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lettherebemonsters · 11 months

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『 𝙰 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 』 .

repost with the information of your muse , including headcanons , etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts , add some other of your own

!NAME. Kenneth Chase/ Jeffrey Hawk CLOWN

AGE. As of 2023, Kenneth is a whopping 91 years old. But because he was snatched sometime between the 70s and 90s, physically, Kenneth is in his 50s-60s. He may even be younger and just be aged through horrific stress.

SPECIES. human. CLOWN

GENDER. Guy CLOWN

ORIENTATION. The Clown doesn't label himself as gay or straight. He doesn't care who his partner is, though he's very, very, VERY much against anyone that hurts kids or tries to get weird with animals. And while he's known for the way he dominates survivors, the older he's gotten, the more he's grown to dislike it. He's found willing partners are much more fun (hence why he's largely settled down in a few plot scenarios and has little clowns of his own.)

INTERESTS. Painting, coming up with new concoctions and pretending he's a tubby Dr. Frankenstein. He also loves just anything carnival and takes his traveling circus VERY seriously. He also loves spoiling his demon horsey. Kenneth also loves adding to his finger collecting and he's constantly taking care of his blades, sharpening them to a razor-edge.

PROFESSION. He's technically not an "official" clown since he never went through formal training, but he's more of a "bootleg" clown. He doesn't have a job but used to do physical grunt work like moving stuff or manning the ropes for trapeze stunts. He'd have loved to have been a ringmaster and models himself a lot around ringmasters.

BODY TYPE. No joke, Kenneth is BIG. He's extremely tall, between 6 foot 3 to 6 foot 5, and is definitely the heaviest of the human killers at 300-400 lbs easily (possibly more.) But he isn't weak and instead is superhumanly fast and strong. Basically he's the grizzly bear of the killers (more so than Trapper.) He may look dumpy and flabby but he'll steamroll you in a second. He's also very resistant to damage, able to jump very high and take fall damage thanks to his legs being very dense with muscle. Do NOT underestimate this guy under ANY circumstances. Him being older makes him MORE dangerous since he knows exactly where to hit for maximum damage.

EYES. Kenneth was born with crystal blue eyes that he inherited from his mother, but now, thanks to how long he's been in The Realm, his eyes have become soulless and shark-like and pitch black with a reflective lens that makes his eyes glow in low light. When he looks at you, with his black paint around his eyes, it's like giant holes were drilled into his skull and just staring back. (Think Skullcrawler.)

HAIR. Originally he had straight bright orange hair but as he got older, Kenneth lost most of his hair and what little he has left became silver. His hair makes him look like a mad scientist wearing a clown costume.

SKIN. Kenneth is very pale and basically has a Scottish complexion. His skin is darker due to both constant exposure to the sun, as well as the Entity's influence on him. Kenneth also has horrifying scars across his upper body that he hides that came from years of his father violently beating him as a child.

FACE. An extremely hard life, along with self-destructive habits, have destroyed much of Kenneth's features. He wasn't ugly when he was younger and had features that made him look deceptively cute and friendly. Now his face is sagged like everything just wants to slide off. He constantly looks dazed and confused due to how utterly destroyed his psyche is and oftentimes can't remember what he's doing or where he is.

HEIGHT. 6 foot 3 to 6 foot 5. He might be even bigger given the Entity pushing his ruined body to the absolute limit.

COMPANIONS. None outside of his horse Maurice. The Clown is treated as an unwanted outcast among the other killers and largely lives isolated and almost completely alone. The only times other killers interact with him is either when he goes to the Deathslinger's bar or when the younger killers and survivors attack him and steal his stuff and destroy his carnival.

ANTAGONISTS. Technically everyone BUT the Entity is his enemy. The slashers don't want him and actively ignore or try to force Kenneth out. The Entity gave him a home, power, speed, strength and immortality. He's the rare killer where his only true ally....is the deity that tortures everyone around her.

COLORS. The Clown is a damn peacock. He loves bright, boisterous colors. Reds and yellows and oranges....if the color is neon and literally burns the eyes, he loves it more. Basically the Clown sees his world as a weird Alice in Wonderland kind of thing. His sense of reality is almost completely shot so he thinks he's in a bright, colorful fantasy.

FRUITS. Apples, oranges, bananas

DRINKS. He likes soda but hadn't had it since he's been stuck in the fog. At most he'll drink water now, sometimes coffee or espresso or, when in a Trial, he'll lick up the blood of his victims like it's ambrosia (what can I say? The guy is FUCKED.)

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES ? It's easier to list alcohols he hasn't tried. A favorite of his is absinthe.

SMOKES ? Usually after a Trial or after intimacy. He's not as big into smoking as he is drinking and prefers smoking marijuana over just straight cigarettes.

DRUGS ? Near constant use. It's extremely rare that he isn't on drugs of some kind. He's tried every drug available to him in order to try to kill off all memories he has of his father and to numb that constant pain he's in. But so far, it just keeps getting worse.

DRIVERS LICENSE ? Nope! He'd probably crash a damn clown car. Kenneth barely has a license to drive his caravan.

tagged by: I'm a filthy thief and I stole this from @mxlevolence (muahahaha!)

tagging: Anyone that rp's, go steal this from me!

#Yes Kenneth really is that shithead who puts CLOWN for everything #christened on a tuesday! (memes )#rave to the grave ( out of character)#the dark carnival is in town! (kenneth chase “jeffrey hawk”/ the clown)#tw clowns

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agentnico · 11 months

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Guy Ritchie’s The Covenant (2023) Review

This movie opens with an aerial shot accompanied by the song ‘A Horse with No Name’. The use of that song immediately gains this film extra points. Well played Guy Ritchie!

Plot: Guy Ritchie's The Covenant follows US Army Sergeant John Kinley (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Afghan interpreter Ahmed (Dar Salim). After an ambush, Ahmed goes to Herculean lengths to save Kinley's life. When Kinley learns that Ahmed and his family were not given safe passage to America as promised, he must repay his debt by returning to the war zone to retrieve them before the Taliban hunts them down first.

I really enjoy Guy Ritchie films - especially his geezer-gangster flicks that feature kinetic high-octane action shots, British dark humour and noir-style chutzpah. It’s only certain directors that you watch their films and you immediately recognise its their film without even needing to know beforehand their involvement. Guy Ritchie’s style is signature to his characteristics, and the recent Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre that came out earlier this year exhibited those qualities with a delightful Statham bang in the middle. However in cometh The Covenant - a strong departure from Ritchie’s prior works. Away with the rough East End and grizzly jokes, and instead what we have is a very reserved and straight-faced war thriller.

