#calixte oc

[pigeonwhumps]

Safety

BBU Community Days: Day 13

@bbu-on-the-side

Finding Safety masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Cass, Calixte, and their children reunite in Canada five years after Cass' initial kidnapping (with Aaliyah, Lea, Anita, and Sandy's help).

CWs: BBU, pet whump, box boy, box babe, past pet whump, mentions of collars and freedom/captivity, mentions of torture, recovery whump, reunion, past grief (kind of)

2.5k

Cass looks impatiently out the window as they pull into the airport's parking lot. As soon as Sandy's parked he opens the door, striding round to the boot and waiting there.

He doesn't remember the airport's name and today is apparently not a reading day so he can't read the signs, but that doesn't matter, because Calixte's going to be here soon, and Petre and Mathéo and Isabella, and Cass Jr who he hasn't even met yet, and he doesn't think he can wait much longer.

Sandy chuckles lightly as xie come over and unlock the boot. "Their plane isn't even here yet, you and Aaliyah tracked it the whole way. Go on inside and see if you can find international arrivals. I'll pay for parking and meet you there."

Cass nods, taking the wheelchair from Sandy as she sorts something out inside the car. At one time he would've worried that it was something awful she was fetching, and sometime before that it would've been some creative torture from Tyrone or a handler, but now he just feels a faint sense of curiosity. And excitement, of course, about seeing his family again.

He doesn't feel the need to beg for Aaliyah's safety now, like he did for so long.

Aaliyah taps the seat of the chair, and Cass sits down reluctantly. This chair isn't very comfortable, but it was the best fit of the donated ones, and his leg's locked up on the car ride. If he tries to walk now he won't be able to meet Calixte without being in horrendous pain.

They enter the airport together. God, it's so big. The last time he was at an airport... no. No, he's not going to think about that. He didn't see anything anyway, so he doesn't need to think about it, it's not relevant. But it still hurts, phantom shocks, phantom rope burns and restraints, metal biting into his face. Jostled and thrown as his box was boarded. He doesn't know what it looked like, but it felt like a coffin.

Does WRU ship internationally, anyway? He's never found out. God, what's he going to do if he sees someone in a box?

"Breathe, Cass," says Aaliyah, the voice sporting an electronic tinge. "Breathe."

Cass takes a deep breath, then another, then looks up at her.

"You're the best," he murmurs, taking her hand gently. She smiles, touching his cheek.

People are staring now, and Cass fingers the thick band of scarring around his neck nervously. Do they know? Can they see, what he and Aaliyah are? It's Canada, it's illegal, but WRU have agents everywhere and they've never cared about legality. His life is proof of that.

They're too close to the border, far too close. Hell, they could be on the moon and it would still be too close. He squeezes Aaliyah's hand tightly.

"People are staring."

Aaliyah's rabbit-quick eyes dart around, and she looks frightened before her mouth sets in a determined line, tapping out a message on her AAC tablet.

"Let's find Arrivals. Can you read?"

"Not today. But I think there is a symbol of a plane landing."

Aaliyah nods. Cass pushes himself along as they search, eventually finding the board. He'd like to go faster but then he'd bump into someone and maybe lose Aaliyah.

It's not far to Arrivals, and now they just have to wait. Cass just has to wait. He stares impatiently at the doors Calixte and his children will come through, drumming his fingers on the arms of his wheelchair, willing time to go faster.

Sandy arrives shortly after, carrying three drinks. "You found the right arrivals space, that's good. Here, Aaliyah, yours is as sweet as they could make it. Got you an iced coffee Cass. Decaf. Nothing hot, I've seen reunions before and you'll drop it as soon as you see your family."

"Thank you. Has the plane landed yet?"

"Yep, just now. But they've still got to go through immigration, you'll have to be patient."

Cass growls slightly. He's had years of being patient, hasn't he been patient enough?

"Not long," says Aaliyah, and Cass smiles weakly, nods. She still gets too scared to speak much with her natural voice, but he prefers this one. This one isn't associated with screams and sobs and begging at Tyrone's behest. It's just her.

He doesn't look round though. He continues to stare at the door, willing his family to walk through.

_

"Do– do any of you need– need the toilet before we– before we go?"

Lea's been left to wrangle the four younger Văduvas while Miss Calixte and Mistress Anita repack the documents. Mathéo and Petre are the easiest, because although they're just as impatient as the rest after four hours in immigration and customs they're older, more understanding of the situation. It probably comes from helping to raise their younger siblings, but at least they're a little more sensible.

