
pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man
birthday & birthplace: february 9, 1996 (28); ann arbor, mi
location: ocean crest apartments
time in aurora bay: four years
sexuality: bisexual
occupation: art teacher at aurora bay high school
@aurorabayaesthetic
about.
leo is a midwestern boy through and through. he was born and raised in ann arbor, michigan (go blue!) and really prides himself on that. he'll go to bat for the midwest any day.
he's the oldest of three, with two younger sisters who he'd literally die for. his extended family on his mom's side is incredibly tight; his mom and all of her siblings actually bought up a lot of the houses in the same little cul-de-sac, so leo grew up seeing his cousins more like his siblings. lots of game day barbecues that spilled out into the street, riding bikes around town, driving around because there was nothing else to do, the whole suburban experience really
his parents split up when he was nine and he has little to no contact with his dad, who moved across the country after the divorce. he loves his mom but she went through a long period of dating bad guys that hasn't really ended, so he definitely has daddy issues
he's loved art for as long as he can remember, and he was always gifted with it. it started with chalk drawings in the driveway and went from there. he went to a progressive, hippy dippy high school in ann arbor that allowed him to specialize and get together a portfolio for college
leo is. not smart lmao. but he is talented, which is what got him into a joint brown university/rhode island school of design program. doing the whole ivy league thing was really not leo's jam. he felt like he was too far from his family and had a hard time fitting in to the kind of upper class vibe at an ivy, but he was able to find his niche and really focus on his work because of it.
after college, a fellowship brought him out to san francisco. he loved sf, but the kind of snobbery that really repulsed him in college just came out in full force when he was trying to break into the art world. the fellowship was supposed to last two years, but he gave it up after one and packed up his whole life to move south to aurora bay
he's been in town for four years now, and during that time he worked on teaching certifications, sort of because he didn't know exactly what else to do. all he wants to do all day is paint, but he developed such an imposter syndrome on top of a distaste for the established art world, so he figured that teaching art would allow him to do what he loves everyday while also giving him a lot of time to work on his own projects
he got a job at aurora bay high school and lives to project the kind of cool, gay, tattooed hippie teacher vibe that his teachers in high school had. he still does his own stuff and shows at local galleries/maintains a website where he sells pieces. he also does murals all over town, in storefronts, on the sides of businesses, for anyone who wants one at affordable prices. he sells handmade jewelry at local artisan markets. he just loves to make art!
leo is a very simple guy. the only things that really get through into his brain are pretty things. flowers, trinkets, etc. his apartment is immaculately designed, he's always looking out for a cute new piece for his mantel.
tidbits.
he has a dilute tortoiseshell cat named robert, after robert rauschenberg, who he mostly just calls bob
he actually speaks fluent irish but hardly ever has a chance to use it. his mom is a first generation american and her parents were basically irish nationalists who only came to the states because they were so poor in ireland. they were all about keeping the irish language alive, so his whole family spoke irish growing up
he's a bit of a slut! he is ACTIVE on grindr and tinder and all the things. if your character is too, they've probably hooked up
basically, he's just a sunshiny pretty boy
connections
party buds, hopeless wingman case for @heyits-asher
intrigued by, highkey crushin on @paxton-brady
art friends w/ @cherryxkoch, @maura-cortes, @cassidyxcooke
internet turned irl art friends w/ @lennonhansley
past fwb/on weird terms with @dancingdanvers
neighbors who leo drags into impromptu board game/wine/craft nights @emersonxcassidy, @cricketcampbell
went on a few dates with @atticus-cortes before they both accidentally ghosted each other
ex hookup/helped @esmaxdemirci cheat on her husband in sf
friend/former camper of @caleb-majhi
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Redacted Listeners (Dari Ver.)
IT'S DONEEEE!!!
This is me mostly talking about like clothing aesthetics.
Also establishing how I see these characters and giving them names!
This is my interpretation and gives me a chance to think about character design a little more! And to help me remember how I plan on dressing/representing their clothes.
~ Dari
Angel | Malak or Mal - (they/she) [27]
Name Meaning: Angel (Arabic origin)
Arab-Thai
Short and heavy set. Shaved head and darker skinned, big black lashes, and dark brown eyes.
AFAB//Fashion and general expression leans femme, shifts between not wearing and wearing a binder. Hair is buzzed so is seen as more androgynous. Clothing style waives more in the light academia casual, wears lots of high waist and crop tops. Also, hoodies, hoodies for days - all types - zippered, pullovers, sleeveless, oversized, cropped, etc.
