#blue mastiff

[playerkingsley]

the fact that emily axford manifests some manner of creature companion for the majority of shows/campaigns she’s in is so powerful of her. why play d&d (and variants) if you can’t kill people AND pet a Good Boy (gn)

[scruffydogposting]

A puppy for your Friday

[stolenproperty150]

#Horus

[4xplay-or-2not]

Cane Corso Feeding Costs Raw Diet - Kibble - Pre-Made Raw

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[satoshy12]

Protect Mom looks funny when you are barely going to her knee.

It was a known fact that Phantom fought Plasmius in a way to make him leave his mom alone. It was known to the other Heroes, the Villains and even the Civillians. (DC or Marvel or other Cartoon) Don't ask why?

They are themselves unsure how that works, but it was cute how the tiny hero wanted to defend his mom from the villain. So imagine their surprise as they saw his mom! - A massive woman with blue skin, red eyes, and pinkish purple hair that seemed to resemble fire. With four arms with a long spear which was held in both of her right arms. She wore a Amazoness Armor. And as they saw Pandora, all bets were gone. Who is Phantom trying to protect!? It looked like a tiny Chihuahua was trying to protect a Mastiff against a Shepherd Dog. Phantom you barely got to her knees!!! + And yes Vlad is trying to date Pandora and Maddie! At least Maddie not that much anymore. Now much more it's Pandora, and danny won't let him do it! You won't date my Ghost adopted Mom!!

+ Flash:" To think he is trying to protect that Amazon from the Vampire." Diana:" So what? My Amazon sister raised my Nephew very well." Diana saw she was a amazon = Phantom is a nephew of her.

++ Tony:" I don't think she needs protection." Peter:" I would have done the same..." Thor nodded his head he gave the young Einherjar Mjolnir to defend his mother.

[kiturnix]

last month I drew a bunch of ffxiv guys as dogs (and my own wols in there too) and people liked them :)

(edit: my wols are the blue tibetan mastiff (white claws, femroe drg/drk) and the corgi (nyah tia, catboy nin/brd)!! they are my beloved babies)

[evilminji]

Was Krypto Jor-El's dog? Or did their family have another pet?

Because think about it. Thanks to Cujo, we KNOW animals with unfinished business or strong attachments stay behind. We ALSO know from nigh COUNTLESS videos on the internet that pets get REALLY attached to pregnant moms and by extention, the new pack members.

Krpton was an Alien planet. Just because SOME of the animals there looked similar to earth animals, doesn't mean ALL of them do. Nor does it mean they ONLY domesticated dog like creatures or cat like creatures. They could have anything from vaguely bear-like to fox-ish to small moose but with more teeth.

It was a completely different ecology.

And Jor-El? Him and his wife had a CHOICE to make. They had A pod. Singular. Tiny. Not a ship, not an escape pod, not even a refurbished shipping container. Just a pod with life support and all the information about Krypton they could fit. A guidance system that, gods willing, would see their son to a safe and sympathetic planet to be raised by kind people.

THEY couldn't even fit.

How in the gods name would a large pet? Even a mid sized pet. Let us assume, for this prompt, that being scientists of high position? Pays or allocates pretty well. They have the room. The resources. When they got married, Jor-El's wife REALLY wanted a cub or pup or what have you, of some large-ish animal breed.

The equivalent of an earth mastiff dog. Just an Absolute UNIT. Used to be gaurds and working beasts, now more athletic pets then anything. Known to be great protecters of Their People.

And well... Jor-El WAS already starting to notice some things that were making him Less Than Popular... probably nothing (he had naively hoped, at the time.) But better to have a Just In Case. Sure, honey. Let's get one!

And they LOVED Snookums.

Snookums ADORED them AND the baby! Kal-El basically NEVER left Snookums sight. He slept beneath Kal's crib. Followed them everywhere they went, when they were holding Kal. Planted himself like Kal's Sworn Protector as the baby drooled all over his fur. It was the cutest thing EVER.

But then?

No. Dear Gods No. Please... Please let him be wrong!

He's not. He never is. He is too careful with his calculations. To the point of near paranoia. Maybe they can stop it. If they DO something. Act IMMEDIATELY...

But...

Well, we all now how that story ends. Two people, standing on a launch pad, tears streaming down their smiling faces, trying to memorize the last moment they'll ever see their son. Praying this will be ENOUGH.

That they aren't trading one terrible death for another.

Watching their son disappear into the sky. Flying home as the ground groan as shakes, trees toppling and people screaming. Panicking. Dying pointless deaths that could have been stopped.

Walking into the home that should have been where they spent their whole live. Where, in a way, they WILL.

Knowing they won't grow old.

Sitting on the floor with their confused, frantic, pet as fire starts to light up the horizon. As the ground shakes violently on last, terrible time. Knowing the lethal heat will hit them before their ears ever register the sound.

It's Over.

But! Where is Snookum's Baby Kal!?

They are scared, confused, and everything is LOUD AND RUMBLY. Very Bad. Don't like that. Their ADULTS come back home. BUT NOT THEIR BABY. Where is Baby Kal?! Snookums is a GOOD Boy and a GREAT Protector. It is in his blood.

