#FROG SIGN LANGUAGE

[toadbreath]

Panamanian Golden Frog

these frogs lack eardrums, so they communicate with visual stimuli like hopping in place and waving at each other. that means there’s frog sign language!!!!

frog sign language

[frogposting]

Panamanian Golden Frog

Atelopus zeteki

These guys are tiny. So small, in fact, that they’re born without eardrums. They use a form of sign language called semaphore to communicate with other frogs. This sign language involves waving hands and raising feet to greet each other, defend territory, or attract a mate. For example, male frogs will wave their arms to attract females, and females will wave back if they are interested.

Unfortunately, they’ve been extinct in the wild since 2007 due to the amphibian chytrid fungus but they’re being bred successfully in captivity.

[lordgrimwing]

First Meetings #08 / At The Park #02

Heavy clouds hung over the park as Celebrían parked the minivan in the dirt lot dotted with a handful of other vehicles. The clouds rolled in about an hour ago, contrary to the very optimistic weather report that morning of sunny skies and highs in the low eighties. Despite the threat of rain, Elladan and Elrohir insisted they still wanted to go to a park, so here they were: picnic basket packed and dressed for a potentially wet adventure. 

(sixteen-year-old Arwen declined the invitation to the soggy outing, citing hanging out with friends later as a reason to not risk getting muddied)

“Here we are,” she said to the twins as she turned off the van.

“Woohoo,” Elladan cheered as they undid their seatbelts and scrambled out of the vehicle. 

Oh, for the enthusiasm of ten-year-olds, Celebrían thought with a shake of her head. She got out of the car, retrieved the picnic basket, and headed for the covered pavilion. The boys could run off some energy in the field or on the playset before lunch and before the rain started, with any luck. She’d reassess the situation after eating to see if they should head home yet. 

The park was nearly deserted, not surprising with the gloomy weather. The only other person she could see was a guy with long pale hair sitting on a bench near the hill that went down to the duck pond. She picked a table under the empty pavilion and sat down. Reaching into the basket, she retrieved her computer. She would put it away when the rain started, but until then she wanted to review the family’s budgets. The kids teamed up earlier in the week to ask their parents to please let them go on a fun trip before school started again. Elrond and she were currently in the phase of discussing what was feasible, both financially and logistically.  

The wind picked up slowly, prompting her to zip up the light coat she brought with her. Looking up, she saw the twins on the swings, seeing who could go the highest. 

The first fat drops of rain plunked against the aluminum roof as she finished and put the computer away. The wind blew the drops sideways as they fell, but her spot in the middle of the covered area wasn’t at risk of getting wet provided the wind didn’t get much fiercer. Looking up again, she didn’t see the twins (they probably went down to the duck pond), but the guy reading on the bench was walking toward the pavilion, shoulders hunched against the elements, book tucked under one arm. 

“Hello,” she said with a polite smile as the elf (she hadn’t been sure before but she was now) settled at the other table that wasn’t starting to accumulate little puddles on the bench.

“Hi. I suppose the brown-haired boys are yours,” he said, voice lightly accented.

“Yes,” she said, unsure where this was going. Conversations with strangers at parks were usually about mundane things, but sometimes someone (usually an elf) had opinions about her family based on her children’s ears. This guy, with so much hair he must spend at least half an hour on it every morning, looked like he might be one of those who wanted to air their narrow view on interracial marriage. 

He continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “They’ve joined my kid hunting for frogs in the pond. If he has his way, they won’t be back until they're soaked, but maybe yours will be a moderating influence.” He laughed a little to himself.

“They don’t mind the rain,” she said, relaxing. “Lunch is waiting, though, so that might sway them.”

“Ah, stratagem.” He set the book on the table, giving up any pretenses of going back to reading rather than talking. He pivoted on the bench to look at her better. She noticed opaque scarring in his left eye. It was a little surprising but she didn’t stare. “Should never go on an outing with kids without a way to entice them to come back when it’s time to go.”

“I guess so.” She suddenly imagined making a snack trail back to the car like some kind of fairytale. 

There was a pause in the conversation as she brushed the ridiculous thought aside and he looked out through the rain toward the hidden pond.

When her thoughts were mostly called back from their fanciful trip, she asked, “Where in Doriath are you from?”

He looked at her, mild surprise showing on his face. 

Oh, was she wrong? She’d spent enough time in the country while growing up that she was fairly confident in her ability to recognize the regional accents, even if she couldn’t quite place where each was from anymore. But maybe she was wrong this time. She opened her mouth to apologize for assuming—it wasn’t any of her business, anyway.

“Most people don’t guess with that much confidence,” he said mildly.

“My father’s from Menegroth. I spent a lot of time there on and off when I was young,” she explained, hoping he wasn’t offended by her assumption. She really shouldn’t have phrased it like that or asked at all really. Growing up, she’d moved to so many different countries to follow her mother’s career that she was inured to asking and answering questions about where people were from. It wasn’t like that for everyone, of course—her experience was a bit unique. 

“Sorry, I should have at least introduced myself before asking that,” she said as the rain began pelting down harder. “Hi, I’m Celebrían.”

“Hello, Celebrían.” He pronounced her name in the same way as her father did. “I’m Thranduil. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“How familiar are you with the country outside the capital?” He asked, apparently willing to go back to her original question.

“A bit. I spent a summer in Nan Elmoth.”

He contemplated her for a moment. “I lived in West Region. More recently, I’m from a few miles south of here.”

She’d been to East Region once to see the eponymous holly trees blanketed in snow (Celeborn later said he never would have forgiven himself if she’d missed out on the classic Doriadhrim childhood experience of hiding in the natural snow forts formed under the trees’ low branches), but the holly was probably what the region was best known for outside of Doriath so she wasn’t going to blurt that out.

“Oh, nice,” she said instead. “I think I have a great-aunt who lives there.” Then, because he’d pointed the conversation to where he was currently from, “it was a bit of a drive out here for me, but the boys wanted to come here again.”

“It’s a nice park,” Thranduil agreed. “There’s a trail, about a mile long, from here to an artificial wetland full of frogs and bugs. Legolas is a fan.”

Legolas must be his son. “Thanks, that’s nice to know. I had no idea.” That could come in handy when it came time for the twins to make bug collections for school.

Just then, a blond head peaked over the hill from the duck pond. A small boy came into view, soaking wet, with mud plastered to his shoes and bare shins and what looked like pond weed in his hair. Elladan and Elrohir came just behind him, windbreakers zipped and hoods up against the rain. They were also wet but clearly from the rain and not from playing in the muck of the shallow pond.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called to the little boy, who couldn’t have been much older than seven or eight. Despite his youth, he had long hair like his father (though more wavy than straight) that would take a considerable amount of time to get clean again. “Where’s your backpack?”

His hands came up as he spoke, and Celebrían realized he was signing. Was his child deaf?

Legolas pointed a muddy finger at Elrohir, who did have the strap of a red backpack flung over one shoulder. His hand then came up to wiggle in front of his face.

Thranduil snorted. “No, you’re silly,” he said, repeating the sign.

Celebrían stood up and unpacked the picnic basket as the three children arrived at the pavilion. They’d made lunch meat and cabbage sandwiches before leaving, Arwen pitching in too lest her brothers create some horrid combination (and so she could eat the pickle slices). There were carrots and apple slices, too.

“How was the pond?” She asked as Elladan and Elrohir plopped down on the bench.

“Super fun,” Elrohir reported. “We saw a lot of frogs and minnows.”

Elladan nodded in vigorous agreement as he bit into a sandwich. “Legolas knows all kinds of stuff about frogs. Don’t you?” He said through a mouthful of bread, good-naturedly nudging Legolas (who’d sat down between the twins instead of going over to his dad) with an elbow.

“Frogs,” the little elf murmured, his hands coming up to form more signs.  

“Frogs are his favorite,” Thranduil said, scooting to the end of his table so he could see his son better. He watched his hands move. “He likes the sounds they make and how they swim.”

“Did you catch any?” Celebrían asked. 

Her sons shook their heads, mouths full. Legolas’s eyes widened and then he shook his head vigorously and looked at his dad.

Smiling, Thranduil said, “We don’t touch frogs. We could make them sick or hurt them if we aren’t careful.”

A little bemused, she unwrapped her own sandwich as Legolas waved Elladan and Elrohir down to his level to whisper in their ears. The rest of lunch continued in a similar manner, part in signs and part in whispered conversations. She offered food to Thranduil—who politely declined—and Legolas—who shook his head and dug around in his flimsy backpack to retrieve a battered peanut butter sandwich.

The rain let up while they ate and talked, the sun suddenly peeking out bravely from behind the clouds. Thrilled, Elladan and Elrohir cleaned up their trash so they could go play again. Legolas jumped up to join them.

“Wait,” Thranduil said, snagging a dangling strap on the backpack that his son had put back on after eating his lunch so he couldn’t run away. “It’s about time to go.”

The child’s face fell. He raised his hands. Celebrían tried not to stare at the signing, but it was interesting to see how expressive the boy’s face was. He was plainly asking a question, even when there was no tone of voice to listen to.

“We can go now or stay ten more minutes, but if we stay then we won’t have time for the library today. Which do you want?”

Staying won out, and Legolas ran off after the twins who’d stopped halfway to the playground when they realized he wasn’t following them.

 Celebrían watch them go together to play. “Well,” she said, starting to put away the leftovers. “Your son is sweet.”

“He has his moments.” Thranduil’s tone suggested ‘moments’ meant ‘every moment of the day’. “What are your boys’ names, again?”

She’d said their names during lunch but wasn’t surprised he hadn’t caught which was which. “The one in the blue coat is Elladan. The one in green is Elrohir.”

“Elladan and Elrohir. Legolas likes them,” he said with a contemplative expression. “He doesn’t normally use his voice this much, especially with strangers.” 

She didn’t say anything to that. During lunch, she realized the child wasn’t deaf, but she felt like she’d risked putting her foot in her mouth enough today so she didn’t ask about it. She was curious, but that didn’t give her leave to ask personal questions. Elrond got so frustrated when strangers kept asking questions about his parents because he was visibly mixed-race. Even if questions were asked innocently, it wasn’t anyone’s responsibility to explain their existence. 

The ten-minute limit drew close.

Thranduil pulled a notebook and pen out of his pants pocket. He tore out a page and wrote a series of numbers down before offering it to her. “This is my cell number,” he explained. “I think Legs would really like to play with your kids again.”

She took the paper and slipped it into her coat pocket. “Sounds possible. I’m always looking for excuses to get them outside.”