The Covenant is very much two films meshed into one. The first half is a solid action war film, as we’ve thrown right into the midst of the Afghan war and the US troops taking down Taliban outposts, with amazing sweeping shots of the desert terrains and the tensions that come between the two sides. It was riveting, suspenseful and interesting, and honestly if that was the whole movie it would have been a very satisfying viewing experience. However the last hour is more so a separate recon and rescue mission mostly undertaken by one soldier - another epic film on its own. That second part is really what makes this film stand out from other war movies, as it really reiterates the central theme of a reality check on bond, pledge and commitment. This is accompanied by very focused non-nonsense directing to the stellar screenwriting (minus a couple of awkward exchanges between Gyllenhaal and his wife played by Emily Beecham - their dialogue during their calls felt as if they were written by a computer AI); excellent cinematography; a steady pace that knew when to take things slow and when to amplify the action in accordance with the story beats; spot-on music score by Christopher Benstead which especially in the final 15 minutes really underlined the emotional journey we’ve just been through; and finally some excellent performances.

The two actors that carry this movie are Jake Gyllenhaal and Dar Salim. The bond between them and the emotion they manage to deliver, something simply through their facial expressions without even saying anything, was truly impeccable. This isn’t the kind of film that will be remembered when the Oscars come around, but honestly both deserve some acting nominations. But both are on top-form, with Salim’s portrayal of Ahmed especially managing to captivate the audience with caring for his character’s fate. Very well written and superbly acted. Appearances by Jonny Lee Miller and Antony Starr work well too.

Guy Ritchie’s The Covenant is a very straightforward story of survival in a war landscape, and there is haunting feeling of knowing that elements of this story are true to many people’s reality. I applaud Ritchie for evidently coming out of his comfort zone and delivering such a serious film with such a heavy subject, but also managing to make it so engaging by getting us to care for these characters. This is a well-made movie, a true army flick, made by real men for men! War is never good, but friendship and valour are always worth of admire.

Overall score: 7/10

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underestimated-heroine · 2 years

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8th reference post! Someone stop me.

(sorry if I reblog, it's only to keep from losing this to the sands of time! Also anyone's free to reblog or save this as is the mode on Tumblr Dot Com. Links go to my blog because it's the best, easy way I have to make sure I don't lose posts to deletion.)

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#you've underestimated the heroine #squirr3d away

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thegoblinwitchqueen · 2 years

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Fox Gloves and Lupines

Charles Smith (rdr2) x Original Female Character

Rating: Explicit

A03

Chapter: One

Nature was, and would always be, Unforgiving and cruel. And she…

She was stupid.

Frozen shards of crystalline water droplets fell heavy from dark clouds. They blinded Kitt, blurring the vision of her sore and hazy eyes until the once familiar mountain trail was nothing but a screen of overwhelming whiteness against a backdrop of uneasiness. The unpredictable climate of the West Grizzlies did not discriminate, and it did not matter how often or for how long she had traversed the untouched wilderness of the Ambarino mountainside for the entirety of her twenty-six years, the sudden change in weather could kill even the most seasoned fur trappers without hesitation if caught off guard by raging ice and wind storms. And unfortunately, it was on a gloomy spring evening when Kitt Arquette unknowingly found herself in one such dilemma.

The heavy furs she had wrapped desperately around her shivering body hardly kept the biting chill from penetrating clear to her bones with frigid gusts of wind that cut profoundly into the soft flesh of her cheeks like sharpened razors. The pungent odor of iron and decay filled Kitt’s nostrils in a way that reminded her that, miraculously, the most prominent feature of her fox-like face had remained attached to her despite her lack of feeling. Kitt touched her numb face and adjusted her knitted, thick scarf back over her cracked mouth and nose. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable steam from her trembling breath, which had soaked straight through the fleece and inadvertently caused her lips to rub themselves raw against the coarse material and freeze instantaneously. She shrank instinctively and tugged a silver fox pelt closer to her chest. Sporting the uncleaned and bloody hides of foxes, elk, and mountain sheep was not ideal; however, neither was a demise caused by the suffocating hands of an unexpected blizzard.

Her once healthy limbs were now as useless as the fresh legs of a newborn foal, gangly and awkward in ways she had never experienced before and painfully burdened by a thick and heavy layer of new snow. Kitt’s elbows creaked and groaned angrily like branches of an old oak tree while blindly guiding her old chestnut-colored gelding down a short and steep slope. Carefully, she continued her passage towards a place she had hoped would be sheltered. The old horse voiced his unwillingness and apprehension by tossing his broad head, but he continued through the bitter cold with nothing but trust in his rider to guide him to safety. Kitt worked hard to develop their trust over the last twenty years with the gelding after having acquired him as a gift from her maternal grandfather.

“I'm so sorry, boy.” Kitt cooed while she wiped away the dense ice clumped against his unruly black mane. Thick Mists of hot breath escaped his large nostrils as he groaned a guttural response. “I promise it won't be much longer.”

Kitt hated lying but hated having to admit when her pride had gotten the best of her more. Typically, her glaring ego would result in a few extra drinks at the Van Horn saloon or the occasional petty argument with her employer, Mister Gus MacMillan, over the quality of a raccoon pelt she had ruined with buckshot. But, Nothing she had ever done put her life at risk like it was at that moment.

Earlier, the sky surrounding the purple and blue snow capped peaks was mostly clear with bluebirds and sparrows dancing across the horizon. But, a deep rumbling of winter thunder and darkened clouds laden with snow threatened the young trapper in the distance. Kitt, having known Ambarino like the back of her hand, understood the storm was only a few hours away, and moving quickly. However, she blatantly dismissed the warnings of mother nature and pushed herself further into the mountainside after she spied the most peculiar-looking moose. He was a magnificent creature, and Rather than the ordinary dark brown coat expected to be donned by a full-grown bull, this one was entirely white. Kitt could not defy the mouth-watering temptation to own the hefty sum of cash his skin would most definitely merit and tracked the beast until the blanket of fresh snow reached the height of her waist. Still, had her father looked after her as he had done for the entirety of her life, he would have deterred his only daughter from getting caught in the storm of the century.

Marcel Arquette was an extraordinary fur trapper as bright as he was talented with a bolt-action rifle. Instinctively, the man would have understood when to admit defeat, turn back, and let the frost-colored moose escape to his own devices. The Frenchman never hunted more than what was essential for the family to sell and survive, but Kitt struggled to restrain herself and desired a life of comfort she had never experienced before. She yearned to leave the lifestyle of a wayward wanderer who slept amongst the harsh elements for a life of feather beds and warm food, especially now that she was orphaned. It had only been six months since her father succumbed to fever and twenty-five years since her mother passed. Still, Kitt missed the many mindless conversations about medicinal herbs, animal facts, or her fathers life before she was born. His huge laugh reverberated throughout the Grizzlies, frightening most of the wild game they sought to uncover.

The life she had once cherished and thrived in with her Papa, now, left her weary. Hunger pains chewed at her stomach more than before, and the crisp mountain atmosphere no longer replenished her lungs with exhilaration and energy. Instead, Kitt was perpetually exhausted from constantly existing in a state of starvation, indifference, and lonesomeness. Hunting alone in dead silence without someone to converse with did not make her feel anything but nothingness.

