#Crescent City fashion

[acourtofquestions]

Does anyone else think Sabrina Carpenters style gives Bryce Quinlan vibes?

[adventuressclubamericas]

Photo taken on Canal Street, New Orleans, one summer in the late 1920s.

Have you started packing for Miss Fisher Con in New Orleans yet?

There’s really no escaping it, July in New Orleans is going to be hot and sticky (daytime temperatures in the 90s, coupled with high humidity). Here are a few wardrobe tips to help beat the heat without sacrificing that Miss Fisher style:

Choose natural, breathable fabrics like cotton and, especially, linen. Since wool wicks moisture away from the body, a lightweight wool wouldn’t be a bad choice, either.

Legend tells us that the modern seersucker suit was invented in New Orleans, making it a perfect choice for the climate.

Choose looser fitting clothes. Form-fitting clothes become uncomfortable real fast in the heat.

Wear a hat, preferably one made of straw. Going without one is inviting the sun to bake you. You should also consider carrying a small umbrella for some handy shade-on-the-go – and as a bonus, you’ll be ready for the brief, but intense, pop-up showers that go hand in hand with hot and humid days.

Shoes – while not directly related to the heat, pretty much everyone agrees that you do not want to wear open-toed shoes on Bourbon Street. Especially after it rains. Also, low heels, wedges, and flats will make navigating the cobblestones much easier and safer.

Hope this has been helpful! Cannot wait to see you all in New Orleans – in just a couple of weeks!

[clanlasombrasp]

// 16) My OC's fashion picks.

Day 16 of #MonthOfDarkness. Today about my OC's fashion picks.

Lafayette was, and is, a private detective and as such he is faithful to the classic and cinematic style of someone from the 1920s. He usually wears suits with a jacket, shirt, vest, hideous ties, trench coat and hat. And you won't get him out of there...

Lafayette's fashion picks...

In the 2020s his fiancée will subtly modernize him, but nothing too radical.

[frugyy]

𝘳𝘢𝘵 …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

[melanirana]

A Tune and a Drink

singer!reader x bartender!sun/ moon

Suprise! Have a little something. You are a singer in the 1930's and two specific bartenders have caught your eye, just like you have caught theirs.

I even have a musik recommendation for this one. Habits - Vintage 1930's cover and Levitating - 1920s style cover by PostmodernJukebox on YouTube. Check em' out they're really good.

with that said, enjoy

It’s the 1930’s, the era of glamour, fashion, parties but most of all, good music. Big cities are getting bigger, new opportunities arise on all sides, technology is advancing and you are right in the middle of it.

You are known throughout the whole city, not famous enough to be known across states but known enough that clubs and bars fight to have you sing on their stage. To have you bless their establishments with your voice and draw in the people, so these people make their bar The City Bar.

Whenever you agree to sing at their club they make it known immediately. Whether that is through the newspaper, telling their guests who tell it their acquaintances, or hanging papers around the city. 

“downright heavenly”

“the voice of an angel”

“as powerful as it’s wonderful”

“rich with a beautiful smoky undertone” they call your voice. A bit of an exaggeration you think, you can agree on the smoky undertone but the rest. It must be because you hear your voice every day, when you wake from sleep, when you talk, when you warm up, when you practice when you sing.

But other people only hear you when you sing, it isn’t often it is a special occasion, it is desired it is sought after. To them it means so much and therefore it means so much to you. To sing for people, to lighten their day, to make them happy.

There is barely ever you turn down an offer to sing, it is simply a matter of when you have time again. More often than not you don’t come back to a bar for a month or two, too busy singing somewhere else, writing, or any other reason.

So why is it, that even with such a full schedule, you always find time to come back to sing at one certain high-profile bar named Celestias. 

People wonder. Is it close to home. Do you have a deal with the bar. Does it mean something to you. Is it the celebrities that frequent this establishment. Or is it simply the wonderful view of the river that divides the city, that flows right by the building.

All good guesses, but utterly wrong.

The reason you keep returning is the bar, those how tend to it specifically. Two highly advanced Animatronics.

Metal polished like a brand new 540 K Special-Roadster, but not just a car. Highly advanced machinery capable of many things, but not an industrial machine. Eyes that see, hands that move, mouths that speak, but not human.

The robot pair is truly unique with their circular faces and wonderful colors. One bright as a golden Charleston-dress under a chandelier, eyes so wonderfully bleu they seem to be carved out of the ocean itself with a crown of metallic rays. The other shines like a blue evening gown under a low light, eyes as dangerous and enticing as a ruby with a long silk night cap that looks like it was sewn from the night sky.

Both with crescents that split their faces in the fashion of theater masks.

Both wear high-quality suits, the black of the suits contrast with their color, making their color shine even more and complementing their long limbs. A thick tie sits at the base of their slim metal necks, the end tucked neatly into their suits. The golden animatronic’s tie is a rich scarlet as well as his half gloves that always cover the animatronic’s hands. The blue animatronic’s tie and gloves contrast his counterparts wonderfully with their deep navy blue.

The robots are the bar's pride and joy, placed where everybody passes by, and the reason why they come here. The bar.

You noticed the animatronics the first time you visited, they were hard to miss as the owner proudly showed you them, even when it was from across the room. After that you had no time to pay the two bartenders any mind, quickly surrounded by people eager to meet you followed by your performance only to once again be surrounded by more people.

It was only your third visit that you truly saw them, and saw them you did. In the middle of your performance your gaze wandered to the bar, and what you saw was the golden robot cleaning a glass and looking at you.

You were no stranger to being looked at, your place was the stage after all, but the way the robot looked at you was different from the usual. Almost love-struck in that wonderful half-lidded lazy smile kind of way.

Your response to the animatronic’s gaze was a particular smile while singing a more romantic part of your song. This would have people hiding their faces as they reddened, have them melting on the table they are leaning on, or your favorite, bring a hand to their face as they hide their giddy giggles.

This however was not the response you got from the bartender.

Instead, you got a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, the robot placed the glass below the counter without braking eye contact. “Are you sure?” he said without making a sound. A challenge.

A challenge that you accepted.

For the rest of your performance during any particular romantic part of the song you made sure to let your gaze glide to the bar and exchange look with it’s bartender. His expression had changed ever so slightly from the first time you caught him looking. Still mostly the same but now with a hint of danger mixed in.

You could feel the tension between the bar and the stage rise with each exchanged look, neither of you breaking eye contact during the few seconds you had.

It was the most exciting performance you had in a long while, but it had to come to an end. The night just started and you needed to save your voice for your continued performance later in the night.

Immediately you were surrounded and distracted by people once you started your brake. Even though you couldn’t see the bartender you were pretty sure he saw you. Shortly after you began your brake a waiter came up to you, on a silver platter sat a single beautiful decorated crystal glass. The glass is short and wide like a whisky glass.

A rich orange liquid filled the short glass to a perfect half. When you asked the waiter who sent you the drink he simply said “It’s on the house.” You had ever the slightest hunch from whom it came. When you sipped from the glass the taste of honey sweet and yet smoky whisky filled your mouth, followed by a fruity aftertaste.

You couldn’t help the little that spread on your lips.  

Later in the evening, your performance continued. But this time it was not the golden robot tending to the bar but his blue counterpart. A little childish part of you wanted to make the two bartenders jealous of each other, make them vie for your attention.

While resting the owner had told you more about the robots, how highly advanced they were, how they are unique and that there is no second pair like them, how they work together like a well-oiled machine. “Almost like twins,” he said.

‘Twins’

Maybe you can cause a little bit of a sibling rivalry then.

Nothing too bad, just a little bit of fun.

You didn’t even need to get the robot's attention, when you let your gaze wander to the bar he was already giving it all to you. You went through the whole routine again, you smile at the bartender during a romantic part of the song, he raises one eyebrow in a challenge and you accept.     

And just like his counterpart, he did not break eye contact as the few seconds you had each song ticked by.

This went on for a few songs until his counterpart returned. When you looked back to the bar you saw the two of them talking, the blue one facing away from you and the other blocked by his counterpart. They looked neither irate or iterated, rather they looked natural at least from what you could tell during those few seconds before you returned your gaze to the guest. 

Oh, too bad.

Maybe they figured out what you trying to do and decided to ignore you then. You couldn’t really blame them, even if you did. A fun challenge ended because you wanted some excitement in your life.

When next you returned your gaze to the bar you where meet not by one but two pairs of glowing eyes, both pairs half lidded accompanied by lazy smiles. The two robots have banded together.

Two robots band together against you in order to win this challenge, that is known only to you three. They might have been at a numbers advantage, but if they thought that you were going to let them win they were in the wrong. You were not going to back out just because it got more exciting. 