He stood and dusted off his pants. “Right. I’d better go, or we will end up being late. I look forward to hearing from you, Celebrían.”

“Have a good day,” she said by way of good-bye as he picked up his book and headed for the playset where the kids were racing up and down the slides. 

She would talk to Elladan and Elrohir on the drive home and find out how they felt about setting up a time to play with Legolas again.

[isawthe-sign]

Have you done "frog?" If not, can you please? Thank you!

Thanks for the suggestion! I hop you like it

Frog

Sources: SigningSavvy, Lifeprint, ASLDeafined

[Image ID:

Frog in American Sign Language. Hand in a mini O hand shape that only uses the thumb, index, and middle finger rests the back of the hand under the chin, palm facing down. Mini O flicks out into U handshape twice. Movement is illustrated by hands that are translucent green and blue-green in different stages of the sign. Frog face is green.

End ID]

[vox-off]

after session 0 i had a feeling this was going to be a fun campaign and jeZUSS did session 1 prove me right that was the most fun i've had in a d&d session in fucking forever

i've done so many medieval fantasy sword and board campaigns in the past few years they've started feeling. stale i guess? don't get me wrong, i am still desperately in love with the fantasy genre, but i was getting bored of ye olde setting. it's what my players voted for though, so that's what we did

this time i did not ask, i told. it's urban magical realism or someone else's campaign, bitches. now who wants to play

nine. nine (9) people wanted to play and that is not including me. only seven are able to commit but holy shit y'all

[lead-academy]

Discover the Beauty of Frog Sign Language: Video and Image Showcase

In American Sign Language (ASL), the sign for "frog" involves bringing one hand up under the chin, with fingers lightly curled and the top of the hand resting on the bottom of the chin. This gesture represents the concept of a frog in ASL. To accompany this description, an image could show the hand gesture, while a video could provide a visual demonstration of how to make the sign for "frog" in ASL.Here is my blog:https://lead-academy.org/blog/frog-in-sign-language/

[incorrectbatfam]

If the batfam had tiktok what would they post? What would go the most viral?

Dick does duets where he remixes people who have bad takes. His most viewed one is turning Lex Luthor's corporate monologue into a dubstep track with beat drops every time Superman is mentioned. Equally popular is his mashup of Bruce's yawning with a Sam Smith song.

Jason makes cooking videos. The recipes are normal, but the voiceovers like, "today I'm making a realistic animal-themed vegan bento box 'cause I wanna torment my brother." His most popular video is of him shit-talking Batman while making a pot roast, but it gets deleted because he didn't say "unalive."

Tim does behind-the-scenes videos of his photoshoots where he makes it seem like a complex process with dimmed lights and glitter falling from a ceiling fan, then it cuts to a blurry iPhone pic of a pissed-off Jason with sparkly hair chasing him down a dark hallway.

Damian's is a mix of animal videos, art tutorials, Cheese Viking speedruns, and classical covers of anime intros. But his most popular one is recording his family's reaction to him saying the fuck-word for the first time. He also has a series where he asks people how babies are made to see whose response TikTok takes down first.

Duke posts subtle and wholesome pranks, like leaving Tooth Fairy money under the older batkids' pillows or gradually filling Kate's purse with Jolly Ranchers. His most popular series is when he slowly replaced Damian's furniture with increasingly smaller replicas until the 8th day when Damian finally notices.

Steph does a little bit of everything and often takes suggestions (re: dumb dares) from the comments. Her account started with her just sharing her favorite memes, but her most popular video is when she slept in a bathtub full of Mardi Gras necklaces after an audience poll.

Cass normally posts a mix of dance covers and sign language lessons, but occasionally there will be moments from her daily life that she captures at the right time. Her most viral video is at the grocery store when someone accidentally knocks a coconut onto the ground and she follows it as it rolls to the other end of the store.

Harper and Cullen do a lot of backyard science experiments where they take hypotheses from comments and test them out, like if they can cook steak with firecrackers or make a trampoline out of rubber bands. Their biggest project was turning an abandoned pool into a frog sanctuary.

Barbara keeps most of her daily videos private and her public ones are mainly book hauls, song recs, and computer tips. Her most popular video, even making news articles, is a video where she breaks down how planned obsolesce works and calling out big tech companies.

Bruce has a secret account that no one knows about. He doesn't post anything. He just lurks because he wants to be the first like and comment whenever his kids post.

[honey-milk126]

Dating the MHA characters. (Pt.2)

Includes:Koji Koda,Mina Ashido,Tsuyu Asui, Ochaco Uraraka, Momo Yaoyorozu, Kyoka Jiro, Neito Monoma, Shota Aizawa, All Might.

A/n: sorry if I get the ages wrong, I googled them, I don't own the gifs, they do not belong to me at all!

-------------------------------------------------------

Koji Koda (16)

1. Loves to look at animals with you.

2. Buys you flowers every Friday.

3. Is still super shy with you.

4. Will talk with you, but not so often. (Like twice a day)

5. Amazing at keeping secrets.

6. Will get rid of bugs for you. (Even though he hates them)

7. Teaches you sign language. (If you don't know it.)

8. Loves to cuddle.

9. Tries to be protective of you. (Especially when mineta is around)

10. Gets you a ton of stuffed animals.

11. Loves to get you snacks.

12. Loves to cook for you.

13. Loves to brush your hair.

14. Loves to put flowers in your hair. (& make you flower crowns)

15. Loves Romance movies.

16. Nicknames for you: baby, puppy, my love, sweets, sweetheart.

-------------------------------------------------------

Mina Ashido (15)

1. Loves carnival dates

2. Loves to roller skate with you.

3. Loves to dance with you.

4. Loves to show you off.

5. Loves walks around the park.

6. You have bakugo to protect you from mineta.

7. Loves to cuddle you, while watching movies.

8. Loves to star gaze.

9. Likes to train with you.

10. Loves to try new foods.

11. Loves roller coasters. (But won't force you to go on them, if you don't like them)

12. Loves ice cream dates.

13. Loves to prank people. (Helps you prank mineta)

14. Loves to do your hair and nails.

15. Nicknames for you: babe, baby, pumpkin, my shooting star, my love, sweetie.

-------------------------------------------------------

Tsuyu Asui (15)

1. Loves to swim.

2. Will teach you how to swim, if you don't know how to.

3. Loves to teach you about her quirk. (Answers your questions happily)

4. Loves to cuddle.

5. Loves to dance in the rain.

6. Gets you frog plushies.

7. Hopes you like frogs.

8. Will take care of you if you get sick.

9. Loves to watch random movies.

10. Will people watch with you. (You judge them)

11. Has yelled a mineta for bugging you.

12. Loves to sleep on your chest.

13. Loves tik tok complications on YouTube.

14. Loves to walk in the rain.

15. Nicknames for you: babe, sweetie, my love, sweet heart, love, dear, baby.

-------------------------------------------------------

Ochaco Uraraka (15)

1. Gets embarrassed easily. (So no pda)

2. Loves movies.

3. Loves to walk around town

4. Loves to joke around.

5. Tries to spoil you, but loves it when you get her stuff. (Kinda)

6. Loves to look at animals with you

7. She lives to pick you flowers.

8. Hopes you like her parents.

9. Tries to live comfortably

10. Will fight for your safety

11. Has made mineta float to space for a day.

12. Hates when villains attack on date nights.

13. Loves to cuddle.

14. Will sleep on your chest.

15. Nicknames for you: My baby, love, dear, my star, my flame.

-------------------------------------------------------

Momo Yaoyorozu (15)

1. Loves to spoil you.

2. Gets you anything you look at.

3. Loves picnic dates.

4. Loves to cuddle

5. Loves to look at animals

6. Loves romance movies.

7. Loves to read with you.

8. Will help you study.

9. Loves to look at Christmas lights with you.

10. Loves to cook for you.

11. Loves when you do her hair.

12. Loves to get you flowers.

13. Loves to gossip and have tea with you.

14. Loves to go to cafe's with you.

15. Nicknames for you: babe, my flower, baby, my love, sweetie.

-------------------------------------------------------

Kyoka Jiro (15)

1. Loves to play you music

2. Loves to teach you how to play.

3. Will write you songs.

4. Loves to steal your clothes

5. Loves to wear your hoodies

6. Loves to sleep on your chest.

7. Loves to star gaze with you.

8. Loves to go to concerts with you.

9. Likes to watch scary movies with you

10. Loves to go on walks with you

11. Likes to write you notes

12. Loves to pick flowers.

13. Likes to make flower crowns.

14. Loves to dance with you

15. Nicknames for you: babe, my rock star, pumpkin, sweetie, love.

-------------------------------------------------------

Neito Monoma (16)

1. Gives you his clothes to wear.

2. You guys have inside jokes.

3. Has threatened class 1-A. (For you)

4. Has paid someone to send mineta away. (For your safety)

5. Loves to cuddle with you.

6. Loves when you sleep on his chest

7. Loves to mess with your hair.

8. Hopes you like his family.

9. Loves your family.

10. Loves to get you flowers.

11. Loves to make you notes.

12. Writes you love notes.

13. Loves to go o walks with you.

14. Has a ton of pictures of you.

15. Loves to star gaze with you.

16. Nicknames for you: babe, my love, sweet heart, dear, my queen.

-------------------------------------------------------

Shota Aizawa ( Age : 31, head cannons : 15)

1. Loves to sleep with you.

2. Loves when you make him lunch.

3. Loves to look at cats with you.

4. Loves when you mess with his hair.

5. Loves to fall asleep to movies.

6. Loves to cuddle.

7. Loves when you sleep on his chest.

8. Loves to get you flowers.

9. Tries to keep you safe. (No late night walks)

10. Loves when you wash his hair.

11. Gets you a kitten.

12. Loves to feed the stray kittens with you.

13. Loves to cook for you.

14. Loves to watch movies with you.

15. Nicknames for you: baby, kitty, my love, sweetie, my kitten.

-------------------------------------------------------

All Might ( Age: 58, head cannons : 14)

1. Loves when you cook for him.

2. Loves to cuddle.

3. Loves to watch movies with you.

4. Hates when he has to leave for work.

5. Tries to hire you a bodyguard.

6. Loves when you make him lunch.

7. Loves to go on walks with you.

8. Hates the paparazzi, especially when he's with you.

9. Tries to keep you safe.

10. Loves to have a movie night.

11. Loves when you wear his clothes.

12. Loves to get you new things. (He's spoiling you)

13. Keeps you away from the news.

14. Nicknames for you: babe, my love, dear, sweetie, sweet heart.

-------------------------------------------------------

End, let me know if I missed someone you wanna get head cannons for!