Baabe | Apis - (they/him) [25]
Name Meaning: “Bee” in Latin
Turkish
Messy, curled, dyed blue hair pulled in a half-bun. Eyes are a deep green. Skin is midtone. Silver ear cuff on right ear, key on chain necklace.
AMAB//Mostly traditionally masculine features with the exception of longer lashes and silky skin, hair is grown out and curly. Well groomed, with a mid tone voice that could be construed as any part of the spectrum. Notably broad shoulders and strong arms. Simple and clean fashion, professional more often than not, if not in athleisure wear.
Bright Eyes | Lux - (they/she/he + primarily uses they/them) [20]
Name Meaning: Light (of Greek origin)
Greek
Unkempt blue-white hair worn short with bangs. Eyes were an electric blue before their change. Vamp eyeballs, almost cat-like eyes. Double helixes.
AMAB//Notably considered somewhat of a pretty face, mostly from Freddy's recollection of their high school years - though people found them too intimidating to approach. Bounces all over the spectrum in terms of style. Sticks pretty heavily to the Decora Kei style, somewhat allowing themselves to take all the attention away from Fred. It's a bouncing dichotomy from their foul mouth and sweet face... Frederick and them took somewhat a darker look after their turnings.
Cutie | Hadley, Haddie, or Lee- (they/him)[28]
Name Meaning: Named after Lieutenant Hadley from Star Trek
Irish
Short cropped dark blond hair paired with very pale blue eyes. Peachy skin with lots of freckles! Tattoo behind the ear that says "mind over matter" as nod to their powers. Double lobe piercings, labret, purple gemmed necklace.
AMAB//Generally sticks to a sort of academia look, layered items with focus around jewelry pieces. Loves silver and rings and watches! Generally pretty soft in appearance, sweater vests and jumpers and hoodies. Doesn't do baggy pants unless they're cargos.
Darlin' | Barrett or Rett - (they/she/he, no preference)[26]
Name Meaning: Quote from site: "While some sources say Barrett is of German origin and means “as strong as a bear,” others say it's derived from a Middle English surname meaning “strife” and often given to argumentative people".
Iranian-German
Short bobbed, messy brown hair. Brown skin and deep gold eyes. Muscular. One gold tooth. Right brow has a slit. Gold ear cuffs.
AFAB//Aligned with wolf pack norms, dresses pretty simply with leather jackets, bomber jackets, etc. Still somewhat fashionable, ranging in aesthetics and gender representation. Pretty confident most of the time despite being covered in scars. Athleisure wear if they're not dressing for a formal event.
Doc | Apollo - (he/him)[30]
Name Meaning: Apollo is the god of healing
Haitian-American
Dark skinned with twists in dark hair. Big lips and pretty blue eyes, labret cuff and dimple piercings. Double lobe piercings.
AFAB//Minimalist style. Enjoys soft, flowing fabrics. Black and white and tans, isn’t a fan of all black. Something of a beige enjoyer, sticks to solids. Has an affection for boots and pantsuits! Lots of statement earrings!
Dreamer | Roya - (he/they)[29]
Name Meaning: Dream (Persian Origin)
Persian
Dark skinned. Deep teal eyes. Dark hair in braids, extensions are a pretty teal.
AMAB//Style is truly grunge, jackets and ripped jeans. Sleeves ripped off every shirt, paired with beanies and combat boots, multiple types of chunky jewelry… Hates shorts though. Lots of piercings!!!
Freelancer | Caron or Ronnie - (they/them)[22]
Name Meaning: Loving (Welsh Origin)
Viet-Welsh
Black bobbed hair with dyed tips. Pretty dark eye bags. On the bigger side. A lil' pale. Scattered tattoos.
AFAB//Not really one for any fancy dressing, enjoys dressing casually if at all possible. Style preferences lean gothic, mostly in comfortable hoodies and bracelets - also likes fishnets and arm warmers. Dresses pretty diversely; but likes skirts/dresses for the ease of not needing to put on pants.
Love | J. A. A. I. or Jai- (no preference, referred to with they/them)[physically 21]
Name Meaning: J. A. A. I. stands for “just an artificial intelligence”, Jai is of Indian Origin and meaning “triumph” or “victory”
White, nearly gray skin. Hair is black and long. Eyes are bright green with a ring of white around the pupil. Panelling is subtle.
INTERSEX//Not strictly interested for any type of fashion one way or another. Likes soft, plush or fuzzy items though, scarves and shirts in particular. Would live in pajama pants if they could.