However, Kitt couldn’t let her lingering melancholy seep through the borders she had thrust around her broken heart. She had the horse to worry for, and though he did not have a name, a valid name, the old gelding had stuck through the years by her side without complaint. Now, It was Kitt’s turn to lead them to safety or die trying.

The soft fingers of Death’s thin hands caressed Kitt’s eyes and ears with whispers of delicious promises of bottomless sleep to quell the burning sensation that ignited her frostbitten skin like a raging fire. As she trekked on, exhausted and sore, her brain fought through the overwhelming tiredness to remember the words her father had told her after discovering the body of Papa Aiden.

“When a man succumbs to the cold, his mind will hasten the process by persuading him that the skin that had once felt ice cold is now hotter than any hearth fire. It is bittersweet but poetic nonetheless.”

The body of her father's oldest friend and lover was blue and black like a raven's feathers and entirely nude. Before he died, Aiden had hurled his buffalo coat a few feet away, and his thick, woolen shirt was nowhere to be found. But his newly patched trousers still clung around his ankles where he had lost consciousness face first into the snow late that night. Kitt was only nine and could not fully comprehend why the once happy man she loved almost as much as her father had stripped himself entirely bare to run wildly into the woods and die alone after he had spent most of their ride uncharacteristically complaining of the cold which chatted his teeth and coated his bones in frost. Through tears and heartbreak, her father said the earth was too frozen and rocky to bury the handsome Irishman, and Kitt often wondered if his body on Mount Shann was the same as when they left her father's shack all those years ago—perfectly preserved by the permafrost.

Now, Kitt understood how her father's partner had felt before he succumbed to the elements, burning, and heavy with indescribable exhaustion. Slowly, the young woman struggled to fight back the fear that bubbled in her gut as the blizzard raged well into the twilight with no indication that it would stop. Would she, too, die alone, nude, and preserved under mountains of ice until some other poor soul happened upon her corpse?

Who could say?

After a while, the trees and rocks no longer held any significance as the encroaching darkness overwhelmed her fragmenting reality. The remnants left of her sanity began to twist and turn, intertwining the forest with the forgotten rememberings of her past, painting figments of her papa, Aiden, and her unknown mother against the stark canvas of glistening white snow. Kitt resisted, ignoring the calls of the dead, and prayed to whoever might be listening to strike her deaf. The screams of Aiden's last moments echoed and rode in tandem with the howling of the wind until they transitioned into the familiar sounds of a lonely elk calling against the mountainside.

Suddenly, Kitt felt her gut lurch deep into her chest. A presence sat behind her to wrap its bloody limbs tight around Kitt's waist, humming a familiar cradlesong she had thought lost to time. The entity's lips gently touched the crook of Kitt’s neck and its breath cut sharp through Kitt’s scarf. The ghost inhaled and whispered:

“Sleep now, my daughter.”

Suddenly, the world went dark.

….

An unknown amount of time passed, but the moon was still high in the sky, and tendrils of dull light lazily drifted through the uneven slats of the roof and illuminated the hay-covered flooring.

Kitt inhaled sharply and jerked awake, slinging her head from side to side while hunting for the apparition that had haunted her. However, the young woman found herself alone and inside what seemed to be a rundown and abandoned horse stable. The decent-sized shack was empty save for a few dust-covered tools, and a soot-covered hearth meant to burn hot coals for shoemaking.

Besides the gentle skittering of various rodents along the breaking shafts, Kitt determined that by the looks of the building, it had long since been left behind to waste away underneath the snow. Though she was considerably knowledgeable about the ruins scattered across the peaks, whether it be from the cold or hunger she felt throughout her hurting body, Kitt could not outwardly recall where she was.

The young woman emitted a pitiful whimper and relaxed her painfully stiff shoulders, creaking like the stable floor boards and dropping layers of snow from her limbs onto the ground. Kitt had fallen unconscious at some point in her journey and was astonished that she somehow remained in her saddle, straddling her horse's ribs and grasping his harnesses. But, by God's grace, the old gelding continued through the storm without her guidance until he found the abandoned stable. Now, he knickered and pawed, begging to be released from his burdens. Kitt slowly descended her saddle like a greenhorn rider, fumbling through the darkness until her boots stretched out to the safety of the solid ground.

Once on her feet, Kitt ran her gloved hand along the horse's thick neck until she reached his face and pressed her forehead against the old mount's snout. At that moment, she could have sworn he comprehended the gratitude she felt for his courage swelling from her soul. Once again, the nameless beast had saved her from perishing in the blizzard. And once again, she did not know how to repay him.

“You're some sort of guardian angel. Thank you.” Kitt mumbled. The horse pulled his head free from her grasp, and lazily drifted to munch on a heap of fodder.

Kitt smiled and determined that peeling off the horse's saddle and bridle would suffice until she could reward him with his favorite radishes and apples. A groan reverberated with satisfaction from his belly as the weight lifted from his back. He shivered off the tension that sat painfully between his muscles.

Kitt, dropping bloodstained pelts as she limped, hauled the saddle into one of the vacant stalls and arranged it amongst a pile of old hay. Luckily, it was too cold for venomous creatures like snakes or spiders to burrow themselves between the grass, nor would she have the foresight to worry about such things before Kitt hurled her body down next to her only real possession. Coated head to toe in sinew, blood, and animal skins, Kitt slid her thick frame underneath the firm leather of her embroidered saddle, mimicking how her horse had sported it for all the years they spent together. Finally, She drank in his residual body heat and allowed her own to rest. This time, on her terms.

No more whispers of the dead.

And no more pain.

…

For the first sunrise since the Van Der Linde gang arrived in the abandoned mine town of Colter, the frigid storm that had provided the wanted outlaws an ideal getaway finally broke long enough to allow Charles Smith to leave the cramped quarters he reluctantly shared with his brothers in arms. It was before sunrise, and the young man of Indigenous and Black blood watched the light peak from the eastern mountains from the doorway while Lenny, Javier, and Micah slept behind him. He stretched out the soreness that permeated deep into the threads of his muscular neck and back. The man of twenty-four years hadn’t slept, at least not adequately, and blamed his restlessness on the tiny, uncomfortable bed he compressed his massive body into. As well, the persistent gnawing he felt radiating from the slow healing injury on his right hand kept him awake long into the midnight hours. When asked about the new set of dark circles, which hung heavy from his dark-colored eyes, by a concerned Susan Grimshaw, Charles would only have to say that he could not rest due to Micah and his horrendous sleep apnea. All of which honestly caused the dark-skinned youth to scowl each night while he stared at the spaces between the ceiling boards, wrapped tightly in his black coat and tattered blankets. But while each justification was annoying and contributed to his sleepless nights, they were not the actual cause. No, he thanked the painful memories of his time before Dutch had adopted him into his band of wayward souls, for they decided to plague him for the first time in years.

