#french prison tattoos

[dwyur]

#french prison tattoos #tattoos

[sandipancel]

MY HERITAGE TATTOOS RECONNECTED ME WITH MY ALGERIAN ROOTS

#berber tattooing #tattoo berber #berber tattoos #french prison tattoos #eating disorder tattoo small #ancestry tattoos #berber tattoo symbols meaning #divine rite tattoo #amazigh tattoos #berber facial tattoos #berber face tattoo #berber tattoo meaning #berber tattoos meaning #1962 tattoo meaning

[lafcadiosadventures]

« Lors de l’apogée de sa passion, amor, amor, fortis es sicut mors ! il se fit tatouer, par sentiment. Au bras gauche, brille sur son grand extenseur un cœur enflammé avec le chiffre d’Olympe et d’Onésime, deux OO côte à côte. Olympe de son côté a deux mains qui se souhaitent le bonjour, et deux pigeons qu’une trop vive tendresse emporte hors des limites du devoir.

Sur son bras droit ou sa poitrine plane aussi un aigle et le petit chapeau. Mais n’allez pas croire que ce fut au temps des prospérités impériales que le gniaffe se fit buriner ce symbole. Jamais, le gniaffe pur-sang n’a salué le soleil levant ; jamais tyran dans sa pompe n’a trouvé grâce devant lui : c’est au malheur qu’il donna une larme. »

Pétrus Borel, Le gniaffe, Les Français peints par eux-mêmes

(amateur translation under the cut)

At the height of his passion, Love! Love! strong as Death you are! he got himself tattooed, out of sentiment. Shining over the great extensor in his left arm, a heart in flames glows, bearing the monogram of Olympe and Onésime, two OO next to each other. On Olympe’s side we see two hands waving at each other, and a couple of pigeons, carried away from the limits of duty by a too vivid passion.

On his right arm or his chest, an eagle soars, and a little hat (?) But don’t assume that it was on the days of imperial prosperities that the cobbler had this symbol engraved on him. Never the thoroughbred cobbler has saluted the rising sun. No pompous tyrant found a graceful reception on him: it’s for misfortune he sheds a tear for.

#history of tattoos #it’s nice to have some non military/prison tattoos examples from the french 19th c #french romantics #borel tag

[deftxnxs]

i have a little forever companion on my leg from now on 💖

#me #esther #personal #belgium #tattoo #dog #french prison style tattoo #french prison style

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

#yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #dragon #obsessive love #tw kidnapping #tw noncon touching #neuvillette doesn’t understand the concept of personal space #neuvillette is down bad #mates

[grundoonmgnx]

Unknown French photographer, Tattooed French Prisoner c. 1920

#unknown photographer #tattoo #prisoner

[bidisastersanji]

Arcane One Piece AU (Fem!ZoSan centric)

Ok so this all started because of this post and galaxy braining with the amazing @anniilaugh can’t you just IMAGINE dyke Zoro circling and Kabedon-ing (pin against the wall) Sanji like “You’re hot, cook- so what’ll it be? Man or woman?” As they go into the brothel looking for information? SHE DREW THE BEST ART OF VI!ZORO RIGHT HERE BTW

Sanji is good with her legs so she would impress Zoro with her parkour skills

Sanji has a Taz British accent (like Caitlin has a British accent) but with lots of cursing (Zeff’s influence) “bollocks!” And some French cursing as well since he learned it as a kid (putain! Merde! Fait chier!)

Zoro wears the same hot dyke clothes Vi does- arms fully out, and pulls her hood on when she’s serious (like the bandana). She also has cool tattoos and the hand wrap things

She fights with hextech swords that look just like hilts until they’re turned on and the blades appear - she carries them looped in carabiners around her waist (seriously look at the art)

World-building wise: Underworld Zaun Kingpin Doflamingo (Silco) with the drug “SMILE” who has Piltover higher ups and police in his pocket (he has leverage like in one piece)

SMILE gives people strange powers but temporarily, like temporary devil fruits that leave you broken and drained

Powder is Luffy, Zoro’s adoptive little brother, they were raised by Kuma (Vander) after his failed revolution where their parents die, growing up with a small crew of misfit friends (including Kuina, who dies)

The tragedy happens and Zoro gets put into prison (on Doffy’s orders) while Luffy thinks Zoro abandoned him and is taken in by Doffy, becoming “Nika” (his unhinged alter ego is gear 5 like Jinkx is to Powder) , now growing up along kids like Law, Baby 5 etc . His hair went white from the stress of that fateful night/or he bleaches it

Caitlin!Sanji grows up in Piltover as a noble with the abusive Vinsmokes but runs away and gets taken in by a chef called Zeff (who lost his leg in the failed revolution but managed to start anew, tries to help Zaun how he can, sending food etc)

Zeff gets put in prison by the Vinsmokes to control Sanji and she’s forced to become an enforcer (Fem!Sanji in that little uniform oh god. Smoking her cigarettes with a stupid little hat and the gun she does her best to avoid using)

She still works after her enforcer shifts at the Baratie since shes always itching to cook, feed the hungry and to support party and carne and keep her adoptive dad’s restaurant alive (she knows of how bad people have it in Zaun, and before Zeff found her she was hungry and homeless)

Her weapon of choice is actually something she has strapped to her legs from her thighs to her calves (Zoro will be very distracted) some hextech steampunk looking thing that powers up her kicks and she can send her kicks energy forward to do mid range attacks

She uses her enforcer job to snoop around and try and figure out how to get her father out

Her lead takes her to Stilwater prison where Zoro has been beat and abused for several years

Cue scene where Sanji walks in to Zoro’s cell and sees her boxing like crazy and fuck she’s so hot wtf but also she feels terrible for her and her blood boils as she learns of the abuse she went through

Telling herself she must be going absolutely insane (but is she? She feels like this is the right thing. It’s fate) she forges release documents to get Zoro out, sure that her knowledge of the under-city will help her understand where the corruption lies and get Zeff back

Zoro immediately does not follow what she’s saying and goes on her own thing (PARKOUR!) and she impresses her by being able to keep up

Zoro still gets lost and turned around

Are you sure you know the under-city, mosshead?

Zoro stops at a street food stall and Sanji is annoyed at first- as well as disgusted by how she shovels it in her mouth, but softens and silently rages when Zoro shares that she’s been starved a couple of times in Stillwater

Cue the brothel scene omg

Circling Sanji and pushing her up against a wall “You’re hot, cook. So what’ll it be, man or woman?”