Lovely | Beau - (they/them)[25]
Name Meaning: Beauty, Handsome (French Origin)
French
Soft strawberry blond hair, short 2 block haircut with white tips. Mid-tone brown skin. Yellow/gold eyes. Has gauges with hoops in them.
AMAB//Pastel goth babe. A truly deeply ingrained affection for sweet, bright colors but also the macabre. Only started incorporating more black into their fashion after being turned. Lives in demonias and dramatic black makeup. Lots of pink to match their dyed hair.
Mentor | Nason - (she/they)[24]
Name Meaning: Helper (Biblical/Anglo-Saxon Origin)
Scottish-Mexican
Long side bangs and short blond hair, side bangs are dyed a light blue. Lightly tanned skin and soft blue eyes.
AFAB//Our casual girly! Loves animal prints and necklaces, heels basically all the time. Sticks to simple combos; wears primarily pencil skirts and tight slacks at work.
Professor | Dai - (he/they)[25]
Name Meaning: Peace, Calm (Japanese Origin)
Japanese
Blasian! Light-skinned and covered in freckles from head to toe, long, black curly hair tied into a ponytail. Snake bite piercings and tongue ring, both gold.
AMAB//Soft boi fashions!! Layers on layers! White sweaters and collared undershirts!! Lots of different crew neck sweatshirts, loves his converse and cuffed pants.
Seer | Aya - (he/they)[33]
Name Meaning: Sword (Old German Origin)
Danish-Swiss
Has albinism. Wild bleach blond curls. Masked their completely white seer eyes with brown contacts; usually but wears sunglasses too. Small lips and covered in freckles.
AMAB//(undetermined)
Smartass | Akira or Aki - (she/he, no preference)[28]
Name Meaning: Bright, Intelligence (Japanese Origin)
Hispanic-Japanese
Bobbed soft lightish brown hair with silver dyed tips. Mid-tone skin. Baby blue eyes. Wears black framed Warby Parkers. Also has a gold necklace.
AFAB//Our business casual hoe, tight slacks and multiple types of button downs/collared shirts. Fun pops of color and unique types of collar pins and cufflinks. Patterned sweaters and blazers!! Likes it a lil’ fancy.
Starlight | Juno or Jun - (they/them)[24]
Name Meaning: Child of June, Youthful. Named after the Queen of the Gods but more in reference to the constellation (Greek/Latin Origin)
Greek-Chinese
Baby purple hair styled in a half-shave with yellow tips. Honey brown eyes. Light freckles. Crescent moon earrings.
AMAB//Space prints for days, lots of chokers! Plays with different types of fashion, doesn’t really stick to one type of style but wears mostly dark colors.
Sunshine | Sol - (xe/xir/xim)[23]
Name Meaning: Sun (Spanish Origin)
Cuban-Australian
Messy, short dark hair. Dark eyes. Vitiligo. Freckles. Sun earrings.
AFAB//Sweaters, sweater vests, hoodies - anything comfortable. Off the shoulder, usually layered. Shorts too, always shorts. Will wear leggings underneath if it’s too cold.
Sweetheart | Nox - (he/they)[24]
Name Meaning: Night (Latin Origin)
Italian
Somewhat wavy dark hair, pulled back into a high pony or bun. Eye color changes based on colored contacts. Skin is lightly tanned. Double lobes pierced, black choker. E-girl hearts on cheeks.
AFAB//Vintage babe, film noir type beat. 1950s type, lots of simple button downs and pattered shirts. Biker/bomber jackets, layered over a solid shirt. Clean and slick… Does like leather though, harnesses and jackets and boots.
Warden | Pyxis - (they/them)[??]
Name Meaning: Name references the box, or compass of the ship Argo
Tall and on the light skinned side. Hair is dark blue and white. Eyes are a deep purple/lavender. Horns are white and similar in style to Avior's but fade into their skin. Wears silver horn jewelry. Echo eye bolo tie. Lavender butterfly on the inside of the left wrist.
???//Casual. Lots of long sleeves and business type looks, mostly as the time they spend in Elegy is always due to business. Likes cool colors, leans masculine but pops fun textures and patterns. Likes lace and ruffles in particular. Likes jewelry for their horns and bolo ties.