Isabella and Cassander Jr, however... she really hopes her hair wrap is enough to catch the ice lolly drip from Cass.

There's a murmur of denials from everyone. Lea looks at Izzy, legs swinging where they dangle from the luggage, licking an ice lolly. She's ten but she looks younger right now, hair mussed from the long flight.

"Izzy. Are you– are you absolutely sure you won't– you won't want to go as soon as we– we get through those doors? We have– we have time now."

She pauses, head cocked as she looks up at Lea. Then she nods and jumps down.

Mathéo, with the long-suffering look of someone who knew exactly what she was about to do, catches her and lowers her before she can smack her head on the cream and grey vinyl.

"Careful, Iz, don't want to go to hospital before you've even seen dad again."

She nods and waits for Lea before heading over to the nearest toilets.

"I'll– I'll wait out here– out here for you."

"Okay." She hands Lea her ice lolly. "Don't let it melt."

Well. What's Lea supposed to do with a melting ice lolly? Years ago she'd have eaten it quickly, unsure when her next meal would be. Or she'd have panicked because she couldn't follow that order.

She's glad those days have passed. Mostly. They're not here today, anyway.

"Lea! I wanna go too!"

Lea groans quietly. Of course Cass does. He always wants to do what his sister does. Really, she should've anticipated this.

How's she supposed to deal with it?

Mathéo, seemingly having seen her dilemma, wanders over. "Need any help?"

She nods. "I– I– Cass needs the– the toilet too."

"Of course. I'll take him. Bend down."

She does so, and he lifts Cass Jr off her shoulders, handing her his ice lolly with a wink. "Eat them if you like. Once we get through those doors they'll only care for as long as it takes them to spot dad."

Lea licks at Cass' ice lolly gratefully. It's not like he's eaten much at all, most of it's melting slowly on her hair wrap. She knows she doesn't need to be grateful anymore, but she is. For all of this.

It feels weird, not having to wear anything marking her as a pet. She hasn't worn a collar in years, but this is really the first time out in public that she hasn't had to wear a harness and leash. Mistress Anita helped her take it off as soon as they boarded the flight at Heathrow and she hasn't seen it once since.

It makes her nervous. She barely remembers not having to wear something, and it feels like someone's going to tell her off, discipline her, take her away. Really, the officials could do anything to her, legally, since Mistress Anita isn't following the rules.

But then she looks around. Remembers where she is. The younger Văduvas who insist on her not giving them titles, and Miss Calixte who lets her because she can't help herself. Who treat her like a person, however weird and wrong that is. Even though, in this country, she might be.

She's still owned by Mistress Anita, but she doesn't mind that, she likes her, and she's never felt more free.

They've only just arrived, but she can can already feel that it will be a challenge going back home.

There's another thing nagging at her. She remembers the transport now, the whole, horrifying ordeal to be refurbished. It makes her go cold every time she thinks of it, but more importantly, there was a man named Cass there, who insisted he'd been kidnapped. She'd struggled to believe him then.

She definitely does now.

Is he the same Cass as the man here? Or would that be too much of a coincidence?

The two younger children exit the toilets, and Izzy climbs back on the luggage, Mathéo lifting Cass Jr onto her shoulders. Mistress Anita and Miss Calixte look ready too.

Well. It seems she's about to find out.

_

It's been four hours, by Sandy's reckoning, when the door opens. Most of the passengers have left, so many planes have been and gone, and his wife and children still aren't here yet.

"What if they are not coming?" he mutters, accent thick with worry. "What if they were arrested or decided not to bother, that I was not worth it?"

"It takes a long time to get through customs, Cass, I'm sure they're just..."

Cass stops hearing anything Sandy says, a faint buzzing filling his ears. A woman comes through, one he vaguely recognises (not Calixte, not dangerous even though his gut fills with dread, but... something), pushing a trolley piled high with luggage. A boy's bouncing on her shoulders, and a young girl in a panda hat is perched on the luggage. She's several years older than when he last saw her in person but he knows her.

"Isabella," he breathes.

She can't have heard him, she's too far away, but her eyes light up as they land on him.

"Tata!" she cries, leaping off the trolley. A young man charges through the door, grabbing his sister before she can fall and running towards them. He can't get up to meet them, his leg still locked, but that doesn't seem to matter as Izzy leaps onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. Mattie's next, trying to be grown up about it Cass can tell, but failing. He eventually gives up, hugging Cass close, tears in his eyes.