Zoro walking by Sanji talking up another woman in the brothel after her talk with Nami (head of the brothel) and smiling to herself

Jayce is Franky who is experimenting with the crystals to create hextech, Viktor could be iceburg, Vivi is the hot politician lady (Mel)

Firelight is “Sogeking” - zoro and Luffy’s childhood friend Usopp (Ekko)

Also Taller than Zoro Sanji aaaaa

Zoro calling Sanji “officer” to annoy her - only switching to “cook” and “curly” as an alternative nickname

#arcane zosan au #arcane!zosan #zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #arcane au #arcane one piece au #fem zosan #fem!zosan #Caitlin!sanji #vi!zoro #I love dyke Zoro more than anything

[floridaboiler]

52 years ago today, April 4, 1971, the final episode of Hogan's Heroes aired. It ran for 168 episodes from September 17, 1965, to April 4, 1971, on the CBS network. Bob Crane starred as Colonel Robert E. Hogan, coordinating an international crew of Allied prisoners running a Special Operations group from the camp. Werner Klemperer played Colonel Wilhelm Klink, the incompetent commandant of the camp, and John Banner was the inept sergeant-of-the-guard, Hans Schultz.

Hogan's Heroes won two Emmy Awards out of twelve nominations. Both wins were for Werner Klemperer as Outstanding Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in a Comedy, in 1968 and 1969. Klemperer received nominations in the same category in 1966, 1967 and 1970. The series' other nominations were for Outstanding Comedy Series in 1966, 1967 and 1968; Bob Crane for Outstanding Continued Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a Comedy Series in 1966 and 1967; Nita Talbot for Outstanding Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Comedy in 1968; and Gordon Avil for cinematography in 1968.In December 2005, the series was listed at number 100 as part of the "Top 100 Most Unexpected Moments in TV History" by TV Guide and TV Land. The show was described as an "unlikely POW camp comedy.

Hogan's Heroes was filmed in two locations. Indoor sets were housed at Desilu Studios, later renamed as Paramount Studios for Season Four and then Cinema General Studios for Seasons Five and Six. Outdoor scenes were filmed on the 40 Acres Backlot. 40 Acres was in Culver City, in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. The studios for indoor scenes were both located in Hollywood, CA. Undoubtedly, one of the most original and curious aspects was to create the effect that there was always a snowy winter, something unusual in warm Southern California, but normal in the German winter. The actors had to wear warm clothes and frequently act like they were cold, even though it was warm for much of the year and usually hot during summer.

Although it was never snowing on the film set and the weather was apparently sunny, there was snow on the ground and building roofs, and frost on the windows. The set designers created the illusion of snow two ways: the snow during the first several seasons was made out of salt. By the fourth season, the show’s producers found a more permanent solution and lower cost, using white paint to give the illusion of snow. By the sixth and final season – with a smaller budget – most of the snow shown on the set was made out of paint.

After the series ended in 1971, the set remained standing until it was destroyed in 1974 while the final scene of Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS was filmed

The actors who played the four major German roles—Werner Klemperer (Klink), John Banner (Schultz), Leon Askin (General Burkhalter), and Howard Caine (Major Hochstetter)—were all Jewish. Furthermore, Klemperer, Banner, and Askin had all fled the Nazis during World War II (Caine, whose birth name was Cohen, was an American). Further, Robert Clary, a French Jew who played LeBeau, spent three years in a concentration camp (with an identity tattoo from the camp on his arm, "A-5714"); his parents and other family members were killed there. Likewise, Banner had been held in a (pre-war) concentration camp and his family was killed during the war. Askin was also in a pre-war French internment camp and his parents were killed at Treblinka. Other Jewish actors, including Harold Gould and Harold J. Stone, made multiple appearances playing German generals.

As a teenager, Klemperer, the son of conductor Otto Klemperer, fled Hitler's Germany with his family in 1933. During the show's production, he insisted that Hogan always win against his Nazi captors, or else he would not take the part of Klink. He defended his role by claiming, "I am an actor. If I can play Richard III, I can play a Nazi." Banner attempted to sum up the paradox of his role by saying, "Who can play Nazis better than us Jews?" Klemperer, Banner, Caine, Gould, and Askin had all spent the real Second World War serving in the U.S. Armed Forces—Banner and Askin in the U.S. Army Air Corps, Caine in the U.S. Navy, Gould with the U.S. Army, and Klemperer in a U.S. Army Entertainment Unit. But the sitcom was not the first time Klemperer had played a Nazi: in 1961, he starred as the title character in the serious drama Operation Eichmann, which also featured Banner in a supporting role. Ruta Lee, Theodore Marcuse, and Oscar Beregi, Jr. also appeared in the film, each of whom went on to make several guest appearances on Hogan’s Heroes.

https://www.facebook.com/Retrovision

#Hogan's Heroes #On this day #this date in history #This Day in History #April 4 #Series Finale

[practically-an-x-man]

Pit of Vipers (Nikoletta x Abner)

Summary: While in Belle Reve, Nikoletta realizes that a fight broke out the night before - and Abner didn't even try to fight back

Tags: pre-relationship, angst, violence, depictions of injuries, brief references to suicide

Word Count: 3.1k

____

“Adrian.”

She appeared out of the shadows and slid onto the bench beside him, and Adrian just about jumped out of his skin. 

“Jesus Christ- don’t do that!” he blurted, glaring at her from behind his glasses, “Do you know how close I get to punching you in the face when you do that? It’s a reflex.”

“But you never have.” Nikoletta pointed out, giving him a slanted grin.

“Yeah, ‘cause I stop myself every time. Those aren’t exactly the knuckle tattoos I’d want,” Adrian said, wringing his hands together as he imagined it. Nikoletta scoffed. He talked a lot of big game, she thought, but she’d only ever seen him fight when it was premeditated. He didn’t strike a single blow without considering it first. It was part of why she chose him as a confidant. He wasn’t reckless like the others were. 

“So… what sends you popping up over my shoulder like my sleep paralysis demon this time?” he asked, seemingly recovered from his bout of shock, and shot her a broad grin. Someone else probably would have found it charming. Nikoletta just pressed her lips together. 

“Someone’s missing.” she said, dark eyes scanning the cafeteria around her, “One of the newbies.”

“Hm. Yeah. The skinny one, right? With the-” Adrian guessed, gesturing vaguely at his own neck, “The one who always looks like he’s sad he can’t hang himself from the bars of his cell like the guy in Goonies?”