There will be a pt. 3 for the villians, and anyone else I missed.

I hope you enjoyed this!

(I kinda ran out of ideas for them sorry)

[puzzled-pegasus]

more WoF tribe hcs because I feel like it

SandWings often swallow their prey whole like a snake

RainWings, when telling stories, subconsciously change their scales to vaguely match those of the dragons in the story. They find it hard to follow stories told by non-RainWings because they rely somewhat on visual cues. Ex: Kinkajou telling Moon about something Winter said and her scales turning white and blue without her thinking about it.

Dragon wing gestures are something not enough ppl talk about but I love thinking about wing movement as it relates to body language. Wings flared to try to intimidate or to convey excitement, wings swept outward and horizontally to gesture to their surroundings, wings used to point at things, to wave hello or goodbye, RainWing wings outstretched and turned red in a gesture not unlike a middle finger, wings pulled back in shock, wings poised to launch into the air in a fight or flight response when startled, etc etc just WING RELATED BODY LANGUAGE/GESTURES!

SkyWings also 100% have at LEAST 30 rude gestures you can do with ur wings

LeafWings have prehensile tails like RainWings

RainWings as well as IceWings have an incredible ability to right themselves in the air when knocked off balance, kinda like cats lol

SandWings would too bc sandstorms

SandWings are actually really good swimmers

MudWings don't swim but walk along the bottom of the lake/river like a hippo

When RainWings trip on frog poison, their scales turn neon colors

SkyWings have extremely well developed vision and can see insane detail from very far away, like an eagle.

RainWings have courtship dances.

Typically, male RainWings and SkyWings have brighter colors and male SkyWings are more commonly red.

Similarly, blue SeaWings are more commonly male.

HiveWings can be hot pink. (Inspiration from that one kind of grasshopper)

Procreation between NightWings and SeaWings sometimes creates children with bioluminescent black lights.

RainWings can learn to speak Aquatic through scale color changes, though it only works with daylight because their scales are only color changing and not bioluminescent.

SeaWings can get high from pufferfish poison, like dolphins.

SeaWings get sick when they transfer from fresh water to salt water and vice versa, similar to altitude sickness.

SkyWings anatomically have the largest hearts of any tribe. (Ah, the irony)

If they eat too many shrimp or similar seafood, IceWings can turn pink. (It's not cute though, it's often a sign of malnourishment.)

RainWings, LeafWings and NightWings are the only tribes able to eat chocolate without getting sick.

Many NightWings are colorblind, but can see colors in visions of the future.

RainWings can mimick sounds and even voices with bonechilling accuracy.

Pantalan dragons do not have forked tongues.

[toxinoire]

Out of boredom I'm just gonna make more Mean Girls headcanons because you people seem to really love those.

• Cady is a picky eater. She can eat dishes that are so extreme, but show her mashed potatoes and god forbid scrambled eggs mixed with bell peppers and she will go "No."

• Gretchen owns a lot of glitter pens. She fucking loves glitter pens.

• Janis is into coding. She had to learn it once because a digital website for art she uses crashed so out of spite, she learned coding.

• Regina does know how to sew and make clothes even. She just doesn't do it a lot, so by far the only person who knew was Janis. It wasn't until Christmas where Regina gave handmade everyone jackets and beanies with designs specific to them that they learned.

• Karen knows to play the fucking accordion. The way everyone learned was that they snuck into the school's music room, there was this one dusty accordion and out of boredom, Karen just picked it up and started playing Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo on the damn thing.

• Janis and Gretchen are a fucking detective pair. Someone in their group got made of or is sick but hiding it? They're the first ones to figure it out.

• Damian is the parent of the friend group.

• Regina and Cady have a shared thing for Greek Mythology.

• Karen can and will read their emotions and their entire being if they don't wanna admit something with the most angelic smile you've ever seen.

• Cady sleeps early, but you cannot drag her out of bed at any time before seven.

• Janis and Regina used to have a height chart but not for the "I wonder which one will be taller" reasons that most do, they had it because they were so adamant to know which one of them would be cuddle sized. They never talked about it until one day, in Janis's house, Gretchen fucking found it.

• Don't be fooled by Cady's height, she's feral as shit and will kick your ass.

• Karen is scared of frogs.

• Regina is secretly into flower language.

• Damian has RTC cosplays hidden in his closet. Yes, even Karnak.

• Everyone still wonders how Cady did not cry during while watching Titanic.

• Gretchen is into anime, but not the cutesy ones. The gorey ones. It's a coping mechanism don't judge her.

• Speaking of coping mechanisms, so far, Janis's healthiest one is dying her hair tips/streaks a different color when things go to shit.

• Regina will just hide and come back when she's good. Her friends hate that she does that.

• Karen has once the sent the group chat a gif of a walking sign and it left everyone wondering where the fuck did she find that.

• Gretchen is into romances and she always sees multiple tropes in her friends.

• Surprisingly, now that Regina has her head out of her ass, she actually is a fucking treasure trove of ideal character tropes.

• Damian and Cady carry Hello Kitty band aids around all the time.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Gwi-Nam (1/4)

Word Count: 3.9k

I remembered that I actually wrote this whole thing for fun several months ago. Might as well use this for an easy peasy ease back into society.

R stared at the email on her phone, her brain scrambling to make sense of the Korean typo in the email. Although she stood in the main hallway, gathering many stares from the native Korean high school students, the posted signs were not the most helpful.

She took in her surroundings once again, adjusting her old and well-loved frog backpack, loaded with stationery. The hoard of students desperate to make it to class on time sometimes collided, and R was astounded at the sheer student population of the public high school. Unlike from her home country, the high school seemed well-funded and quite modern, even compared to the college she was actively attending at home — which had given her this opportunity abroad. The atmosphere made R somewhat anxious.

R sighed, deciding the best course of action — after a few failed attempts of grabbing a frantic student’s attention — was to go to the right and follow past the principal’s office. R’s entire goal was to find the teacher’s lounge. And although one might think to ask the principal, she was terrified of making a poor first impression. 

The hallway had grown vacant and silent, only the sound of her footsteps echoing. She noticed her tattoo cover-up sleeves were scrunching slightly, and while walking, looked down to adjust it.

She suddenly heard loud, quick footsteps come from behind. Just as she went to glance over her shoulder, a hard shoulder smashed into her back and knocked R forward onto the ground. She scraped her knees, which created instant panic. As she scrambled to sit and inspect her knee, there was a cruel snicker.

R scowled, recognizing the tear in her leg sleeve. Luckily, R was always analy OCD and overprepared, and knew she could clip it with a pin and hide it under her knee-length black skirt. 

Two shoes stopped in front of her. R looked up, unamused. A student who looked far more mature than his peers by a few years toward her with black banks and a Korean-styled mullet. As she was still adjusting from her native tongue to Korean, his words did not register at first.

R’s scowl disappeared as she intently focused on the words.

“Since when does our school let in foreign [unknown]?” he sneered.

R blinked, only assuming it was foul language spitting from his mouth, and rolled her eyes. “You are making a bad first impression on a new teacher.” She intentionally left out the assistant.

She watched as his breath and stance stiffened. “Shit.” He glanced her over, a slight smirk growing. “The school must be desperate if they took in a foreign [whore] with fake hair and tattoos.”

R’s eyes widened and her cheeks darkened, pulling the dark brown wig over her head to hide her brightly dyed hair. She finally brushed herself off and pinned the sleeves together. R returned to her feet, only then recognizing the slight burn in her knees.

“Listen, kid. How about you mind your business and I’ll mind mine? I can already tell you’re an asshole, so I’d recommend you get to your class before I bring you with me to the principal’s office for harassment.”

The student sneered and crossed his arms. There was a momentary tense staredown before he seemed to loosen up, clicking his tongue and walking off — but not without snatching one of her decorative to-do list papers. R sighed, not caring enough to pursue her to-do list. She already seemed fairly unprofessional with her frog backpack, so a pink sticky note with Hello Kitty on it was better off left out of sight.

Despite the aggravating experience, R continued on her way, plastering a smile on her face. Eventually, she found the teacher’s office empty. However, a teacher named Ms. Park had left a name on the door with R’s name and the classroom number. R sighed with relief, heading off to the classroom.

R burst through the classroom door. Ms. Park had been speaking, but all went silent except for the muttering of students. R was nervous, but as time passed, the classroom became as familiar as any other.

~~~

R blasted her somewhat generic pop playlist since the old songs from the 2000s never grew old to her. She was chowing down on her boxed lunch, which was cutely styled like everything else: a Hello Kitty lunchbox, as she succumbed to capitalistic desires of that brand easily. 

The concrete, half-built foundation was where she went during the lunch period to get some peace and quiet. During the semester, construction had been placed to a halt except for weekends, as there were frequent noise complaints from school staff and students. To R, it was her perfect hide-away location from prying eyes.

As she finished up her homemade kimbap — an accomplishment R was proud of — Shake It Off began echoing from her phone. R grinned, and she stood up. She sang poorly, but sang with it regardless, even incorporating some equally poor dance moves during the chorus.

R halted mid-song as her stomach had a sharp, sudden pain, hissing loudly and grasping her stomach. She cursed under her breath.

“Eh? How unathletic are you? How embarrassing.”

R gasped in fright, swerving to face the onlooker. She sighed out of relief, recognizing the infamous rule-breaker from her classroom (although he rarely attended class). R had a neutral opinion of the boy, as he was notoriously the “bully’s gopher,” but hadn’t ratted her out or spread any rumors about her unprofessional underbelly. 

“At least I’m more athletic than the gym instructor,” R shot back, noticing that the stomach pain had left.

Gwi-nam’s eyebrows raised, adorning a cheeky grin. He often put up an air of unapproachability, but due to R’s semi-authority, it seemed he neither cared to intimidate nor to fake manners. 

“You could get fired for saying something like that.”

“I could get fired for a lot of things, kid.”

R went over and sat back on the cement steps, furrowing through her lunchbox and sipping on an internationally imported Capri Sun. Gwi-nam leaned on the crudely placed metal rails, leering over the woman. He eyed the package curiously, as well as the rest of the cutified objects.

“I’m amazed someone like you got transferred here,” Gwi-nam scoffed. “There’s nothing professional about you.”

“My college GPA, past internships, letters of recommendation, and my polyglot status say otherwise. Besides, Ms. Park says I bring a modern level of cultural diversity.”

“God, you’re full of yourself.”

“So what?” R chortled, slurping up the rest of her juice. “I deserve to be a little self-confident. I worked hard to get here.”

Gwi-nam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What the hell are doing out here anyway? I bet you’re too weird to make any friends.”

“Not at all. I just like to eat alone,” R insisted. “Why are you here, kid? Don’t you have anywhere else to be or lunch to be eating?”

“I don’t have friends. Just people I hang out with.”

“Hm. Well, how about some bribery to get you back with your people? Here’s a chocolate bar.”