"You've grown," murmurs Cass into his ear. Mattie chokes out a wet laugh.

"I missed you, tata."

"I missed you too. Izzy, Mattie, both of you, so much."

"I was worried you might forget me."

"Only for about a day, near the start. I forgot everyone. Then I remembered. I've thought about you every night since."

Mathéo buries his head in Cass' chest, sobbing. Izzy's warm, sweet breath comes in his ear, and she whispers, "I love you tata."

"Love you too scuttlebug."

Cass can feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He looks up through watery eyes as a shadow falls over Mathéo.

His other son has clearly gone through most of puberty since Cass last saw him, and he's taller than he looked on-screen.

"Petriça," he murmurs. Petre smiles slightly. He's always felt so strongly, always noticed things, and Cass suspects he's taking note of what's changed.

"Hi dad."

"You have got tall. Come here, there is plenty of space by Izzy."

"Are you sure?"

"I always have space for you, Petriça."

Petre sniffles. "I didn't do as well as you hoped, dad, my grades aren't very good and I stopped basketball and–"

"I have not seen you for five years, your grades are not what I care about. You are here and I can talk to you and that is what matters."

"I missed you. You weren't there and I was so angry and– and– you were *gone*."

"I am here now. And I am not leaving again."

Cass leans down, gathering his children all together, feeling as much of them as possible as he hugs them. His knee's starting to hurt but he doesn't care. He has his children back.

"I wanna hug too!" comes a muffled cry. None of his children move.

"He– he likes to copy– copy his sister. Would you– you like to meet him first?"

There's a pause, and then Aaliyah says, "Hello little Cass."

Cass feels a small pang of jealousy at this stranger knowing his child better than him. But Aaliyah can get to know him first, she's joining the family after all, and Cass has his other children to take care of. After five years of hell, they're here.

_

Calixte watches as Aaliyah lifts Cass Jr from Lea's shoulders, smiling. She's shorter than Calixte thought from the video call, and somehow even more attractive. She can see why Cass fell in love.

That's a conversation for another time though. Her children are reuniting with their dad, and she's not sure she can wait much longer. Once you have children you have to put them first (not that she had much choice in the matter this time) but no-one ever told her it would be so hard.

Finally she can't wait any longer. She walks forward, getting faster with every stride until she's practically running, and Petre looks round, nudging Mathéo who stands, backing out the way, clutching Izzy's hand. They're all covered in tears and mess, but Calixte ignores that, almost crashing into her husband. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her hard. They kiss for a second, an hour, nowhere near long enough, before he has to pull away to breathe. She cups his face in her hands.

"Mon chéri. Let me look at you. Oh, I've missed your handsome face."

Cass closes his eyes, leaning into her hands. "You even smell the same," he rumbles. His voice is rougher than she remembers, hoarser too. Video calls are only so good. She doesn't want to imagine what he's been through to get here.

"So do you. Oh, Cass."

"I am sorry I left you. I do not look like you remember."

In response Calixte kisses him, all over his face, and then on the mouth. And they just keep kissing.

"I am sorry," murmurs Cass between kisses, "I am so sorry."

Calixte pulls away slightly, folding her hands over Cass'. In no way is she letting him apologise for anything. Certainly not after the torture he's been through. He's here and they're together again and that's what's important, not his self-blame getting even worse.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She pauses. "Well, except for that time you assumed we'd be better off thinking you were dead, Cassander Anton Văduva. Never do anything like that to us again."

"Never again. Never again, I promise."

[br3adtoasty]

🦋 [ Tommel Belinda - Dorm Uniform ] 🦋 [SSR]

“Will you be my wings?”

Groooovy!!

Calixte belongs to @valse-a-mille-temps ! Thank you for lending him for the cameo!

[p4vserviceanimalsau]

Meet Our Founder: Calixte Sey!

Calixte has always been passionate about animal husbandry and from a young age was drawn to the creatures of the galaxy! She sports every scar with pride as they remind her of the beauty of all the animals she has interacted with throughout her life.

As an adult she decided to channel that passion into uniting the sentient and non-sentient beings of the galaxy into the purest union: creature assisted occupational and behavioral therapy.

As soon as the Clone Rights and Personhood Act was signed into law, she knew where the Force was guiding her and immediately began working for establish Pets 4 Vets to support the troopers who fought so valiantly for the Republic!