“He doesn’t-” Nikoletta started, but cut herself off with a huff, “The guy from Goonies didn't actually hang himself. But… right. Him.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s in medical,” Adrian pressed on, his voice just as light and conversational as it had been in the moments before, “Couple’a guys jumped him late last night. Didn’t see who, but they got some good hits in before the guards got there. Looked pretty bad.”

“Bastards.” Nikoletta growled, “They know the rules. He wasn’t marked.”

“Maybe they thought nobody would care.” he guessed, casually picking through his French fries without a care in the world. Sometimes he scared her. “I mean, the guy doesn’t even talk, why’s he even worth protecting?”

“It’s not about being worth protecting,” she said, “Why do you pay your insurance premium if you never get sick?”

“Ah, I never had insurance. Even the cheap ones denied me. I get in too many fights.”

“But you know how insurance works, don’t you?”

“Sort of.” Adrian said with a one-sided shrug. Nikoletta rolled her eyes. 

“Good enough.” she decided, “What I’m saying is… whether he’s ‘worth it’ or not, everyone gets my protection, whether they need it or not, unless they decide to stir up trouble. And he hasn’t stirred up any trouble. They shouldn’t have gone after him.”

This was far from the first time something like this had happened. Even with her system in place, there was no way to control every stroke of violence in Belle Reve. People got… pent-up after a while. Marking the unruly prisoners kept things peaceful in more ways than one - removing some violence from the pool entirely, and giving the others a chance to release their frustrations - but it wasn’t a perfect solution. She doubted there was any perfect solution to be found. 

And it was always the quiet ones who seemed to slip through the cracks.

“I need to find out who did this,” Nikoletta said, standing up from her seat in one decisive motion. Adrian twisted around to look at her, giving her a strange look.

“Y’know, if it were up to me, I’d just mark him now. Just to get it over with. His blood’s already in the water. I’d be willing to bet someone’s gonna rip him apart eventually. Might be better just to let it happen, save yourself a bigger fight. I mean… you’ve seen him, Nikki, the guy’s a walking target.”

This was the side of him that Nikoletta had to keep on a very short leash. Underneath his lighthearted and even charming exterior was the same thirst for violence as anyone else in Belle Reve, and she knew that. And as much as she liked having Adrian as her right hand man, she had to be careful about that ruthless streak of his. She had the sense that if it was a matter of his safety, even his escape from Belle Reve, he’d would break anybody’s neck without hesitation. Even hers. He was only loyal to her because she set her terms clearly and followed them.

In a way, that was more comforting. Loyalty based on emotion always felt… shaky. At least here, she didn't have to worry about some social faux pas meaning the difference between ally or enemy. She didn't need an emotional bond with Adrian. Really, she wasn't sure he formed emotional bonds with anyone. But as long as she kept her rules transparent, consistent, she could trust that he had her back.

Even when his ruthless side showed its face.

“No.” she replied with a shake of her head, “He hasn't done anything to deserve being marked.”

“C’mon, Nikki. I know you like him, but-”

“It’s not a matter of liking him. It's a matter of principle.” she huffed, “If I mark him without warning, people are going to start to wonder if they’re next. That’s just the fast track to me losing what little control I’ve managed to scrape together in here- and if I go down, you’re coming with me. And it’s a Band-Aid over a bullet wound. The ones who attacked him are just going to find another target if he’s gone. It doesn’t solve anything.”

She took a step back, comforted by the brush of shadows against her skin. There she paused, just for a moment, and met Adrian’s eyes. 

“And I don’t like him. He’s just another prisoner.”

“I dunno, you didn’t get this mad about the last guy who got beat up.”

“You were the last guy who got beat up.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

Nikoletta rolled her eyes and fell into the shadows. 

She reemerged from a pool of darkness in the corner of the medbay, suddenly enough that a nurse in the hall flinched at the sight of her. Most of the staff had grown used to Nikoletta’s habit of slipping between rooms, but that didn’t make it any less startling to see her suddenly appear in a once-empty room like some kind of apparition.

It didn’t take long for her to find Abner. He was in the bay closest to the wall, far away from anyone or anything else. Ever since he’d arrived, she’d gotten the sense that the staff was a little afraid of him. She didn’t understand it - aside from the power dampener, he was about the most unassuming guy she could have imagined in a place like this. She doubted he even tried to shoo away the rats that sometimes scurried through the halls.

But the staff were afraid of her too. She didn’t usually give it a lot of stock. 

Abner’s eyes were closed, but the faintly pained expression on his face told her he wasn’t asleep. She didn’t blame him. Half his face was swollen in a brutal black eye, and the rest of his skin was equally littered with bruises and dried blood. Nikoletta wondered, briefly, if he’d even fought back. From the nature of the wounds, harsh and dark and from every direction, she guessed that he hadn’t. The power dampener had been removed from his neck, showcasing a dark band of bruising around his throat - like he’d been shoved to the ground and landed hard on the dampener. Nikoletta couldn’t help but wince at the sight. Some of the bruises were almost dark enough to look like her shadows, save for the faintest purple-red tint.

“Who attacked you?”

She must have been moving more quietly than she realized. Abner’s eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp, and he jolted upwards in the bed. A faint light glowed from somewhere near his wrists, but he tamped it down with a grimace just a moment later.

“Nikoletta?”

“Who else?” she replied, planting her hands on her hips and frowning again at the bruises painting his skin. She waved a hand vaguely in his direction, every movement sharp. “Who did this? Who attacked you?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then frowned and shut it again. He shook his head. 

“You won’t tell me.” Nikoletta guessed, clenching her jaw in anger, “Goddammit, Abner, I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to make sure this doesn’t happen again!”

“It won’t fix anything.”

“This isn’t like grade school bullies,” she insisted, “If you tell me who did it, the problem will go away. Permanently. I need to know who did this.”

“So you can kill them?”

“I haven’t killed anyone.” Nikoletta snapped. The words came out too harsh, and she wanted to wince. Abner flinched, but there was something deeper in his eyes. He raised his eyebrows. Nikoletta resisted the urge to scoff. “Listen. All I do is mark the ones who have it coming to them. I don’t sponsor any violence of my own, I just… rescind my protection. Anyone who’s marked has to fend for themself. That’s how it works.”

“But they all die anyway, don’t they?” he asked. His voice had gone soft. It sent a maelstrom of emotion through Nikoletta’s chest. She wanted to be angry - with him for poking holes in all the rules that should have kept him safe, and with his attackers for sparking all this to begin with - but strangely couldn’t find the emotion within herself. Abner’s eyes were tired and sad, the effect only magnified by the fact that one was nearly swollen shut. 