And so this challenge went on for the rest of the evening and into the night, unbeknownst to the other guests in the large room. 

By the time your performance ended it was well into the night, the sun was long gone and the moon took its place in the sky.

And just like always the moment you step off the stage you were surrounded by people eager to snag all your attention for themselves. You gave them your attention, but not all. Just like on stage, you glanced towards the bar but there were no eyes meeting you.

The bartenders had returned to their duty, now that your performance was over the guests wanted their drinks. Both animatronics hands move at impossible speed around the bar, you were surprised they didn’t knock anything over at the speed at which they were moving.

Your challengers are distracted by their duty so you allowed yourself the be distracted as well.

Not long after a different waiter came up to you, on the silver platter a tall wide decorated crystal glass. It almost looked like a whine glass but not quite, that moment you decided that you’d have to brush up on your glass etiquette. The liquid inside this glass was deep red, along the edge a ring of sugar.

Again as you asked who this is from the waiter said “It is on the house.”

You toke a sip and the sweet flavor of wine spread across your tongue along with a light taste of citrus from the ring around the glass.

That’s when you decided you have to come back and come back often.

And so you did.

Over the following months, you were at the bar at the very least once a month. Every time without fail, after you went on brake or finished your performance, a waiter would come up to you with a wonderfully decorated glass and the best-tasting drink inside of it.

Once, when your voice wasn’t the best to the point where it was hard to miss that you weren’t at your best, a waiter brought you a simple glass, inside was warm milk with honey when you asked who sent it the answer was “The bar.”

Months and months have past, and a good amount of change happened both in your career and in your relation ship with the bartenders.

Career-wise you have taken off. Now recognized and sought after outside the state you were busy going to new locations, meeting new people, meeting contemporaries, and singing your new songs.

You were outside the city more often and longer, but you made it a point to always drop by your bartenders.

Your bartenders, with whom you have not exchanged a single word since you first saw each other. The bartenders with whom your relationship has developed past a simple challenge.

The looks you exchange have not increased in length, which was nigh impossible while you stand on stage, but they have increased intensity.

Their looks are no longer love-struck but devouring. Every time they look at you they drink up your entire being, as if your existence and your existence alone keeps them alive. They now let their eyes wander across your form, you never see them doing it but you can feel their eyes on you.

As their eyes travel up and down your body, drinking it in. The way you move, the way your costume lays against your skin, the slightest of wrinkles in your clothing, the smallest of hairs it doesn’t matter. They absorb it all, like a flower after drought drinking up all the water it can get.

That night when you first noticed their eyes traveling you, you almost lost the challenge. 

When your gaze followed the path it took so many times before, you saw them. Sitting behind the bar counter, leaning on it as they rested their faces in their hands. They had no shame as they showered you with their affection, attention, adoration and anything else they could give you through their eyes alone.

You immediately felt your face heat up and the urge to hide your face but you caught yourself before you looked away. Your cheeks remained a soft shade of pink trough the rest of the night and your singing had a bit more pep in your step.

Not long after you reviled a new song that made big waves and that caused you to become more known. A song about the sun and the moon, how the singer basks in the sun's warm light, how the singer would follow the moon's beautiful light anywhere and never feel alone, how the singer oh so loves the celestial bodies and their wonderful light, how they wouldn’t know how to live without them.

You let the song spread before you visited your favorite bar again, you wanted to play with them before returning the favor of a warm face. And play with them you did. You teased, called members of the audience the sun and the moon, said how the song is devoted to all and everyone. You played up how this song is to remind of the things one easily takes for granted and that whole spiel.

In the corner of your eye you could see how the robots seemed to deflate with each word. It hurt, and a lot more than you expected but you had to do it so it would hit just as hard as their affection.

When the part came where the singer talks about their love for the sun and moon you let your gaze wander before firmly landing on the bartenders, you had not looked to them before this part of the song. You didn’t care to hide your smug smile on your face as you look at your dear bartenders.

And it worked, like a charm.

They went rigid as they listened to the words coming out of your mouth, completely and fully directed at them.

The cheeks of the robots started to glow a bright orange as some mechanism in their face began to overheat, small puffs of steam expelled from their joints as they tried to cool themselves. And just like you, they almost lost the challenge.

Those few seconds felt like hours, hours their eyes were glued onto you before you released them. From the corner of your eye you could see them fanning their face, desperately trying to cool the mechanism in their face and failing.

For the rest of your performance, their cheeks remained a soft warm orange.

And now, here you are.

Sitting in front of your vanity in your brand new apartment right above your favorite bar. The owner had gifted it to you as a thanks for visiting the bar so often and coincidentally bringing in more guests and therefore income.   

Said guests have started to slowly leave the bar below as it is about to close. You can hear the distant chatter of people through your open balcony door. After one more look at yourself in your vanity mirror, checking your makeup and hair to see if it is acceptable to leave your apartment in these conditions, you get up the close the balcony door.

The chatter has significantly lessened since the beginning of closing time. The few people outside must be the last stragglers.

The bar is now officially closed.

When you return to your vanity you catch yourself in the mirror again. Your simple dark blue dress pants reach slightly over your ankle. They blend well together with your black shoes, they are not your highest shoe when it comes to heel shoes but your favorite, they give you just a few inches more.

A light green poke dot poncho hangs from your shoulders, down to your thighs. It's loose and frilly, one of your favorites. It shows enough of your silhouette but not too much, even if that doesn’t really matter since you’ve worn very form-fitting costumes on stage before.

And yet again you contemplate your looks, you have been doing this for far too long. Changing outfits, makeup, hairstyles and changing the outfit again.

You never have trouble picking an outfit for performances before. So why is it that you are struggling now to pick an outfit, your not even preparing for a performance.

You just want to finally actually meet your bartenders.

You have been exchanging looks with them for months, basically flirted with each other back and forth. Hell, you have even confessed each other's love for one another. You wrote an entire song to do it.

So why are you so nerves.

You look at yourself in the mirror for many moments and as the doubts about your clothing start to make their way back in your head and gnawing at your confidence, you all but run out the door. If you change again you’ll never meet the two.

They are already head over heels for you and so are you.

You make your way down the stairs. The staircase is illuminated by small decorative lamps along the walls, their colored glass shades bath the space in a warm yellow. With a rhythmic tack tack tack of your heals you make your way down the stairs.

Once you’re at the bottom you stand in the back hallways of the bar. No simple guest is allowed back here and yet the hallways are equally as decorated as the main floor. You haven’t had time to familiarize yourself with the all corridors, but you know the way to the stage entrance.

The path is well light and as you step on to the backstage, slowly you pass the curtain that decorates the side of the stage, the light just above welcomes you as always. Your heart is beating like insane in your chest and you have to take a couple of deep breaths to calm before you fully step out onto the stage.

The view of this usably packed place, now completely empty is more than a bit strange but that is not what you focus on. You focus on the bar and its lack of attendants. The bar sits completely empty, there is not a single metallic shine of robotic limbs to be seen. To say your heart drops would be an understatement.

Did you miss them, they should be here, they are always behind the bar. Do they just leave once the bar is closed.

Where are they.

As fear begins to pluck at your heartstrings, what if you don’t meet them now, will you ever actually meet them. Are the three of you cursed to only look at each other.

Suddenly a muffled noise from somewhere even further behind the bar gets your attention. You walk to the very edge of the stage and lean over the edge to listen for that muffled noise again.

It sounds like a conversation. And just when you think that it might be them, you see a flash of blue pass by a doorway in the bar’s wall that you didn’t even notice was there. All these months you look at the bar and nerve noticed that it has a backroom, well you were more so looking at the bartenders. But that doesn’t matter now, they are still here, you didn’t miss them.

Immediately your mood brightens by the power of the sun. You hop of the stage as quietly as possible and tiptoe your way to the bar counter. Easier said than done thanks to your heals. 

You are full of energy and nerves, your heart is doing leaps in your chest. You are as giddy as a kid whose dad is taking them to the toys shop to pick out a new toy.

In an attempt to stop the giggle building in your throat you bite your tongue. However that doesn’t stop the stupid smile on your face from spreading.

In on swift and quite motion you sit yourself on one of the bar chairs. You remain unnoticed. On top of the bar counter are two little bras bells, one with details painted in yellow and the other in blue. You have a hunch for what these bells are for.

Past the door, the conversation between the unknowing animatronics continues. You take one deep breath, then you ring both bells at once with a gentle tap of your finger. The sound the bells make is beautiful and light, but your trained ear can hear that one of the bells has a bit more reverb than the other.

The conversation comes to a stop and hear what you think is a synthetic sigh. Then out from the door steps one of your dear bartenders. His rays catch the light from above and give him the appearance of a glowing crown. His wonderful blue eyes don’t meet yours as he looks down to his hands where he works on putting his red half-glove back on his exposed hand.