Charles glanced down at the stained bandage wrapped around his dominant palm and flexed his fingers continuously until the searing pain reappeared underneath the oozing and scabbed flesh. There would be a decent scar once the burn healed and he withered at the thought. It would be another few days before he could hold a bow or shoot his sawed-off shotgun. While he waited, he would devour the endless hours meandering aimlessly around the outskirts of the camp, unable to pull his weight.

Typically the elders or ladies of the camp would look to him to help with tasks that required brute strength, but in Colter, the daily functions of the base were suspended. All except Arthur and John waited and warmed themselves by the fireplace glow while the formers explored the perimeter. John Marston had been gone for two days looking for any promising shelter, and Arthur left that morning to scavenge the charred remains of Sadie Adler's homestead for any untouched goods he could bring back to feed his family. Charles had asked his mentor if he could join him but was instructed to hang around camp to recover.

Another few days of feeling simply —-useless.

Charles huffed and descended the step of his cabin into the glistening snow. He couldn't help but marvel at how much ice had fallen during the night. It was enough to reach his knee and saturate the thick fabric of his trousers. He shrugged off the uncomfortable chill, coming to be acclimated to the feeling, and carried through towards the empty cooking station where Mister Pierson had already started up his daily task of feeding the household.

Ever the busy body, Charles reasoned he would converse with the retired navy man to see if he could get any information on Arthur’s latest expedition in O’Driscoll country. Earlier, Dutch and Hosea made it a point to exclude Charles from the gang's business because they knew that a wounded palm would not prevent the man from pursuing Arthur wherever the hardened outlaw went. So, Charles supposed Pierson would be the next best thing—even if he loathed useless chatter. And boy, did Pierson adore worthless talk.

There was never an instant where Charles Smith took it easy. Despite the reassurance he received from Arthur and Dutch after the unfortunate incident in Blackwater that caused his annoying injury, he worried that his involuntary idleness would ultimately be misunderstood as laziness. Still, the man really needn’t bother because Dutch seemed to have a soft spot for lazy men such as Uncle, who somehow managed to coast through the years with little to show for his duration with the gang. Unlike Uncle, Charles had demonstrated his usefulness in the last six months he ran with Dutch and Hosea by supporting all their morally questionable endeavors regardless of the risks associated with dancing around the local authorities. But, the years Charles spent roaming from band to band around the Western Frontier since he was old enough to carry a rifle conditioned him.

To be lazy meant to be worthless and, ultimately, banished.

The Van Der Linde gang was the closest thing to a family Charles had ever held, and he was not willing to give it up anytime soon. As he moved into the shed from the frigid wind, the rosy cheeks of Simon Pierson welcomed him. The fallen sailor wore a wide grin underneath his thick mustache, and Charles repaid the gesture with a slight nod of his head, evading the man’s loitering gaze.

“Well, I would say it was surprising to see you here this early, Mister Smith,” Pierson huffed.

The heavyset man’s strong arms raised a heavy, iron cauldron whose contents were a stew made of thin broth and an assortment of filler vegetables, suspicious meat, and no seasoning to mask the awful taste. But, no one in the gang complained as a full belly made of awful food was better than starvation. Pierson positioned the pot, hanging it over a little flame and stored the gruel with a wooden spoon. He tasted the meal, cursed under his breath, and rested against a wooden chair.

The fire that cooked the food struggled to survive under the steady gusts of bitter Ambarino wind that beat it into submission. The measly fire was started on a bed of old hay and twigs, and Charles made a mental reminder to collect more timber for the cook later. After a moment, he turned his dark eyes to the heavyset sailor's gaze. “But you’re always up before dawn. So you must forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm. I’ve stopped being surprised, and the cold makes me cranky.”

“Mmm,” Charles grunted, holding the palms of his hands near the fire to warm them. Already the tips of his thick fingers grew ashen and numb from his brisk walk between his station and Pierson’s makeshift kitchen. The biting chill caused Charles's thoughts to drift to Arthur Morgan. Concerned about his current state, Charles hoped the man was roaming through the cliffs alright. They weren't particularly intimate, and their relationship could be described as more than an acquaintance, yet not quite a friend. But, Arthur reminded him of the man his father used to be before firewater plagued his mind—solid and courageous… If not a tad but stupid.

Pierson held off and watched the man think, understanding that young Charles was a creature of few words and spoke only when he felt necessary. However, the cook saw by the troubled expression on Charles’s face that the lad was stir-crazy and needed something to entertain him lest he lose his sanity to boredom. After all, it wasn’t like Charles Smith to seek Pierson out of his own volition.

“So, Charles, you feel like doing something?” Pierson requested as he wiped the assortment of food, dirt, and sweat along the coarse fabric of his thick military jacket.

“…what do you have in mind?” Charles questioned, trying not to look too enthusiastic. Nevertheless, the break in Charles’s deep voice and the shit eating smile across Pierson's face said otherwise. Yes, he had to do something.

Anything.

“ I know it’s not much, but do you think you can gather the coals left in the stable? They seemed pretty spent when I last checked, but anything is better than this–shit.” Pierson moaned and watched the tiny flame threaten to die. “ I’d go, but someone has to be here to ensure breakfast cooks.”

“Sure thing.” Charles said.

“There is a rusty bucket you can use to put the bastards in. Just don’t cut yourself, Mister Smith. God forbid you’re out of commission for a moment more than necessary.” Pierson chuckled, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket before placing the tobacco between his thin lips. Charles nodded and briskly turned on his heel toward the abandoned stable without saying goodbye. Pierson huffed, smiled, and lit the cigarette as he watched the strange man leave.

…

As Charles approached the stable, a sudden thought crossed his mind. The double doors of the shack were a jar, unlike how he had left it the day prior. Under tightly furrowed brows, he stood still and carefully analyzed the building for any warning of foul play. Like most of his thoughts, they did not contain words and were more like an instinct he felt reverberating through his bones. The shiver that went down his spine was one he could not dismiss.

Something was not right, but he could not say why or how…or by who. At least not yet. Quietly, Charles approached the entrance, creeping inside as he palmed the hilt of the large hunting knife strapped to his holster. For a man his size, Charles prided himself on his uncanny mastery of remaining undetected, especially when he wanted to be.

As he entered, he glanced at each stall containing the gang's horses, including his trusted appaloosa mare, Taima. She greeted her rider with a happy wine and Charles loosened up. He sighed at his jumpiness and casually made his way towards the horses. He chuckled to himself. Had there been any real danger, Taima would have definitely alerted him, but right now, she seemed more than happy to see him. She pawed at her stable door, telling her rider about her discomfort behind closed doors. Like him, Taima needed open fields and freedom to roam. And like him, she too suffered in Colter.