Something BAD is happening.

Has? Happened?

Everything is GREEN.

But that does not MATTER. Snookums can not REST. Can not stay here! They must Sniff and search and hunt! Look for Kal! Who is SMALL and needs to be protected! What if he is HURT? How will he SLEEP!? With no Snookums to cuddle for nap time!?

But the universe is large. And there is no smell in space. (Well, there ARE. But they are Stinky Gasses and those do not help Snookums.) So it takes lots and lots of time. Until! He meets a glowing blue dog!

A hopeful corgi? What is a corgi? Irrelevant! The hopeful one knows of Snookums' Kal! Oh, thank you small friend! You indeed DO give hope! We shall go at once and Kal shall be safe and with family once more!

Meanwhile? Danny? Wakes up to a sticky note on his forehead from Clockwork. "Bring Cujo with you to meet the Justic League"? What? WHY? He loves the pup, but Cujo has never behaved himself in a formal setting ONCE in his doggy LIFE. Danny is trying to make a good first impression!

But... Clockwork doesn't Post-It lightly...

Guess he's breaking out the doggy bow ties. Great. Wonder what THIS is about...

Four and a half hours later? Watching Cujo playfully wrestle with the ghost of what HAS to be a Kryptonian... gonna saaaaay.... Bear-fox? Which nearly TACKLED Superman, freaked the ENTIRE Justice League out, and nearly got him STABBED by Etrigon. Yeah. That was a good call.

Congratulations on your new ghost pet, Superman. No, he's not leaving. It just kinda happens sometimes. It's how Danny got Cujo. Wanna do pet playdates?

@hdgnj @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles @nerdpoe

[londondungeon2]

thinking about you and floyd getting a dog after graduating night raven college. sure, you two have grim but grim’s more like a roommate that skimps out on rent. so you two start looking for a dog through adoption centers.

you two go through a couple of breeds. floyd’s insistent on a puppy that is going to grow big; you don’t mind as long as the dog isn’t going to shed.

an alaskan malamute would shed too much, english mastiff maybbbe, you two consider a doberman and a cane corso too. then, at another one of your weekly visits to the local shelter, there’s a new puppy brought in, kept behind the biggest glass cage in the shelter.

great dane. seven weeks old, coming soon. birthday: Mar 13. name: Moose.

“cool name,” floyd comments while looking down at the dog who is solely entertained by the bone in his mouth. kneeling down, he taps the glass, “hey moose, ya got a good name there, buddy.”

the dog finally turns away from his bone, looking up at whoever is tapping the glass. floyd’s lazy smile kinda plummets off his face. curious, you peer down.

moose — cool named moose — has a blue and brown eye. you would almost misinterpret the blue as being a blind eye but no, that’s just pure heterochromia.

when floyd looks back up at you, smiling wide, you know you are walking out of there with less money than you walked in with.

“shouldn’t we have waited till he was eight weeks old? just to play with him in the play-pens and make sure we get along with him.”

“nah,” floyd says, flipping in his hand the confirmation slip that you two get to pick moose in a week. “we’d get along.”

“hah, and i tricked myself into believing this wouldn’t be a spontaneous decision.”

you are suddenly pulled into a side hug and kissed on the head, “yeah, you’re really dumb for that, shrimpy.”

so, in a week, moose comes home. floyd is loving every second of being a dog dad.

you have the apartment pup-proof which proves pointlessly when the very big puppy you two adopted manages to knock down any obstacles. it’s like having a tiny horse in the house!

yet, in a month, you have managed to organize yourself to accommodate a puppy with floyd’s help. moose does a really good job at keeping floyd in a constant good mood. a dog is always happy to see its owner, and that infectious happiness brings a dumb grin to floyd’s face without fail. and! you don’t even have to worry about exercising the dog, floyd has a big handle on it.

at nights, your 150 pound eel and 45 pound — and growing — moose falls into bed with you. kissed by your bf and licked by your dog. life is wonderful and full of bliss.

(life gets more wonderful when jade and azul visit because floyd is set on making sure moose is well socialized. and coincidentally, floyd just happens to have bought a new toy for moose — a blue octopus with purple tentacles.

moose is about eleven months old now and still very energetic which means he loves to rip up stuff. floyd lost one pair of shoes to moose and you haven't seen your boyfriend so stern towards your dog until then. you two have managed to trained him to only rip up toys now, nothing else.

so, as you are catching up with your friends, drinking tea jade has made, you are startled when a blue something is launched into azul’s lap.

“moose, toy!”

you watch sixty pounds of dog follow the toy’s crashing descent and jump into azul’s lap. then, leaping from loveseat to couch, starts tearing up the toy so fiercely that tentacles and stuffing starts to fly.

“i knew you didn’t buy that toy for pure purposes,” you scold as floyd laughs his heart out.

the rest of the night, you watch azul’s legs lift off the ground whenever moose happens to trot back and forth, following floyd’s every movement - kitchen to living room.)