~~~

R handed the student sitting next to her a tiny container of cut canteloupe and some chopsticks. “At this rate, you owe me an entire hot pot.”

Gwi-nam snatched the bowl, immediately digging in hungrily. “No way,” he grumbled with a full mouth. “That would count as taking advantage of a student. Besides, with how fat you’ve gotten, you obviously have some food to spare.”

R clicked her tongue angrily, swatting Gwi-nam’s neck. “How dare you comment on a woman’s wait like that. With those manners, it’s no wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

The comment made her feel somewhat insecure regardless. Gwi-nam wasn’t wrong. R had been wearing baggier shirts recently, as no matter how much she exercised or ate healthily, it hardly impacted the small stomach bump she had developed in the last two months. The only explanation was that it was from poor sleep, stress, and overworking. 

“I’m too busy for that.”

“Too busy because you’re beating up some helpless classmate, right? Don’t think I don’t notice when your knuckles are all messed up. You’re called the bully’s gopher for a reason.”

“You fucking bitch,” Gwi-nam sneered,“ don’t call me that. Just because you know a fucking language doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”

R sent a glare before snatching back the cantaloupe from him. “God, you’re rude and sensitive.”

“As if. Now give me my food back.”

She rolled her eyes. She very much assumed he had home problems and had taken some level of pity on him since the boy showed up in the building every day since their first encounter and had neither friends nor food. But after enduring an all-nighter, she didn’t feel like putting up with his foul attitude.

R shoved her food back into the lunchbox and stood up. As she did so, Gwi-nam’s hands latched onto R, causing her to almost trip. Gwi-nam shouted in irritation, but the sensation of standing had made R feel dizzy enough not to notice. Black dots clouded her vision and she stumbled forward slightly.

“Hey!” Gwi-nam exclaimed, grabbing and pulling her back to the step. 

R sat, and it felt as though her stomach vibrated with agony. She let out a hiss of pain and laid back, the lunchbox long forgotten. R gasped and rubbed her stomach, feeling a sudden leaking sensation. It was as though her stomach was hollowing out.

“What’s wrong?” Gwi-nam huffed, aiding in lowering her slowly onto the steps. 

“I… I don’t know — I feel…”

“What the fuck —!”

R was confused, focusing on nothing but the sharp cramps. But as Gwi-nam scampered away, R twisted her head up to see what he was looking at. R screeched as she noticed a waterfall of bloody blobs leaking from her white skirt. R reached for her phone but barely felt the ability to move from the cramps. It was as though her period was on blast.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” R shrieked, to which Gwi-nam clumsily withdrew up from his pocket. 

He called 119, but nothing other than confusion was displayed in his expression. R heard the muffled voice of an operator, to which Gwi-nam stuttered in reply,“ I - I need an ambulance at the front gate of Hyosan High.” Another few seconds passed before Gwi-nam spat out a few stuttered descriptions of the emergency. 

He pocketed the phone before grabbing R’s arms and tugging her up. R grunted, a few tears sliding down her cheek. When R’s legs gave out, Gwi-nam scoffed in annoyance and scooped her up, trying to disregard the blood that stained his jacket.

R grasped onto him for dear life, stuttering,“ What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, stupid?”

A few minutes later, Gwi-nam arrived at the front gate at the knick of time. He flinched at how loud the sirens were as the ambulance pulled up. Nurses rolled out and helped get R into the back, with Gwi-nam deciding to get in the back.

~~~

“Ms. R, it appears you had an intense miscarriage,” the doctor informed the woman, staring at the clipboard. “You were being too hard on yourself during the pregnancy.”

R paled and shivered. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry then. However, you should be able to head home now. Your boyfriend is waiting outside.”

“He’s not my…” R mumbled, watching the doctor walk off. 

The nurses helped R to her feet. She was thoroughly cleaned, adorning nothing but the white robe. However, with the state of her old clothing, they had been discarded with instructions to head straight home and change. R slipped on her shoes and shuffled weakly to the open doorway.

His head bobbed sleepily, Gwi-nam was sitting by the door. R wiped away her tears and softly shook his shoulder. R was surprised he had waited, as by the time everything was okayed, the sun had set. Ms. Park had called at some point, but R would deal with the repercussions of a missed afternoon session and after-school office hours when she got home.

“Gwi-nam,” R called.

His head shot up and a snort escaped. His eyes were wide and his brow furrowed. He rose, immediately eyeing her up and down. “What happened? The sons of bitches wouldn’t let me go in to see you.”

R chuckled, insecurely grasping at her stomach. “It was… just a stomach ulcer that got stuck. They had to get rid of it, that is all. I’m alright.”

Gwi-nam’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Eh? All that blood for an ulcer?”

“It’s been growing for two months now.” R glanced around. “You should head home now. Let me get you something from the vending machine. It’s not much, but —“

“You were the one in the hospital,” he gruffly mumbled. “Besides, you were the one who said I owed you a hot pot.”

“Nonsense. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

He snorted obnoxiously. “No, they’re not. So, let’s go.”

Gwi-nam grabbed her arm and started dragging her down the hall to the exit. R protested but with his tight, unrelinquishing hold, she gave in and joined him at a nearby convenience store. After some fuss between them, Gwi-nam was able to take what she grabbed and pay for the food together. R was as grateful as she was surprised by the student’s kindness.

When they sat at the window, R inquired quietly,“ Are you sure your parents aren’t waiting for you?”

“As if. My dad’s probably off at work while my mom’s fucking her new boyfriend in a hotel.” R frowned, to which Gwi-nam snapped,“ Hey, don’t fucking look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” she replied. “I’m upset. You deserve better people in your life.”

Gwi-nam tried not to show that the comment had taken him aback, covering it up with a glare and a scoff. However, despite his best cover-up, R noticed how blood rushed to his cheeks. R sent him a sweet smile, unaware of just how impacted Gwi-nam was.

~~~

The door to the classroom slid open loudly, and without looking, R stated,” It’s not like you to be so early for our sessions, Cheong-san.”

When R received no reply, she looked up. She was taken aback to find Gwi-nam standing at the entrance, harboring an unsure and anxious expression with his backpack shouldered. R tilted her head and sent a smile.

“Gwi-nam, come sit. How can I help you?”

“I need help with English, obviously.”

R chuckled as the man plopped into the seat next to hers, backpack on the floor. “I assumed. I was more so asking what you need help with for English.”

“Oh. Uh, with… the homework.”

R found it endearing how nervous he was, glancing constantly at the door. She knew he would rather be caught dead than at a study session, but was incredibly proud of his courage. Gwi-nam pulled out the paper. The class was assigned various Robert Frost poems to decipher. Gwi-nam had been assigned to Stopping by Woods. And instead of just using a translator, Gwi-nam came to R.

“Do you need help with the grammar functions?” R inquired.

Gwi-nam nodded, grabbing a pen. R began explaining the concepts and switching words to make the sentences more comprehensible to a foreign speaker. Gwi-nam was surprisingly attentive until a ding came from R’s phone.

R glanced briefly at the notification, noticing the time. “Ah. I have a scheduled student appointment in a few minutes, so I have to cut this short. Can I pen you in for next Monday?”

“Eh? Why?”

“So that you can come again. If you do, I’ll even bring you a snack. How does three-thirty sound?”

Gwi-nam shoved his notes back in begrudgingly. “Whatever,” he muttered, not meeting R’s eyes.

“Great! See you then. Get home safe, Gwi-nam.”

He didn’t reply, quickly shuffling into the hallway. R’s heart warmed, and a part of her felt somewhat proud that she was making an impact on her student’s life to some capacity.

~~~

R awoke with a gasp, clasping at her bedsheets. It took not a moment after for her alarm to go blaring in her ears. She immediately shut it off and focused on regaining her breath. 

Everything was going well in Korea. Work, friends, lifestyle, school (as exhausting as it was to be doing college at the same time as her transfer abroad) — all except the overlying issue.

R had managed to attract a stalker. 

It started small, and she was convinced it was a student of hers. She constantly felt watched when nobody was around. Things would go missing from her bag or desk. Then one day, while she was in the office on her own, she glanced over and saw a shadowed figure staring through a crack in the door.

That’s when things seemed to escalate, especially the paranoia. She became more organized with her things and knew when things would disappear. She carried a safety weapon at all times. Sometimes, when a hooded man followed her for a stretch, she’d break for a run.

And then things escalated again — one day, the hooded man ran, too.

That was when, after calling Ms. Park in distress, they went to the police together. R knew that Korea tended not to take cases like her’s seriously, and it’s not as though she knew how to talk to a police officer that well.

With thorough convincing from Ms. Park, they kept an eye on the neighborhood R lived in from time to time. But that hardly seemed to do any good, because that was when R noticed that hooded man outside her apartment building. And then outside her apartment.

R invested in every home safety feature. Door cameras, motion-detecting lights, and a silent break-in alarm if it came to it.

She was terrified and was considering moving, to say the least. Calling the police was a lost cause since they “couldn’t do anything with the footage” and “a crime hadn’t happened yet.”

So R lived in fear. The stalker had even invaded her nightmares.

When R grabbed her phone, she noticed that one of her bear-shaped sticky notes was beside the phone. She went through her notifications before she roused herself. And only then did she notice the content of the sticky note.

Written in messy, almost intelligible Korean, was written ‘The cops can’t do shit.’

R shrieked. She noticed her underwear drawer was ajar. She noticed that her lights had been unscrewed. And the silent alarm hadn’t been triggered. R was a mess getting ready for work, taking photos of the various evidence. And although she tried to compose herself on the subway, she was still a wreck when she got to campus.

As she walked past the school gates, she gasped when a fist punched her shoulder suddenly. R veered her body toward the culprit, recognizing Gwi-nam immediately. He wore a casual expression.

“Gwi-nam,” R stated, recovering from her shock – and momentarily forgetting her troubles.

The student clicked his tongue, motioning to his head. “Your hair is falling off, teacher.”

“Ah!” R, embarrassed, readjusted the wig furiously. “Better?”

His nostrils flared and he eyed her up and down. He nodded.

“Thank you. I hope to see you in class later.”

R walked away, feeling her student’s eyes follow her intensely.

Only then did the panic come back. She was in a rush, greeting students only briefly until she arrived at the teacher’s office. R wrapped her arms around Ms. Park from behind, who jolted in shock.

“R!” she exclaimed. 

“Help.”

R released her and handed the now attentive Ms. Park her phone. The woman scrolled through the photos, growing paler by the second. She handed the phone back.

“You can’t stay there anymore.”

“I know that — but my landlord won’t accept it as a reason to break the lease. My credit score will be destroyed.”

“Fuck the credit score!” Other teachers glared, causing Ms. Park to clear her throat and compose herself. “You have to move out today. I’ll help you after class.”

“My assignment will be late.”

“R. This is not up for negotiation. So stop worrying and let’s leave this for after school.”

She nodded, blinking away the blurred tears. She sat at her desk, rummaging through her items quickly. Ms. Park nudged her, a twinkle in her eye.

“You know, you’re out here doing miracle work for our students. I was checking class B’s overall grades, and I found that On-jo has gone from a D+ to a B-. And even better, Gwi-nam somehow went from failing to a B+. I’m sure you’ll get a bonus from the principal for all your hard work at the end of the school year.”

R smiled, some of her uneasiness lifting off her shoulders from the news.