[im-an-anthusiast]

The Silver Son 

And what bait shall we lay for our half-blooded beast? I am glad you ask. We need something so inexorably second to another in it’s nature, that it can only orbit. Well, here I stand, with a dog choking itself on its own collar and leash. A silver moon, never to shine.  

What higher purpose is there than to serve? Than to kneel? As long as there is a mouth to cover, in a hope for a semblance of a kiss, it will hold and not let go. For what more does it deserve, than this? Than the bliss of being of use? Of being a beautiful silver muzzle to decorate another’s mouth, keeping a more important one in check.  

For there is only one, from all of my tools, that presents itself willingly. I need not twist a design, I need not draw poetry from prose. The chain slithers to me, aching to be used. The poem whispers itself still, in my ear, desperate to be heard. And I will repeat it back, for him, for all who will hear of my most brittle of scalpels, of the barbed wire that tears itself apart. Of- 

He is the chain that holds, and yet, he is unable still, to wrap his fingers around that which he wants; he holds the rose only by the thorns stuck in his skin. 

My thankless, unseen chain, my- his servant. His Calixte. 

[seum41]

winter themed lineup that started bc of this meme :^)

[deathzgf]

( almost ) ALL MY AMREV + FREV WIPS ( 12 october - 5 november 2023 ) ! ! ! ! !

WARNING : long ass post jFDSFLKJSLF ( will all be under the cut )

NOTE : not everything is here ! a lot of my amrev + frev drawings are doodles ive done in class ( which i cant find ) + i Do Not Like a lot of them + Tumblr only allows so many images T___T

ah yes . . . the doodle that started it all . . . my good omens sona in the french revolution ! except i had no idea what i was doing at ALL and had no historical context ! which i now do have and it makes me ENRAGED for how good omens handled that era . . . why are they in the bastille in 1793 . . . ANYWAYS ! YEAH !

aaand because of that doodle , i researched frev fashion ! and guess what ! that robespierre fashion video came up ! wooo robespierre ! and then this was the first fucking thing i drew of him i cant . I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW THE FUCK HE MISSED SO BAD + HOW THE BULLET WOULD LOOK

BECAUSE after that i drew this ! pookie ! ! !

first saint just drawing . i was listening to angel with a shotgun on loop . . . and i thought . . . angel with a guillotine . . . get it cuz hes . hes angel of the terror . and . and . a

i dont have any explanation for this

i hate this . but first robespierre AND saint just drawing wahoo

first frev oc except the hair on that one drawing is red because i went back and changed it cuz i made their name Jules Le Roux and . You know . Red hair . yeah

jules and calixte ! ! ! calixte is @toastytrusty ' s oc and my sweet sweet little baby i love them dearly

. . . saint just doodle i forgor to come back to

JULES AND CALIXTE LORE

miku binder robespierre

saint just painting robespierres nails because :3

WE INTO THE AMREV NOW WOOO . anyways me when ive married and icarus and hes flown too close to the sun lol ( his wings are meant to be burning letters btw . yeah )

jules , calixte , and leonard interaction ! ! ! ! !

which didnt go well

this turned out gayer than intended i genuinely dont know what happened here

i wanted to continue this so bad but i fucking forgot about it but Uhhh uhhhhh uhhh

you know those vamp ! robespierre and vamp hunter ! saint just aus ? yeah

PLEASE STOP SAYING IT LOOKS LIKE A DICK IVE NEVER DRAWN A VIOLIN BEFORE PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE . anyways he playsss theee violinnn he tucks it right underr hisss chinnnnn

winning the idgaf war . unbothered . living his best life

theres a storytime for this drawing but ill save that for later . john adams ( 2008 ) scene redraw but instead of jefferson grabbing adams elbow its his waist except it looks awful and i need to redo it soo baddd

vamp ! robespierre and saint just ( ? ? ? i guess vamp hunter ! saint just cuz thats usually what goes with vamp ! robespierre but idk man ) . they were meant to be on like some moonlit picnic or some shit but then class ended and i forgor about this

donald trump , alexander hamilton , and thomas jefferson . need i say more ?

the ORIGINAL toxic doomed yaoi ( hamburr )

burr . boobies :3

that one scene from saint just et la forces des choses BUT AGAIN this turned out gayer than intended . why do they keep doing this

hey girl i think theres something wrong with your leg

semi modern band ! gay trio . . . thing . . . ? girl idk . but i gave up

making jules a proper ref ! who cheered !