His had is a wonderful shining chrome, the tips of his fingers are a brilliant yellow.

When he speaks his voice is butter-smooth and honey-sweet when he talks. “The bar is closed for tonight.” He sounds exhausted, like he had to have this conversation often. “I’ll have to ask you to leave-“

He finally looks up and meets your eyes, immediately freezing mid-step. He looks at you wide-eyed, surprised to see you of all people here.

“Oh, if you don’t want me here I can leave again.” You say as you turn on the chair as if to get up. “Ah- No. Stay.” The animatronic blurts out as he steps closer to the counter, one ungloved hand stretch out as if to stop you from leaving.

You lean back on the counter and smile at the sunbot, resting your head on the palm of your hand. “I’ll stay then.”

“Yes stay here.” The animatronic says quietly, sweetly, as he moves even closer. He drinks in your very being like he did so many times before, only closer now.

Your face warms up, about to catch fire. Already you can tell, that if he speaks even more sweetly to you, this will be a lethal encounter.

At least you know the names of your demise, after all the bar owner proudly told you their names during your very first performance.

From behind your Sun his counterpart emerges, his nightcap lazily resting on his shoulder, he is also not wearing his half gloves. Just like his counterpart, his hands are a shining chrome and his fingertips are a deep blue.

“Sun, what’s going on?”

You just about die. His voice is nothing short of heavenly. Deep and lush, simply beautiful. You can feel the vibration of his voice down your spine.

The lunar bot meets your eyes and visibly brightens. “Oh~.” You are deceased. “Finally decided to visit us~.” The animatronic says with a grin, showing his sharp teeth. He steps around his counterpart and stands next to him.

“Oh, you know. I had nothing else to do.” You lean forward, closer to them and fold your fingers together before resting your head on them. Both robots lean forward as well, closing the distance between you even more.

“Plus, I thought things were getting a bit boring, so I thought we make it a bit more exiting.” The smile that spreads across your face is smug.

Both bots raise their eyebrows, just like they did the first time. “More exciting? And how might we do that.” The golden bot asks.

Without saying a word you free your hand and reach for the sun bots face. His gaze follows your hand. Gently and slowly you reach under the bots chin and lift it, from where he was looking down at your hand, to look at you.

“Oh, nothing too big.” You say sweetly.

His internal workings kick into overdrive, the wiring inside his chest becomes louder, puffs of steam seep through his suit and the metal of his cheeks becomes a hot orange. The rays around his face fold back against his head and he stammers something before he wraps his hand around yours and removes it from his face as it is getting to hot.

However, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

Next to him, Moon lets out a dark chuckle and it’s your turn to melt.

“Playing the jealousy game again?” The bot accuses you amused. “It was worth a try. Don’t you think?” You retort playfully.

He chuckles again. His gaze lands on Sun who has slightly recovered from your flirt, now he examines your hand with a loving fascination. You follow Moon's gaze and watch Sun as he gently turns over your hand.

It is only then that you realize how much bigger Sun's hand is compared to yours, his hand completely engulfs your with ease. A few seconds later you realize how much bigger they are in general. Sitting at a bar with a human bartender, you see eye to eye but with these two you have to crane your neck to look them in the eye, even if they are already hunched over.

So lost in your realization, you barely notice the hand that is coming towards your face. Blue fingertips gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before tracing your skin and cupping your face.

You can't help but lean into the cool chrome hand and let out a small sigh. You relax as a cool thump softly draws circles on your cheek and yellow-tipped fingers work their way up your arm.

And there you remain for longer, with your dear bartenders, no longer confined to look at you, but now able to touch you just as gently as they looked at you.   

[bronzecats]

National Rainbow Week of Action in Canada

In this post I have compiled all the information I could find regarding upcoming events for the Rainbow Week of Action. There are two online events, and dozens on in-person events across the country.

"Within the Rainbow Week of Action, we are pushing governments and elected officials at every level to take action for Rainbow Equality and address rising anti-2SLGBTQIA+ hate. As such, we have identified calls to action for every level of government. These calls to action can be reviewed here."

Event list below:

Events are listed in date order, provinces in general west-to-east order. I have included as much detail as possible, please reference the links at the bottom of the post. At this time, there are no events in N.W.T. and Nova Scotia. Last updated: May 14th, 9:53pm PDT. Please note that I am not officially affiliated with / an organizer of these events, I have simply compiled all the dates to share on tumblr. Original post content.

B.C. EVENTS:

15th: Fernie; Fernie Seniors Drop-In Centre, 572 3rd Avenue, 6:00PM. (Letter writing and Potluck)

17th: Vancouver; šxʷƛ̓ənəq Xwtl'e7énḵ Square - Vancouver Art Gallery North Plaza, 750 Hornby St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

19th, Sunday: Abbotsford; Jubilee Park, 5:00PM. (Rally)

ALBERTA EVENTS:

15th: Lethbridge; McKillop United Church, 2329 15th Ave S, 12:00-1:00PM (letter writing)

17th, Friday: Calgary; Central Memorial Park, 1221 2 St SW, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Edmonton; Wilbert McIntyre Park, 8331 104 St NW, 6:00PM. (Rally)

SASKATCHEWAN EVENTS:

17th: Saskatoon; Vimy Memorial Park, 500 Spadina Crescent E, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Regina; Legislative Grounds, 2405 Legislative Dr, 6:30PM. (Rally)

May 18th: Saskatoon; Grovenor Park United Church, 407 Cumberland Ave S, 6:00PM. (Art event)

MANITOBA EVENTS:

16th: Carman; Paul's Place, 20 1 Ave SW, 7:00-9:00PM. (Letter writing)

19th: Winnipeg; Manitoba Legislature, 450 Broadway, 12:00PM. (Rally)

ONTARIO EVENTS:

15th: Barrie; UPlift Black, 12 Dunlop St E, 6:00-7:30PM. (Letter writing)

15th: Chatham; CK Gay Pride Association, 48 Centre St, 5:00-6:30PM. (Letter writing)

15th: Peterborough; Trinity Community Centre, 360 Reid St, 12:00-3:00PM. (Letter writing)

16th: Midland; Midland Public Library, 4:30-7:30PM. (Letter writing and pizza)

16th: Ottawa; Impact Hub, 123 Slater Street, 2:00PM. (Letter writing)

16th: Toronto; Barbara Hall Park, 519 Church St, 11:30AM. (Rally)

17th, Friday: Barrie; City Hall, 70 Collier St, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Cornwall; 167 Pitt St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

17th: Essex; St. Paul's Anglican Church, 92 St. Paul St, 6:00-8:00PM. (Letter writing and pizza)

17th: Hamilton; City Hall, 71 Main St W, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Kitchener; City Hall, 200 King St W, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: London; City Hall, 300 Dufferin Ave, 6:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Sarnia; City Hall, 255 Christina St N, 1:00PM. (Rally)

17th: Sault Ste Marie; City Hall, 99 Foster Dr, 11:30AM. (Rally)

17th: Ottawa; Confederation Park, Elgin St, 5:30PM. (Rally)

22nd: Renfrew; 161 Raglan St. South, 7:00PM. (Letter writing, fashion and makeup event, and pizza)

QUEBEC EVENTS:

May 15th: Lachute; CDC Lachute, 57, rue Harriet, 12:30PM. (Letter writing event)

NEW BRUNSWICK EVENTS:

17th: Woodstock; Citizen's Square, Chapel St, Next to the L.P. Fisher Public Library, 12:00-1:00PM. (rally)

17th: Saint John; City Hall, 15 Market Square, 12:30PM. (Rally, flag raising)

18th, Saturday: Fredericton; Legislative Grounds, 706 Queen Street, 1:00PM. (Rally)

NOVA SCOTIA EVENTS:

May 17th: Middleton; NSCC AVC RM 121, 6:30-8:30PM (letter writing and pizza)

P.E.I. EVENTS:

May 15th: Charlottetown; Peers Alliance Office, 250B Queen Street, 6:00-8:00PM. (Adult drop-in)

May 16th: Charlottetown, Peers Alliance Office, 250B Queen Street, 6:00-7:00PM.

May 17th: Charlottetown; PEI Legislative Assembly, 165 Richmond St, 12:00PM. (Rally)

YUKON EVENTS:

16th: Whitehorse; The Cache, 4230 4 Ave, 2:00-7:00PM. (Letter writing)

NUNAVUT EVENTS:

May 16th, Thursday: Iqaluit; Four Corners, 922 Niaqunngusiariaq St, 5:00PM. (Letter writing)

Reference links:

About the Rainbow Week of Action.