//inspired by the fact my local shelter does actually have a dog with heterochromia and my own dog does have an octopus squeak toy <3

[puzzled-pegasus]

What breeds of dogs would HOO characters be?

Did you ever find yourself asking this question?

No?

Well I'm going to give you an answer whether you like it or not!

Here's my list of what breeds of dog some of the main Riordan characters would be!

Percy- Labradoodle. Why? He's a water dog with messy hair! He is loyal and friendly!

Annabeth- you probably expected me to say border collie, but Nope! Blonde German Shepherd dog. Smart, strong, athletic...and intimidating.

Jason- Golden retriever. What a good boy! He might have a little wolf in him though. And neither of those have blue eyes, so maybe a little husky too.

Piper- for some reason, I'm thinking either border collie or Australian Shepherd. Beautiful, majestic, fluffy. Long flowing fur. Beautiful eyes, too.

Hazel- Pomeranian. What is my reasoning? Not really sure. Maybe it's the tiny size and floofy hair.

Frank- Not quite sure but maybe a mastiff. He has those vibes.

Leo- Chihuahua. Tiny, associated with Mexico, anxious, yaps at strangers and sometimes family members. Their true beauty is within. It's perfect.

Nico- Cat. He's a cat. A black cat, yes. Will is a cat too but he's orange.

Reyna- Rottweiler. I had a reason but I don't remember it. Enjoy.

[oh-brotherr]

Assigning ihnmaims characters dog breeds(as someone who has worked with and whos special interest is dogs)

Ted: Whippet

A rather sleek and handsome breed, that can be highly intelligent, but nervous and fidgety. They are also often confused as the much more popular breed greyhounds (get it? Cause Teds a fraud)

Ellen: Standard Poodle

A gorgeous well sought after breed often wanted exclusively for looks, but they are also a very intelligent and affectionate breed. They are a very people oriented breed that do well as emotional support animals

Gorrister: Bull Mastiff

Bullmastiffs are a very mild mannered breed but can become agressive quickly. They are often very stubborn and devoted(pre-AM gorrister aight ☝️). They can be quite a loving breed but can also be very standoffish and avoidant to those who they are unfamiliar with.

Benny: Border Collie

(Im mostly working with the description of non monkey Benny that Ted gave)

An extremely intelligent and determined breed. They are often used for herding and for agility sports. They are quite loyal and independent, but thrive in working environments.

Nimdok: Kerry Blue Terrier

A wiry coated, unpopular breed. Often hostile towards other animals and are very strong willed and independent. They are very clever but stubborn and proud.

[call-sign-shark]

The public, and by public I mean me 😂, want a play date between Kaiser and Cyril 🐕🐕. Destroying Tommy's garden

😂

Omg I died at your request. This was such a fantastic idea, Flor! Hope you'll enjoy some dog chaos 😂 I can't stop giggling when thinking about the moment Tommy will see it...

Summary: As you are waiting for Arthur in Tommy's garden, your afternoon takes an unexpected turn. In fact, Cyril and Kaiser decide to have a play date and it doesn't go well for the mansion's garden.

Words: 1.3k

Notes: This work is a part of Heaven in Your Eyes' universe, but you can obviously read it as a stand-alone.

If there was one thing you hated about your husband, it was his brother Thomas Shelby. That was why you decided to wait outside, in the mansion’s gargantuan garden, rather than accompany Arthur inside. Following the whole prison incident, he had himself become more distant from Thomas, even though the love and loyalty he felt toward his little brother kept him from sinking into pure hatred. Arthur reluctantly left you alone for a while in this potentially hostile environment, only doing so because of the giant hundred pounds dog that watching over you. For sure, Arthur knew that Kaiser would maim and shred any fool who would try to hurt you — you were more than safe when the dog was around. 

Here you were, comfortably sitting on a bench surrounded by a dizzying range of colorful flowers whose delicate scent was carried away with the soft spring breeze. Reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for the hundredth time, you felt yourself transported to Wonderland’s garden by the words that were printed on the paper. A relaxed sigh escaped from your plump and glossed lips as the gentle warmth of sun rays caressed your porcelain skin. You were devouring Lewis Carroll’s story when, all of sudden, the loud bark of Kaiser snatched you from your bubble. As a gargantuan Cane Corso, Kaiser’s growls and howls tended to be so booming and low-tone they would make everyone’s quiver, even when the beast just wanted to play.

“What is it, Kaiser?” You asked the dog, closing the book and gently scratching the huge brute behind his cropped ear. Standing at attention, his Hazel eyes were staring far away at the distance. You frowned and looked in his direction, searching for the source of his agitation, “Oh fuck —“ The word fell from your mouth before you could even realize it, for what was catching Kaiser’s attention was the large silhouette of a man in a hat, a huge English mastiff walking beside him.  It did not take more than a quick look to recognize the infamous Alfie Solomons. You remained silent, one of your hands firmly closing around Kaiser’s collar to keep him close. To be honest, you mentally crossed your fingers for Alfie Solomons not to notice you for you wanted nothing from him. Not even a greeting. 