#headcanons#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted listeners#redacted listener#listener design#dari blabs#mod posts
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𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖆 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖙
CREDIT TO KÆM (Template credit)
Face Claim: Saoirse Ronan
Theme Song: “I bet on losing dogs” by Mitski
Introduction
Name: Lucinda Dinah Talkalot
-Lucinda: Light
-Dinah: Avenged. Judged and vindicated
-Talkalot: Loudmouthed
Also Known As:
-Luci / Lucy: Used by most people, including her friends
-Cindy: Used by Louis Avery and Antonin Dolohov only
-Chatterbox: Used by Yaxley and his gang, Dominic Travers was the first one to use it
Titles:
-Lady Talkalot
-Lady Avery
Birthday: June 20th, 1960
Astrological Signs:
*Sun: Gemini
*Moon: Taurus
*Rising: Libra
Nationality: Irish
Species/Blood-Status: Pureblood
Blood Type: AB+
Gender: DemiFemale
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexual Orientation: Polyamorous Polysexual/Bisexual
About Him
Personality: ENFP
Occupation: After the war, Lucinda became an interior designer, though this didn’t stop her from also being a ceramist and publishing a few books discussing topics that mattered to her under a penname.
Likes:
-Fashion in general
-Shopping, especially with friends
-Scented candles
-Doodling on any paper she gets on hands on
-Interior decorating
-Scrapbooking
-Walking on ledges and jumping in puddles
-Astronomy and Astrology, something she picked up from Thaddeus.
-Coffee, especially iced coffee
-Party planning, Thaddeus gets the birthdays and she plans the parties.
-Accessories and jewelry
-Cuddling, whether it’s with her partners or friends
-Bicycling
-Cookie dough
-Perfumes
-Gossip, her main gossip partners are Thaddeus and Dorcas.
-Dogs.
Dislikes:
-Dominic Travers, she usually can stay on good terms with her exes, but he was an impossible case. And his gang by association.
-Extreme cold weather when they have Quidditch practice, she would rather sleep in.
-Homework
-Cooking. She just can’t do it. Though she is good at baking.
-Emma’s training schedule, it’s always too much
-Mushrooms. You just cannot force her to eat them.
-Being interrupted when she is speaking.
-Porcelain dolls, not only do they feel weird to touch but they are also creepy.
Hobbies:
-Bicycling
-Baking, and cake decorating
-Pottery
-Crocheting, something she learned from Evan.
Fears:
-Small closed places
-Needles
Strength:
-Socializing, Lucinda is very good at socializing and public speaking she knows how to win a crowd over.
-Quidditch, she was one of the best Chasers in Hogwarts, her only true competition was James.
Weakness:
-For a long time, Luci tried to solve all her problems using money and charm. Despite her overconfidence, she was very insecure.
-She is very stubborn and rarely listens to others, especially when it is about something concerning her alone.
-She holds grudges easily, and struggles to get over them.
Talents:
-Public speaking and networking
-Pottery.
-Quidditch.
-Cycling
-Baking.
Relationships
Father: Thomas Talkalot
Lucinda wasn’t very close to her father. They had a decent relationship but she could say she was closer to certain teachers than him. He didn’t know her, never saw her for who she was. And the only impression he has on her is from when she was barely 5.
Mother: Alysson Bulstrode
Unlike Thomas, Alysson was very close to Lucinda but not in a way the girl liked. Her mother was always getting involved in her business trying to help her make the best decisions not taking in consideration what she wants. A pureblood lady does what’s best for her and her family, not what she wants. She used to say, and there is nothing Lucinda hated more than this. Though Alysson didn’t force her to do anything nor make any decision, if Lucinda did whatever she wanted that went against her parents’ wishes, she would scold her, express how disappointed she was then let it be with a simple “when you regret it, I won’t say I told you so”.
Siblings: Lucinda is an only child, something she always hated as she wanted siblings ever since she was younger but her parents settled with having one child.
Relatives: Lucinda wasn’t close to anyone from her relatives, not in a way that she considered worth mentioning. She had many cousins but she only interacted with them during family events.
Education
School: Hogwarts
House: Slytherin
Her sorting was no surprise, both her parents were Slytherins after all.
Best Core Class: Astronomy (thanks to Thaddeus)
Worst Core Class: Herbology (despite Louis’s attempts to help her as the best student in that class)
Elective: Study of ancient runes, apparition
Quidditch: Chaser, later team captain
Extra-Curricular: Apparition, art, flying
Magic
Wand:
-Length: 11 ½
-Flexibility: Solid flexibility
-Wood: Fir
-Core: Dragon heartstring
-First Reaction: Usually, chaos when holding a new wand is a sign of it being the wrong wand for the witch or the wizard. Except in Luci’s case, it was a sign of the perfect wand. Lucinda has never felt so much freedom like the day she held her wand for the first time, she was so determined to take this one that if Ollivander said it didn’t fit, she would have started crying.