Website letter writing events list (does not include all events)

General events website list (does not include all events)

Instagram general events image list

Instagram letter writing / pizza party image list

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Lots of blood drinking (+ its underlying issues), suggestive themes, mention of bodily fluids, and at least dubious consent for vampire turning ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Bury Me

Leon had reached a row of converted Victorian-style residential buildings in the Lower West Side of Uptown Raccoon City. Tall, stained glass windows lined their exterior, accented with a mixture of gabled and Mansard roofs. Pointed arches embellished with corbels and fretwork adorned the structures, detailing their rich architectural history. Despite them appearing frozen in time, harking back to the 19th century, everything else had been modernized for their inhabitants.

Scanning his keycard on the reader, he slipped in through the back entrance and hurried towards the rarely used service elevator that was stationed out of sight in a narrow corridor at the rear end of the building. He swiped his card again to gain access to his specific apartment floor, punching the button several times erratically, even though it had already lit up on the first try. Upon noticing that he had accidentally smudged blood from his hands onto it, he muttered a string of curses while using the cuff of his shirt to wipe it off.

Holding you close, he planted a desperate kiss against the crown of your head, as if by some miracle you would wake up from this nightmare, safe and sound in his arms. Your body temperature had dropped considerably, and with each passing second, he could feel your vitals waning as your life force ebbed into oblivion.

“Come on, stay with me,” he begged, his visage crumbling under the weight of grief, and out of habit, he thumbed at the gold cross pendant hanging from his necklace. If there was a god, he would let you live.

As soon as the elevator doors parted with a resonant ding, he sped out towards the only apartment door on the top floor. Feeling the side of the frame for a familiar indent, he pressed against it, and a matchbox sized cache slid out, containing a crescent shaped device. Attaching it to another metallic apparatus that he carried around in his pocket, he slotted it through the keyhole while simultaneously adjusting what looked like gears of an old-fashioned clock into place. 

Despite all these years, he still had a penchant for puzzle solving, seeing as his former workplace, the Raccoon Police Station, had been a labyrinth in itself. And what better way to put his hobby to use than to invest into the security of his haven, by creating his own intricate lock mechanisms, complete with false walls and hidden passageways. It may seem a little over the top, but sometimes it was comforting to lose his nights designing and crafting the things that had made him human in the beginning.

With a satisfying click, the heavyset door creaked open on its hinges, revealing an immaculately kept and minimalist loft. He dashed in, shutting the door behind him before pushing the coffee table away and setting you down gently on the rug. You were the only blemish in the room, bleeding out from underneath him, staining the fabric in the pattern of angel’s wings.

He felt your pulse, weak and unsteady, and you were nearly gone. It crushed him to see you like this, your skin ashen and pale — the only shade of blue he never liked. As you lay there unresponsive like a corpse before him, he knew he needed to go through with what he had planned for you all long along. Even so, he had a hard time coming to terms with it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was meant to woo you, give you a taste of what the unlife had to offer, bring you over to his side and both of you would, what—? Live happily ever after? 

Fucking hell, Leon. What the fuck were you thinking? he swore at himself internally. Ada’s words came back to haunt him. She was right, he had let his emotions get ahead of him again. Regardless, he had to fix this mess, and letting you die was out of the question, as was turning you into a mindless ghoul addicted to a blood bond. No, he would never do that to you.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, brushing the strands of your hair, which had clumped together in dried blood and sweat, out of your face. You were so deathly cold in your slumber…

Then, he broke the first of his promises and drained you dry. Images of you flooded his mind again as he latched his mouth onto your neck. He could feel your fears, your joys, and your sorrows. The first steps you had taken as a child, captured through the lens of an old home video; the family and friends you would leave behind; long, solitary walks in the woods; dancing your heart out in smoky nightclubs; ceiling-high shelves filled to the brim with musty books and DIY costumes you’d pieced together from scraps; every trinket and memento — all the signs of life that had made you happy.

There was no time for regrets. He could make you happier, he vowed. He will, he had to.

At the very last drop, he licked the bite marks close and let go, slashing his wrist against his teeth before placing it to your lips. His own sanguine fluid coated your lips in a cherry red stain, restoring a semblance of life to your otherwise waxen complexion, as it dripped down your throat. Slowly, your jaw began to move, lips puckering up as it suctioned against the open wound, the tip of your tongue licking across it over and over again like the sweetest nectar you’d ever savored.

“There you go, angel,” he panted, feeling the pressure grow taut around his wrist as he stroked your hair tenderly with his other hand. “Just a bit more.”

He concentrated on the act, investing the power of his vitae into you, passing on the curse of Caine which he had carried with him all this while. On top of that came the Bane and Compulsion of his clan, as well as its Disciplines and strengths.

You couldn’t explain why your body reacted so naturally to it, but your appetite for his vitae was insatiable, like an insurmountable tidal wave heading towards shore. Your eyes flew open and you caught his ocean blue gaze. Gasping for breath, you clamped down on his wrist even harder, earning you a gratifying moan that fell from his lips, as they twisted into an expression of excruciating euphoria.

Likewise, you felt the build up of sheer bliss with an underlying tinge of agony within you, as you continued drinking from him, unable to stop yourself, no matter how much you tried. Every fiber of your being burned like a warm, inviting flame. You were the epitome of a phoenix in a pyre, combusting and being reborn again, walking barefoot across searing hot coal unharmed, as the fire raged on. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, into eternal life.

And then he appeared before you like an ethereal, ghostly apparition, kneeling in the pews of a cathedral you didn’t recognize, praying fervently to a crucified man on a wooden cross. Subsequently, the scene switched to a hectic office space, permeated with the shrill sound of phones ringing and papers flying in every direction. There he stood in the center of the room, like the eye of a storm, a handgun secured in his holster as he moved the pins around on a crime board. One vision blurred into the other and it felt as if you were seeing his past, present and future all at once.

An immense rush of ecstasy filled your senses at the final image of you riding him like a horse, as if you were experiencing it for yourself firsthand. Sweat poured down your naked bodies as you rolled your hips back and forth against his lasciviously. His calloused hands squeezed the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to move faster as he thrust up into you. In the throes of passion, you threw your head back and cried out in excess, but found it muffled against his wrist as you abruptly returned to reality. Your eyes went straight to his, and the knowing look on his face gave it away, confirming that you had partaken in the last vision together.

The Beast was gnawing at the cage in his chest again as you suckled more of his vitae. A hunger arose within him and he was aware that the deed had been done. The primary hurdle was getting you to stop.

“Angel, my love,” he called to you softly, “That’s all I can give you.”

You had heard every word he said; they were crystal clear, but your head remained fuzzy, as if it were wrapped in layers of cotton wool, dampening your thoughts. He could see it in your glazed eyes that you were unable to register what he had requested of you, but he couldn’t bear to tear himself away.

“Please, angel,” he whimpered. “Let go.”

At that point, something in you clicked. Perhaps it was the sight of a broken man, crouched in the middle of his living room, weary from all the bloodshed and the cruel hand fate had dealt him tonight. You wanted to do everything you could to soothe his pain. The same pain that had crept up in his voice the night he put you to bed, and when he had wondered out loud in the park if you could accept him for who he was.

Loosening your grip, you tilted back, allowing him to retract his hand as you ingested the rest of his vitae in your mouth. Nothing could ever come close to the intensity of what you had just felt. Gradually, you came down from the high and your ragged breathing evened out. A numbing weight pressed against your body as your eyes fluttered before closing. Was this it? Was this the end? All you could think of was what a peaceful way it was to die.

A shiver ran down his spine as Leon caressed your cheek, watching you fall back to sleep again. Even his own Embrace hadn’t gone this far. Of course it had been the best thing he had felt in the world, but this, with you? It was on a completely different plane. The memories, the shared sexual intimacy, how—? Did he hallucinate that? He still hadn’t figured it out. It was something for maybe the Tremere, unfortunately, to advise on.

But he had bigger things to worry about now. This was only a temporary respite before you would awake in torment, and he needed to find a way to ease that as quickly as possible, despite being so ill-prepared. It would be the first lesson he’d have to teach you and one of the worst.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A set of steely arms wrapped around you the moment your body jolted upright as you came to. Disoriented and unable to think straight, you struggled to break out of their hold as you heard Leon’s voice in your ear, “Shhh… it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me.”

You tried to speak but only unintelligible growls escaped your mouth and you continued thrashing about wildly, as a gut-wrenching pain ripped through your flesh and bones. It felt like hundreds of rats were clawing their way out of your stomach as your eyes searched the room rabidly for the offending source that was driving you insane.