“Yes.” Nikoletta finally hissed, “They die. That’s the nature of Belle Reve. If I didn’t have my system in place, they’d have killed you too.”

“Maybe that’s not so bad…”

If it were up to me, I’d just mark him now. Just to get it over with. 

Nikoletta grimaced as the words echoed in her mind. Adrian wanted her to mark him. Whoever had attacked Abner wanted her to mark him. Hell- it seemed like Abner himself wanted her to mark him, just to rip the Band-Aid off. 

For the slimmest moment, she was tempted. 

But only for that one moment. 

“Stop that. You’re in pain. Death won’t bring you the relief you want.” Nikoletta muttered, “Trust me, I’ve been there myself. The only way to make things better is to fix them yourself. Now tell me who attacked you.” 

“STAR Labs?” he asked instead, apparently ignoring her demands, “Is that what brought you there? Is that why you… you hurt like that?”

“Of course it was fucking STAR Labs.” she said, reaching for the sleeve of her jumpsuit and tugging it up to expose the silvery track marks at her elbows, “You think I had these before STAR Labs? You think I was in prison before STAR Labs? You think I had to cover every fucking inch of my skin before STAR Labs?”

“Why are you angry?”

“Why aren’t you?” she fired back, “Look at yourself. Look at the bruises. It’s going to happen again if you don’t tell me who gave them to you.”

Abner was quiet for a long time. He stared down at his hands with a distant look in his eyes. Nikoletta shifted on her feet. It shouldn’t have been this difficult of a decision to make. It was a choice between safety or pain, and he didn’t have to do anything but give her a name. There wouldn’t even be any guilt in it, she thought. They’d struck the first blow. The Queen of Belle Reve had very particular rules, and those rules had been broken. It was all fair play.

Finally he looked up and met her eyes. Nikoletta lifted her eyebrows, awaiting his response. 

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” 

“Will you get me a glass of water? Please?” Abner asked, his voice falling back to that near-whisper of his, “The nurses don’t like coming over here. Not when I don’t have the…”

He trailed off but gestured vaguely at his neck. Nikoletta nodded. She still wasn’t sure what power it was that had the nurses so afraid of him - something to do with that odd light when she startled him, she was sure - but it must have been something big. Most things that came from STAR Labs were. 

Nikoletta took a step back and melted into the shadows. She was back a moment later, a half-filled plastic cup clutched in one gloved hand. She held it out, and Abner took the cup with a faint but grateful smile. He sat up and took a sip, grimacing like every motion hurt. Looking at him, she believed it. She hoped the nurses had at least given him some sort of painkiller before they vanished.

“I don’t like killing people.” Abner mumbled after a few long moments of silence. His fingers worried at the edges of the cup. He refused to meet her eyes.

“So you’d rather let yourself get beat to shit like this than tell me who did it? None of the blood is on your hands here, Abner. They attacked someone under my protection, so they deserve to have their own protections stripped away. It’s all just turnabout. Fairness. Really… if you tell me now, they’ll probably be gone before you get out of that bed. Why the fuck are you protecting them?”

“Because it’s still…”

Abner trailed off, shaking his head with a low sigh. 

“I’m sorry, Nik. I can’t.”

Nikoletta scoffed and took a step back from him. She couldn’t believe this - beaten so badly he’d landed in the medbay, covered in blood and bruises, so severe they’d even removed his power dampener, and he still refused to give her a name. Did he really have so much guilt for something he hadn’t even done? How had he managed to take down STAR Labs, with a hyperactive conscience like that?

The sadness in Abner’s eyes only deepened as Nikoletta took another step back. It was hard to look at. She sighed. 

“Do you need anything else? Before I go?”

“Um… no. I don’t think so.” he said, “But if you… if you wanted to come back sometime? Just to talk for a while? This place, it reminds me of the lab. It’s hard to be here.”

She could understand that. Normally she avoided the medbay like the plague for that same reason. She didn’t like her cell much either, but this was… worse. Nikoletta pursed her lips but gave him a singular nod.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Try to think of some things you want to talk about before I get back.”

She took a final step back, returning to the familiar not-quite-comfort of her shadows, and had already begin to slip into that other realm when she heard Abner’s soft voice one more time. 

“Nikoletta. Thank you.”

She was back in the cafeteria before she could even think to respond, but the words rattled around in her mind much longer than they should have. That whole interaction had been… odd. He was an odd man. In a lot of ways. She didn’t quite mind it, but it was certainly different from the interactions she was used to. 

“Any luck?” Adrian’s voice, deceptively chipper, pulled her from her thoughts. Nikoletta shot him a lukewarm look, irritation bubbling just underneath the surface. 

“No. He won’t give them up. For whatever God-forsaken reason.” she said, shaking her head, “Lands himself in a hospital bed but won’t even tell me who put him there.”

“I’m telling you, Nik, you could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just-”

“I’m not marking him. Especially not now. That sets a precedent I don’t want to set.”

“Suit yourself.” he muttered, though he clearly didn’t agree with her decision in the slightest. After a moment he shrugged, tossing it aside like water off a duck’s back. He waved a hand towards the opposite side of the cafeteria. “Well, in that case… I’ve been doing a little recon-”

“I’m assuming that means you walked straight up to their table and dared them to give you the gossip?”

“It was recon. I was very subtle.” Adrian repeated with a huff, “And it sounds like one of the guys that jumped him was that calendar guy, with all the tattoos? Heard one of the cameras got footage of it, just a couple frames. Y’know, it’s probably not a great idea to attack a guy in the middle of the night if you’re one of the four prisoners in here who can be recognized from the back si-”

“Thanks.” she said, cutting him off before he could get into one of his diatribes, “I’ll take care of it.”

____

“Julian.” 

This time, she meant to be startling. The tattooed criminal sat bolt upright in his cot, frantically scanning the shadows for where her voice had come from. Nikoletta took a step forward, allowing herself to be lit by the dull yellow bulbs that shone in from the hallway. The sight of her didn’t ease the fear on his face. 

“I heard you broke my rules.” Nikoletta continued, drawing each word out, “You attacked a prisoner who wasn’t marked. You know what the punishment for that is.”

All lingering dredges of sleep had vanished from his posture, and he looked at her with wary eyes. His fingers were curled tightly into his bedsheet, as if he were debating trying to smother her with it. Surely he had to know he was outmatched here. Surely he had to know that was why she confronted him in the dead of night, blanketed on all sides by her shadows.