Charles reached for her neck, and stroked her while he whispered sweet nothings to her. He loved his horse more than anything. While he pampered his poney, another cry echoed further down the stable hall, and Charles recognized it as Javier's mount, Boaz. The unruly paint was easily jealous and hated to be ignored.

“Calm yourself. Boaz. I'll come say hi in a minute.” Charles exclaimed, patting Taima roughly before an unfamiliar bray accompanied the paint. Charles stood still and saw an unfamiliar chestnut horse inhabiting the last stable. As he silently moved towards the strange horse, he abruptly observed that the once bare floor was now smeared with smudges of dried blood. Charles slowly crouched down and touched the rust-colored stain. The red fluid had dried already, and though they were faint, tracks of heavy-toed boots descended the hall towards the horse.

Charles scowled and wiped the residue from his fingertips on his trousers, and reached for his knife again. As he surpassed the gelding, Charles spied an unfamiliar saddle embroidered with jumping rabbits and wild flowers resting in the hay behind the old boy. The horse did not show fear or emotion and allowed the young man to touch his broad nose. Whoever had spent the night in the stable was gone and left their mount and belongings behind.

O’Driscolls maybe? Or, had John finally returned with a stolen horse?

The boot tracks were too small to be Marston’s, and the horse he rode earlier was nowhere to be seen. No, this was somebody he had never happened upon before. Charles glanced to his left and spied a pile of blood-stained, silver fur resting along the bottom seal of the stable door. He unsheathed his knife, bent down, and flicked the hide with the tip of his blade.

“A fox pelt?” Charles huffed, raising the uncleaned skin to his sight for a closer look.

Once again, that intuitive shudder ran along the length of his spine. And suddenly, the stable doors slammed shut.

#charles smith rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #charles smith x original character #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom

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ameridad-is-the-best · 2 years

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Which states have animalistic features and what animals are each of the states with animal features?

OCC: here’s my list

Alabama-Bald Eagle

Alaska-Black Eagle

Arkansas-Bald Eagle

California-California Grizzly

Delaware-Cow

Idaho-Elk

Illinois-Bald Eagle

Indiana-Bison

Iowa-Bald Eagle

Louisiana-Pelican

Maine-Moose

Michigan-Bald Eagle, Deer

Mississippi-Bald Eagle

Missouri-Bear

Nevada-Horse

New Jersey-Horse

New York-Bald Eagle

New Mexico-Bald Eagle

North Dakota-Bald Eagle

Oregon-Bald Eagle, Beaver

Pennsylvania-Bald Eagle, Horse

South Dakota-Cattle

Utah-Bald Eagle

Vermont-Deer

Wisconsin-Badger

Wyoming-Bison

#statehumans

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motherofdragonflies · 1 year

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A Very Prompty Christmas Day 14: Tree Farm

Silence filled the car, thick and awkward.

Dean’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel so tightly he heard the leather squeak under his hands, and he forced himself to relax. Out of habit, Dean flicked his eyes up to the rear vision mirror and felt his heart leap and hope wash over him. Serious blue eyes stared back at him and for a second, just a second, Dean thought…

Then he blinked, and the hope was gone, leaving an aching chasm in his chest that had him gripping the steering wheel tightly again, letting the sharp pain ground him. He was in the Impala. Bobby was slouched in the passenger seat next to him, eyes fixed on the road ahead, while Sam, Eileen and Jack were squished together in the back.

Jack. Not Cas.

Door number thirteen on the calendar had opened that morning revealing a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. When Jack had tentatively asked if they could get a tree for the Bunker, Eileen had brought up a tree farm that she had found in Nelson, Nebraska and offered to take Jack to pick out a tree. Sam had immediately decided to go with him, and kicked Dean in the shins under the table far harder than he needed to until Dean reluctantly offered to drive them.

When they’d passed Bobby on the way down to the garage, the grizzly old hunter had started reminiscing about taking his boy, Daniel, out into the woods to cut down their Christmas tree when Daniel had been younger, and Bobby had looked so lost for a second, so sad, that Dean had found himself asking the older man to join them.

So here they all were, on a road trip to find a Christmas tree, one big happy not-quite family.

Dean would never admit it, but he was glad that Bobby had agreed to come with them. Christmas trees hadn’t featured very heavily in Winchester Christmases of yore, and those trees they did have were scrawny, half-dead things that had been sitting in buckets along the front of a gas station. Dean wasn’t entirely sure he knew what a “good” Christmas tree looked like, or what to do with it when he found it. When Dean strode out into the woods with something sharp in his hand, he wasn’t going to cut down trees, and he was quite happy to let Bobby take the lead on this one.

He also (selfishly) was glad that Bobby had agreed to accompany them because Bobby liked Jack, and the feeling was mutual. Things between Dean and Jack were still strained. Dean had double (and triple) checked the Impala and had satisfied himself that no harm had been done with Jack transfigured her into a four-horse sleigh before finding the boy and stumbling his way through an apology. Jack had been cowed, expecting a verbal assault and no doubt believing he deserved it, and Dean had a horrible out-of-body experience, where he knew he was standing over Jack, who was seated on his bed in his room in the Bunker, but he was also sitting on a bed in a nondescript hotel in Bumfuck, Who-Knows-Where, head bowed as John Winchester gave him a tongue lashing that Dean knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve.

He’d mumbled something about “respecting other people’s property”, and “don’t do it again” and had hurried from the room, the sins of his father chasing him down the hall, once again wishing that Cas was there because Cas would know what to say to Jack.

Cas couldn’t be there, but Bobby was there, and Bobby and Jack had a great relationship. Dean shook his head to himself, somewhat ashamed that once again, a Winchester father was making Bobby Singer clean up his parenting mistakes. At least Dean knew he’d fucked up, he supposed. Baby steps.

The tree farm was beautiful. Dean drove down a long private road to a parking area in front of a large red barn. It was cliche but effective: the red of the large building was striking against the sea of white with rows and rows of green spruce, pine and fir trees dusted in snow.

He followed behind the group as Bobby led the way through the barn to the farm.

“Alright, boy,” Bobby said, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “What kinda tree do you want?”

Jack turned to look at Dean questioningly, and then seemed to think better of it and looked over at Sam instead. Sam shook his head and shrugged, as out of his depth as Dean was, and Jack turned back to Bobby.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Well. I’ve always been partial to spruce trees, but pine trees’re easy to decorate so why don’t we start there,” Bobby said, pointing in the direction of the pine trees. Sam and Eileen followed behind, Eileen winding an arm around Sam’s and leaning into his side, leaving Dean to bring up the rear.

He hunched deeper into his coat, listening as Bobby explained to Jack all the relative merits of each tree that they passed, discussing where in the Bunker they were going to put it up (“Gotta make sure the size matches the room. This one’d look good in the library, while this one…see how small it is? It’d get lost in the library, but it’d stand out in the kitchen. See what I’m saying?”). Jack’s cheeks were chapped red from the cold wind but his face was lit up, even as he pretended to seriously consider each tree they passed.