And then you saw him. A man in a fancy business suit, unconscious but propped up against the wall. His hands were bound with rope and a nasty bruise swelled at the side of his head. You let out a torturous wail when it finally dawned on you that the very substance you had been lusting after was his blood. It smelled incredible from where you were seated and you were frothing at the mouth like a deranged animal.

What the fuck was going on?! your mind screamed, while you made guttural noises in retaliation. Is this—? Oh god, no! What did he do to me?

There was a persistent throb in your corner teeth, as if they had been plucked out by force and something foreign had been put in its place. You ran your tongue over them, they were elongated and sharp. Just like-

Leon? He pulled you flush against his chest, trapping you in his iron grip, and with a sense of urgency, he spelled out, “Listen to me, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to feed on him.”

Shaking your head violently, your eyes rolled back as if you were possessed by a demonic entity, while you fought with all your might against him and your overzealous hunger. No, no, no, fuck that! I won’t—!

“If you don’t, you will lose control and murder everyone in your path,” he explained.

Noticing how you continued to resist him vehemently, he added, “You won’t have to kill him, I can show you how.”

You whined, scratching at his hands and crying like a hapless pup. There was no need for you to articulate it in words. He understood everything you were going through — the inner turmoil and mental dilemma at your first feed. Except, you had it worse off than him. At least back then, he knew what he was getting himself into and accepted it. You just didn’t have the privilege of time.

Shambling across the floorboards, he brought you closer to the man. “It’s not easy in this state, but you’re strong, and smart. I know you can.” He paused, shifting his grip on you so that he could point out an obscured trail along the man’s neck. “You need to hit one of the arteries or veins for a clean feed. Usually, you’d take it slow and be more careful, but we don’t really have an option tonight.”

Suppressing another painful whine, you tried your utmost to follow his instructions as a beast-like creature went berserk in your chest, bashing it way through your ribcage. Focusing on the area he had identified, you could more or less make out the veins protruding from his skin, like an ultrasound.

“Here, the jugular,” he indicated. “You can start with that, but don’t drain him fully. I’ll help you to stop, just remember to lick it close at the end, okay?”

Nodding, you sobbed out a vague agreement, though your feet were kicking out furiously, itching to be set free. It felt like your mind and body had been separated in two, and neither worked in tandem with each other. The scent of this man’s blood was overpowering, it was making you giddy.

As soon as he let you go, you lurched forward, grabbing the man’s neck roughly as you plunged your teeth into the vein you’d singled out. A viscous, intoxicating liquid enveloped your mouth as you had your fill. Raw energy flowed from one end to another, restoring function to your organs and limbs, as they began to come under your control again. The more you drank, the clearer your mind became, and the Beast within you quietened, satiated from the elixir that seemed to nourish your entire being and soul. Soul? Did you still have one, especially after this?

From a distance you heard your name, accompanied by an appeal to cut it short. Once again, you were thrown into the depths of a battlefield, where each side struggled for dominance as its victor. It felt too good to end it here. Why should you obey? a voice inside you sneered.

A pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind. Leon’s tone was stern and resolute: “Stop, lick the wound now.”

His command reverberated through your hollow chest, rattling your bones as you submitted to him. Swabbing your tongue over the puncture site, you released your prey as Leon pulled you away. Splotches of bright crimson covered the man’s attire as well as your own. It had been a messy affair.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.” His voice was tender again, as he turned your face to his. Dragging his fingertip along the spilled blood trickling down your throat, he scooped up the remains and sucked it into his mouth.

By now, he was an expert in cleaning up after his elders, having done his fair share of dirty errands. That’s what neonates like him were good for. At least it would come in handy tonight. The man was still alive, drowsy as hell, but his heart was beating. He had taught you well.

“You did this to me.” The accusation rang like the toll of a bell in his ears, as he watched your expression change into one of pure hatred and disgust. 

But before you could continue on with the verbal onslaught you had been saving up for him, a debilitating pain struck, blinding you in the process as you clutched your abdomen and trembled turbulently. What—? When will this ever end?

You were physically dealing with the bitter aftermath of being snatched from the hands of death and flung into rebirth through abnormal means. Anything within you that didn’t need to be there anymore would be cleansed in the next few hours, as your body was dying and disposing of the needless waste. It was not like this in the movies. You wanted to laugh at the outright ridiculousness of it, but all you managed were terrified shrieks. 

It was humiliating to be brought down this low in front of him — the man who went from someone you had started to fall for to the last person in the world you wanted to be in the same room with. You hated him for what he had done to you. The fire came back, but this time it was like being burnt at the stake; it was harrowing. 

To Leon, you could never degrade yourself in his eyes. He stayed with you the whole time, rubbing reassuring circles on your back as you writhed in agony, dirtying his rug with vomit and piss. 

Though she had cared in her own way, Ada never did this for him. He remembered his transformation like it was just yesterday. The serene peach walls of her bathroom, equipped with fluffy towels, aromatic diffusers, and soft music playing in the background, like a spa he couldn’t enjoy. He had been tucked away safely in the bathtub, the door locked on him, as he shivered uncontrollably like a junkie. She couldn’t bear to see him like this — his face covered in snot, stinking up the place with a vacant look in his eyes. It was a mess, but a controlled one.

With you, he wanted it all — the good and the bad. He couldn’t offer you the luxuries that Ada had with him, but he would be there beside you, taking care of you like the sire he desired to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was a sense of déjà vu when you awakened for the second time that night. Or was it morning? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Somehow, you had ended up on a double bed that wasn’t your own and in clothes that you’d never wear — not unless you were a lingerie model on the cover of a magazine spread, or one of those rich housewives looking to spice things up in the bedroom. In your last conscious moments, you thought you had soiled yourself, but now you were squeaky clean. Did Leon—?

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil. 

You whipped your head in his direction, and saw him leaning against the banister of the stairs that connected the partially open, mezzanine-like level to the main floor below, which it overlooked. Out of a sense of self-preservation and modesty, you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.

Stifling a laugh, he smiled at you bashfully like a teenage boy in front of his first crush. “It’s, um, my sire’s.” He gestured towards your outfit. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anything else.”

Sire? Letting yourself go, you peered down at the fitting lace chemise that clung to your body, still feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze, as you speculated over what he meant.

“It suits you,” he complimented, either oblivious to your bemusement or attempting not broach the subject at this point.

The remark he had made, even if with good intentions, made your blood boil. “Does turning me into a monster suit me?” you spat, getting up from the bed as you strode towards him in fury.

A flicker of remorse flashed across his eyes and his breath hitched. He thought he could stall for time and reconcile with you before having the talk, but he had been blindsided by your astuteness. Despite that, he tried to pacify you. “Angel…”

But you weren’t having any of it. “Shut up!” you hollered, slapping him hard across the face. The blow was harsh enough to send his head snapping to the side, leaving a vivid red handprint marked on his cheek. “I’m not your angel, and never will be!”

He could’ve punished you for your insolence, but chose to suck it up and tolerate it. You were clearly struggling to accept your new circumstances.

“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, gingerly rubbing the side of his face where it stung.

You didn’t seem to care though, in fact, you were absolutely livid to the point where you couldn’t speak. Casting him a venomous look of disdain, you drew in labored breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid, heaving motions.

His watery eyes met yours, and you saw the pain and hurt brimming in them. “You would’ve died back there,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you withdrew from him, gripping the edge of the bedpost so intensely that a huge chunk of it broke off. Wait, just how strong were you now?

He glanced over at the damage and winced. Dammit, I liked that bed, he sighed to himself. 

“I wish I did,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of metal in your hand skeptically before chucking it to the side. “You could’ve done your job and buried me.”

That was when he lost his cool. “Don’t say that,” he hissed sharply, his gaze smoldering like dying embers, as he marched forward, seizing your wrist to prevent you from backing away. “I just wanted to help—”

“Help?” you questioned testily, challenging him head on with a fierce glare. “You forced me to drink some guy’s blood!”

“You would’ve died,” he reiterated, using the same excuse in a loop as if he never heard you.

“He could’ve died!” you retorted, with the same stupid line of argument that Leon had been falling back on each time.

“Well, he didn’t, and he’s fine!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and huffed as he pivoted to one side, before turning back to shoot daggers at you. “A little anemic, but fine!” he expounded for good measure.

There was a slight pause until you fired back, “Go fuck yourself, Leon S. Kennedy,” letting every syllable of his full name roll off your tongue mockingly.

A low growl erupted from his sternum. He wanted to yank you roughly by the hair, throw you onto the bed and teach you a lesson. Jesus Christ, Leon, don’t go there. Get a hold of yourself! 

Instead, he bottled up his anger and composed himself. Releasing a deep, slow breath, he evened out his tone, reasoning with you. “Look, like it or not, you need to come to terms with… what you are.”