Pets: She has a golden retriever named Goldilocks, though she didn’t take her with her to Hogwarts.
Boggart: A small room that keeps shrinking
Animagus: No
Metamorphmagus: No
Natural Legilimens: No
Patronus: Cheetah
Amortentia: TBA
Affiliations/Alliances
Hometown: Castleknock, Ireland
Residence: Talkalot Manor
Loyalty: Her family
Trivia
- Lucinda was engaged to Louis Avery as far as she remembers, with the two’s engagement being arranged even before they were born. Despite this being one of the decisions or parents made for her, she didn’t exactly hate it as she was very fond of Louis in both a platonic and romantic way. And the two were in what they would call an open relationship.
-She and Louis were the chosen students to show Antonin around when he was transferred to Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin. The trio didn’t take long to become very close they are barely separable.
-She was the one who initiated her friendship with Thaddeus, the quiet boy who didn’t have many friends because of how judgmental he was. Only she could match his level of sass when he tried to get rid of her. Though they soon got along upon finding a common enemy, Dominic Travers.
-She was a blood supremacist like her parents, though she had no personal thoughts of the matter herself. Until Emma told her that they were muggleborn. And that’s when she started trying to be more open minded about the matter. The first muggleborn she tried to befriend after Emma was Charity Burbage, a Hufflepuff friend of Severus’s. She avoided Charity at first for being a mudblood, but she was always in awe at her not only because of her fashion sense, but also after learning that she was a ballerina. Lucinda wasn’t good at ballet, despite it being considered something a pureblood lady should preferably be good at, it was sadly one the things Lucinda refused to give a chance to just out of spite against her mother. And truly, she regretted it later. So learning that Charity was good at it just caught her interest.
-Despite her multiple attempts to go against her mother every once in a while, Lucinda was still considered an overachiever. From Quidditch titles and cups, to good grades, and excelling in everything new she tried. Not that it was easy, but she always felt a strong obligation that if she did anything, she needs to do it perfectly.
#Lucinda Talkalot#lucinda talkalot x emma vanity#Louis Avery x Lucinda Talkalot x Antonin Dolohov#Lucinda Talkalot x Antonin Dolohov#Lucinda Talkalot x Louis Avery#70s slytherins#slytherin quidditch team#slytherin headcanon#Slytherin gang#snape's slytherin gang
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#Celtic Warrior Jewelry#Ardagh Chalice Inspired Jewelry#Book of Kells Jewelry#Celtic Knotwork Rings#Ancient Celtic Symbols#Celtic Heritage Jewelry#Irish Metalwork Jewelry#Zoomorphic Interlace Jewelry#Celtic Shield Designs#Historical Celtic Artifacts
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When given sufficient room of her own, Kilfeather tends to create taut, economical arrangements of pared-back forms, using a varied range of tough industrial materials that include not only steel and concrete but also lead, coal, cast iron, and heavy timber. These combinations of differently sized and weighted sculptures—sometimes accompanied by small black-and-white photographs—incorporate allusions to architectural details or domestic fittings. Occasionally, pieces resembling jewelry or woven textiles (handmade with overlapping metal strips) point to an interest in decoration. But the style is usually austere, the attitude stern. There may be passing stylistic similarities to such formally reserved artists as Claire Barclay or Becky Beasley, but Kilfeather’s work is less likely to draw on precise allusions to art, design, or literature. Her sculptures have a definite, homely worldliness, but they are intriguing partly because they are so contained within their own world. In this regard, it made perfect sense that the centerpiece of “Before it stirs the surface,” a solo presentation at Dublin’s Oonagh Young Gallery earlier this year, should have been a tentlike structure (Quarter, 2014) that could not be entered, and that left little room in the small space for anything, or anyone, else.
(Text: e v+ a – matters catalogue, 2010)
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PHOTOSHOOT: KISS MAGAZINE
Marina covered the January 2013 issue of Ireland's Kiss Magazine! The colorful editorial was shot by Naomi Gaffey and styled by her sister Naomi Gaffey who made sure to include a handful of Irish and other British labels!
Hair and makeup by Billy Orf, respectively.