As they walked, Dean looked around him, watching all the families wandering up and down the paths, children darting out from between the trees, and wondered what they thought when they looked over at Dean and the others. Did they see a family, out for the day? Grandfather and grandson, mother and father, with the weird uncle trailing awkwardly behind them?

“This one!”

Dean dragged his attention back in time to see Jack standing next to a tall fir tree, a look of satisfaction on his face. Bobby grabbed one of the branches and examined the needles, bent down to examine the trunk of the tree (“gotta make sure there’re no critters livin’ in it ‘fore we cut it down”) and eventually pronounced that Jack had picked a good one before brandishing the saw and harvesting the tree, snapping at Dean, “those arms o’ yours painted on? Get over here and make yourself useful.”

Tree cut, Dean and Jack carefully dragged it back towards the barn at the top of the farm, where a cheerful young woman measured the tree before asking if they wanted the tree baled. When Dean immediately agreed (they did have to drive back to Kansas, after all: the whole trip would be worthless if they got back to the Bunker and all the needles had been stripped from the branches by the wind) the tree was shaken on what to Dean looked like the Christmas tree equivalent of the Magic Fingers, then run through a baler, coming out wrapped in pine. Sam, Dean and Bobby wrestled the wrapped tree out to the Impala, where Dean stared in horror as he realised that the tree was going to have to the strapped to Baby while Bobby calmly walked to the trunk and pulled out several blankets that he flung over the roof the Impala before ordering Sam and Dean to lift the tree on top.

Paintwork protected and tree secured, the men returned to the barn to find Jack and Eileen, who were in serious discussion of Christmas decorations in the gift store. Catching Eileen’s eye, Sam made a few hesitant signs and then nodded when Eileen returned his signs with a flurry of her own. “Eileen says to give them a few more minutes. She suggested we get some hot chocolate for them while we wait,” Sam said, and all three of them grimaced.

Five cups of hot chocolate later, three with marshmallows and lashings of whipped cream and sprinkles, one with a nip of whiskey, the Winchester/Singer/Leahy/Kline party made their way back to the Impala.

As the others hurried to get into the Impala and out of the cold air, Dean held Jack back. “Did you, uh, did you have a good time?” he asked.

Jack’s eyes searched Dean’s face for a moment, and then he smiled and gave a firm nod. “I did. Bobby knows a lot about Christmas trees. And Eileen said that she would help me decorate.” He hesitated for a moment. “Thank you. For driving us out here. I know you didn’t want to do that.”

The urge to deny, to argue and say ‘of course I wanted to,” rose immediately, but Dean quashed it. Jack would know that he was lying, and it would be far better to admit that than to get defensive.

“I’m glad I did,” he said, surprised that he was being honest. “I just wish your dad could’ve been here too. I think he would’ve really liked it here.”

Jack looked back at the barn and the forest of trees and smiled. “I think he would have too,” he agreed.

“C’mon,” Dean said slinging an arm around Jack and hugging him tight. “Let’s get this tree home.”

Come back tomorrow for Day 15: Decorations!

Day One: Advent Calendar

Day Two: Tinsel

Day Three: Ribbon

Day Four: Shopping

Day Five: Ugly Sweater

Day Six: Candy Canes

Day Seven: Christmas Spirit

Day Eight: Mistletoe

Day Nine: Gingerbread

Day Ten: Eggnog

Day Eleven: Naughty or Nice

Day Twelve: Snow

Day Thirteen: Sleigh Ride

#spnxmasprompts #destiel #destiel fan fic #deancas fan fic #fix it fic

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jayofolympus-writes · 9 months

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Number 2 for one of your OCs, please. And 13! For the asks to spread love.

2. Tell us why you love one of your OCs or an obscure canon character (link to any fics/art you have featuring them!)

Rogue! You get to hear about Jakub! I love him because he's a big softy at heart. He is a teddy bear that everyone thinks is a grizzly. He's a good boy who loves his horse, and most other animals too, and almost certainly got in trouble for trying to keep pets in Haern Caduch.

13. Recommend a fic (can be your own!) that features something you wish was written about more

I am gonna go ahead and recommend Essea Eate by @tumbleweedtech . I would love to see more authors to poke at worldbuilding and the cultural differences that must be happening on the Continent.

I would love to see more takes on some of the Trials young witcher adepts go through too (edit: by request I am gonna link my own series on this topic, Beyond the Veil)

#jay answers #ask games #the witcher

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jochumsenhale13 · 1 year

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Different Kinds And Functions Of Meat Saws

It ought to noted soon after one buys square-section lengths of timber, the dimensions supplied are the type prior to planing, so the timber will almost allways be smaller than expected. The previously rough sawn timber is now referred to as PAR or Planed All Round. Blade grinders are the cheaper of the two options, and consist within your blade that spins at high speeds to chop up the coffee pinto beans. They are often small and very mobile - ideal for taking going on a vacation. MSK saw s shield the blade from a casing under the saw table and suck the dust out directly from there. Others slant ground of the saw cabinet towards a dust collection port. Many just permit sawdust to amass on the floor under the saw before you clean it out. You will always have some cleaning in the interior to do. Perhaps you won't delay until the sawdust has totally encased the trunnion gears packing itself up to your bottom of the table top. You'll need to connect the saw to a dust collector through its dust opening. The suction of the dust collector in order to about 350 CFM to find a 10" saw and more for a wider saw. With straight, flat board. Many people assume that they are afraid a jointer if they possess a thickness planer. What understand often a thickness planer doesn't flatten a board, just makes it a uniform thickness. Anyone have put a bowed board through a thickness planer you'll get yourself a bowed board when it appears out. The jointer first makes the board flat on the reds. It does this by having two flat tables one on each party of a spinning cutting tool. The board is pushed over the blade that is set try off the specific amount, say 1/32". The opposite table in the opposite side of the blade is about 1/32" lower to make up for the volume of material removed in our example. In doing this you get a flat covering. So, know hammer drill bits . A grinder consists of few hardy screws whereby the other parts are rigid. A lock or even a handle, along with the different kinds of slicers. A genuine effort . also a support feet set that come along together meat grinder. Table saw: 10 inch cabinet saw, not a kind little saws that set on a table top, Again find a second hand saw, 2 to 5 horse power and an easy fence is all you seek. so long as the blade can be squared up and fences can be adjusted quite possibly true. rust can be overlooked, and belts can be replaced. One thing here to spend money on is the blade, carbide tipped 50 to 60 tooth spend $50.00 to $70.00. you will want two $50.00 blades not one $100.00 blade. One blade is either at the saw sharpener or ready to go the sharpener. point is a sharp lower cost blade is a lot better than dull $150.00 blade. Grizzly's 12 Speed Press maintains all the features and dependability of a chic industrial grade drill press - with a price tag that's astoundingly low, (the average retail pricing is around $249). multifunction battery powered drill is a beast, weighing 154lbs, and standing at 38", so make sure your bench can handle it before purchasing. According to a collection of consumer reviews, the bench top drill press is considered among the best in the commercial for performance, and a more than reasonable price level. All of the machined surfaces are flat, the motor is powerful enough for mortising 4x4's, and also the spindle/chuck are straight and without carry out. Even the movement of the head is outstanding. If you're in the market for getting a stand-out drill, look no further than Grizzly's Heavy-duty bench-top.