You hadn’t backtalked him yet; that was a good sign.

“If you want to survive these nights, then I’m the best shot you got.”

Even though you held nothing but contempt towards him in your heart at that very moment, you realized that ultimately, he had a point. And so, you grudgingly raised the white flag. “Fine,” you relented. “But I will never forgive you.”

Another compromise. He could work with that, for now.

[animehouse-moe]

Pride Month Manga Recommendations: Currently Releasing

It's the first day of Pride Month, so why not find some LGBTQ+ manga to read to kick off the start of June? Take a look through this thread of 10 currently releasing manga and light novels to find a new series to pick up, starting with-

The Summer Hikaru Died - Soon To Be an Anime!

Yoshiki and Hikaru were best friends, until Yoshiki notices a change in the boy and comes to find out that he's been replaced by some sort of monster that proclaims his love for Yoshiki.

A fittingly disturbing affair, The Summer Hikaru Died does wonderful work as a horror manga, and expertly intertwines Yoshiki and "Hikaru's" emotions and feelings for one another with the dark and foreboding tone of the series.

Whisper Me A Love Song - A Currently Airing Anime!

Yori Asanagi is a girl better at guitar than love, but what happens when underclassman Himari Kino falls in love with that guitar work? Well, a string of misunderstandings appears that sets in motion this love song of a story.

Whisper Me A Love Song is certainly a bit close to cliché or melodramatic, but with Takeshima Eku's art, it becomes quite the appealing series. Certainly for fans of a more typically-styled love story, Whisper Me A Love Song is a very fun read!

I Married My Female Friend - from the author of Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon

One day at a festival, Kurumi and Ruriko made a "promise" to each other: in 5 years, if neither found a partner, they would get married. That period elapses, and Ruriko comes racing back to Kurumi with a marriage certificate in hand.

I Married My Female Friend is both a lighthearted yet emotionally aware manga that feels like a spiritual successor to Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon, skipping the challenges of finding love & heading for the difficulty of being in love.

Seaside Stranger - Also A Major (Animated) Motion Picture

A story of two young men estranged from their parents, Seaside Stranger finds a difficult love blossom on a remote island that begins as confinement for the pair as they work through their challenging feelings and pasts.

Kii Kana's art is really something, and studio Hibari's adaptation is equally beautiful- extracting the most out of this dramatic (and steamy) romance. I might add though that it's not quite for those brand new to BL thanks to explicit content, but it's a great read nonetheless.

Otherside Picnic - Both An Anime And Manga

Sorawo Kamikoshi, a university student, spends her free time exploring a creepy pasta-esque dimension she calls the Otherside where she meets Toriko Nishina as the two narrowly escape the clutches of death, starting their journey.

While it's certainly quite the slow-burn of a romance, Iori Miyazawa's horror-filled world is bursting with passion and discomfort in equal amounts, making for a riveting read with a romance that feels impressively real. There's also an anime.... but it doesn't quite deliver.

Cinderella Closet

Haruka's a "plain jane" who left the countryside to live a bright and fashionable life in Tokyo- which she struggles with before meeting her "fairy godmother" Haruka- a young person with an incredible eye and interest for women's fashion and makeup.

In a sense, Cinderella Closet is a very loud depiction of romance in "the big city", throwing curve balls and both romantic & emotional challenges at every turn. In the end though, it remains a very positive and encouraging story with each turn, making for a great read.

The Contract Between a Specter and a Servant

On the worst- and final- day of Masamichi Adachi's life, he's hit by a car and left to die in the streets at night... until the enigmatic Shino offers him a contract to save his life.

While in the same genre as Otherside Picnic, this light novel certainly leans more into traditional horror as it explores a tense but intriguing relationship between Masamchi and Shino. A unique and engaging (re-released) light novel, it's an easy choice for fans of horror!

I Want To Be A Wall

Though Yuriko and Gakurouta are married, no love blossoms between them, as Yuriko is asexual (and a fan of BL) and Gakurouta stills holds feelings for his oblivious (male) childhood friend close to his heart.

Sporting a wonderfully unique concept, I Want To Be A Wall is a story that more so focuses on the wedded couple's humorous day-to-day lives than anything. A very light and enjoyable series, it's very easy to recommend to just about anyone.

Confessions of a Shy Baker

Toshimitsu Yamamura owns a real estate company and is a baking fanatic- spurred on by the sweet tooth of his boyfriend Gonta. One day however, Toshi gets pushed towards advertising his services as LGBTQ-friendly, forcing him to reconcile with how this move that would help others might out himself as gay.

A manga that delicately balances the societal struggles of being gay with a bright and heartwarming romance centered around baking, Confessions of a Shy Baker is a great jack all of trades manga.

Our Not-So-Lonely Planet Travel Guide

Overly serious Asahi Suzumura and equally laid-back Mitsuki Sayama made each other a promise: together, they'll travel around the world, and when they return to Japan they'll get married.

A beautiful story that throws readers out into the world through destinations and stories, this is a manga that does everything it can within its pages. A forbidden love, a forgotten partner, struggles with laws that forbid love- together they explore this world and each other.

And that's all the recommendations for today, if you have any more you'd like to add feel free to share them here!

[thenightfolknetwork]

Um, hi. I'm human, and not a regular listener, so apologies if I'm overstepping, but I asked a friend of mine for help with this already. He said it was above his paygrade and to ask you.

So, like I said, I'm human, and so are my parents, grandparents, and pretty much all my family. And for the first ten years of my life, I thought my sister was too. When she was sixteen, she started wearing long pants and hats all the time, and we all thought it was a fashion choice. A weird one, but at least she wasn't trying to dye her hair with Kool-Aid or pierce her ears with a sewing needle and an ice cube. But then the hat came off on accident. And then my parents saw her horns. I still remember the way they yelled at her before they kicked her out. I still remember the way I just sat on the stairs, being scared for my big sister but not wanting to interfere because what if our parents turned on me, as well?

I recently moved to the city for work. It's a nice place, and there's a park near my flat. There's this woman who walks her dog in the evenings through the park, and by "this woman" I mean my sister. Well, I haven't actually spoken to her about it, but my sister has a rather distinctive birthmark on her left cheek, shaped kind of like a crescent moon. The woman does too. Her hair is shorter, her horns are longer, and she's got a tail, but there's no way she isn't my sister.

I want to reach out to her, I really do. But I'm scared of what she'll think of me. I didn't help her back when I was ten, and I can't fully blame myself for that - I was ten. But even now, I haven't cut off my parents for what they did to my sister. I still go to family dinner with them every other Sunday. They were horrible to her and I'll never forgive them for that, but they're my parents and I still love them.

Is there a way I can ever get my big sister back?

I first want to reassure you that you're perfectly welcome here, reader. You aren't the first sapio to write in to us, not by a long shot, and I sincerely hope you won't be the last.

I also want to take a moment to address a rather throw-away comment in your letter. You say you “can't fully blame yourself” for not acting in your sister's interests when you were a child. Reader, I don't see that you can blame yourself at all. I hope you can find a way to work through any lingering feelings of guilt about what happened back then.

As to your question, I think you need to think very carefully about what you want to gain from reaching out to your sister, and how you will feel if your attempts to reconnect don't go as well as you would hope. There are a few questions I'd like you to consider before making any attempts to reach out.

Your sister has built an entire life for herself independent of you and your parents. Are you able to meet her in that life, and take her as she is – whoever she is, now? Or is some part of you hoping she will slot simply and unproblematically back into your life?

You say you want “your big sister back”. I'm sorry but the person who was your sister when you were 10 simply doesn't exist any more, any more than your 10 year old self does. She has grown and changed, and you need to be sure you want to meet the woman she's become, not only the memory of the girl she was.

I also encourage you to reflect on whether you're ready for the reality of being a sibling to someone in the community. You were raised by people so entrenched in anti-creature beliefs that they abandoned their own child when they discovered her liminal nature. It takes time and effort to be able to show up for your friends and family in the creature community without trailing those ideas in with you.

If, after careful reflection, you decide you still want to reach out to her, I recommend giving her as much room as possible. Approaching her while she's walking her dog is one thing, but that is not the time to spring an entire reconciliation on her. You can introduce yourself, and either give her your contact details or write what you want to say in a letter for her to read when she is emotionally prepared.