“Oh! SHALOM MRS. SHELBY!” Alfie’s voice boomed in the distance. Mission failed — the king of Camden Town not only had noticed you but was now heading to you, supporting his weight with a walking stick. You have heard from the Shelbys that his sciatica had become worse over time — not that you cared though, “Shalom.” He repeated, his piercing blue eyes staring at your aquamarine irises with unsettling insistence as he waited for you to greet him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” You gritted through your teeth, unable to hide the gleam of resentment that was burning in your dark pupils. 

“Here I finally meet her, Arfah Shelby’s wife and dearest treasure! The angel who fell from Shamayim only to get dicked balls deep by a foul-mouthed, whiskey-drunk, and rabid Peaky Blinders. Not that I want to disrespect dear Arfah, what a scary lad he can be when he’s angry.” Alfie took off his hat when he talked, probably in the hope of showing a bit of respect. Or maybe not, it was always so difficult to probe his attentions and thoughts, even for a witch like you, “You made him a believer tho, and I can understand why now that I’ve met you.” 

You bit your inner cheek so hard the metallic taste of blood exploded on your tongue. In case you doubted it you were now certain: you hated him. You were so annoyed by his presence that you did not notice Cyril and Kaiser sniffing each other, tail wagging in contempt. 

“Now that we are here, I’d like to give you my most sincere apologies for attempting to murder your husband. It was nothing personal, just some business formalities but thanks God this whole quarrel is behind us now! But know that your lover is one hell of a fucking bastard hard to kill. And God knew I did my best to—“ 

“Listen Alfie, for the sake of your weird alliance with Tommy we’re going to forget this accident, especially because I was not there at that time. But know that your apologies are not accepted. Pretty sure Mrs. Rose Solomons would dig her nails in Arthur’s chest to rip his heart out if he had tried to kill you. Consider yourself lucky I don’t. Only out of sheer respect for Rosie.” 

In the background, Cyril and Kaiser had started playfully jumping at each other, tongues hanging and butts wiggling. Quite a different mood than the one between Alfie and you. The Cane Corso rolled on the ground, his four paws up in the air as the Mastiff sniffed his belly. They seemed to have a hell of a fun moment.

“Bloody hell, woman, Tommy was damn right when he said you were Satan in the shape of an Angel. You’ve got claws just like me woman—“ 

“Goodbye, Mr. Solomons.” You cut him off, “Come on Kaiser.”  You said, processing to leave the place but you stopped when you realized your huge guardian had not followed you, which was unusual taking into account how obedient he was. 

“Well, well, would you look at that Mrs. Shelby! Seems like good Cyril and your dog get along pretty well. So well they don’t want to part, ey. You know I’m more than delighted by this new friendship because Cyril tends to feel lonely these days. He had a very great friend at Camden but I shot his owner — sad, sad story.”

“No, Kaiseeeeer.” You muttered to yourself, as you saw the two massive beasts chasing each other and barking playfully, their beady eyes glistening with excitement. Among all the friends Kaiser could have made, he chose Cyril. Not that you had something against that good boy, but it ultimately meant you had to stay near Alfie Solomons the whole time the animals were having fun -- And God knew the man talked too much, too fast, and was hard to follow. To be true, having a discussion with Solomons would always guarantee the apparition of an unpleasant headache. At first, you thought about forcing Kaiser to go, but he looked so happy you had not the heart to deprive him of his new furry brother, “Alright,” You finally resigned. Arms crossed, a moody pout plastered on your adorable angel face, you came back next to Alfie and kept your gaze fixed upon the dogs.

You both stayed there for a little while and surprisingly enough Alfie did not bother you that much. In fact, he was too busy looking at Cyril with a genuine sparkle of love in his eyes — for sure he had a close bond with his dog, as close as the one you shared with yours. Silence hovered above your heads until Cyril and Kaiser, delighted by the mansion’s vastness, ran to the most magnificent part of the garden to wrestle in it. The two adorable but massive beasts rolled in the flowers, their strong bodies crushing all of them and their jaws snatching the other plants.  Alfie and you opened your eyes wide and turned toward each other at the very same time, as you both realized that the dogs were wrecking Tommy’s garden. But when your eyes met, surprise faded away and a devilish smirk dawned on your lips.

“Well — that’s problematic, innit?” Alfie said, sarcasm coating his words, “We should stop them.” 

“Should we, though?” You replied.

Alfie took a last glance at the dogs, who were now ruining the only part of the garden that had been spared from their destructive paws.

“Naaah,” Alfie concluded.  

You snorted in amusement and shifted your focus back to the animals as Alfie did, for you were both like dogs with two tails at the simple fact of bothering Thomas Shelby. They said vengeance was a dish best served cold, but the truth was, for once, vengeance was a dish best served with mud and crushed flowers.

"Fuck Tommy," You said.

"Yeah, fuck Tommy."

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

✞ Rose Solomons is @raincoffeeandfandoms ‘s OC

[theartdaleterrier]

Do I come bearing Doggust prompt fills? No. I come bearing Blue Neapolitan Mastiff.