~~~

Much to R’s dismay, it quickly became apparent that R had forgotten to pack a lunch. She had grabbed her lunch box, but the contents were nonexistent. Thus, R knew she’d have to head down to the cafeteria vending machine grab some carbohydrate-filled junk, and break the bad news to Gwi-nam.

On her way, she noticed Gwi-nam leaning on a wall on his phone. R hummed, approaching. Gwi-nam immediately noticed, eyes glued to her figure. R paused in front of him, fumbling with her fingers.

“Well, Gwi-nam, I… woke up late this morning, so I didn’t pack a lunch. Do you have money for the vending machine?”

“Eh? Late? How unprofessional.”

R rolled her eyes. I’ll take that as a yes. Just make sure you eat.” R spun to head over to the cafeteria before pausing. “Oh, one more thing. I’m proud of you and the progress you’ve made in class, Gwi-nam. I hope you know that.”

She walked over to the cafeteria, not noticing how the student gulped and his cheeks grew red, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman.

The cafeteria was crowded and R struggled to evade students. She replied to greetings from students and eventually made it to the vending machine. R checked her phone as a goofy lunch wrap slowly unraveled. Alas, the lunch period was already fifteen minutes through.

The wrap was nearly loose, sliding down the front. It did so slowly, and R nearly screamed when she realized it was about to stop moving.

R had had a bad enough day and kicked the machine. Just like that, the wrap plopped down. As R grabbed it, the noise level in the cafeteria skyrocketed. R swerved to observe the commotion and was unprepared for what she saw. A hoard of students were flying through the glass entrance, until students suddenly slammed it shut, locking out a small group. Screams echoed, and despite the unknowing threat, R dashed toward the entrance, shoving her wrap into her skirt pocket.

And that was when another hoard approached. Students covered in blood ran at the group, and although they tried to run, the students caught them. Blood spewed against the glass, and R shrieked. Although R was frozen in place, everyone around her was running amock in panic from the sudden brutal attack. 

R stood just on the other side of the pane, not far from the front door. Students ran, and then so did the blood-covered students. The doors went crashing open, and R’s life flashed before her eyes as a student she immediately recognized pounced at her.

[wolsalwastaken]

My headcanons for the species of the bishops (+ bonus headcannons):

Leshy is an American dagger moth caterpillar, his little black spiky things and fluffy green appearance all match up with it. Since he’s clearly an adult, but is also stuck as a caterpillar, my headcanon is that his godhood prevented him from fully aging, as he was a caterpillar when being granted his power. He also can read in braille, however he is dyslexic, so he’s not very good at it.

Heket is a Cane Toad. Since Cane Toads are prevalent in Australia and are known for having an incredibly large appetite (and incredibly large size), I’d bet actual money that that’s what she was based off. Also yes, she canonically is a toad she isn’t a frog guys. It’s also incredibly painful for her to speak, even after her being healed, so she chooses to communicate through sign language most of the time.

Narinder is an Egyptian Mau, the first ever species of domestic cat (they also are often black in color). I also dreamt that he’s ambidextrous so that’s now a headcanon I have, idk my subconscious projected it onto him. Maybe it’s bc I myself am ambidextrous, or maybe I’m just weird.

Kallamar is a vampire squid, since vampires are blamed for the spread of disease, plus vampire squids have lil ears + a big ass forehead, it just makes sense to me. Since Kallamar is either partially or entirely deaf, he can communicate through speech but can only receive information through sign language. Him and Heket have the easiest time communing.

Shamura is a regal jumping spider, as seen with their bright coloration and big eyes. They use post-it notes to remind themself of things, however 90% of the time the notes are entirely unhelpful 1-word clues. Sometimes Leshy will intentionally mess with them by leaving fake notes.

Anyways just wanted to share my headcanons for them bc I want to, idk. Hope you’ve enjoyed them- if anyone’s wondering why I got oddly specific with species it’s bc I’m a biology major and animal nerd.

(Pictured below are the animals I hc them as, in order of mention)

[empressofkingfishers]

how the Bishops handled revival

while originally they could handle their injuries as Bishops, the same cannot be said when they're "mortal" and without their crowns.

Shamura: initially unconscious upon arrival and heavily bleeding. It’s only thanks to the quick work of Kallamar (who was on his feet by then) and the healers that prevented them from dying again. Upon coming out of a fragile state they're agitated, confused and aggressive; lashing out and hurting anyone who came near them, even their own siblings. Only Witness Allocer and Kallamar handled them. Eventually they settled, which happened much quicker with Narinder by their side. On bad days they tend to lash out or have episodes similar to dementia. That's thankfully happening less and less as time goes on. Sewing and knitting calms them so that's their job.

Kallamar: woke up and was unable to stand up straight and walk properly due to the damage to his ears. Eventually he succumbed to illness due to having a weakened immune system (he always had a weak one before the Blue Crown chose him.) Saleos mostly took care of him with Narinder helping. He had to be taught sign language for days when there's a lot of noise (think festivals). [Sign language is taught to many of the cultists. they may be a cult but they ARE inclusive!] Mostly avoids Narinder and tries not to catch Lamb's eye. Lives with Saleos (he was the youngest of Kallamar's disciples so he out lived Haborym and Baalzebub.) Will fall sick easily when there's sickness around, so as a healer he focuses his expertise on common colds (which he has an easier time shaking off) and physical injuries.

Heket: was choking on her blood when she awoke, would have died from blood loss had the healers not stepped in quick enough. Because of her ripped throat Heket was unable to eat food for several days, which was agony for her. All she could 'eat' was the water and thin broth the healers dripped into her mouth. Narinder and Leshy stayed by her side as she slowly recovered. Struggles to talk due to physical trauma so she had to be taught sign language to speak. She's a decent cook.

Leshy: was bleeding from his eyes but wasn't in any danger of dying. Was a pain in the ass for the healers however, he didn't make things easier with his wriggling and cursing. Once the pain eased, however, he calmed down and took his current situation well. It helped that Narinder kept him company. Occasionally uses a cane when there's crowds, more structures built, etc. Other than that he can get around just fine using the vibrations in the earth to help guide him. Is a farmer but does bartend on occasion.

TL;DR-

Shamura: where am I? i'm scared i'm angry i'm going to rip someone's arm off if they come near me where is my cat

Kallamar: oh my god i've been puking for five days straight and my head feels like it's spinning

Heket: (sad dying frog noises as her stomach growls)

Leshy: y'know I kinda like it here.

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

a silly and goofy platonic lady lesso fic where the reader is like "the school master sent me to you to sign some papers" and lady lesso signs them not even looking and its adoption papers ☠️

Mother knows best PLATONIC (Lady Lesso & Student! Reader)

Author's note: Hiya, I'm so sorry it took a long time to work on this fic for you but I hope I delivered! Thank you for requesting!

Summary: In a comical twist of fate, you, an unsuspecting student at the School for Evil, accidentally get adopted by the infamous Lady Lesso. What starts as a simple mix-up with some paperwork turns into a whirlwind of high expectations, magical lessons, and newfound responsibilities. As Lady Lesso's ward, you are now expected to live up to her high standards and face challenges that push you far beyond what you thought you were capable of. But beneath her icy exterior, could there be a glimmer of something more—a reluctant mentor who may just care about your success after all?

Warning(s): Mild language (mentions of cursing, sarcastic humor), Lighthearted chaos, Platonic student-teacher dynamic, Slight pressure/performance anxiety (academic/magical expectations), Fantasy elements (magic, projections)

The MAIN Masterlist

It was a typical day at the School for Evil, where chaos reigned supreme and the students prided themselves on their wicked schemes. You, however, were having a less-than-evil day. After a failed prank gone wrong (involving frogs that wouldn't stop croaking), you found yourself summoned to the imposing chambers of Lady Lesso.

You gulped. Lady Lesso was known for her icy demeanor and razor-sharp wit, and every student feared being called to her office. As you approached her door, you clutched a stack of papers in your hands—important documents that the school master had asked you to deliver to Lady Lesso.

Deep breath, you told yourself, then knocked on the door.

"Enter," her voice came, cold and commanding.

You pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the grand office. Lady Lesso sat behind her desk, her gaze piercing even as she barely looked up from her work. The air felt ten degrees colder, and you swore the shadows danced a little more in her presence.

"Lady Lesso," you began nervously, holding out the stack of papers. "The school master asked me to bring you these papers to sign."

Without looking up, Lady Lesso extended her hand. "Leave them on the desk," she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for questions.

"Uh, okay..." you hesitated, awkwardly placing the documents on her desk. You glanced down at the papers—Oops. Among the school forms, there was one particularly suspicious document sticking out... an adoption form? You frowned, wondering how in the world it got mixed in with the pile. Before you could say anything, Lady Lesso’s hand shot out, signing the papers in one swift, careless motion.

"There. Done," she said, her quill scratching the final signature onto the stack. "You’re dismissed."

"Uh... L-Lady Lesso, wait—"

"Do you plan to stay in my office all day, (Y/N)? You may go now."