“So what? Not like I did anything big, just knocked him around a little. Fuckin’ creep deserved it, too.” he replied, the words so loud and barbed that she could hear cots creaking in the neighboring cells. Tension drew into Nikoletta’s posture, both from the words and the growing audience to them. She took a step closer, aiming to administer her punishment swiftly and potently. With a mark, and with all the gossip that had been swirling over the ordeal, he’d be gone by breakfast. 

But they all die anyway, don’t they?

I don’t like killing people.

Nikoletta froze on the spot, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. It was a matter of principle. Julian broke her rules, she administered punishment, it resolved the conflict that landed Abner in the medical wing and secured Nikoletta’s reputation as a strict but objective ruler. Half a second’s action to repair a host of issues. All it took was one little death. 

But she found herself stepping back. Confusion crested across Julian’s face, in equal share with the same sharp wariness. 

“No more second chances.” Nikoletta warned, darkness dripping off every word, “Do better. This will be the only mercy you’ll get from me.”

And with that, she vanished into the dark.

#did i just post a nikoletta fic yesterday? yes. did I write this one over the course of one day and decided to post it anyway? also yes #my writing #my ocs #nikoletta bordeaux #oneshot #angst #tw swearing #tw violence #tw depression mention #the suicide squad #abner krill #polka dot man #adrian chase #vigilante #calendar man

[twopoppies]

The beloved 🌿🌿 (I want to boop his lil’ tummy so bad! Boop!). I notice we larries call them laurels but harries call them ferns…is there a “correct” answer?

Ferns??? Harries are dipshits.

These are ferns

Laurels are traditionally made from the leaves of the Laurel or bay tree. These are Laurel leaves.

And if you can’t just see with your eyes that his tattoos aren’t ferns, then maybe just read what his tattoo artist said about them:

“We started off with a butterfly on his torso based on an old French prison tattoo inspired by ‘Papillon.’ Traditionally it would mean the wearer is a thief - something to do with the double meaning of ‘Je vole’, which translates as both ‘I steal’ and ‘I fly’ - and is commonly tattooed on the throat. Then we did more French criminal inspired pieces, like shaking hands, and the laurel wreaths on either side of his stomach that usually go on the chest and indicate the owner is a pimp. We’ve also done a heart, some nails, a mermaid, and a bottle. All classics. A lot of people are looking at Harry, so he has to be careful not to go too brutal and I understand that, but he’ll get a lot more. Tattooing is like a drug, once you’re in, you’re set for life.”

If you don’t want to think they have anything to do with Larry and Papillon and his closeting, that’s fine.

But they’re not fucking ferns.

#laurel tattoos #Harry’s tattoos

[soapkaars]

this is kind of a series of questions in one big question but do you think any Peter Lorre characters have tattoos and if so, who is it, where do they have it, and what does the tattoo look like? (I kinda have this feeling that at least one of them has a tattoo that says "Kleine" (baby girl in german) in cursive and it's embellished with hearts)

Oh this is such a fun ask!! I spent way too much time on this and it’s three in the morning now but here goes!

First up is Victor Emmric from The Verdict:

Everyone’s favourite morbid illustrator from the Victorian era, if anyone has a tattoo, he surely does. I’m imagining a gothic Victorian vampire tattoo with an edgy snake across, and because Victor is somewhat of a wine woman and life man, he’s also got a very shitty tattoo drawn on in a drunken mood on his hip. Live every regret tattoo it has an ex-flame named on there, later corrected in another drunk mood with another ill-fated name

Next, there’s Marko from Black Angel:

Ever the sentimentalist, I think it’s extremely in character to have a tattoo on his chest with his daughter’s name on there. I’m thinking it’ll be something very simple, a bunch of roses for instance, because Marko isn’t one for grand gestures.

Kismet from My Favourite Brunette:

Our (my) favourite French-speaking, knife-wielding, civics test studying butler/gardener! This man is definitely tattooed, and I’m going all in. I’m giving him a badass French tattoo with obscure symbolism, knives, blackjack and hookers. A bizarre collection of symbolism only he knows and understands and something that’ll instantly intimidate mild-mannered photographers who fancy themselves to be a detective!

Gino from The Chase:

Love or hate this film, I certainly love its weirdness and proto-Lynchian atmosphere. Gino is an Italian name, so I settled on some Neapolitan mafia tattoos, and I think they fit well with the character.

The General from The Secret Agent:

Does this man look like he makes well-thought out decisions? I’m imagining an early 20th century version of a tramp stamp: on the lower back just above his crack, a sword piercing a heart, a crudely drawn woman cleaved in two, and some latin meaning ‘shit bitch’. An edgy shitpost of a tattoo! Also to answer your question, this man is the most likely candidate to wake up one morning with ‘babygirl’ tattooed on his buttcheeks. The design of which I’ll leave as an exercise to the reader…

Finally, Abbott from The Man Who Knew too Much:

The man has a scar and painted hair. How would he not have a tattoo? But, being Abbott, it’s gonna be a map of the prison he last stayed (and escaped from). Also an anarchist black cat because I like it and I think he carries his politics on his sleeve.

I was too tired to draw more, so honorary mentions to:

Nick Dramoshag from Quicksand. He’s bitter, he runs an arcade, he drinks, he smokes, he’s a nasty crook with a switchblade… This is definitely a man with a faded sweetheart tattoo.

Marius from Passage to Marseille. He was a prisoner on Devil’s Island, I don’t think many would come away uninked from there. Maybe the amazing lockpick has a little safe in a heart tattooed on his arm?

Major Siegfried Grüning from Lancer Spy. My headcanon is that this guy eventually becomes The General, so he’s gonna have the ‘shitbitch’ tramp stamp and ‘babygirl’.

Mr Strangdour from Muscle Beach Party. The strongest man in the world, I think he might have some fun ones under that turtleneck of his.

#thanks for the ask! #peter lorre #the verdict #the chase #black angel #the man who knew too much #my favourite brunette #the secret agent #passage to marseille #lancer spy #muscle beach party #quicksand #drawing #doodle #this was FUN

[hauntedjpegcollection]

NO GREATER DESIRE EXISTS THAN A WOUNDED PERSON’S NEED FOR ANOTHER WOUND. — GEORGES BATAILLE

pinterest - writing - tag

BASICS

FULL NAME → Yasiel Edgar Salazar Marquez

NICKNAME → Yas, Yazzy (mostly just by Mouse)

AGE RANGE → 20-30’s

BIRTHDAY → July 1st

SPECIES → Human

NATIONALITY → American

GENDER → Cis Male

ORIENTATION → Bisexual

OCCUPATIONS → Archivist (specializes in painting restoration), Court Mage/Necromancer (fantasy au)

THREAT LEVEL→ Very Low (mostly nonexistent unless you count surrounding himself with dangerous people)

SPOKEN LANGUAGES → English (fluent), Spanish (fluent), French (conversational)

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM → n/a

EYE COLOR(S) → Heterochromia; right eye hazel/blue, left eye brown

HAIR COLOR(S) → Black

DOMINANT HAND → Truly Ambidextrous

ACCENT → Midwestern American

HEIGHT → 5’10’’

WEIGHT → 150/160 lbs

BODY → Fit but only moderately muscular. Lean and slender, with long limbs. Arms much stronger than the rest of him. Broad shouldered, but tapered waist. Has very nice hands and forearms. Freckles are mostly on his face and shoulders. Has a few moles on his stomach and back. Cuts a very unintimidating figure all things considered.