[teecupangel]

@blue-cat-ter-flies-blog left this reply in the English Mastiff!Desmond idea:

TBH I always thought if Desmond was a dog he'd be a Great Pyrenese thanks to that one post floating around about how great flock guardians are. Also he'd not only be Assassin-coloured but ridiculously fluffy too.

Wikipedia links to the Pyrenean Mountain Dog and it looks like what you’re describing.

This dog is apparently wildly used in France so now I’m thinking of Desmond getting adopted by Charles Dorian and gifting the dog to his son, Arno. He wasn’t there when Charles died because they didn’t take him and he waited for hours for them to come back until, finally, Monsieur de la Serre comes in to get Arno’s things and to take care of Charles’ belongings as he had no one else (as far as the French aristocrats are concerned anyway). He sees the dog and feeds it before taking it home.

Desmond immediately goes straight to where Arno is crying and Arno holds onto him as he cries.

No one questions how Desmond was still alive even though Arno was already a grown up and Desmond himself is just chilling, helping Arno with his chores, sometimes barks at Olivier when he’s being too rude to Arno.

He knows the de la Serres are Templars but they take care of Arno like their own son (and he also knows about Arno and Élise’s secret relationship and he’s pretty sure her father knows it too) so he doesn’t make any move against them. He never stops to distrust them though because he’s been burned by Templars too much to not have even just a flicker of mistrust but he won’t stop Arno from bonding with them.

Then Monsieur de la Serre was killed and Arno was imprisoned and Élise came home with a grave expression on her face.

She looked at Desmond for a moment before walking away without saying anything.

And that’s when Desmond knew…

This peaceful life as Arno Dorian’s canine companion has come to an end.

(Desmond ends up guarding the living 'lifestocks' known as 'Assassin recruits'. Pierre is the one who coins the term 'lifestocks' because of how protective Desmond is with the three recruits who usually work with Arno in missions)

[yourbelgianthings]

aforementioned giant list of mountain goats songs for taz

sadly some characters i couldn’t find a song i thought fit for (i.e. angus) that doesn’t mean i don’t like them!!

Magnus- Against Pollution, Spent Gladiator 2, Training Montage, Billy the Kid’s Dream of Magic Shoes

Merle- Hebrews 11:40, Harlem Roulette, January 31 438, Noche Del Guajalote

Taako- Up the Wolves, Get Lonely, Get Famous

Barry- Blues in Dallas, Love Love Love

Johann- Your Belgian Things, Harlem Roulette

Lucretia- Old College Try, Heel Turn 2, Game Shows Touch Our Lives

Davenport- Idylls of the King, Maybe Sprout Wings

Hurley- Magpie, Love Love Love

Sloane- Dilaudid

Lucas- In Memory of Satan

Lup- Going Invisible 2

Taakitz- The Age of Kings, The Coroner’s Gambit

Blupjeans- Bluejays and Cardinals

Carey and Killian- Animal Mask, 1 Corinthians 13: 8-10

IPRE- High Hawk Season, Corsican Mastiff Stride, When A Powerful Animal Comes

Aubrey- There Will Be No Divorce, Dinu Lipatti’s Bones, Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1, Shadow Song, Song For An Old Friend

Duck- Midland, New Monster Avenue, In the Hidden Places, As Many Candles As Possible

Ned- Cotton, Wild Sage, Estate Sale Sign, Prowl Great Cain, The Mess Inside, Bleed Out, Going to Hungary

The Pine Guard- Fire Editorial

Pigeon- Jeff Davis County Blues

Mama- Midland, Bones Don’t Rust

Barclay- Color in Your Cheeks, If You See Light, Harbor Me

Minerva- The Young Thousands, Luna, Mobile, Clean Slate

Dani- Blueberry Frost

Keith- Alpha Rats Nest

Hollis- Alpha Rats Nest, Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1, Guys on Every Corner

Boyd- The House that Dripped Blood

Indrid- Alabama Nova

Thacker- Elijah, How to Embrace A Swamp Creature

Amber- The Recognition Scene, International Small Arms Traffic Blues, Oceanographer’s Choice, 1 John 4:16, Bones Don’t Rust, The Young Thousands, Family Happiness, Game Shows Touch Our Lives, Genesis 3:23

Devo- Cotton, Up the Wolves, Get Lonely, New Zion, Outer Scorpion Squadron, Hopeful Assassins of Zeno, Never Quite Free, Cry for Judas, Mark on You, Autoclave, Genesis 3:23

Zoox- Song for Lonely Giants, Incandescent Ruins, Autoclave

Oksana/Kodira- The Recognition Scene, Oceanographer’s Choice, Luna, Genesis 3:23

Orlean- Trick Mirror, New Zion, In Memory of Satan

The Curator- Deuteronomy 2:10

The Shoreside Community- Letter from Belgium, Going to Lebanon 2

The Coriolis Crew- Steal Smoked Fish

[heliads]

Hey again! Got another idea 👀👀 But could I request a Clove Kentwell x past victor reader (won very young) who lives in the capitol? Reader is good friends with Enobaria and Brutus and decides to check in with the tributes/mentors of that years game to see what's up and to give some tips and tricks. Immediately she hit's it off with the other careers other then Clove (who likes her but has no idea how to go about it), they accidently meet on the balcony and start to warm up with each other (R gives Clove a token since she didn't get one). Later on R watches the games with the mentors and not so secretly cheers on Clove (defo get's her sponsor packages). Clove wins and they reunite, with clove making the first move after realizing her feelings during the game. Thank you, and I hope this isn't too long!