#electric screw driver #angle grinder #miter saw stand #woodworking table saw #battery drill set #hammer drill price

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manchineel-bean · 3 months

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fellas with animal features: (so many flags-) Alabama: Snake, Bald Eagle Alaska: Black Eagle Arkansas: Bald Eagle California: California Grizzly Bear Delaware: Cow Hawaii: Phoenix

Idaho: Elk Illinois: Bald Eagle Indiana: Bison Iowa: Bald Eagle Louisiana: Pelican

Maine: Moose Michigan: Elk, Deer, Bald Eagle Minnesota: Horse Mississippi: Bald Eagle Missouri: Bald Eagle, Bear

Nevada: Horse New Jersey: Horse New Mexico: Bald Eagle

New York: Bald Eagle, Beaver North Dakota: Bald Eagle

Oregon: Bald Eagle, Beaver Pennsylvania: Bald Eagle, Horse South Dakota: Cow Utah: Bee, Bald Eagle Vermont: Cow, Deer Wisconsin: Badger Wyoming: Bison

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zooidaho · 1 year

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Pet the Cutest Indigenous Creatures at Zoo Idaho

Throughout Idaho, there are exciting spots to talk to the animals (and marine life). If you love Appaloosa Horses, you must add the Appaloosa Horse Club to your travel itinerary. Set on the Washington Border in Moscow, Idaho, this club celebrates the breed. It also hosts numerous events, including the National Appaloosa Show, which has run annually in early July for more than 70 years.

Native Intermountain West animals are featured in the Pocatello Zoo (aka Zoo Idaho), one of only two zoos in the United States to do so. They are home to over 40 species of animals for you to visit, including Bear, Elk, Bison, Pronghorn and more. Bonners Ferry is home to the Kootenai National Wildlife Refuge. Walk along their trails or stop on the overlooks to see if you can spot one of the 220 species of birds that call the Refuge home. You can also see reptiles, fish, amphibians, and mammals as you explore.

Boise is home to the impressive Aquarium of Boise and Zoo Boise. From the Russian tortoise to the shark nursery, the exhibits at the Aquarium of Boise will enthrall you. It is home to more than 250 species of marine life and animals. Meanwhile, Zoo Boise will take you on an “African” boat ride, to kids’ farm, and a butterfly garden. From the giraffe to the scorpion, from the Amur tigers to the Striped Hyena, every corner reveals a thrilling possibility.

If you love the idea of seeing bears in the wild, but know that walking up to one isn’t the wisest move, explore Yellowstone Bear World. This is a drive-through park where you can see Grizzly and Black Bears, gray wolves and Rocky Mountain Elk, among many others, as they roam to the parkland. Aquarium of Boise Found in western Boise, the Aquarium of Boise was originally built in a remolded 10,000 square foot warehouse. With exhibits designed around interactive touch tanks, the aquarium is a popular destination for school groups and traveling guests.

Don't miss highlights like the shark nursery, the coral reef habitat, jellyfish tank, and tide pools. The aquarium also includes terrestrial and plant-based exhibits, such as chameleons, tree frogs, and lories.

Pocatello Zoo Plan your next visit to Idaho and explore the Pocatello Zoo. It features 40 species of animals native to the Intermountain West on twenty-three acres in Ross Park. It was established in 1932 in Pocatello and remains one of the two zoos in America with Intermountain West native animals.

A few of the highlights at the Zoo include the 900-square-foot tree house, the petting area the 30-foot-high tipi. The Zoo has several special year-round programs available, including Zoocamp, Zoorific Tours, Outreach Programs, Birthday Bearnanza and Zoo SnooZzzz – the ultimate pajama party.

Kootenai National Wildlife Refuge Wildlife viewing in Idaho. The Kootenai National Wildlife Refuge is a wonderful haven for more than 300 species of wildlife in northern Idaho. The refuge encompasses more than 2,700 acres of land, a few miles west of Bonners Ferry.

It was established in 1964 as a resting place for migrating waterfowl and has become a great place for visitors to view the variety of wildlife. The Refuge contains meadows, wetlands, agricultural fields, riparian forests, as well as the Cascade Creek, Deep Creek and Myrtle Creek.

Visit this protected land to see the fish, amphibians, reptiles, mammals and more than 223 species of birds, while strolling along the Refuge's five trails or stopping at one of the overlooks. During the winter, the Auto Tour Road is an excellent area for cross-country skiing and snowshoeing.

Here is a local business that supports the community

Google Maps: https://goo.gl/maps/UwBCnu7SetQa4dqT8

Smile Hy Teeth Whitening

Address: 1023 Yellowstone Ave Suite M, Pocatello, ID 83201

Be sure to check out this attraction too!

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preppernewstoday · 1 year

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This weekly column features news stories and event announcements from around the American Redoubt region. (Idaho, Montana, eastern Oregon, eastern Washington, and Wyoming.) Much of the region is also more commonly known as The Inland Northwest. We also mention companies of interest to preppers and survivalists that are located in the American Redoubt region. Today, we examine electric vehicle charging. (See the Region-Wide section.) Region-Wide A hat tip to H.L. for sending this link: Interactive: EV Charging Stations Across the U.S. Mapped. JWR’s Comments: Note how few and far between these stations are in much of the American Redoubt. Someone simply wouldn’t make it, if they tried to drive an electric car across Montana’s “High Line” (U.S. Highway 2.) Ponder the absurdity of big city politicians dictating the end of internal combustion cars by some arbitrarily given date. This illustrates our lives in 21st Century America: We, the many, dragged along unwillingly into the consequences of policies dictated by the powerful, capricious, and unwitting few. o o o Northwestern U.S. – Multiple Rounds of Snow & Wind. Idaho An interesting article and a great reply: Cobalt Mine Opens in Idaho – Behind the scenes, the Biden administration is not friendly to mines or mining. o o o State of Idaho Receives $4 Million for EV Infrastructure. o o o From Idaho Public Television: A Constitutional Question… — Oct. 21st, 2022 o o o Bogus Basin attempts to outpace growth with dozens of improvement projects. Montana Interstates, then US-2 and US-93, prioritized for electric vehicle charging station funding. o o o Island in Montana With Wild Horses and Hiking Trails Sounds Like a Dream. o o o Hundreds of pheasants released near Hardin to attract more hunters. o o o Bear cub found in Deer Lodge chicken coop. o o o Chronic wasting disease test sites open in north-central Montana. o o o Conservation groups sue over Montana wolf harvest rules. Central & Eastern Oregon Oregon’s Measure 114 would require fingerprinting, training, and background checks, to obtain a permit to possess a firearm. It would also completely ban magazines holding more than 10 rounds, with no grandfather clause! Please vote against it. If this referendum passes (currently polling with 51% support, primarily in populous western Oregon), it will effectively negate the 2nd Amendment in Oregon. I predict that if enacted, this law will be considered “the last straw” for many central and eastern Oregon residents, thus cementing support for the Greater Idaho movement. o o o Bend police shoot, kill cougar in NW Bend neighborhood after deer-kill site found in a backyard. Central & Eastern Washington In the left-wing Crosscut tabloid: Expansion of electric vehicle grid hits roadblocks in rural Washington. o o o Here are the Five Reasons Eastern Washington Hates Seattle. o o o Suspect arrested for shooting into crowd of people in downtown Spokane in August. o o o State Of Wyoming Has No Plans To Switch To Electric Vehicles. Wyoming F.J. spotted this news: Hunter Shoots Himself in the Leg While Fighting Off Grizzly Bear. o o o Yellowstone’s West, South, East Entrances to close Tuesday for winter season preparations. Send Your News Tips Please send your American Redoubt region news tips, event announcements, and American Redoubt-based companies worthy of a mention to JWR. You can do so either via e-mail or via our Contact form.