TATTOO(S) → House of Leaves book cover design on his shoulder and bicep, an eye on the inside of his left forearm, a mouse on his left ankle.

PIERCING(S) → Ears

GLASSES → Yes, large and square.

SCARS → None noteworthy

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN → Lorian, Ohio USA (lies and says Manhattan NY)

FINANCIAL STATUS → Lower Class

EDUCATION LEVEL → (frontier help)

RAP SHEET → None

PRISON TIME → None

RELATIONSHIPS

BIRTH ORDER → Twin

PARENTS → Domingo Salazar (father, estranged), Jashiel Marquez (mother, estranged)

SIBLINGS → Mouse Marquez (twin sibling)

SIGNIFICANT OTHERS → Lark Tanaka (ex boyfriend), Lethe (there is not a summarizing word I don't think)

CHILDREN → None

ENEMIES → None (right?? right???)

PETS → None

VICES

SMOKES → Yes, highly addicted

DRINKS → Socially

DRUGS → Weed, occasionally

VIOLENCE → No

SELF DESTRUCTIVE → Moderate (his self preservation is very strong, but he also romanticizes the idea of self destruction like a loser)

PSYCHOLOGY

MENTAL → OCD

PHYSICAL → Very bad asthma

ANGER EXPRESSION → Hot, egotistical, mean. Can be downright nasty and cruel when angry; sort of a bitch, lets be real.

ALIGNMENT → Neutral Evil

PERSONALITY TRAITS → Romantic, Loyal, Organized, Empathetic, Moody, Avoidant, Flighty, Morbid

MISC

SIN → Gluttony

ZODIAC → Cancer

ELEMENT → Water

SEX PREFERNCE → Switch that leans heavily submissive

ANIMAL → Goat

MUTATION → Telekinesis

#stat sheet

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Negan ~ Masterlist

Fluff = ♡

Angst = □

Hurt/Comfort = ☆

Smut = ♧

Other = ◇

Oneshots

Caged [Part 1] ♡

Caged [Part 2] ♡

Blind Date [Part 1] ♡

Blind Date [Part 2] ♡

Happy New Year ♡

Trapped ♡

Ice Skating ♡

Truths ♡

Tattoos ♡

Argument ◇

Losing You [Part 1] □

Losing You [Part 2] □

Alone in The Dark [Part 1] □

Alone in The Dark [Part 2] □☆

Close ☆♡

Favourites ♧

Shot ◇

Family ♡

Negan x Reader Imagine (Request) ♡

You Left Me □

Negan x Reader Imagine (Request) □

Innocent □

Prisoner □

Promise You ☆

You're Safe Now ☆

Safe Place ☆

Stay With Me ♡□

Negan x Reader Imagine (Request) ♡□

Savior ♡

Gifted ◇

I'll Go With You ◇

Bitten ◇

No Such Luck ♡

Desperate For Me ♧

Like One Of Your French Girls ♧

Talk To Me ☆

Own You ♧

Drabbles

Who Do You Belong To? ♧

Made For Me ♧

Know Your Place ♧

You Want Control? ♧

First Date ♧

On Your Knees ♧

Headcanons

Being Negan's Daughter ◇

Being One Of Negan's Wives ♡

Negan Hitting On You (Rick's Daughter) ♡

Being Negan's Daughter & Having A Crush On Carl ♡

[Main Masterlist]

#negan masterlist #negan #masterlist #negan x reader imagines #negan x reader #negan imagines #negan fanfic #negan fic #the walking dead #negan twd #jeffrey dean morgan

[spnmarchmadness]

LETS GO SPORTS FANS

the official ranks are in. if you want to participate in the bracket contest (its free. the prize will be the valor that comes from a job well done), you can do so here. 

if you just want to make a bracket for funsies, here’s a google sheet with the intial match ups seeded. The full seeding list is below the cut!

1. 5x22: Swan Song 2. 5x08: Changing Channels 3. 6x15: The French Mistake 4. 13x16: ScoobyNatural 5. 3x11: Mystery Spot 6. 2x22: All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2 7. 4x01: Lazarus Rising 8. 10x05: Fan Fiction 9. 11x04: Baby 10. 11x20: Don't Call Me Shurley 11. 2x20: What Is and What Should Never Be 12. 3x12: Jus in Bello 13. 4x22: Lucifer Rising 14. 8x23: Sacrifice 15. 9x23: Do You Believe in Miracles? 16. 14x13: Lebanon 17. 14x20: Moriah 18. 1x22: Devil's Trap 19. 2x01: In My Time of Dying 20. 3x03: Bad Day at Black Rock 21. 3x16: No Rest for the Wicked 22. 4x18: The Monster at the End of This Book 23. 4x03: In the Beginning 24. 5x10: Abandon All Hope... 25. 5x21: Two Minutes to Midnight 26. 7x10: Death's Door 27. 11x09: O Brother Where Art Thou? 28. 2x15: Tall Tales 29. 2x21: All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 1 30. 4x16: On the Head of a Pin 31. 4x06: Yellow Fever 32. 5x04: The End 33. 6x20: The Man Who Would Be King 34. 8x17: Goodbye Stranger 35. 1x12: Faith 36. 12x10: Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets 37. 5x14: My Bloody Valentine 38. 5x03: Free to Be You and Me 39. 4x20: The Rapture 40. 13x06: Tombstone 41. 14x14: Ouroboros 42. 3x13: Ghostfacers 43. 7x17: The Born-Again Identity 44. 8x11: LARP and the Real Girl 45. 7x20: The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo 46. 15x09: The Trap 47. 12x11: Regarding Dean 48. 6x04: Weekend at Bobby's 49. 12x06: Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox 50. 8x08: Hunteri Heroici 51. 5x16: Dark Side of the Moon 52. 13x05: Advanced Thanatology 53. 1x06: Skin 54. 9x18: Meta Fiction 55. 10x22: The Prisoner 56. 15x18: Despair 57. 14x04: Mint Condition 58. 2x13: Houses of the Holy 59. 9x06: Heaven Can't Wait 60. 15x15: Gimme Shelter 61. 3x08: A Very Supernatural Christmas 62. 10x14: The Executioner's Song 63. 14x10: Nihilism 64. 11x14: The Vessel