'lessons worth learning' - clove kentwell

masterlist

The Hunger Games is always your least favorite time to return to the Capitol. As if any of the other opportunities are good, though; you can be trotted around like a prize pony, gawked at as a Mentor, or called up out of the blue to reminisce on the good old days when you won your Games and were lucky enough to have the lovely experience of murdering children who had done no wrong other than the simple misfortune of having their name pulled from a bowl.

The Games are worse, though. You stand on a balcony, knuckles tight like bone around the railing. Below you, two dozen children ripe for the slaughter mill around, testing weapons and receiving instruction from their mentors. You’re here for mentorship duties yourself, having won your Games a couple of years back and thus entitling you to spend the rest of your life watching other tributes attempt to do the same or die trying.

Some would call it a blessing. Sometimes, though, you envy the dead back in your Games. Their lives, although ended early, are theirs, and theirs alone. They won’t have to live forever as a poster child of the Capitol, an example of what District can amount to if they just try. That isn’t to say that you wish you had died in the Games– you are a fighter, always have been, and you’d rather bleed a thousand times than give up– but you do wish that you could have won without having to be a puppet for all the Games afterwards.

All the Victors know the feeling. You ache like a dog on a leash, all of you, having trained all your lives to win the Games if you were Careers or at least dreaded them your entire childhood, but upon doing the one task set before you, every pretense of independence was ripped away. What was once a prize mastiff or foxhound is now a muzzled lapdog, dolled up every season of the Games before being shut up in the Districts once the fun is over.

The first year of your Victorhood, you could hardly handle it. Everything was switched around. The jokes weren’t funny, and what was worth laughing at could cost your head. The food was too much and the clothes were too little. It was like living in a backwards world, one where one false step would bring destruction to you and your family.

Thankfully, you had your other Victors to help you. Enobaria and Brutus, also from your home district of Two, walked you through the gilded trials of a successful Victor, and in turn, you mentor the next sets of tributes to be sent your way. You won your Games young, surprisingly young, so Brutus and Enobaria tend to be the ones selected for primary Mentorship. 

Turns out most tributes prefer to be taught by actual adults, thinking them more experienced and a better shot at their own survival. That’s fine by you, by all accounts; the more time out of the limelight, the better. You’re still required to show up to the Capitol, being the youngest Victor in quite a while means you’ll never fully be released from the Capitol’s fascination, but you can be a quiet darling in the shadows any time you like. If there’s one thing the years have taught you, it’s that it is far, far better to be the dusty doll left behind in the toy chest than the one out on display.

This time around, however, Brutus and Enobaria called you up to give the tributes some advice. District Two hasn’t won a round of the Games since– well, since you, and that was more than a couple of years ago. Since you’re the most recent Two victor, you’ll have valuable insights to provide. Supposedly.

Thus, you find yourself leaning against this balcony, watching the tributes prepare themselves to die. There’s a good amount of competition amongst the Reaped ones this year, it’ll be a tough fight. You don’t envy anyone down there for the task they’ll have to face. Both the tributes from One look formidable, plus a good crop of others from a smattering of districts. Of course, your fellow tributes from Two look strong too, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Then again, the girl from Two this year, a certain Clove Kentwell, does seem to be impressing everyone in her path. She’s about your age, and you probably would have seen her around Two more often were it not for the fact that you’re more fond of suppressing memories in the Victor’s Village than training for the Games you’ll never have to enter again. She seems clever, which is a good thing. Clever girls can get themselves out of deadly loopholes. You can speak to that through past experience.

She’s watching you now, actually. It’s no surprise. Clove has been keeping her eyes on you since the moment she was Reaped. At this point, the quiet weight of her gaze on your shoulders has grown comfortable, more like a woolen cloak than a knife in your back. It’s not a hostile gaze either, this, just painstakingly present. Clove doesn’t mind it if you catch her looking. She’s not the type to glance away first. Good. Anything to keep weakness off her shoulders.

Clove’s fingers tap absentmindedly on her legs, then she seems to make a decision and walks up to talk to you. Your eyes flash to the Peacekeepers stationed at the exits, but they don’t flinch. Still, you have no doubt that they’re watching. It’s fine if the tributes want to talk to the Mentors, but you can’t give them any weapons, nor any advantage at all other than a few good pieces of advice. There’s only so far advice will go anyway, but you might as well offer up what you have. At least then you won’t leave this round of the Games as you do every other:  wondering if what you’d done was enough, and then trying to scrub another set of two young names out of your brain for another year in a row.

Clove reaches the top of the balcony and folds her arms across her chest, eyeing you down like you’re another tribute. It’s a mistake that’s been made before, actually. You’re awfully young for a Mentor, but then again, you were awfully young for a Victor as well.

“So, you’re supposed to be helping me win these things?” She asks daringly.