For the cover photo, she looked stellar in the Fall/Winter 2012 star print stretch silk cocktail dress with long bat sleeves (€410.00 - sold out) by up-and-coming Irish designer NATALIEBCOLEMAN.
Look n. 2 shows Marina wearing a Reiss ivory knit sweater featuring ribbed sleeves and a round neck (€155.00 - sold out). I couldn’t find her exact one but I've pictured a similar one for you above!
Another emerging Irish designer featured in the editorial is Emma Manley and her brand Manley Studio. This rose-gold metallic leather skirt with micro-scalloped hem (€385.00 - sold out) was created for her Spring/Summer 2013 collection!
Chunky necklaces were the rave back in 2012 (along with peplums and neon colors). But I wouldn't mind wearing this ZARA chain necklace with diamanté leopard head (€19.95 - sold out) even today!
Marina's very girly look was completed with these whimsy Office tiger pointed-toe pumps with multicolored gems at the front (€89.00 - sold out).
Both Marina's Stolen Moment pink velvet skater dress (€85.00 - sold out) and studded leather biker jacket (€293.00 - sold out) are from the MINKPINK x Urban Outfitters collection.
In some other photos, she added the Topshop "Geek" print blue tee (€27.00 - sold out)...
...and her Fam Irvoll round blue acetate sunglasses, which she absolutely loved back then!
She also wears Accessorize "I 🩷 U" comic bubble necklace (€9.00 - sold out) and black suede platform pumps by Office (€80.00 - sold out).
Then, Marina brought the party in this ASOS cross-back party dress in multi sequin featuring a sleeveless cut and round neck ($55.95 - sold out).
Marina's jewelry here included this River Island "Pow!" comic enamel necklace, and a set of rings from New Look.
My favorite look from this editorial comprises an American Apparel black tank crop top (€24.00 - sold out), and a Topshop black pencil skirt (€61.00 - sold out), entirely covered in rhinestones!
"This is how to be a heartbreaker" 💔
Marina dons the Joanne Hynes Spring/Summer 2013 "My Black Heart" leather and crystal statement necklace. (€220.00 - sold out).
I'm head over heels for these Office black patent platform pumps with plexi heel (€91.00 - sold out).
This look is completely vintage! Her colorful houndstooth mohair sweater is vintage 1980s Rafaella (embellished with an Accessorize M letter brooch) while her black leather skirt is a vintage find from Folkster.
#November 2012#NATALIEBCOLEMAN#Reiss#Manley Studio#ZARA#Office#MINKPINK#Urban Outfitters#Accessorize#Topshop#Fam Irvoll#ASOS#River Island#American Apparel#Joanne Hynes#Rafaella#Folkster#New Look
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A series of notes on my cultural/fashion inspiration for some miscellaneous houses and regions within ASOIAF! Unfinished bc I can only fixate on so many families. A basic rule of thumb is that fashion may overlap closer to borders or with characters who have a close connection to a region outside of their native one. Not tagging this bc it’s a commentary to go with my own art and not an analysis of actual inspirations for Westerosi cultures. Like at all.
The Northmen (-Iron Islands) : the main inspirations I’ve always come back to for the North is Indigenous and Slavic inspirations. I use First Nations, Inuit, and Métis fashion influences alongside Slavic fashion as well. In terms of ethnicity it’s a mixed bag as well. The Starks, minus the inclusion of Cat, in particular I’ve always seen as Algonquin, based on the irl region of these people spanning north in wooded regions. Ukrainian fashion specifically comes to mind as an inspiration for many of my pieces, including those I’ve yet to post.
The Iron Islands: Scandinavian 100%. I do imagine a lot of overlap from the mainland indigenous-inspired population, which also has irl historical merit, fun fact (Erikson’s expedition circa 1000). Major Viking vibes with the islands, as GRRM intended. I also like to include “foreign” jewelry, fashion, and accessory styles with Ironborn designs due to the Iron Price, as well as their trading with foreign merchants.
The Free Folk: Iron Islands/Northmen love child. Scandinavian and Indigenous inspirations, though the Slavic has fallen out at this point. More Inuit inspired fashion starts appearing in my inspo list at this point.
Riverlands: Ireland. House Tully especially. Those girls are Irish. Plaids are common fashion, which overlaps into the Stormlands (see Stormlander category). Flowing fabrics and leather armour alongside the more modern chainmail. Knotted pattern embroideries. This would make the Stark kids, minus Jon, Indigenous-Irish inspired, though most take after their mother over their father.