AAAND THATS IT !

let me know if . you want me to finish any of these because otherwise theyre probably going to rot in my gallery HELP

[grayseas-art]

in the spirit of @bweirdart 's oc-tober, thought i'd share a new character turnaround of my oc Calixte i made for @nickanimation 's Avatar Academy! 🍃

[hazbin-second-gen]

Hello hello! You may be wondering what in the world this blog is, well to give a brief run down- I am Goomy, I’m 25, and I’m REALLY into Hazbin Hotel.

I have decided to create this blog to find like minded people to rp with my second generation ocs, all of which will be labeled below this.

Now just to go over a few rules:

1. If you are a minor, leave my blog immediately. I DO NOT let minors interact with me! Some of these ocs backstories are VERY heavy, and I’d rather not have children see that.

2. Don’t like a ship? Then ignore or hide the post. I’m not here to please people, I’m here for FUN.

3. No NSFW asks! Please- don’t ever ask anything sexual to my kiddos. It’ll result in an immediate block.

4. If you are asking for a specific child to answer a question (or questions), please make sure you mention who! I can’t read minds.

5. While I’m happy to answers rp asks, and reblog / repost them, I primarily prefer more detailed rps to be hosted via DMs or discord.

Now with those out of the way, here’s the whole list of my fan kiddos. For the most part, they all live within the same time line / post canon season 1 (unless stated otherwise)!

Chaggie: Violet, Lila, Harper, Finley

Radioapple: Antionette, Beau, Sabine, Cirprein, Calixte, Pierre, Penelope, Faline, Adelaide, Roseline, Olivier

Huskerdust: Venus

Radiodust: Josephine

Radiostatic: Aimee

Guitarspear: Judith, Mirman

Adamsapple: Elizabeth, Leah, Asher, Judas

Staticmoth: Vespera, Verity

Cherrisnake: Genevieve, Cora,

Radiorosie: Marceline

Radiohusk: Lauralie, unnamed sister (will be updated)

[pigeonwhumps]

Diaries of Eloise and Agatha Stanbury and Ira Waterhouse

Taglist: @painful-pooch (also @octopus-reactivated and @maracujatangerine since your actor pet post sparked this idea I'm tagging you too! Even though there isn't much acting whump actually in this, only the characters...)

Recently digitised diary entries of former pets Eloise and Agatha Stanbury, and their guardian Ira Waterhouse. All three were British pet liberation activists in the early to mid 20th century. These entries are from before they set up the Dockside Boarding House, commonly regarded as the first and longest-running safehouse in Britain.

[note from Calixte Văduva, Assistant Archivist to Raphael Fiori, Apprentice Digital Assistant: take out longest-running, you idiot. You want people to know where they live?]

1.7k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, film whump, recovery whump, broken jaw mention, non-con nudity (non-sexual) mention, PTSD, whipping mention, gagged mention, kidnapping mention, beating mention

Diary of Eloise Stanbury, January 1927 - August 1928

Related topics: Eloise Stanbury, Agatha Stanbury, Ira Waterhouse, Pet Liberation History, World Pet History, 1920s Britain, Social History, British Diaries

Transcribed by Calixte Văduva, Assistant Archivist at Rising Sun Bay Archive, Rising Sun Bay, ON

1st of January 1927

Dear Diary,

Agatha is teaching me to rede and rite, and as it is a new year I am of a mind to rite down sum of my thorts. I am asured this is entirely privat. We shall see.

Master's film studio went bankrupt last month. I cannot express how relieved I am. Surely now they will stop serching for us. I hope so. If we ar found we ar ded, I no this. The collaps has, however, stirred up my memories and the titeness in my gut again.

One of my strongest memories of the studio is wen we filmed propaganda during the Great War. It was the only time Agatha and I wer involved in filming for the war effort, but it was time enuf. Agatha and I spent ar time not filming counting the ways the film munishons factory treated pets differently to ar real one. And Agatha sumhow laffed so hard, she disrupted the paid crew and snorted thin gruel out her nose.

Then the camera operator broke her jaw so she culd not disturb them agen. It was okay, cos she did not need to talk and they only needed to film her back anyway, but then Master bete her later for showing him up, until she culd barely work. That part was wors.

My dremes ar confusing, full of fire and drowning even tho I was never in the fire. Ira ses it's cos I am so scared of fire. Agatha ses it's cos I almost drowned. I am not so sure of either. Maybe it is a punishment, for burning down the studio. Maybe I should not hav dun that. I am a free pet but a pet nonetheless, and arson is a crime.