I understand that you love your parents, and are able to remain in a relationship with them despite their social and political views. That isn't a failing on your part – it's the reality of love. We all have to make our own minds up about what we are willing to tolerate, and how, and when, and from whom. Your sister also has the right to decide who she shares her life with – even if that decision is hurtful to you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[tsaritza-mika]

I've been too spoiled XDDD

Ngl, I have been thoroughly spoiled by almost 20 years of playing WoW, because as much adore and respect as I have for Larian and BG3, I would really have loved if the armor had reflected the areas where you got them Act 1 took place out in the wilderness, and the only semi-civilized parts were either in the Grove or the Goblin Camp. It would have been so cool to have any armor/equipment you bought from those merchants to have been themed by them. The Grove armor could have been very druidic-looking: lots of leather, bark, leaves, vines, a kind of blending of traditional clothing with the surrounding nature they were made from. The Goblin camp could have had pieces influenced by Goblin culture; lots of tribal-looking outfits, heavy Worg and other animal leathers, warpaints, animal teeth to give an imposing and spiky appearance, even a skull/bone or two. Or even just imagine finding a few hidden gems in the Zhentarim hideout that will now never make it to the city or whoever ordered it!

The Mountain Pass could have been interesting too! Since we have a location further from any towns/major cities, yet there was the Creche that was hiding beneath the Rosymourn Monestary. It could have been so cool to find armor/robes leftover from the monestary's hayday: Flowing robes of red/gold/orange/pink/yellow/black and all of them adorned with Lythander iconography, old plate and chainmail that appear cracked and broken but when exposed to the light the cracks glow with power to protect the wearer

The Underdark... man the outfits could have been so damn cool here! An area that embraces the beauty found within the darkness, armor found at the Selunite outpost could have been dripping in the stars and crescents of its patron goddess, adorned in shades of blue with brilliant, shining silvers. Anything found at the Myconid colony could have looked old, of course, as if found left behind by either unfortunate or passing through adventurers, but covered with glowing fungus of all colors. Left over armor from Drow encounters could have been draped in pearlescent blacks, blues, pinks and greens, and much of it could be found with either Lolth or Elistree iconography as a nod to the warring goddesses. Elistree armor could be similar, but on the opposite side of the spectrum. Where Lolth armor could have been dark, Elistree's armor could be more traditionally pearlescent, with white/ivory as the base, with shining pastel pinks, blues, purples, and greens, with some black/grey/silver/gold accents

Act 2 could have been SUCH a fashion feast for the eyes... Any armor/robes found here could have looked just as shadow-touched as the land you found it in. Robes could have ended in scorch-looking marks, but almost appear to be still burning with the teal glow of the surrounding corruption. Plate and chainmail found around Reithwynn could have patches of flaking corruption, all of it with old iconography of either the Harpers or Shar. Anything from Shar's Gauntlet could look to even have a certain shadowy darkness in and of itself, making it perfect for those who value silence and stealth. Anything from Moonrise would be covered in icons of the Absolute, with hints at the secrets hidden under the towers as parts of the armor/weapons could appear almost flesh-like or with tentacles

Rivington is just outside Baldur's Gate, and as such would defs be along a heavily used road for travelers and traders as they make their way into the city. Astarion was sad to not have found any leftover Cormian silks in the Reithwynn tollhouse, but maybe they could have been found here! Traders with wagons of merchandise from all along the Sword Coast and further growing impatient with the Flaming Fist not allowing them entry into the city, so they start selling to everyone else who can't get in. Silks from Cormir, lovely bright-colored dyes and jewelry from Ahm, robes and leathers from Candlekeep and Waterdeep get Gale talking about how much he enjoyed going shopping with his mother as a young lad and how he'd love to do the same with Tav. Karlach, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart looking through armor merchants and giving their opinions on what would be best against a particular foe. Astarion and Wyll inspecting and commenting on blades from as far north as Neverwinter and Luskan. A secret Evereskan merchant hidden off the main road just past Sharess' Caress, and everything emanating the timeless beauty of the Elves

Baldur's Gate itself could still have the amazing armor we find, but also think if we had two merchants who competed with each other over who's armor was better. Similarly to the dialogue you get if you wear any of Figaro's items to Carmen's shop, maybe instead you get one merchant who thinks armor is only as good as what it covers, and another who's armor is stronger when it exposes more of the wearer. Kind of a way to let the player choose between the practical-looking stuff, and the classic chainmail bikini found in old fantasy art

Again, I'm not saying anything bad about Larian or the game itself, and I have a lot of respect for how much is in the game as it is. I admit I'm spoiled in this from my many years of Wow, but just...

Imagine it... ^--^

[jmoonjones]

2023 Recap

Some highlights from 2023:

Andarna will always be a sparkly golden bb regardless of what canon insists Daddy Vincent! Some faves including the Sailor Valkyrie and the Crescent City otter Bryaxis! (I want my Etsy shop to have a much bigger Bryaxis presence in 2024) Some more faces including the Velaris citizen getting jizzed on from the sky and the wing fashion exploration Doll character crafting! Thank you for reading my atrocious handwriting Kitty editions and the puntastic Valkyrie kittehs Nessian, my beloveds

[acourtofquestions]

Has Sarah J. Maas ever listed her inspirations for the realm? (Like Leigh Bardugo always mentions Prussia especially when it comes to language and fashion)… and I’m just curious what SJM’s were???

[coochiequeens]

Sam Britton stole luggage from a WOC. If a white woman did she would be crucified by leftists, and she should be held accountable. But it was stolen by a white guy with pronouns so leftists are 🤷‍♂️

A fashion designer is going viral after alleging that beleaguered former Department of Energy official and “gender fluid” activist Sam Brinton stole her suitcase and was photographed wearing the custom clothing she had inside the luggage.

Asya Idarous Khamsin, a Tanzanian fashionista from Texas, took to Twitter on February 20 to explain that her suitcase had been stolen from Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C. almost 5 years ago. Khamsin says the stolen baggage contained a number of custom-made outfits she had designed herself, and, after hearing about Brinton’s chronic luggage theft, had looked him up out of curiosity. 

Shockingly, Khamsin uncovered a number of photos of Brinton wearing clothing she identified as being her creations.

While the thread has just gone viral on Twitter this week, Khamsin first tried to bring attention to Brinton’s alleged thievery in December of 2022 when she made an Instagram video showing Brinton wearing her pieces.

In her Twitter thread, posted two days ago, she shared additional images of Brinton with side-by-sides of the clothing she had taken at other points in time.

One photo Khamsin provided showed a model walking a runway in a stunning yellow and gold dress, one which bears a design that looks impossibly similar when compared to outfits Brinton has been seen wearing in 2018 and 2019. 

The gold crescent pattern on the fabric appears on many of Khamsin’s designs from her 2018 fashion show, Lady In Red.

Brinton had been photographed wearing at least two of the pieces suspected to have come from Khamsin’s luggage at the 2018 Trevor Project gala in New York City.

Shocked and appalled, social media users began digging through photos of Brinton to try to find outfits that could also be items from Khamsin’s missing luggage.

One user found a photo of Brinton wearing a top which was similar in design to the dresses, and asked Khamsin if she recognized it. The fashion designer claimed the top as yet another piece of clothing that had been in her stolen luggage.

Khamsin explained that she first looked into Brinton as a suspect after his arrest for stealing luggage was reported by Fox News. Brinton has recently been charged with stealing a woman’s luggage at a Minneapolis airport in September 2022. The contents of the luggage was valued at $2,325.

Shortly after his arrest, Brinton was charged again for stealing another woman’s suitcase in an earlier incident at Las Vegas’ Harry Reid International Airport. According to police, the suitcase contained more than $3,500 worth of jewelry, clothing, and makeup. Security footage appears to show Brinton walking through Harry Reid International Airport with the luggage in July 2022.

According to the arrest warrant, Brinton had already received his own bags from the carousel before grabbing the stranger’s luggage and making off with it.

Brinton appeared in court regarding the incident in Minneapolis on February 15. He was released without bail. He had appeared in court regarding the Las Vegas incident in December of 2022. In Nevada, bail for Brinton was set at $15,000 on a felony grand larceny charge. The Nevada judge in that case told the former nuclear waste official to “stay out of trouble.”

If found guilty of his charges, Brinton could face up to five years in prison and/or a $10,000 fine. 

Prior to his arrest, Brinton worked as deputy assistant secretary of the Department of Energy’s Office of Spent Fuel and Waste Disposition. However, he has since been released from his position after the Biden administration came under scrutiny following his arrest.

Brinton’s employment in such a high ranking government role had raised eyebrows even prior to his alleged thievery coming to light due to his profile as a “genderfluid” LGBTQ activist and “kink lifestyle.” 

When Brinton was first appointed to the Biden Administration, an article by Metro Weekly featuring Brinton called “Puppy Love” began to circulate publicly.

In the article, Brinton explains his relationship with another man who pretends to be a dog called “Nubi”. “I can hear when Pup needs something faster, because of the difference in the grunts or the moans,” Brinton said. “I actually have trouble when we transition from pup play to having sex. Like, ‘No, I can’t have you whimper like that when we’re having sex,’ because I don’t want to mix that world. It’s interesting, because he doesn’t have to come out of pup mode to have me f*ck him.” Brinton told Metro Weekly.