Stormlands: Scottish icons. Especially House Baratheon and House Connington. Like the Tullys, plaid is a common fashion. Tight hairstyles or head coverings for women for efficiency against the wind. Differs for formal wear where weather is not an issue. Paler features due to lack of sun, rather weather beaten depending on the occupation and habits of the person (do they sail often, do they hunt despite the weather, etc). Thick Scottish accents because there’s no way Robert and Jon don’t have a Scottish accent, I don’t buy them being British one bit. Kilts would be pretty cool too. Generic historical drama chainmail with a hint of kilts or plaids depending on the person in question.
The Reach: Mediterranean Europe is my go to for the Reach. Dark hair, tan skin, artistic clothing. A huge focus on art and renaissance, with fashion and accessory inspirations coming in from Dorne in the south. Italian renaissance, with a hint of Tudor England in the fashion. The wealth of the region is evident in the higher class’ fashion sense. Nice jewelry, embroidery, and fabrics. Even prettier armour.
The Westerlands : to be determined. I’ve been playing with a bunch of different fashion eras and have settled on Tudor as a default, but this may change. I’ve been debating playing around with French and German fashion in the future.
Dorne: I read somewhere that Dorne was inspired by Palestine, “Moorish” or Islamic Spain, and Wales (?) and the first two stuck with me. Don’t know where the third one came from but ok. North African/European/West Asian cultural overlap. Islamic European fashion and architecture is a new endeavour of mine so I’m still playing around with combinations and stuff but I have the vibe figured out. Ethnically, North African and West Asian inspired peoples with more European overlap or even complete European the further north. Different houses/regions have different irl inspirations but that’s too deep for me to dig into at the moment.
The Targaryens : BYZANTINE!!! The oldest Targaryens of old Valyria were Byzantinian, yet the fashion and culture began drifting away and is only present in small forms by the time Rhaegar and Viserys come into the picture. Now the fashion inspiration for the Targs is often imitations of fashion from different kingdoms within the Targ empire. Ie Rhaegar was probably a Reach fashion kinda guy.
The Vale: I’m gonna be honest with you I often forget these guys exist and have put almost zero thought into them. English? I have no idea.
Dothraki: Mongolian. Not gonna go much deeper as I’ve yet to explore Essosi inspo.
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Hmmm how bout Positive and Luck type for Ardel, since I feel like he could use some good vibes
Good Lucky Ardel!
Consisting of a design of Jade (seen as good luck in Chinese cultures), 4-Leaf Clovers (a universally recognized symbol of good luck that originated from the Irish), The Evil Eye (the meaning of evil eye jewelry is that they are designed to protect the wearer from evil and ward off the evil that has been directed at them. Wearing any piece of jewelry with the evil eye symbol on it provides the wearer with both power and protection against evil spirits or bad luck. In this case I replaced Ardel's blue facial markings with them), Mushrooms (Mushrooms can be symbols of longevity and good luck. For the Olmec, Zapotec, Maya, and Aztec cultures, sacred mushrooms, called Teonanácatl, were declared as sacred and described as "God's flesh.") and Maneki-neko (The maneki-neko (招き猫, lit. 'beckoning cat') is a common Japanese figurine which is often believed to bring good luck to the owner.)
#munday#i actually put research and effort into this one and i like it fuck anyone who thinks otherwize#ardel the mightyena#ardel#fakemon type#chance-of-chaos#mod: @astrogoatz#ask meme
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Watching “Scooby Doo, Where Are You?” (1969-1970 CBS) + Thoughts
Episode 22: Haunted House Hang Up
A headless man?
Shaggy can play the guitar, and Scooby drums.
Asha Shanks, a slouching big guy with a lantern, giving Scooby and Shaggy war flashbacks with the last big guy who held a lantern on their first meeting.
Headless Specter? Was the Dullahan too hard to pronounce??? (Dullahan = Headless Horseman monster from Irish folklore)
“The non-material embodiment or essence or organism that’s seen as a specter, wraith, or apparition has been scientifically proven to be a sheer myth. In other words, there’s no such thing as a ghost.” “Yeah, but does the ghost know that?” I now know why Velma wasn’t chosen to be part of Scooby Doo and the 13 Ghosts.
Floating candle! Will they actually explain it this time?
Cue Old-painting-of-an-older-person-but-if-you-look-away-for-a-moment-then-it-changes-in-a-creepy-way gag.
Is it just me or has the animation/design for the Scooby gang become significantly more wonky since they’ve entered the mansion?
