#arlowe

[bonesfool]

whenever we're watching something that has a dynamic duo, my roommate and i (as a certified do not separate pair) love to play "which one is me and which one is you". now in most cases, in holmes/watson duos we decide i'm the holmes and he's the watson. but this is absolutely not the case with psych. i cannot explain to people who haven't met us just how much he is shawn and i am gus. just know that i am being true and real when i say it

[merlin-leagues-under-the-sea]

Lore crumbs but then I got cuteness aggression for this sphere

Shes basically a service dog that can tell you to your face to take a fucking shower

[karmacamilleon]

god made man to do two things and they are craft and lay down

[ilasknives]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 2 | Solitary Confinement

Day two down! Look at me go! It's been months since I've managed to write anything two days in a row, so I am incredibly excited :) This prompt is also for Arlowe because I adore him. No Artie this time, because it's set years before they meet! You do get to meet Lars, though. Kind of. Absolute nightmare of a man.

Day 2 | Solitary Confinement | Arlowe

CWs for mentions and descriptions of blood, violence, fighting and injuries.

The door slammed shut when Lars left.

Arlowe paced, staggered steps back and forth across the length of the empty room, bracing his weight on the side that hurt less.

It was six steps across the floor. Six steps back. The brush of his shoulder against the wall as he turned, a grunt of pain when his injured leg took the weight wrong.

He kept the door in his line of sight, watching the crack of light filtering in from underneath it. Lars had kept it dark in here, but Arlowe didn’t care. Made it easier to see the dips in the light if Lars walked past, so he could ready himself.

He’d come back, soon. Throw open the door and stride in and finish what he started.

Arlowe wiped the blood from his lip and wondered if he’d be covered in it, later. Lars’s or his, he didn’t care. He ached for the rush of the fight, the crunch of his knuckles against Lars’s jaw, blow for blow until one of them was on the floor.

…Until Arlowe was on the floor.

Six steps from one wall to the other. Six steps back.

He took a moment to lean, peeling his hand away from his side to see the blood smeared across his palm. It stung, but it wasn’t deep. He could still see the matching smear on the bricks next to the door, still feel the gritted bits of stone digging under his skin.

No sign of Lars, yet.

It would be soon, though. That he’d be back. Soon, and Arlowe could let out the restless energy boiling beneath his skin, stop the feeling that he needed to claw something to pieces.

Where the fuck was Lars? Arlowe walked the six steps to the opposite wall, eyes on the door, and imagined the slick slide of his fist against Lars’s bloodied face.

He needed to hit something. The feeling rose in his throat, bubbling and angry, and he swallowed around it. Dropped his shoulder into the rough of the wall.

A moment passed, then two. Three. More.

How long had it been, now?

Arlowe dragged blood wet fingers through his hair and pulled it back, twisting it up and out of the way. Lars couldn’t grab it as easily if it was up. Gave Arlowe an edge over him - he was ready, itching to finish the fight, down to every aching bone in his body.

Lars never took this long. What was he doing? What was he getting?

He never left things unfinished. All the shit he did to Arlowe and he’d never once stopped before he was satisfied he’d beaten him into the floor.

Footsteps cast shadows over the bottom of the door, so he pushed himself off the wall, but it didn’t open. Lars paused outside, and Arlowe swallowed. Rolled his shoulders back, gritted his teeth.

The shadows disappeared, and Lars walked away.

Eventually, he gave in, crouching down by the wall to give his legs a break. Eyes on the door, though. Always on the door, even as he pressed and prodded the wound at his side to dig out the dirt and stones from the scrapes. He wondered, briefly, when that had started - that unwillingness to put his back to an entrance.

Not that it mattered. He’d been watching his back against Lars since he could remember.

Time kept stretching, and the footsteps never came back again. The light under the door never dipped, or changed. No shadows crossed it.

Arlowe didn’t know how long it had been.

He sat, his eyes on the door, and waited.

[cookiecrumbconundrum]

constellations // representations of the pcs in my new coc campaign

neil gaiman | franz kafka, letters to milena | sh2-136, ghosts of the cosmos | w.s. merwin, separation | anne carson, “grief lessons: four plays by euripides” | die milchstrasse | victor hugo, les miserables | kaveh akbar |

[gregnas-the-grouch]

Gimme the ol Lightning and Whisper

Whisper: “You disrespectin’ me, bro?!”

Lightning: “I ain’t disrespectin’ you, bro!!”

Name: Arlowe

Gender: Female

Species: Dusknoir/Gardevoir

Height: 7′10″

Appearance: Is incredibly tall and lanky, her body being stretched out a bit. Yet is also extremely broad and thick in stature. Making her much more resilient than she may seem. Is also known to have a pseudo mouth of sorts. For while it seems she has a regular mouth like any Gardevoir she bears resemblance to. She can stretch it further and further across her cheek and down her neck, ending at the chest. Revealing a gaping maw filled with rows of razor sharp teeth. She retains a mostly silver coloration, though small streaks of black run through her hair.

Backstory: Arlowe comes from a long line of butlers and maids dedicated to the protection of a mafia family. As such, Arlowe has been raised to serve, as well as protect. Known to be extremely violent and sarcastic to strangers. She shows nothing but praise and respect to the people she serves. For such is her debt to the family. While killing is certainly within her repertoire, she is also skilled in cooking, cleaning and tending to the little ones.

[odddogblog]

What breed of dog is that?

[odddogblog]