You blinked, then realized you had no choice but to leave. Shuffling out the door, you clutched the papers to your chest, unsure how to break the news to her that she had just signed off on adopting you.

Later that evening, you returned to your dormitory, clutching the signed adoption papers and staring at them in disbelief.

“I’m… adopted?” you mumbled to yourself. “By Lady Lesso of all people?”

Your best friend, who had been sprawled out on their bed, peeked over your shoulder. "What's that?"

You showed them the signed papers, and their eyes widened in shock before they burst into laughter. "No way! You got Lady Lesso to adopt you without even trying?"

"Shhh! Keep it down!" you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. “It was an accident! She didn’t even read the papers. She just signed them!”

Your friend wiped tears from their eyes. "This is priceless. Lady Lesso, of all people, adopting you? You have to tell her!"

You groaned. The idea of going back to her office and explaining the mix-up seemed terrifying. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t hide this forever. Eventually, she’d find out—one way or another.

The next day, you stood once again outside Lady Lesso’s office, your heart pounding in your chest. You knocked on the door, and her voice called you in. This time, Lady Lesso was standing by the window, looking out into the misty courtyard.

"You again," she said, turning to face you. "What do you want this time?"

You took a deep breath, holding out the adoption papers. "Um, there was a little... mistake yesterday. You signed these without realizing what they were."

Lady Lesso raised an eyebrow, taking the papers from your hand. Her eyes scanned the document, and as she read the bold title at the top—Adoption of (Y/N) by Lady Lesso—a flicker of surprise crossed her face.

"Care to explain this?" she asked, her tone eerily calm.

You swallowed hard. "It was an accident! The school master gave me a stack of papers to give to you, and somehow the adoption form got mixed in. I didn’t mean for you to sign it, and—"

Before you could finish, Lady Lesso began to laugh.

Not a sarcastic laugh. Not a cruel laugh. A genuine, amused chuckle, which was... both unexpected and terrifying.

"Well, well," she said, still chuckling as she placed the papers back on her desk. "I suppose this makes you my responsibility now."

You stared at her, eyes wide. "W-What? But I thought you’d be mad, and—"

"Oh, don’t be ridiculous," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "If you think I’m going to go through the effort of reversing this, you clearly don’t know me well enough. Consider yourself adopted, (Y/N). I expect nothing less than absolute perfection from you."

You blinked, still processing her words. "So... you're not going to un-adopt me?"

She smirked. "I’ve already signed the papers, haven’t I? Might as well make the best of it."

You weren’t sure if you should feel relieved or utterly terrified. Either way, one thing was clear: you were now officially under the care of Lady Lesso—one of the most intimidating, brilliant, and slightly unhinged figures in the school.

What could possibly go wrong?

The rest of the day felt surreal. The news of your accidental adoption spread through the school faster than wildfire. Everywhere you went, people whispered and pointed, amused or shocked by the fact that you were now, technically, the child of Lady Lesso.

Your best friend was no help at all. They were practically in stitches, laughing every time they saw you. "You're practically royalty now!" they teased, nudging you in the ribs. "Lady Lesso’s one and only heir!"

"Stop," you groaned, face turning red. "I’m still figuring out how to survive this."

The thought of confronting Lady Lesso about your "new relationship" was overwhelming. She had been oddly calm about it, which scared you more than if she had been furious. Who knew what she was planning?

"You’re overthinking it," your friend said as you sat at the edge of the fountain in the courtyard. "Lady Lesso probably already forgot about it. I mean, she signed the papers by accident, right? It’s not like she’s going to act like your actual mom."

That, at least, was a relief. Lady Lesso wasn’t exactly the motherly type. You could imagine her handling discipline, sharp advice, and maybe even the occasional sarcastic compliment. But nurturing hugs and words of comfort? Yeah, that was probably never going to happen.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to change. Being adopted by Lady Lesso? That kind of mistake doesn’t just fade into the background unnoticed.

The next morning, you woke up with a note on your door. It wasn’t signed, but you recognized the sharp, slanted handwriting right away. Your heart sank as you read it:

"Report to my office immediately after breakfast. Don’t be late."

There was no doubt—it was from Lady Lesso. You barely had time to shove some breakfast into your mouth before rushing to her office, your stomach doing anxious flips the entire time.

You knocked on the door, more hesitantly than usual.

"Enter," came the familiar command.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. Lady Lesso was at her desk, as always, her posture straight and her expression unreadable. But this time, there was something different. Next to her on the desk was a small stack of books, and in front of the books was a little... lunchbox? With your name on it.

You blinked in confusion.

"You're late," Lady Lesso said without looking up. "I expected more punctuality from my... ward."

Your eyes widened. "Ward? But I thought—"

"Sit." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

You quickly complied, wondering what on earth was going on. The lunchbox gleamed in the soft light of the room, taunting you with its mystery.

"I assume you've realized that we cannot have this adoption treated as a joke," Lady Lesso began, folding her hands together. "While the circumstances of it were... unintentional, it is legally binding. The paperwork has been processed, and as such, I now have certain responsibilities."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Responsibilities?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Do you think I would allow my name to be attached to someone who doesn’t live up to my standards? As my ward, you will now be held to higher expectations. You represent me. Which means... your performance in school will reflect directly on me."

You gulped. "You mean, if I fail a test or—"

"I won’t allow failure," she said smoothly. "From now on, you will report to me daily for study sessions. You’ll need to excel in your classes, and you will take on additional responsibilities. I expect you to rise to the occasion."

"Wait, wait," you said, waving your hands. "So... you're saying that I now have to work harder because of this accidental adoption?"

Lady Lesso’s lips curled into the slightest hint of a smirk. "Precisely."

You groaned inwardly. Of course, this would be the outcome. Lady Lesso wasn’t going to let you skate by unnoticed—no, she was going to use this to mold you into the perfect student. Or at least, her version of perfection.

"Now, as for these..." she gestured toward the lunchbox and books on the desk. "This is your daily meal plan and study schedule. I won’t have you eating the trash the cafeteria serves. You'll also be receiving supplementary lessons directly from me. Consider it part of your... new curriculum."

You looked at the lunchbox, then back at her, utterly speechless. Lady Lesso was going to personally monitor your diet and studies? What kind of strange, twisted form of parenting was this?

"Do you understand?" she asked, her tone as sharp as ever.

You nodded quickly, not daring to argue.

"Good. You may go." She waved you away with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, and one more thing..."

You paused at the door, turning back to her.

"Don’t embarrass me."

As you made your way down the hall with the lunchbox and books, your head spun with everything that had just happened. You had gone from being a regular student to suddenly having Lady Lesso as a pseudo-parental figure, monitoring your studies, your meals, and who knew what else.

Your best friend, of course, found the entire situation hilarious.

"So, you’ve been adopted by the most terrifying person in the school, and now you have to be her star pupil?" they asked, still laughing as you told them what happened. "This is too good. What’s in the lunchbox?"

You shrugged and opened it, revealing a carefully prepared meal. It was simple, but way better than anything the school usually served. Lady Lesso’s influence was already showing in the smallest details.

"Well," you muttered, "I guess I have no choice but to step up my game."

Your friend grinned. "Hey, look on the bright side—you might end up as the most powerful student here by the end of it all!"

You sighed. "Or the most exhausted."

Either way, one thing was certain: life as Lady Lesso's ward was going to be anything but boring.

Being adopted by Lady Lesso was not what you expected. No, you didn’t expect daily cuddles or a motherly smile, but you hadn’t anticipated the sudden tidal wave of pressure and expectation either. After all, Lady Lesso wasn’t your average guardian; she was known throughout the school for her perfectionism and ironclad discipline.

You sat in the library, staring at the long list of subjects Lady Lesso had given you to study. Dark Magic Theory, Tactical Deception, Advanced Potions... It was like she expected you to become a top-level villain overnight.

"You're really going through with all this?" your friend asked, leaning over your shoulder to glance at your notes. "She's not messing around, huh?"

"Nope," you sighed, flipping to the next chapter in Deception: Art or Necessity? "This is the new normal for me. Study sessions every night, no excuses."

Your friend whistled. "I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or to envy you. I mean, having Lady Lesso as a mentor? That could give you a serious advantage."

You groaned. "An advantage, sure, but at what cost? My sanity? My social life?"

Your friend chuckled. "You didn't have much of that anyway."

"Thanks for the support," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned the page.

Suddenly, the library doors creaked open, and a chill ran down your spine. It was almost like a sixth sense that told you exactly who had entered the room. You looked up slowly, catching sight of Lady Lesso sweeping through the library, her dark cloak trailing behind her.

Her presence commanded the entire room, and all the students immediately stiffened. Without saying a word, she walked directly to where you sat, her cold gaze settling on you.

"Time's up," she said crisply. "Come."

You blinked, confused. "But I still have—"

"You're late for your next lesson," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She turned on her heel and strode out of the library, fully expecting you to follow without another word.

You grabbed your books, casting a quick glance at your friend. They gave you a sympathetic look as you scrambled to your feet and hurried after Lady Lesso, trying to keep up with her long strides.

Back in her office, you found yourself seated at a small table in the corner. It wasn’t the first time you’d been summoned here for extra lessons, but today, there was something different about the setup. In front of you was a large crystal ball, its surface shimmering with faint magical energy.

"You’ve been slacking," Lady Lesso said without preamble as she stood beside the desk, her eyes narrowed. "Your last few tests were... unsatisfactory. If you're going to be my ward, mediocrity is not an option."

You gulped. Slacking? You’d been studying harder than ever, but clearly, it wasn’t enough for Lady Lesso’s high standards.

She placed her hand on the crystal ball, her long nails clicking against the surface. "Today’s lesson is on projection," she explained. "A skill that, if mastered, can make you a force to be reckoned with."

"Projection?" you asked, staring at the shimmering crystal. "Like, projecting my thoughts?"

"Not just your thoughts," she said coolly. "Your presence. Your energy. The very essence of who you are. If done correctly, you can project yourself across great distances, fool your enemies, and even manipulate their perceptions."

You blinked, suddenly very aware of how little you knew about advanced magic like this. "And you want me to learn... that?"

"Of course," she replied, her lips curling into a slight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "You will start small. But eventually, you will be able to project an image of yourself so real, so convincing, that others will be unable to tell the difference between you and your projection."

That sounded both terrifying and... amazing. But mostly terrifying.

"Now," she said, gesturing toward the crystal ball, "begin."

You hesitated, glancing between her and the ball. "What do I do exactly?"

Lady Lesso arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Focus. Draw your energy into the crystal. Feel your presence fill the space around it. And do not break concentration."