We watch Headless Ghost using secret passageways to travel in the house. Seems interested in a jewelry box?
Shaggy pranking Scoob so that the poor dog accidentally volunteers to open the jewelry box for everyone. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on him for swiping Shaggy’s food from now on 😅
Bruh. Is it weird that when I saw a man’s head in the opened box, my first thought was “Oh, that is a nicely rendered head. Look at the details in the lines and values 🤩” , and then “Oh. That’s a HEAD?”
False alarm. ‘Tis a wooden dummy’s head.
“Aren’t you curious [about this mystery]?” “NOT ONE BIT.”
A random though popped into my mind. It is NOT CANON, but I wondered momentarily if Fred kept splitting the gang up the way he usually does because he’s always had some kind of crush on Daphne and was hoping to impress her. Occasionally he invited Velma so no one would notice, but all of them know but don’t want to embarrass him by pointing it out?
Velma shoves Shaggy and Scooby ahead of her into a dark room instead of going in first.
“I feel like I’ve been dipped in ink and let loose in a coal mine.”
Ah, the let’s-hold-hands-in-a-dark-room-so-we-don’t-lose-each-other-only-to-discover-we’ve-gained/lost-a-member-in-our-team-when-the-lights-are-on gag
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Animation is WONKY this episode.
Cue this episode’s chase scene’s theme song.
“Headless” Specter has to bend super down low to look at specific things bc the guy who made his own costume didn’t think to create incognito areas/fabric to see (and yes I’m saying he made his own costume bc I believe Trick or Treat, Scooby Doo to be part of a different canon universe than the series and the older movies, just like how I view the live action films, the live action series, and the other adaptations. I think some fans arguing over which versions of the Scooby Gang’s are the “true”/“actual”/“correct” interpretations of these characters are a tad silly because even the original show had trouble pinpointing their personalities at times. Have fun and be cool.)
I know it’s in the name of good fun and shenanigans, but seeing all of those books being shoved off the library bookshelf by Shelma and Scooby made the book lover in me wince.
Headless Specter loses whatever little dignity he thought he had by jumping on the bed and angrily bouncing and stomping on the “bodies” (actually pillows) of Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby. Wow, dude.
A spinning wheel also serves as a bicycle. Shenanigans.
The well that was shown earlier has a secret passage.
We finally see what Fraphne is up to, and lo and behold, they are actually looking for clues and being useful as opposed to the writers usually having no clue what to do with them when they split the gang up.
Animation Goof: Daphne’s eyebrows disappear until she speaks.
Oooh! A trapdoor.
“Let’s take a look and be careful.” Me: *immediately begins countdown.* “Whoops!!” Only two seconds for Danger-Prone Daphne to slip 😅
I accidentally paused to talk to someone, and I have to restrain myself from laughing at the horrible twisted wince/scowl face Daphne is making as she is talking. Not sure why the animators are doing more in-betweens here between poses when the earlier episodes were just fine without them. Can’t fault them too much for making an attempt though.
Methinks the artists didn’t want Velma getting hit when Fred and Daphne are about to chuck jars at her, Shag, and Scooby out of self-defense, as we see in previous episodes Shaggy usually gets throttled from a misunderstanding.
I vaguely remember a scene where Shaggy and Scooby accidentally chew on non-inflated balloons thinking they were treats when I was younger; didn’t realize it was from this episode.
Animation Goof: Shaggy’s eyebrows are too thick for any man to handle.
Don’t know why later adaptations dumb Freddy down; he’s just as smart as Velma. There’s room for multiple smart people who are knowledgeable in differing areas! This is why I ship Frelma *gets slapped*
Why on earth would you give a Scooby Snack to a Flytrap, Shaggy? That’s just asking for an early version of Little Shop of Horrors.
Where did the Headless Specter come from?
Show is inconsistent with Shaggy and Scooby’s weights.
No chickens were harmed in the making of this episode (I hope 😅)
Huh. The Headless Specter isn’t Asha Shanks. Also, Headless Specter man isn’t the bad guy? He’s just trying to ward off grave-diggers and robbers?
Asha Shanks is the criminal, but he has nowhere near the same level of creativity or drama as the Headless Specter man.
“And I’d have found [the treasure first] if it weren’t for you snoopers!”
Day 22 of no “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”
#shenanigans#scooby doo#daphne blake#scooby doo where are you#scooby dooby doo#velma dinkley#fred jones#hanna barbera#shaggy rogers#shaggy norville rogers#frelma#fraphne
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