As well as pup play, Brinton has also given talks at universities on BDSM. In one seminar titled ““Ropes, Whips, & Kinks, Oh My!!” The Polytechnic“, Brinton discussed various sexual fetishes, including adult babies, diaper play, humiliation, degradation, and more.

By Shay Woulahan Shay is a writer and social media content creator for Reduxx. She is a proud lesbian activist and feminist who lives in Northern Ireland with her partner and their four-legged, fluffy friends.

[lamaisongaga]

FASHION CREDITS: JAZZ & PIANO SHOW 4.0 PART I

Lady Gaga made a triumphant return to Las Vegas where she'll be staying until July to complete another round of her highly sought-after Jazz & Piano residency shows! And of course, she brought a whole new batch of costumes styled by Sandra Amador and Tom Eerebout along with her.

First, we‘re hopping onto our virtual plane where I‘ll be taking you to Marbella, Spain to once again meet with young fashion designer Adrián Manceras who‘s kind enough to let us take a look in his atelier where he crafted Gaga‘s opening number: a fabulous cocktail dress showered in champagne sequins, finest crystals and delicate fringe trimmings!

I can‘t help but notice how Gaga sticks to the same designer when it comes to the opening number‘s look. From headpiece down to the shoes. Yet, she changes the design every time she comes back to Vegas.

Here, she‘s donning yet another insane showgirl-inspired headdress with turkey feathers and Swarovski crystals by the ever-so talented Arturo Rios who sent me this image JUST for your eyes!

The Italian-American entertainer topped her look off with a new custom pair of Laruicci crystal statement earrings

Her favorite Jimmy Choo metallic silver Anouk stiletto pumps provided the finishing touches.

The choice of purple was as unexpected as the combination of sequins, feathers (provided by Mother Plucker Feather Company), and PVC. Yet, this look struck me the most, standing out in a sea of bold fashion statements!

Delving into La Maison Gaga reveals an intriguing history behind her glamorous wardrobe. LA-based designer Michael Costello has been crafting stunning caftans for Gaga for a decade. His journey with her began in 2014 when he designed a sequined piece similar to this one for her "Cheek to Cheek! Live" performance . This collaboration marked the start of a creative partnership that has since produced numerous iconic looks, each more dazzling than the last.

Michael also collaborated with Gladys Tamez Millinery on the halo-like black feather pillbox headpiece!

New York City-based heritage jewelry brand A.JAFFE created some of the earrings, including these teardrop stunners!

Gaga surprised her audience last night with a special rendition of "Americano". It‘s been 12 years since she performed that song!

For this act of the show, Perry Meek whipped out a stunning dress even Jessica Rabbit wouldn't pass upon.

Crafted from red crystal mesh, this dress features an off-the-shoulder hourglass silhouette, trimmed with red ostrich feathers. And it comes with a matching coat!

Her Harriet wired red feather fascinator is a hand-made piece by Carrie Jenkinson Millinery ($331.79), one of the UK's leading fashion milliners.

This white-gold crescent earring set surrounded by differently cut diamonds is another A.JAFFE design.

And I hope I’m not the only one who‘s drooling over these Jimmy Choo Romy crystal-encrusted red pumps.

Then, Gaga stuns on stage in a total Giorgio Armani look which comprises this plush black velvet strapless bustier column dress with crystal band embellishment ($4,777) and the Fall/Winter 2018 Privé Haute Couture pink ostrich feather coat she previously wore for her V Magazine 2019 cover!

Gaga's MUA Sarah Tanno-Stewart collaborated with Face Lace on all the differently designed crystal eye stickers for the residency!

LG debuted a bunch of new looks on her second night and the uber-talented Michael Costello had another wonder up his sleeve when he revealed this stunner to me yesterday morning - a custom sparkly black and gold sequin silk chiffon caftan with incorporated metal belt, shoulder pads, plunging neck and daring open sides, based on Michael's upcoming "DNA" collection!

He also created her matching custom ruched faux leather gloves and feather boa in collaboration with Mother Plucker Feather Company.

What's a good jazz stage look without a fun plummeted hat to top it off? British milliner Carrie Jenkinson Millinery made sure to exceed stagewear standards with her Spring/Summer 2024 Selina feather hat (£520).

Her go-to performance shoes: the timeless Jimmy Choo Anouk black patent leather pumps ($675).

Malaysian couture design house Rizman Ruzaini joined the game by crafting a show-stopping red chiffon cape dress showered in Swarovski crystals. Thanks so much for these exclusive behind-the-seams photos!

She also brought back her Jose & Maria Barrera vintage 1993 “Crystal Evening” runway crystal necklace.

Gaga gave us an epic performance of "La Vie En Rose", dressed in rose silk satin caftan-style layered dress with stripped coque feathers, custom-made for her by Ukrainian fashion label Santa Brands.

This look was completed with a bunch of stellar accessories, including the Carrie Jenkinson Millinery Spring/Summer 2024 Valencia exploding feather fascinator (£579)...

...the Swarovski Millenia octagon-cut crystal bib necklace...

... and the Cornelia James Melissa opera-length black velvet gloves (£160).

If the dress from the third night's opening seems familiar to you, it's because she's worn this custom Natali Germanotta x Debra Cooper blue sequin fringed cocktail number back in 2019 before!

This look got a black version of the aforementioned Arturo Rios turkey feather and Swarovski crystal headpiece.

It‘s Michael Costello‘s world and we‘re just living in it! His third custom dress for our girl's third night is this uuuuuultra sexy black satin number with one-shoulder caftan silhouette, trimmed with luxurious ostrich feathers by Mother Plucker Feather Company and featuring beaded appliqués on the shoulder and waist.

It was finished off with this vintage Philip Treacy 1996 black feather firework headpiece which has already been previously worn by Gaga back in London in 2015!

For the fourth show (June 29), LG brought out another Michael Costello x Mother Plucker Feather Company confection — a black-as-the-night satin caftan, showered in small jet crystals and trimmed with feathers.

It was only a matter of time before she brought out a fairytale headpiece by milliner Piers Atkinson.

From his archives, she opted for the Fall/Winter 2021 "Triptych" collection elevated black ostrich feather pompom fascinator with beaded tassels.

[ae-neon]

Because Bryce is both hinted at being curvy but also not - Icl, I always imagine her with an out of proportion BBL

Like I think I know what sjm was going for but it just doesn't translate well in my brain. Especially since I think Bryce only mentions running and pilates, not weights etc

And it will say she's wearing a green dress that shows off her curves but covers her thighs, so my mind connects the modernity of crescent city and BBL Bryce and concludes the dress is giving 2020 fashion nova bodycon

But then she's wearing flats and takes off running through the city??and all I think of is a sim with dragged out proportions running around like a gta character

[emmalovesfitzloved]

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2023-11-08/fourth-wing-and-iron-flame-author-rebecca-yarros-needs-a-reality-check?utm_source=website&utm_medium=share&utm_campaign=copy

I just read this very good read about the influence of Booktok on the publishing world. More times then not, for the worse. That virality does not = quality, being the latest MO.

We use the Fourth Wing series, Colleen Hoover novels, Blood and Ash by JLA, ACOTAR by SJM as a type example- where authors that went viral, sacrifice duty of care to their readers in order to meet the demands of the fickle average consumer and publishers that is trying to stay afloat in a indie author dominating industry. The digital age has changed expectations, where immediacy = automatic serotonin boosts. They churn a book out every 6 months, giving up time to mull on grammatical errors, learn Scottish Gaelic words accurately if borrowed for lore, cohesive character arcs and more.

Meanwhile publishers work overtime trying un-democratise it's readership, pushing them to buy countless book exclusive retailer deals (i.e. Crescent City Book #3- where the fan has to buy 7 different copies of the same novel in order to access exclusive bonus chapters in an effort have the fullest experience of said story). Publishers end up allocating their already limited attention to the exclusive editions with sprayed edges (in order to create an even greater profit margin) than do right by the lowest retailed product, causing mass printing errors and loss of money overall.

All in all, it's mimicked in fashion where companies like Shien, Pretty Little Things and more just follow trends and pump out fashion in order to turn over profit. It ends up over-saturating the market with noise, nonsense and gatekeeps readers financially from enjoying what is suppose to be a non-elitist hobby.

This is by no means a hate mention to any of the writers i mentioned above, as there are some who's work i quite enjoyed, or the publisher books but simply a sentiment that's happening in the industry wide. Where publishers are cutting corners in order to meet the social media 'aesthetic' everybody is chasing after.