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you placed your hands on the crystal ball. It felt cool under your fingers, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus. Slowly, you imagined your presence extending outward, seeping into the crystal.

At first, nothing happened. Then, you felt a flicker—like a tiny spark of magic connecting with the crystal. Encouraged, you pushed harder, focusing all your energy into the ball, willing your presence to project.

A sudden jolt shot through you. The crystal ball lit up with a brilliant flash of light, and you gasped as the sensation of being pulled outward overwhelmed you.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing across the room... except, you were still sitting at the table.

You blinked in shock, looking down at yourself—your projected self. It was like looking into a mirror, but you weren’t really there. You glanced back at Lady Lesso, who was observing you with a satisfied smirk.

"Impressive," she said, her voice echoing faintly. "But it’s only the beginning. Hold the projection. Maintain control."

You tried to focus, but it felt like trying to hold onto a slippery rope. The image of yourself flickered, then wavered, before dissolving completely. You slumped in your chair, exhausted.

Lady Lesso frowned slightly. "Not bad for a first attempt. But you’ll need to practice. You’ll need to build endurance if you want to maintain a projection for more than a few moments."

You nodded, feeling drained. "I’ll keep practicing."

"Good," she said, her expression hardening. "I expect you to master this soon. You’re dismissed for now."

You stood up, ready to collapse from the strain of it all, but before you could leave, Lady Lesso spoke again.

"And (Y/N)?" she added, her voice softer but no less commanding. "Don't think that just because I’m pushing you harder, I’ve forgotten what this arrangement means."

You turned to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She gave you a rare, almost affectionate look, one that sent a shiver down your spine. "I may not have chosen this adoption, but I don’t take my responsibilities lightly. I expect you to succeed—not just for my sake, but for yours."

You swallowed, feeling both touched and terrified by her words. She wasn’t just pushing you to make herself look good—she actually wanted you to succeed.

"Thank you, Lady Lesso," you said quietly, before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of her office, your mind raced. You had never expected this kind of support—or this kind of pressure. But one thing was certain: with Lady Lesso as your guardian, your life was going to be filled with challenges you never saw coming.

And somehow, you were starting to believe you might just be up for it.

[fuzzyspiderpawz]

Drew these a little while ago but I thought it’d be fun to finally post them anyway here’s my interpretation of all the bishops in their follower forms (i put them all in the regular cult member shirts but I think they’d actually wear something different)

Narinder

Has a bit of a love hate relationship with the lamb if you couldn’t tell (I’m a big fan of Narinder making cat noises) and also him and the lamb have an enemies to lovers arc FOR SURE. He takes out a lot of his anger by picking fights with other followers (ESPECIALLY his siblings) also takes on the role of executioner from time to time.

Leshy

Green worm man who causes problems on purpose and then falls in love with an orange/yellow cat👍 I also imagine he grows all sorts of different plants in his personal garden not just Camellia flowers.

Heket

my baby girl my queen my lovely frog wife whom I love she is the head chef but she also steals food from the kitchen aaaallllll the time. She gets very hungry very easily and also it’s her way of rebelling even if she can’t leave. She’s a surprisingly good cook. She can talk but barely and sometimes talking results in her coughing up blood so she’s learning sign language from another follower

Kallamar

He’s pretty pathetic tbh. He’s a good doctor but not super kind, he’d chastise and insult his patients a lot cause he’s still super upset and moody about what the lamb did. That is until followers started complaining to the lamb and the lamb intimidated him into behaving. Now he’s still moody and passive aggressive but less so, out of all his siblings he’s the most scared of the lamb. Can’t hear super well but he chooses not to listen most of the time anyway. Might also try learning sign language alongside Heket, as soon as they learn how they’d sign insults at each other until it devolves into a full on physical fight that the lamb has to break up.

Shamura

They actually get along very well with the lamb, they’ve made their peace with their fate and the fate of their siblings. Sometimes on rare occasions they will have long philosophical talks with the lamb. They did in fact ask to have an upper floor bedroom with a balcony for their house so they could be dramatic and brooding. They also adopted Webber as their child. Their friendship with the lamb might also be due to their very spotty memory.

The lamb gave all of them immortality necklaces they didn’t want to see them die again. Even if they weren’t gods anymore the lamb didn’t want to be the only one left who wore a godly crown. Most of the bishops are all still somewhat scared of the lamb. I imagine they eventually get used to them though.

[mrs-stans]

GQ Hype

How Sebastian Stan became Donald Trump in The Apprentice

With an uncanny performance as a young Donald Trump in The Apprentice and an even less recognisable turn in A Different Man, the shapeshifting actor is embracing his freaky side

By Ben Allen Photography by Daniel Jack Lyons

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana.Necklace by Cartier.Daniel Jack Lyons

When Sebastian Stan was growing up in Romania in the 1980s, he began to learn English through passive immersion. His mother, a concert pianist, would regularly play English music and language lessons on the family record player while they were going about their day. “I’d be playing with toys and I’d hear, like, ‘frog’ and ‘dog’, or whatever,” Stan says. It meant that by the time the actor moved to Vienna at age eight, where he attended an American international school – and later, when he moved to New York at 12 – he had a decent jumping-off point. “I’m a big believer in putting yourself in a situation where, subconsciously, there’s work being done.”

In the past two years, Stan has put that method to use in a very different way. As he entered preproduction to play Donald Trump in Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice – which charts the former President and current Republican candidate’s early rise through the New York property scene – he started spending his waking hours with tapes of the young Trump playing in his ears. He brushed his teeth with Trump, he went grocery shopping with Trump, he spoke to friends with one earphone in, Trump still nattering away in his ear. “I slept with him, by the way,” Stan says, well aware of how strange that sounds. “It just sort of ends up taking over your life.” He’s sitting somewhere in Los Angeles at lunchtime, speaking to me over Zoom, with the afternoon sun reflecting off his chlorine-blue eyes.

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Ring by Cartier.

The Apprentice, which Stan first signed up for in 2022, explores the question, ‘How did Trump get like this?’ (The answer, it posits, has a lot to do with Roy Cohn, a lawyer and prosecutor who had risen to prominence in the 1950s as Senator Joseph McCarthy’s attack dog in the communist witch-hunts.) The film is the latest in a string of freaky, transformation-heavy roles that have run parallel alongside Stan’s very mainstream 13-year-and-counting stint as Captain America’s pal Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which has made him a globally recognised action star. The Apprentice lands this month in the UK, two weeks after A Different Man, an A24 production in which Stan plays an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that has caused the growth of non-cancerous tumours on his face. They’re not your typical actor-in-between-superhero-outings roles – and the fact that Stan is spending so much time in the make-up chair outside of the blockbusters is indicative of a desire to get truly lost in his work.

I started to think a lot about the American dream. What is it? Is it a ghost you keep chasing?

Preparing to play Trump, he says, was like any other time he has portrayed a real-life person – take, say, Tonya Harding’s ex-husband, Jeff Gillooly, in I, Tonya, or Tommy Lee in Pam & Tommy. But this time around it came with an added layer of stress. “There’d be nights when my anxiety levels would be through the roof, because I’d be like, Why did I say yes to this?” he says with a laugh.

But Stan thrives when he leans into fear. He had been terrified of I, Tonya, and even more terrified of Pam & Tommy – which, in its exploration of the couple’s romance and sex tape, involved a scene where Lee converses with a silicone puppet of his penis. (The latter earned him Golden Globe and Emmy nominations.) Trump was a different beast. “I thought, I don’t know if this is doable. I don’t know if I have it in me,” he says. “But it’s not not gonna happen because I’m scared of it.”

Coat, shirt and tie by Ludovic de Saint Sernin. Trousers by Gabriela Hearst. Boots and gloves by Versace. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

Jacket and shirt by Gabriela Hearst. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Daniel Jack Lyons

When his mother told him he was going to be leaving Vienna for the United States at 12 years old, Stan felt like the floor had fallen from beneath him. “It was like you were telling me that my life was over,” he says. His mother was a single parent and had met an American man and fallen in love; he wanted to bring them both to live with him in New York. Stan remembers crying in the shower in the days leading up to the move. After departing Romania a few years before, he had worked hard to forge new friendships. Now, he’d have to rebuild from the bottom up again. “That did feed me resilience, because it did allow me to get better at restarting and restarting,” he says. “It fed a lot of who I am.”

Upon arriving in America, he started working on his impersonation of an American teenager. “I was so traumatised by being different,” he says. He refused to speak Romanian, even at home. He didn’t tell anyone he was from a foreign country. “I wanted to change my name to Christopher,” he says. “I wanted to be as normal in America as anybody else.” Having already set the ball rolling with his passive English lessons as a child, he was able to adopt a seamless New York accent, leaving little to betray his otherness. He tried out every personality marker available to him at school, to figure out which one fitted: debate team, forensics, every sport he could muster, and drama, eventually gravitating towards the latter. “I became popular in high school through acting,” he says. “I went on dates. I found my path.”

Still, this otherness was a part of Stan, as much as he initially tried to suppress it. As he came to appreciate life in America – in a middle-class household, with a good education – he began to reappraise his background, and felt a sense of gratitude to his stepfather for bringing them over, and for the drive it seeded within him. “This idea that you’ve been so lucky to have been selected to get this opportunity,” he says. “I was able to seize it and work with it, but on the other hand it’s a never-ending burden because you go, ‘You better not blow it!’” He remembers taking a walk through the city on their arrival, gawping up at the skyscrapers, when his mother impressed upon him that very sentiment: “You see these buildings? This is where you have a chance to become something.” He thought about this conversation quite a lot while he was playing Trump, probably because it feels like a scene ripped right out of a more varnished biography of the former President. “I started to think a lot about the American dream, and sort of like, what is it?” he says. “Is it a ghost you keep chasing?”

That was a way of me understanding that you're just out there, like target practice.

When Stan was doing theatre in high school, he loved getting a chance to transform and become a different person entirely. “You’re 14, 15, and you’re playing parts where you have to be, like, 35 years older than you are, and you have to change your appearance, you have to change everything, and you have to walk a certain way,” he says. “That shit was fun.” He would find himself craving those meatier transformations later, after landing a run of roles in Hollywood playing traditionally hot villains and heroes in Gossip Girl and in the Captain America movies. “Watching Christian Bale do The Fighter and watching him do Batman and Vice and The Machinist… He was a guy that, to me, could have made very conventional choices because he’s very good at any of it. But then he’s trying these things.”