Agatha's braver than me. She makes me braver too. I would never have dared laff before she was rented to Master, let alone run. I'm not sure the defians was always good for her tho. She has many scars, inside and out. I luv her, scars and all, but I don't no how she can be so brave.

There was a servis on Christmas for the local heros of the Great War. Mr Foster was mentioned. That scares me. He scares me, and I do not understand how Agatha is not scared. He was her owner for over a decade, after all.

She scoffed at that, wen I asked. She sed that there's no reason for her to be afrade, and she wuld like to find and thank the soldier who killed Mr Foster. She also sed he's not a hero. I think she should be careful. We didn't see the body. Wat if he comes back?

It's stupid. I no it's stupid. Even if he was still alive he'd hav better things to do than come after Agatha. He'd hav to, right? And I am grateful that he's ded. If he wasn't, I may not hav been abl to stay with Agatha after the Great War ended. It just feels wrong to celebrate so much wen we never saw a body.

Ira's talking about buying a bording hous, away from here. We're so close to the site of the new National Pet Training Centre, and it feels like there ar inspectors around every corner now. Also I do not understand half of wat Ira says about lacking in the gud food and spase, cos this is the best I hav ever eaten and I can live on far less, but I think that is also a reason. I do not no why a bording hous tho. I am scared to move, this is the safest I hav ever felt, but I will hav Agatha and Ira, and I will not go back to being a pet.

My name is Eloise Stanbury, sister, possibly, to Agatha Stanbury, ward of Ira Waterhouse, and I am a free woman.

Eloise Stanbury

_

Diary of Agatha Stanbury, October 1926 - February 1927

Related topics: Agatha Stanbury, Eloise Stanbury, Ira Waterhouse, Pet Liberation History, World Pet History, 1920s Britain, Social History, British Diaries

Transcribed by Calixte Văduva, Assistant Archivist at Rising Sun Bay Archive, Rising Sun Bay, ON

26th of December, 1926

Dear Diary,

Eloise asked me yesterday whether I am still afraid of Mr Foster. I think I managed to convince her that I am not, but we shall see. She has enough on her plate without worrying about me too. She's terrified already, and if she knows I am scared it will make her worse.

I am scared, though. So scared. Mr Foster is dead but I cannot forget everything he did to me. The decade when clothes were an extremely rare occurrence, when I almost forgot my own name. He once claimed that training was half the fun in owning a pet, and it showed. I came to London for the season and was kidnapped to be his pet instead. The scars are never going to leave me.

I cannot sleep alone in the dark anymore. I used to love it, until Mr Foster, but now it's like I cannot get my mind out of his house. Even after being owned by Mr Hayes instead for over ten years I cannot do it. How can it be legal to leave a person in your will, anyway? I confess that the lack of pet owning in my parents' circles has left me rather ignorant in the matter, but it still seems wrong.

Mr Foster was terrifying. He still is. I see him in half the faces on the streets, when I am brave enough to leave the house. Eloise says I'm brave, but I am not so sure. If I was so brave, surely Mr Foster's rules and sadism would not still be so affecting?

Ira does not agree with me. She says it is perfectly reasonable, that soldiers still have shell shock so why shouldn't I be affected by being scarred? I am unsure what to do with that.

I have fought, but it was not a war. Soldiers are not caged naked and gagged with horrible experimental gags, or whipped and beaten by sadists. They are not scarred on film simply because the starring pet is too valuable to be damaged herself.

That sounds like I blame Eloise. I do not. None of this was her fault. I hope, if I had ever become an actor as a person, I would have paid attention to the pets forced to perform, but most likely I wouldn't. I try not to think about that.

Mr Foster still haunts me, awake and asleep. Eloise does not know. She cannot know. She has enough nightmares of her own, and I do not want to wake her up from mine. I am so, so glad Mr Foster is dead, and I think (I hope) that Eloise thinks that is all I am. I told her the truth, just not the whole truth. I really would like to thank the soldier who killed Mr Foster. But I also wish I was not constantly so scared.

With love

Agatha Stanbury

_

Diary of Ira Waterhouse, December 1926 - October 1927

Related topics: Ira Waterhouse, Agatha Stanbury, Eloise Stanbury, Pet Liberation History, World Pet History, 1920s Britain, Social History, British Diaries

Transcribed by Calixte Văduva, Assistant Archivist at Rising Sun Bay Archive, Rising Sun Bay, ON

Wednesday, December 8th, 1926

Not content with having a London office, the WRU are now building a large training centre nearby. It's too close. Far too close. The numbers of inspectors and recapture officers are increasing daily it seems like now work has started, and my girls haven't left the house for days. Even when they do, they come back spooked, especially Eloise. If she was a cat, her hair would stand on end constantly.