#spn #spnmarchmadness #supernatural polls #spnfamily #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Sergeant Christine ‘Riot’ Vega, Task Force 141

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47442772

Nationality: Spanish/British

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Sexuality: Bi (prefers men)

Birth date: 5th September, 1994

Height: 170 cm / 5ft 7in

Weight: 70 kg / 154 pounds

Hair: Natural blonde in several tones ranging from honey to almost platinum

Eyes: Light blue

Build: Curvy/Hourglass, well toned by training

Blood type: O- (universal donor, is fucked if needs blood though, Price is always requesting supplies when they’re on an op just in case)

Favourite colour: Red

Preferred civilian clothing: When off duty she usually wears blue jeans, usually skinny, red or black t-shirts, and black hoodies or sweatshirts, with trainers or boots and a leather biker jacket.

Hobbies: Cooking, learning languages, videogames, music (rock and metal specially, has a soft spot for pop and electronic sometimes), History and Archaeology

Studies: College graduated in History and Archaeology by Cambridge (online degree)

Parents: Medics for Doctors without borders, killed in a terrorist attack in Benin when she was eighteen and in college in UK. She enlisted right away and finished her degree online.

Languages: Spanish (mother tongue), English (C2), French (C1), German (C1), Russian (B2) / Can survive in Italian and Portuguese, and is trying to learn Japanese and Chinese

Tattoos: A rampant phoenix in an aggressive attacking position on her upper back and a triquetra on her right ankle (Soap has the same design on his left ankle)

Scars: Plenty on her body, from bullets to knife cuts. The more recent one is the large half assed Glasgow smile on the left side of her face, from the corner of her lips to almost her cheekbone, the reason why she wears the mask.

Headcanons:

- Plays both guitar and bass guitar, and Soap tried to teach her to play the drums

- They used to have a music group with other rookies

- Cold, silent and collected when in the frontline, Soap got a liking to Ghost at first because he reminded him of her. Down to the stupid deadpan jokes.

- Met Soap in boot camp, they were fast friends/brother-sister because both their brains work alike (lightning speed). She admires Soap’s proficiency with things that go BOOM, and considers him to be wicked smart, she can’t calculate that fast to save her life

- She adores Ghost’s jokes, and enjoys greatly to hear Soap squirm with them

- Despises tea, calling it ‘pissy water’ (her mother loved it though), prefers water, juice or coffee

- Rarely drinks alcohol

- Sings in the shower and used to like going to karaoke bars

- She is always cold

- Gets mouthy the more physically hurt she is. If she’s getting mouthy, flirty and cheeky, she’s bleeding heavily. Soap is thankful Ghost is not like that

- Her brain works at 200% speed, storing info (hopefully useful, most of the time it’s not). Example: she learns languages fast because she memorizes vocabulary and phrases at lightning speed, but she also knows by heart tons of dog breeds.

- Hyperfocuses on shit to the point of obsession and sleepless nights

- Her call sign Riot is NOT because she’s a riot (well she is), the story is even better. It involves a SAS rookie op in Turkey, staging a riot in a prison, breaking Soap out of the prison’s infirmary and a stunt leaping from a roof Soap still has nightmares about.

- She has a fucked up knee since then (and will keep fucking it up more, you’ll see)

- Likes very spicy food but can’t have cilantro: tastes and smells like trash to her (she has that gene, yeah)

- Has PTSD from the op in Transnistria, has flashbacks and breakdowns sometimes, but is determined to keep going. Price is surprised/pleased to learn that she goes to therapy weekly, instead of the mandatory once a month (he had to drag Soap and Ghost to go even once a month, specially after Las Almas which is why Price has deemed it necessary; Gaz goes bi-weekly)

- Got licensed as a drone pilot after a bad op with her previous unit, HeadHunters, where she was on medical leave for three months. She was bored out of her mind not doing anything, so she signed up for a course.

- Hates her last Captain with the passion of a burning sun, dreaming of putting a bullet to his skull. Price understands and approves (he despises him too), just warned her to not be caught if they happen to cross him (he has an alibi prepared).

#cod mw2 #cod oc #cod original character #cod fanfic #cod fic #call of duty original character #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod oc headcanon

[poetrysings]

— whoa! ALEXANDER WARREN just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for ON-AND-OFF FOURTEEN YEARS, working as an AUTHOR. that can’t be easy, especially at only 33 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit OBSTINATE and SECRETIVE, but I know them to be DUTIFUL and CARING. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! —

spotify pinterest musings visage connections

BASICS

full name: noah alexander warren

nickname: alex

age/date of birth: 33 / may 8th, 1990

zodiac sign: taurus ☼ libra ☾ cancer ↑

gender identity: cis man (he/him)

hometown: hermosa beach, california

current location: brooklyn, new york

time in town: fourteen years

sexual orientation: demisexual

occupation: writer, former fbi agent

PERSONALITY

labels: the phoenix, the benefactor, the mediator

positive traits: gentle , reliable , caring , trustworthy , allocentric , dutiful

negative traits: obstinate , reticent , stubborn , secretive , deceitful

hobbies: cooking, reading, musical theatre, camping, sports, volunteering

languages spoken: english, french, hebrew, latin

instruments played: guitar, piano

favorite color: blue, red, green

favorite food: anything, but specially pies (he has memories attached to pies)

allergies: n/a

APPEARANCE

height: 5'9

distinguished characteristics: multiple scars throughout his body; a blink and you'll miss it type of situation. some are from childhood and barely noticeable if you look closely whilst the most prominent ones are around 4 years old, situated in his ribs. there is no itemized list yet, but it is something he is acutely aware of.

tattoos: a phoenix on his back, a minimalist tattoo from the song ‘from eden’ by hozier where the word idealism sits in a small prison and it’s located on his left ribcage, the date of his mom’s passing and his sibling’s disappearance on his chest, the phrase ‘when i was drowning, that’s where i could finally breathe’ on his right forearm. ( ref )

piercings: n/a

right or left-handed?: right-handed

RELATIONSHIPS

parents: robert warren (whereabouts unknown), alycia warren (nee: weiss, deceased)

sibling(s): a younger siblng (whereabouts unknown), possibly half siblings

pet(s): a four year old labradoodle named pollux

BULLET POINTS

tw: drug use, abuse, death mention

alycia grew up dreaming of becoming two things: a successful ballerina and the loving mother she herself never had. she worked day and night, running herself thin for years until she made it to the nyc ballet company as their prima ballerina at the impressive age of 24. it was that candor, passion and grace she exuded while on the stage that caught the attention of a young robert warren who, by some magnificent miracle happened to be on the crowd for alycia's very second presentation on stage. he decided to introduce himself and they hit it off right away, went out for a drink and nine months on the dot, alexander warren was born on hermosa beach, robert's hometown.

alex grew up in a broken household with a negligent, abusive, narcissistic father and a loving and caring but mentally ill mother who had sadly been drawn to the world of drug addiction by her very own husband, who made a living out of not only dealing but fabricating said drugs. it became obvious to alex at a very young age that he was on his own. despite all that, he had a pretty normal childhood (as normal as one can be with a parent who half of the time isn't there and whenever he is around, leaves you wishing he wasn't) up until he turned 6 and his younger sibling was born. alex adored him the moment he met him and bowed to protect him at all costs, the two became inseparable.

as years went by, issues within the warren household grew more evident and worrisome. alycia was at wit ends and robert only grew angrier to the point where neighbors, friends and teachers got involved and called the police. many times social services were called to make an investigation yet, nothing was ever found until one fateful day when alex was twelve and at school. child services came to visit and found alex' little sibling alone at home, playing with his father's tools. he was immediately taken away and they promised to be back for alexander however when they did, it was far too late. robert had cowardly ran away by himself the night before and alycia, scared they would take away her remaining child moved herself and alexander to san francisco

the two remaining members of the once warren family resided in san francisco for 4 years, alycia going as far as to starting up a plan to stay sober and take care of her kid and she could've sworn they would make it. things were starting to look up for the two of them until the day robert warren showed up to their home again, begging for their forgiveness and claiming he was ill. of course the two of them took him in and aided him best they could, at least until alex found the real reason he had come was because he needed money because he was being followed. alex kicked him out of the property after a huge fight for putting him and alycia in risk however it was far too late, the people looking for robert had already figured out where he had gone and one day, while alex was out at a party, someone came in and tried to take justice by their own hands, robing them and killing alycia who was simply waiting for her son to return home. alex spiraled for months on end, nowhere to go and completely alone in the world. after those months, alex dedicated the remaining time in high school picking himself back up, swearing he'd become someone his mother would be proud of

upon high school graduation, alex moved to new york when he was accepted into nyu's criminal justice program and once he graduated, he did his PhD program in liberty university while doing the trainee program for the fbi in quantico, ultimately becoming an agent at 25 and moved back to nyc when he was assigned. for two years he worked tirelessly to be the best in his division, going as far as being told if he remained in the same path as he was, he'd become a director of his division at age 30, even though he dreaded every moment spent working. even when he hated his job, he simply couldn't stop until, two years in he suffered an accident that nearly costed his life. it truly put his life into perspective; how much he had given a career he truly despised and quit there and then. alex then started writing about the adventures he had had as a federal agent and his then fiance convinced him to turn his stories into a full book, which he did.

the end of his relationship came with the success of his very first novel and a deal for 2 more books and the possibility of turning his book into a movie or a tv show. he is currently working on his third thriller novel after publishing his second book, which became an even wider success than the first on the trilogy.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

PEACE . ( plat? could be rom / any gender )

relationships are as complex as human beings. we are volatile, coarse by nature; and things only get harsher when emotional baggage/mental health issues are carried and tossed around. it’s a russian roulette half the time, loving and carrying for those around you, but oh how worth it it is when you can find someone who understands you even without speaking, someone who knows you and your inner demons and still sticks by your side. although nothing is perfect and there will never be peace, you can keep eachother warm.

I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU  . ( plat / any gender )

the cory to his shawn, the phoebe to his joey, the chandler to his joey. he is a very loving person all together and deems himself a friendly guy who cares about all the people in his life, however this person has a special place in his heart. they are his go-to whenever something goes wrong and they need help, they are one of those people he’d do anything for and, most importantly, they are one of the few people who really know him, beyond the smiles and good times. who know the darkness that lies deep within him, perhaps the person he trusts the most in the world.

EASE MY MIND / SO WILL I . ( plat / any gender )

there are people who, even without a single word, can bring light into your world by simply existing. whenever something goes wrong, when the world is about to crumble down— they become your go-to, the one safe place that can ease your soul in the darkest hour and you can only hope that you can do the very same for them.

WORSHIP   . ( rom / any gender )

being a hopeless romantic entails many things. shared with an overachiever personality and a passionate soul whose sole existance revolves around making other’s happy— and you get yourself a giver. conventional relationships are not something you can handle, for one reason or another. doesn’t mean that every lover is not especial and deserves to be worshipped, something you are devoted to.

GETAWAY CAR   . ( rom / any gender )

it was, in every sense of the word, a rebound. one had a broken heart after a failed engagement and the other had their reasons— but it was meant as simply that. it lasted way longer than anyone expected it to, and when it ended, it wasn’t exactly soundless. both parts knew it wouldn’t last; however they weren’t ready for how damaging the outcome would be.

KEEP DRIVING . ( plat / any gender )

’We held darkness in withheld clouds I would ask, “Should we just keep driving?”’ when things get hard, when everything is going downhill, these two simply count on eachother to get on a car and keep driving. snacks and meaningful conversations withheld at 90 miles an hour to no forseen destiny— it may be one of alex’s most honest relationships.

DAYDREAMING . ( rom / any gender )

it’s still casual and new— but it’s all he’s been daydreaming about. the night calls, the illicit visits, the joy of having something private and non-commital and the way even one message from them can turn his entire day upside down.

work friends. people in the literary world that know of him? perhaps a secret club where literary lovers gather around and exchange ideas over a few bottles of champagne and french pastries? perhaps even a few of his work?

HALF SIBLINGS (robert warren got AROUND and there is a chance he had multiple kids? who knows?)

friends FAMILY FRIENDS, BAD INFLUENCES, good influences

family, maybe? cousins?

flings, one-side crushes, flirtationships, fwb, affairs, past lovers (however the relationship ended in good terms or bad, can be discussed?) the sky is the limit

#boroughs.intro #📂 ⤷ 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 : 𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 / about