Opportunities like this aren’t necessarily afforded to nascent actors. In a weird way, you kind of have to wait for your face to become recognisable before you’re allowed to start messing with it. The first real taste Stan got of this was in 2017 – after he had been solidly established as a Marvel hero – in the Margot Robbie-led, Oscar-winning I, Tonya, which told the story of the assault on figure skater Nancy Kerrigan, orchestrated by her Olympic rival Tonya Harding’s camp. For Harding’s ex-husband – who sets the assault in motion – they were looking for someone very different to Stan. The real Gillooly is slight and short, with narrow features. Stan felt his teen-drama looks would work against him in the audition process. “I’m like, ‘I’m gonna walk into that room and they’re gonna see the taller guy, The CW [the young-people-melodrama US TV network that first aired Gossip Girl] guy.’ I felt like I was going to be immediately judged.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie saw in Stan a capacity to become Gillooly. “I was familiar with Captain America: Civil War and his work there, and I couldn’t quite picture it [at first],” Gillespie tells me. “But he actually turned up [to the audition] in the turtleneck and the moustache, almost in character. And the transformation, and his instincts tonally and comedically… He was actually improvising things in the scene that worked incredibly well.”

Gillespie was impressed not just by how Stan had remoulded himself in the shape of someone else, but by his ability to tap into the character’s humanity, too. “It has to be emotionally resonant,” he says. “You have to be able to connect to the characters… He completely commits, which is an incredibly scary proposition for an actor.” Still, Stan was filled with anxiety heading into I, Tonya. “The amount of fear I had was almost traumatising,” he says. But then he did it. “I worked so hard for that movie, and it worked.”

A DIFFERENT MAN takes things up another notch. The film was written and directed by Aaron Schimberg, a rising indie director whose work has explored how disability has impacted his life (Schimberg was born with a cleft lip and palate). In it, a prosthetics-heavy Stan plays Edward, an actor whose biggest break to date is a small role in a corporate training video about how to treat employees with facial differences in the workplace. Edward’s spirit has been crushed by the world around him, weathered by the relentless gawping of strangers and rejection. Then, he takes part in a clinical trial for a new drug that could remove the tumours from his face. It works. Edward fakes his death and adopts a new identity, looking just like regular old Sebastian Stan. But when Edward’s kind neighbour – played by The Worst Person in the World’s Renate Reinsve – stages a play about him, he finds himself in competition with Oswald (played by Adam Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis) for the part. It is, to put it mildly, a confronting drama, excavating both society’s unwillingness to treat people with disabilities fairly and the fallacy of our terminal dissatisfaction with our looks.

Coat by McQueen. Shirt by Louis Vuitton. Trousers by Louis Vuitton. Tie by Dolce & Gabbana. Boots by Versace. Daniel Jack Lyons

Though the film treads across the noir and comic horror genres, and at points tips into the absurd, it feels most like a parable. “It’s another version of the American dream, right?” Stan says. “Don’t wish for the things you want; you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

During the shoot, Stan often had long stretches between having his facial prosthetics applied and his call time (the film’s make-up designer, Michael Marino, was simultaneously working on The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, and would sometimes have to squeeze Stan into make-up in the early hours before running to that job). So Stan would walk around New York, including parts of his own neighbourhood, wearing hyperrealistic prosthetics, getting just a little taste of what his life would be like if he had been dealt a different hand. At one point, he went to his local coffee shop, where a barista he has known for years was working the counter. “She was so busy handling stuff, and suddenly she turned and she didn’t expect to see me,” he says, “and I could see the shock going immediately into overcompensation.” Pearson told him that those are the reactions that he is most often confronted with as a person with a disability: shock verging on repulsion, and guilty, over-the-top kindness.

Schimberg helped Stan to draw a neat line between Edward’s life and his own experience of fame. The one thing they had in common is how they’re observed in public spaces. “He said, ‘You have to think about what it’s like to be recognised. And the sense that you’re fair game out there.’ That I could understand,” Stan says. “I’ll go to lunch with my mom and somebody will be filming me the entire time, pretending they’re not. Or I’ll see somebody look at me strangely and then they’ll whisper to their friends. Or I’ve had someone come and tap me and run away. The invasiveness of that… And I can’t do anything but just receive it.”

Stan is quick to clarify that his experience as a famous person is not really comparable, that it comes with all sorts of upsides. But this point of similarity helped him to fully embody the character. “That was a way of me understanding this thing – that you’re just out there, like target practice.”

Coat and pyjamas by Dolce & Gabbana. Daniel Jack Lyons

Production on The Apprentice was hazardously stop-start. Several times over, Stan began his Trump immersion routine – which also involved pounding Coca-Colas and peanut butter and jam sandwiches, among other things, to put on some very un-superhero bulk – only to find out that production had been suspended. At one point, the project came so close to overlapping with his next Marvel outing, next May’s Thunderbolts, that he had to start shredding instead – only for Thunderbolts to be postponed because of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Straight back to the PB&Js. All that work wasted. “I’m fuckin’ 41; I just worked pretty hard to get in shape here!” he says.

Stan’s Trump is admirably nuanced, particularly for a person who has been so widely imitated – on SNL, on late-night talk shows, every second of every day by comedians trying to make a name for themselves on TikTok – as to be reduced to a caricature in the public consciousness. Initially, it feels quite removed, but then you spot the shape his mouth curves into while enunciating words like “deal” and “loser”, a subtle pursing of the lips when he’s being spoken to, a hand gesture. As the movie progresses, the man with whom we’re all exhaustingly familiar comes closer and closer to the fore.

Suit and boots by Versace. Vest top by Schiesser. Hat by Gladys Tamez. Watch by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

The challenge, in Stan’s eyes, was to tread the very fine line between interpretation and imitation. “It’s a balance between having the familiarity without it becoming sort of a schtick,” he says. “There is a small window of time where you are going through the impersonation phase, because you’ve got to get through that in order to come out the other end,” he says. “There is a mechanical, technical piece to it, and that comes from actually studying a person.” According to Stan’s mother, he spent much of his childhood relentlessly impersonating people he came in to contact with. “I’ve always been good at watching people,” he says.

I'm going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.

Once he got comfortable enough, he would take the show on the road – trying versions of the character out in restaurants to see if anyone would pick up on it. “Because there’s a thing getting born,” he says, “and you want to test it out in the world, but you don’t want to overdo it too quickly – then it gets frozen.” No one seemed to notice in the moment, which was at least some indication that he hadn’t tipped over into parody, but some friends who have seen the movie realised retrospectively: “They’ve come up to me after and said, ��Now I see this fuckin’ weird thing you were doing!’”

When we meet Trump in The Apprentice, he is a footsoldier in his father’s company and significantly less self-assured, though he’s got the trademark wispy hair and the ill-fitting suits. The wheels begin to turn when he meets Cohn – portrayed here in typically committed fashion by Succession’s Jeremy Strong, with whom Stan only had the chance to interact in character on set – who begins to sculpt Trump in his own image, laying out his rules for success, which will be very familiar to anyone who has paid attention to Trump’s political career: 1) attack, attack, attack; 2) admit nothing and deny everything; and 3) always claim victory and never admit defeat.

Coat, trousers and shoes by McQueen. Vest top by Ami. Sunglasses by Jacques Marie Mages. Pin by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

Stan seems reticent to get into the politics of The Apprentice, which depicts Trump as, among other things, a rapist, in a scene referencing allegations made in a deposition by his first wife Ivana during their divorce proceedings. (Trump has previously denied the rape allegation; Ivana later issued a statement clarifying that she had felt violated, but was not raped in a “literal or criminal sense”.) But the movie speaks for itself. And Trump’s camp is already speaking back: after the film premiered at Cannes in May, the presidential campaign’s chief spokesperson Steven Cheung called the movie “garbage”, “pure fiction” and “election interference by Hollywood elites”, while also threatening a lawsuit. In a press conference at the film festival, Abbasi suggested that an ideal release date would be in mid-September, to align with the second presidential debate (but the film, as it happens, is now due out on 11 October in the USA, and 18 October in the UK). It wouldn’t take Alan Turing to decipher the message being transmitted. But I try and press for a direct answer: does Stan feel an added sense of responsibility playing Trump in an election year? “You can’t not think about it,” he says. “But I had tremendous trust in Ali Abbasi and his vision for the movie. And it is an important story – I think the movie makes a great attempt at exploring: how did we get here? But I approached it with the same responsibility as I approached anything I ever got involved with, which is, I’m going to give this my all. I’m going to research the fuck out of it; I’m going to commit the fuck out of it and surrender myself to the story.”

Does he have any concerns about backlash from Trump or from MAGA supporters? “I mean, is there anything out there now that doesn’t get backlash? You can’t worry about what people think,” Stan says. “But I’m fully aware that I’m doing things that are not going to be for everybody.”

He’s not far off the mark. Even Marvel, the world’s highest-grossing movie franchise of all time, has faced quite a bit of criticism in recent years – in part for the way in which they’ve handled the transition to a new set of heroes and storylines since 2019’s Avengers: Endgame. Stan doesn’t have any time for it. “I’ve never been part of a company that puts so much heart and thought into anything,” he says. “I think if Marvel was gone, it’d be such a big hole to try and fill up. Don’t just go out there and shit on something without offering something better.”

Coat by Loewe. Boots by Dolce & Gabbana. Necklace by Cartier. Daniel Jack Lyons

He’s certainly not done with the MCU yet. Thunderbolts, which he’ll headline alongside Florence Pugh, will arrive in May next year. And he’s already looking beyond that, to a potential reunion with Robert Downey Jr, who has been announced to return in the next Avengers movie – not as Iron Man, but as the villain Doctor Doom. “I hope I’m in a scene with him,” Stan says. “Is there any other guy that could pull that off? I don’t know, probably not. After Tropic Thunder, is there anything that guy can’t do?” he says, laughing. It is perhaps the movie that I least expect Stan – or anyone, to be honest – to reference in 2024, but I should know better. Downey Jr is a transformation master, too. Game recognises game.

Trump doesn’t exist in the Marvel universe – or at least not yet – but if you spot a hint of him in Thunderbolts, you’ll know why. “I went off to Marvel after [The Apprentice],” Stan says. “And we were doing scenes, and I would do something, a thing or two, and be like, ‘Fuck! This is still living somewhere.’”

Styled by Sean Knight Hair by Erica Adams Grooming by Kc Fee using iS Clinical at Redefine Representation Set Design by Daniel Horowitz Production by May Kielany