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stagevalencia7 · 2 years

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hermes pochette kelly 25

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#kelly pochette #hermes kelly pochette #mini kelly pochette #kelly pochette bag

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honeycuttross7 · 2 years

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hermes mini kelly 29

Hermès Simply Debuted The Worlds Chicest Bag In Your Phone Your perfect bag might already be on the market, ready for you. If you're planning to part with the undeniably eye-watering sum for a true trend basic that may preserve its value, read Vogue’s information to purchasing an Hermès bag first. The Hermes Constance is another home favorite courting back to the 1950s and is the top of pure elegance. The Constance was designed in collaboration with Catherine Chaillet who named the bag after her baby daughter. An easy wearing shoulder bag that options the house’s signature H-shaped clasp, the Constance grew to become a favorite amongst Hollywood’s elite as a result of its versatile and compact design. The Hermes Evelyn bag, for example, was initially designed by the pinnacle of the Hermes Riding Department as a carry-all for horse grooming tools such as brushes and sponges. The perforated detailing originally allowed the tools to dry but the H logo is now a coveted design factor proudly displayed by Hermes purse lovers in all places. Each item is put through a rigorous authentication course of by each in-house and exterior experts before going on sale. Interested in an item however you're still hesitant about purchasing for luxurious objects online? You can all the time contact us to learn extra in regards to the item before putting your order. Our staff is happy to ship additional photos and videos so you'll find a way to place your order with confidence. Do not hestitate to contact us by phone, email or social media to speak to one of our luxury consultants. In 1930, eight years after Hermès launched their first publicly marketed handbag line, the storied home launched a purse design that may change the course of fashion history. Crowned the “Sac-à-Depêches”, the bag originally featured one strengthened handle, a slim trapezoidal silhouette, 4 brass feet, and a flap high design with a double belted turnlock closure. A strikingly good-looking creation, the bag went largely unnoticed when it was introduced to the public. This was largely attributed to the dimensions of the bag during a time when the smaller wristlet purse was the fashion du jour. Here, we current all you want to learn about Birkin leathers and hides. While the Kelly and Birkin could also be standouts, gracing the arms of everyone from royal heiresses to hip-hop stars up to now few a long time, the handbags are however a small part of Hermès’s fashion choices. The latest version is barely bigger than the brand’s last tiny bag, the Kelly Micro—a retooling carried out specifically to accommodate the biggest smartphones in the marketplace. The Kelly Mini II makes carrying your telephone and your go-to gloss (it won’t fit an entire lot more) supereasy, with a shoulder strap that is just about made for street-style pictures. Taking some inspiration from the mountainous bear of the identical name, the Grizzly Kelly actually initiatives an untamed look. Mostly accomplished in 2014 via 2015, this line of restricted version kelly baggage combine soft Swift and Togo leathers with Hermès’s high-pile Grizzly suede. Comments Please note which objects you need to in exchange. The price may range between objects of a different size or colour. He designed a trapezoid shape with two triangular gussets, a cutout flap, a handle and two aspect straps, and with it he brought the home into the period of boldness and modernism. Kanye West showered Julia Fox and her closest buddies with Birkin luggage for the actress’ birthday. The report auction worth for an Exceptional Kelly was achieved by the bag beneath in November 2020 at Christie’s in Hong Kong. wikipedia handbags A Kelly 25 with 18k white gold and diamond hardware, it bought for HK$1,500,000. The Mini Kelly 20 is a discontinued mannequin that is highly sought-after by collectors. The instance above was crafted in 1992 and features 18k yellow gold hardware adorned with diamonds. The shiny black exterior paired with the shiny yellow gold accents is a classic combination. They pack a bunch of necessities, however Kelly 28 has slightly extra room. replica hermes mini kelly However, Kelly 25 is probably the extra versatile of the 2. Because of its petite silhouette, the Hermes Kelly 25 transitions effortlessly from a day to night bag. As someone whose daily bag is 25 cm, the Mini Kelly seems exponentially smaller. I’ve seen individuals use this for journey and again, that’s fantastic if you’re just carrying your telephone, money and room card. The weight of what's contained in the bag is placed solely on the turnlock though, so it’s not a fantastic idea to do this often in case you are carrying a regular-sized Kelly by the handle. Find a selection of classic Hermès handbags, day attire, shoes and more on 1stDibs. Kelly left a long-lasting legacy as a theater artist, tv actress, and iconic Hollywood film star. Kelly has been cited as one of the "traditional Hitchcock blondes", and as one of the most elegant girls in cinematic and world historical past. One writer describes her as the "elegant glamour girl of the display". The Touch Kelly, as it turned recognized, takes a leather-based physique and attaches a handle customary from Alligator. It is the one of the Flag baggage to be created entirely in Epsom leather. The Flag Kelly features two contrasting patches of Epsom leather, one appliqued on prime of the other to create the distinctive look. One of probably the most adorable versions of the Kelly bag to ever have been produced, the Kelly Doll makes occasional appearances at choose Hermès boutiques, sometimes surrounding retailer openings. I love to assist folks transform their fashion and pick out the most effective merchandise to help you feel confident. As of 2021, Hermes Mini Kelly price is $8,150 within the US, and £6,159 within the United Kingdom. The demand for these luggage keep growing and the value keeps growing every year. Perhaps, you’re holidaying this summer season or have dinner or occasions booked. There isn't any occasion the Hermes mini Kelly bag isn’t made for.

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