The supporters of this new 'pet' class claim that it's entirely voluntary. Maybe for some it is. Maybe they really believe that. But if you're signing a lifetime contract, and being given a drug that's supposed to induce amnesia, making you more compliant and reliant on your owners, I'm not sure that it counts.

It is not always voluntary, anyway. A few weeks ago, Agatha told me her story of being kidnapped into it. How she tried to show an inspector her lack of a seller's mark and number, and he had her tattooed for a bribe. There must be others like her. As bad as the pet trade is, it feels even worse without even the pretence of volunteering.

We need to move. We are so close to the training centre, and one day our house is sure to be inspected. The girls will certainly be taken and killed, with no regard to even Agatha's kidnapping (I have my suspicions about her upbringing but I cannot find any living relatives in the society pages). And I won't come out of it well either.

I have been thinking of starting a boarding house. There must be others like my girls in need of a kind hand and an escape from the wretched pet system. I had to stop giving Agatha cleaning chores because she'd tremble in fear until I declared the house spotless, and Eloise sometimes stays in one spot for hours, forgetting that she is allowed and able to move. Even, maybe especially, if she's uncomfortable. They are both scarred, inside and out, and I'm sure there are others who could use a safe place to stay, at the very least.

I haven't brought my idea up to either of the girls yet, although I feel certain that neither would object to it. They're both kind people, although Eloise wouldn't like me calling her that. She gets prickly when anyone except Agatha says nice things about her.

If Eloise was an animal, she would definitely be a cat.

Ira Waterhouse

[br3adtoasty]

Haiii 😳😳 can I ask for ∅ with Tom about Calixte and Valeria please ?

Yes ofc!!

Tom thinks Calixte is absolutely adorable and likes to dote on him a lot! And he’s very grateful for Calixte’s help with finding his prince :)

He’s glad that both of them share mutual interests, Tom likes to join Calixte with his gardening and taking care of plants sometimes. Maybe he’ll be able to help with his cousin with her perfumes. He’s pretty well versed in cosmetics after all 👀

As previously said, Tom likes adventuring!. One of the spots for many of his escapades is their rivaling school, Night Raven College! I’d like to think Tom would always bring Calixte along, using his UM to make themselves small to go around the school easier. They’re there for different reasons though, Tom looking for his potential suitors and Calixte just pranking— I mean, making friends with the NRC students 😇

[im-an-anthusiast]

I know I'm not entirely getting the post's point (at all), but

Tag game. If you wanna.

Honestly just wanna hear my moots responses tbh. Don't gotta pass it on

Write the title of what (all/some of) your OCs' and antagonists' AITA post(s) would sound like!

@the-lights-are-loud @squishykitty825 @rustycamo @sleepy-thing-shit (if you've written more of your WIP that is, Sora)

Anyway mine is

Maxwell - I (19M) refuse to die, forcing all my loved ones to watch me slowly self-destruct. AITA?

Erin - I (19F) am a disgusting liar and lied to my best friend (19M) his entire life for the sake of protecting him. AITA?

Calixte - I (20M) was born. AITA?

Santi - I (±275NB) was manipulated into immortality and leaving my family to die. AITA?

Tommy - I (±225F) sell illegal drugs (and control a good ⅓ of the Magic drug market). If I didn't do it, someone worse surely would. AITA?

Albion - I (±175M) want to bring on the rebirth of the entire world, killing everyone currently in it. That's unrelated to my question btw. I kiss people with tongue, platonically. AITA?

King Midas - I (about 13 centuriesM) lost my one darling daughter (about 13 centuriesGS (Golden Statue)). I now want to Magically enhance my son (19M) with Magic flesh and Magic drugs to the point I can embrace my darling without hurting him. He is for some reason against this. (I haven't been present in his life until now.) AITA?

Gabriele - I (±280F/M) have slightly upset my sweet little butterfly (±275NB). I gently convinced them to join in me in near-immortality and granted them Magic by not telling the complete truth, and didn't extend quite the same grace to their family (killing them). They still refuse to obey my every beck and call. AITA?