You nod. “You and your fellow tribute.”

Clove knows this, of course. She’s testing the waters, searching for some kind of reaction. You’re not sure what she wants, but she’ll probably convince herself of it soon enough anyway. Better not to get involved. Better not to get attached. You know how this ends, don’t you? You know better than to enjoy someone’s company if you know they’re going to die.

“You won a few years ago, didn’t you? You were the young one they couldn’t stop talking about?” Clove asks.

You force a smile. It’s as cold and disinterested as you can make it. “That’s me. Although I would have assumed your plan for winning the Games wouldn’t involve rattling off exciting facts about mine.”

“Isn’t it your job to share details about your Games so you can give me a strategy to win mine?” Clove snips at you. She’s fiery. Like you, when you dare to let your spark grow out of the stifling embrace of the Capitol.

“No two Games are the same,” you shoot back. “It’s a better use of your time and mine to consider the current situation instead of mulling over the past. The only things you should think about right now are the present and the immediate future. The next few weeks are your entire life. The past can rot with the rest of the tributes who died because they failed to plan properly.”

Clove whistles. “Charming. Did Brutus and Enobaria bring you here because of your knack for motivational speeches?”

Your grin is bitter. “That, and they knew I wouldn’t coddle you. These are the Hunger Games, Clove. Realism is all you have.”

“Because the Hunger Games are all that will matter in my life?” Clove asks, tone acidic. “Funny, I didn’t think the youngest Victor would have agreed with that.”

“I don’t,” you answer her. “It’s because you’re going to win the Games, and then you’re going to go home, and none of it will have mattered at all.”

Clove pulls a face, disbelieving. “Of course. Winning the Hunger Games won’t mean a single thing in Two. That makes perfect sense.”

“It won’t matter,” you insist, “Sure, it will, for a couple of days. Then you’ll be in Victor’s Village with the rest of District Two’s idols and you’ll blend right in. For months afterwards, you will be flush with victory, knowing you’ve done this spectacular thing, and no one will even care. It’ll be all you can think about, and no one will know. This is the Hunger Games, Clove Kentwell. They matter to you because you’re in them, but once everyone else knows their name won’t be pulled, it’s nothing to them.”

Clove’s eyes have gone quiet. “They’ll have to remember, though. Every year, when they make us do the Victory Tour or go back to the Capitol.”

“Sure, sure,” you say listlessly. “You’ll be one of the Victors. But they’ll forget what year you won, or what you did to deserve it. After a while, they won’t be able to remember if you were the sibling of a Victor, or the lover, or a friend. What do you think happened to me, huh? When you came in here, you didn’t even know my name, and I won just a couple of years ago. Face it, Clove. It all ends after this.”

Clove is silent for a while, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet and wooden. “So how do I fight that? How do I be someone they’ll remember?”

You chuckle bitterly. “You can’t.”

Clove’s face flashes with irritation. “Then why are you here, huh? I thought Mentors were supposed to help us. Is your job just to depress us and then leave? Whose side are you really on?”

She’s started moving towards you with every word, inching forward threateningly. You don’t back down or move a muscle, and when you’re both eye to eye, barely a few inches apart, close enough to see how her chest rises and falls with the brunt of her anger, you bite out at last, “Yours.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clove hisses back.

You smirk. It’s not a nice thing to see. The Capitol has stripped the warmth from your emotions, leaving only blank ghosts of what were once shiny, vivid expressions. “You don’t have to. Look around you. You are in the Capitol. Look at how everyone here looks at you.”

You put your hand on Clove’s cheekbone, forcing her to turn around. You can see it in her expression as she gets what you’re saying, how her eyes harden even more, how she shifts back away from everyone else and towards you again. This, after all, is what it means to be a tribute. The Capitol citizens eye you like a piece of meat, the other competitors stare you down like a hawk who’s caught onto its prey. There are no friendly faces here, just territorial or greedy or both.

“So you’re the better option,” Clove murmurs.

“That’s one way of putting it,” you admit. “I know how it feels to be out there. Alone, despite your Mentors.”

“And you wanted to make sure I felt that, too?” Clove asks, somewhat bemused.

You shake your head. “I wanted you to feel the opposite.”

Clove considers this, then looks back at you again. The hostility is gone from her eyes, replaced with curiosity. “I think I do,” she says.

“Good,” you tell her. “Now we can work together on how to make you win this.”

After that, Clove is focused, her simmering rage honed to a knifepoint’s sharpness. She finds precise techniques to master and practices them over and over again until she’s sure of herself. Those skills that she’s unfamiliar with, she gains a bare capability. She doesn’t need to be good at everything, just not bad at anything. It’s far harder than it sounds, but Clove is all too willing a pupil.

Enobaria finds you later that night. She’s mulling over a drink, and you’re watching the recordings of the tributes’ daily trainings over again so you can spot any weaknesses or potential allies. “The girl seems to be taking to your lessons,” she notes. Her sharpened teeth flash in the low light of the room.

You keep your eyes on the screen ahead of you. “Clove is a proper Career. She makes our district proud. She’s had a lifetime of lessons, and not just mine.”