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[im-an-anthusiast]

Ditches and Spiders

God, his forearms ITCHED.  Ugh – they sang a horrible siren song, to which the only answer was the raking of claws, the bloody contact of skin and nails. Or whatever. He clenched his fists, twisting them, rolling his wrists, and watching the taut, lean, yet somewhat gaunt muscle flexing under his scarred skin. Calixte hated the scars so, so much. They weren’t ugly, contorting, or shredding, and they weren’t spirals of thorns or carved spines. They were “beautiful”, twisting, mending – spirals of petals and curving stems. Calixte always hated the mix of lily flowers curling up his arms in a monotone white of scar tissue. They made him sick. His entire lunch – half of a white chocolate granola bar – tickled the very top of his throat, acidically ghosting over the roof of his mouth. He ought to practice Magic again.  

He applied the Sepal Balsam. Almost half the container coated his forearms thickly, massively surmounting the blood below it. Was that... wait... quadruple- no, pentuple the recommended dose? Perhaps that was why he could feel his pain fade into such intense numbness so quickly that in mere seconds he could not feel his forearms at all – and could, in real-time, watch the open wounds, cuts, gashes, and lacerations riddling his forearms and climbing up his bicep close, and twist at themselves, forming sickeningly intricate floral shapes, layering onto those already there. What a disgusting toll he has to pay, really. And, sure, he could always not push himself so much or just wait for himself to heal, but how would he get better, then? The best around don’t just rest. No pain, no gain, after all! He just has to push himself a little harder, surely...! 

The gloves contracted around his arms. They squeezed and cried at the Magic pouring into them, pushing and lashing at his flesh. The gloves wrung his arms, and blood dripped out from their hems at his biceps. All for... him.  

The bouquet strained in his arms. The paper tore open at the pressure pushed into it, flowers spilling around his flesh. Ditch and spider lilies both wrapped around his forearms, slipping from his embrace one by one. All from... him.  

“Are you proud, dad?” 

[seum41]

Lineup of OCs! (Thisbe is also...my current icon....ahem)

[galaxybrownies]

new genshin impact oc just dropped

[sayten-the-hellspawn]

I have a lot of ocs but I'll list off my favorites

Kaiser is my Nord werewolf who comes to Skyrim from cyrodil looking for a purpose in his life. He served his mother as a knight but was released from duty by her for reasons unknown to him. He uses a greatsword with a shield (gotta love cgo for the souls combat lel)

Saoirse is my Breton witch who is on the run from her twin who wants to kill her in the name of his Daedric prince. They are also of noble blood.

Calixte is Saoirse's twin brother who as mentioned above wants to kill her to prove his loyalty to a Daedric prince and for his own personal reasons. He dual wields daggers and uses magic as well.

Lucretia is my other Breton witch (mainly focused on blood magic added by Bloodmoon on nexus) who is looking for clues to help her learn about her origins. Still working on her backstory atm.

Rogier is yet another breton who is a runaway teen and turns to banditry for survival. His backstory is also being worked on. He is a archer who uses a crossbow and dual wields swords.

I have more but their stories arent really thought out yet

What kind of backstories do players have for their Dragonborn?

Currently working on a future script and would like some input if anyone is willing to share their stories.

[deathzgf]

+

i found a cockroach in my kitchen so i ' m feeling better :3 this time won ' t try to tag everything since it ' s far too much

anyways richard iii & henry vii

entering 2024 woohoo ! desmoulins & danton religious imagery or something i have no idea what i was cooking here

calijules except the stiffest awful awkward posing imaginable holy shit

my lawyer has advised me not to comment on this

caleojules ... save me ... caleojules save me caleojules

i sat on the road in japan and drew this

sorting out physical features of jules & some colourings :3

i feel like calixte Would indeed bite leonardo ' s ass

i started drawing the mona lisa but ended up thinking about john laurens

no idea how the fuck i did this also no idea who the fuck this is please stop asking me about trigun i do not know what the fuck a trigun is

i fumbled this so bad brah

bubba

france . might go back and clean this up idk

THESE ARE GOING TO BE SUPER COOL ONE DAY TRUST . TRUST

astrophel & altair :3 crazy story behind altair . sam had altair & i had astro waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay before either of us knew what the fuck an assassin ' s creed was

self portrait

jules again

for Oomf

saint - just & apollo

i have no fucking memory of this but apparently i made a fucking frev danganronpa au

i think this is saint - just i actually have no idea

sighs ... roll the catboys

i ' ve already posted catboy jefferson so :p

jedams because i Miss Them

oc to pair with my boyfriend ' s oc ori

maure & ori <3

fullbody of maure that i fucking Hate

+