“Clove?” Enobaria asks, eyebrow arched as she calls out the first name basis. “Getting along quite nicely, aren’t you?”

You elect not to comment, instead focusing on the image of Clove’s form on the recording as she practices with her knives. Enobaria shakes her head, chuckling softly in a manner not too far removed from a jackal when it sights its prey. “I thought you knew better than to get attached to tributes, Y/N. You know Mentors should never fixate on those that will likely end up dead.”

“Of course,” you answer her. “And when you were mentoring me, you never did anything of the sort, right?”

With that comment, you finally look up at her, grinning slightly. Enobaria barks out a laugh, knowing full well that she’d seen you as a sister while you were training. “Get some rest,” she tells you at last. “Your Clove needs you to be functional.”

Your Clove. You can’t deny that you like the ring of it. Enobaria is right to warn you to keep your emotional guard up, though. Soon enough, the week of training is up, and then the tributes are receiving their last words of advice from their Mentors before being sent to the Arena.

You meet with Clove one final time, relating the last bits of information, though the last thing you say to her isn’t practical guidance but a raw, naked hope that she will survive. She promises you she’ll win. You’ve heard many such promises, but for the first time, you believe it.

Then she’s gone, and you are alone with only the other Mentors and Victors to guide you. There’s not a moment to waste, though. Clove has hardly vanished from your sight before you’re racing back up to the viewing stations, where you fling yourself wholeheartedly into the masterful game of winning over sponsors. If Clove has to be out there, fighting for her life, you’ll make sure she’s doing so with the best weapons, medicine, and food that you can bring her.

It’s a terrible thing, sending a friend to die. Worse still when Clove was the first tribute you let through your walls in a very long time. You spent a while winning her over with your experience as a tribute, but Clove won you over too. You watch her as much as you dare, your brave girl, cheering whenever she survives a tricky situation and engulfed in fear whenever she’s in trouble.

At the end of a couple of the longest weeks of your life, though, Clove emerges victorious, the final cannon blast signaling the end of her trials. You swear that you were more stressed during the showdown of the last two tributes than during your own Games, although surely that would be impossible. Clove is brought back from the Arena and immediately checked into the medical wing to handle several injuries from the final fight.

Once visitors are allowed, though, you’re the first one through that door. Clove is in your arms at once. Her eyes are bright upon seeing you, but there’s a shadow that wasn’t there before. She’s a Victor now. It’s not all grand and glorious celebrations. Once the euphoria of still being alive wears off, Clove will have to walk the longer and harder path, the one that doesn’t let you go after a matter of weeks. The memories of this torment will stick with her forever, and the nightmares don’t ease up just because you get older.

Clove will have you, though. Always. You promise her this now, and have just enough time to see the rush of relief in her expression before you’re separated again. Clove will have to be made over by her team so she can be crowned Victor in front of the Capitol. They’ll make her talk about the kills and the narrow escapes, but then she can leave, and so can you.

You watch her from the audience during the interview, then meet her backstage afterwards. She pulls you into a dark corridor behind the grand mess of stylists and Capitol citizens. There are many annexes and mouse holes in the mansions of the Capitol, small places to be alone if you only know where to look.

“You were stunning,” you tell her honestly.

“It’s over now,” she says dazedly. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “You’ll go home. You’ll recover. They’ll drag a few more appearances out of you, but it’s over. You won.”

“I don’t know how to handle this part,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to be a Victor. Will you show me?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “You’ll be perfect at it, just like you were in the Games. You earned that crown, Clove. Be happy. As happy as you can.”

Clove’s eyes shine, rivaling the low glow of the Victor’s crown nestled in her dark curls. Out of some impulse, she reaches up and plucks the gold circlet from her temples before placing it on your head instead. Her hand lingers near your face, dropping slowly from your forehead to your cheek, where her fingers remain, soft against your skin. These are the hands that are responsible for twenty-three dead tributes, and your mouth is the one who taught her how to do it. Still, when it is just the two of you in the quiet dark, you would swear that you and Clove have only ever done good things; pure, too, like falling in love with a girl who grew up loving you, like finding someone to guide through death itself and ensuring that she would walk out the other side.

“I remember that from your Games,” she says dazedly. “You looked good with the crown.”

You laugh quietly. “If that’s all you remembered about my Games, I would be happy.”

Clove’s eyes are dark and large. Falling into them is easy, you don’t think you could escape if you tried. What a sweet way to drown. “If this is all I remember about mine, I would be happy, too.”

You take her hands in the dark. “I’ll help you forget if you help me.”

“Together,” Clove says. “Promise it.”

“Together,” you swear. “Always.” There is no such thing as always, not in the Capitol. Not in this hopeless city, not in this starving country. For a moment, though, for two girls away from the prying eyes of the world, it exists as a bond between the two of them, drawing them inexplicably and permanently together. It’s an oath of blood and gold, a crown that soothes and cuts to the core. Nothing is good here, not in Panem, but you will have Clove, and you will have her always.

requested by @beepboopnel-deactivated20240128, i hope you enjoy!

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife