#Fangs of Fortune costume design

[morweneledhwen]

Costume design in Fangs of Fortune (find more here)

[fiftysevenacademics]

The work on this costume is ridiculous! They've applied ribbons in intricate patterns meant to resemble ancient writing and/or magical symbols and embellished them with sequins, crystals, and gemlike beads, and embroidered in gold around and between. All this for a costume you hardly get to see and that spends most of its screen time covered in smoking red demonic energy. A round of applause for the Fangs of Fortune costume designers and sewers!

[acequinz]

Not gonna lie I moved to Love Game In Eastern Fantasy after the reveal of Fangs of Fortune director plagiarising from a lot of artist designs and a lot from a danmei donghua adaptation as well because I had nothing better to watch and I am honestly having such a good fucking time.

Like this is everything I needed. They really should have done a better trailer but honestly ep 1 is good enough to get every one to stay.

Also I love the effect management, the fights are so amazing, really no skimping anywhere there.

There's not a lot of big fights every episode but whenever there is a fight, the choreo and added effects are fucking beautiful.

The costumes are also really nice especially the hair styles for Miaomiao.

And the little flashback they do to show miaomiao's real world and how she still missed it and wanted to see her mom.

I really want her to get to go back but also I want her to take Mu Sheng with her.

[call-me-chips]

New MHA oc! (More info below the cut :) )

Basic info:

Full name: Kyomu Mori (Mori is his surname) Nickname: Kyo Gender: Male (He/him) Sexuality: Gay Height: 6'2" Weight: 185lbs Age: 16 Birthday: April 6th Zodiac: Aries MBTI: ESTP-A Langauges: Japanese, English, Filipino Ethnicity: Japanese, Filipino Dominant hand: Right Scars: Scar on the upper center of his forehead Reason for scars: Unknown Piercings: 1 right eyebrow piercing, 1 lobe piercing on each ear Eye colour: Yellow Skin colour: Medium brown Hair colour: Light blue, white Hair style: High ponytail Hair length: Upper back Body type: Tall, muscular Special features: Anthro-like legs, long tail, oddly shaped ears, slightly sharp fingers, sharp canine teeth

MHA related:

Occupation: UA Student Hero name: Tamper Quirk: Memory Mutation. The ability to move, alter, and add to memories of both others and himself with just a touch More detailed quirk description: When the user touches another person with either their hands, feet, or tail, they are able to access the recent memories (recent being a few days) of the person and alter them. With further concentration and effort, they can access older memories (older being a week or more), but this is draining and difficult to successfully do. Although memory tampering can be performed with the hands, tail, and feet, the effect doesn't work as well with the feet. Altering memories: This action is the easiest to do. With this action, the user is able to change a specific part of a pre-existing memory. Example: They could cause you to remember leaving your keys on your desk, when you actually took them with you. Moving memories: This action makes the user practically able to delete a memory by moving it from someone's mind to his own, or from his mind to someone else's. Adding memories: This action takes the longest to perform. With this, the user can give someone a completely new memory, even if it's something that never happened. To do this, the user requires a lot of concentration, as they have to clearly invision all that happens in the memory. If their mind is not clear enough while invisioning the new memory, it may seem distorted.

Personal questions:

Is he more optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic Is he more introverted or extroverted? Extroverted What bad habits does he have? "I have no bad habits." He can't sit normally in chairs. He chews with his mouth open (he blames the fangs). He jaywalks. Doesn't like listening to authority How does he display affection? He loves physical touch, and will sometimes purposefully touch people he likes with his tail How does he want to be seen by others? He wants to be seen as the cool older brother figure to Class 1A How does he see himself? He sees himself as a valuable member of his class How do others see him? His closest friends see him as a brother, while others see him as a rebellious teenager who's always getting into trouble How does he react to praise? With open arms How does he react to criticism? In the moment, he acts like he doesn't care and like he doesn't listen, but later, he finds himself thinking over it deeper and trying to subtly improve What is his greatest fear? "Nothing." Being forgotten What are his phobias? Enclosed spaces, mice/rats Favourite animal? Dogs. Specifically German Shepherds because of how fierce and protective they can be (And that he thinks guard dogs are fucking awesome) Favourite colour? Yellow More often than not, what is his password? "Nice try. I ain't telling that." It's usually 1234567896 "Hey! >:(" What would he dress up as for Halloween? One of those big enflatable costumes like a dinosaur or a rubber duck What would he ask a fortune teller? "Hmmm, I don't trust it. If you are so smart, how many fingers are behind my back right now?" What sport is he good at? Basketball What sport is he bad at? Golf. He has something personal against golf and anyone who plays it

Kyomu is, design-wise, basically just a compilation of physical traits that I am either bad at, or want to improve on. I'm not good at drawing men. I'm not good at drawing hands, and his quirk involves using his hands. I want to get better at drawing different perspectives of asymmetrical objects, so I gave him an asymmetrical tail. I'd like to improve at drawing anthro legs. I want some experience with drawing fangs. I'm not good at drawing updo hairstyles

Feel free to ask more questions about him in my inbox. I'm always looking to add to characters :)

[joyouslee]

Searching youtube for Fangs of Fortune content as I am going through withdrawal during the broadcast break, and thought I'd share:

Here's one that's mainly BTS of them filming various scenes (including the exploding water pots one, which is cool) and that's mostly the cast being adorable.

And here's a cool one that has the costume team talking about some of their designs and the actors talking about their favorite costumes. It's really cool to hear the thought process behind the costume designs. Be aware there are several spoilers in this one for plot points that haven't come up yet.

[terrence-silver]

I wondering what John and terry would dress as for Halloween maybe a couple costumes 👀 I know Terry would go all out with the costumes design and all

John Kreese probably doesn't celebrate Halloween.

He thinks that sort of thing is for children and the youths...you know, like in the case of his OG Cobras dressing up as skeletons. But grown men? Nah, son. Can't even really be talked into shifting his opinion because that's the one thing he's staunch on --- he's not a clown. Won't dress up like one either. Too damn prideful to do so. He thinks there's something not befitting adults about the whole thing. Almost comes off like a hazing, humiliation ritual to him, I can imagine.

Terry Silver on the other hand?

He'd be there in a full blown, tailor made vampire costume for all we know; an entirely unique couture outfit that cost a small fortune made from the finest materials and fangs specially designed out of silver, decorated with diamonds for the pure extravagant ostentatiousness of it all. They somehow coexist like this, with entirely different perspectives on the matter. John might be there in his brown puffer vest, tolerating Terry's antics in ways he'd tolerate them for nobody else and heck even being a little amused by them, while Terry Silver's looking like Béla Lugosi, infinitely aggrieved he couldn't get John to dress up too. But, that's his Captain. He respects and venerates the man too much to actually put him into attire that lowers the man in any sense which means he might just suggest that John dress up as a General or something of that lofty sort because he always felt John deserved to go as far as he could in the military and now that's just an offer John might take after pretending he's bothered by the symbolism of wearing an uniform, chevrons and markings he didn't earn in combat; a pretense that's short lasting...much to Terry's infinite glee.

[kazumikiz10]

The Cask of Amontillado

By Edgar Allan Poe

The narrator, Montresor, begins the story by explaining that he has been irreparably insulted by his acquaintance, Fortunato, and that he seeks revenge. However, the nature of the insult is never revealed. Montresor wants to exact this revenge in a measured way, without placing himself at risk. He decides to use Fortunato’s weakness for wine against him. During the carnival season, Montresor, wearing a mask of black silk, approaches Fortunato. He tells Fortunato that he has acquired something that could pass for Amontillado, a light Spanish sherry. Fortunato (whose name means "fortunate") is dressed in the multicolored costume of a jester, complete with a cone-shaped cap with bells. Montresor tells Fortunato that if he is too busy, he will ask a man named Luchesi to taste it. Fortunato, apparently considering Luchesi a rival, claims that Luchesi could not tell Amontillado from other types of sherry. Fortunato insists that they go to Montresor’s vaults.

Montresor has strategically planned for this meeting by sending his servants away to the carnival. The two men descend into the damp vaults, which are covered with nitre (saltpeter, a whitish mineral). Aggravated by the nitre, Fortunato begins to cough. The narrator keeps offering to bring Fortunato back home, but Fortunato refuses. Instead, he accepts wine as the antidote to his cough. The men continue to explore the deep vaults, which are filled with the dead bodies of Montresor’s family. In response to the crypts, Fortunato claims to have forgotten Montresor’s family coat of arms and motto. Montresor responds that his family shield portrays “a huge human foot d’or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are embedded in the heel.” The motto, in Latin, is “nemo me impune lacessit,” meaning “no one attacks me with impunity.”

The strategic plan unfolds according to Montresor’s design. He tries not to feel guilty for what he has done to his friend. He concludes that for fifty years, no one has disturbed the tomb, and ends with a Latin phrase meaning "May he rest in peace."

The terror of The Cask of Amontillado lies in the fact that there is no clear evidence of what kind of insult Montresor's friend actually committed. The story focuses on revenge without proof and a secret murder that no one knows about. No justice occurs in this story. For fifty years, Montresor has kept this dark secret. Montresor uses his subjective experience of Fortunato’s insult to name himself judge, jury, and executioner in this tale, which makes him an unreliable narrator. Imagine if he disobeyed the rule of God, which forbids putting judgment in one’s own hands when someone sins. Without evidence, he acted on the unsaid reasons for the insult. Meanwhile, Fortunato's addiction to alcohol is the true reason for his death. The thing that actually killed him was his addiction , not Montressor, because at the first place he accepted and went with the murderer’s trap. In addition, during the time of this story, the issue about killing or buried alive was rampant during that time. To the point that Poe’s reason of writing this is this, and for also having that depress gained in his own family, been addicted to gambling .

All in all, always remember that even the closest friend will be also your biggest enemy. It is crucial to know them better and never trust that much. If you can only know them by that, don’t just stay by what you see. Sometimes the more you stay , the more they will abuse you. Just a short reminder that I got in other resources was “Your emotions are valid but your behavior is not. Your anger is valid but your yelling is not. Your jealousy is valid but your judgement is not. Pain is valid but your drinking is not.” This is the exact lesson that you can apply even when you grow up. Separate your emotions from your behavior because the more you believe in emotions , the more that it will hurt you. Try to walk around and look for the positive side of every single things around you. Life won’t ends in darkness, it will always shine if you will choose to be in a good path.

[duhragonball]

BEGIN: Battle Tendency Liveblog.   JJBA Ch. 45-47

🇺🇸🗽🧗‍♂️🧼🪀🌵Part 2, Hell Yeah!🌪️🎈🛩️🌋🚬

I'm pretty friggin' excited for Part 6 anime, and Part 6 is one of my faves, so one could understandably assume that Part 6 is my favorite.  And I post a lot of other JoJo stuff on this blog, so it's probably not obvious, but Part 2 is the best.   

I got into JoJo in 2017, watching Parts 1-4 in anime version, then reading the scanlations of Parts 5-8 while I waited for the anime to catch up.    Then I re-liveblogged the Part 5 manga because there was finally a proper translation available.   And technically the Part 8 liveblog never ended, since the manga is still ongoing.  

As I developed an appreciation for the manga, I started to feel like I should go back and check out the comic versions of Parts 1 through 4.  Where better to start than my personal favorite?   But I never got around to it, until now.

There's a few things I want to explore with Part 2.    First, I want to go through and work out why exactly I like it so much.   It's kind of tough to articulate, but usually I just say that it's fast-paced and something's always happening.   Part 1 takes a while to get going, and Parts 3-8 rely on the Stand concept, which means that each of them occasionally fall into the trap of becoming formulaic.   Part 2 doesn't have the hassle of introducing all the lore, and it doesn't have the luxury of just doing a gauntlet of Stand Battles to pad out the story.   But I think there's more to it than that.  Battle Tendency has a charm all it's own, and that's what I want to talk about.

Second, now that I've become familiar with Parts 1-7 (and most of 8), I want to go back and see how 2 holds up as part of this mythos.   BT sort of gets overlooked, I think, and that's fair, since it doesn't involve Dio, Stands, or the more outlandish costumes of the later installments.  A lot of fans write off Parts 1 and 2 for being "boring", but at least Phantom Blood carries the prestige of starting it all, and providing the origin of Dio.  Something I think a lot about is whether or not Part 2 "connects" with the later entries in the JoJo series.  It forms a trilogy with 1 and 3, and Part 4 features Joseph's legacy in an important way, but what about the later ones?   Parts 5 through 8 owe a huge debt to Stardust Crusaders for introducing Stands, and to Phantom Blood for introducing JoJo's, but what does Part 2 give them, if anything?   

Third, I'm interested in seeing how BT holds up in isolation.    It's a direct sequel to Part 1, and it ends with a prelude to Part 3, so it's clearly designed to function as part of a larger saga.   But Parts 4 and 5 really don't operate that way, and that got me thinking that maybe Part 2 is more self-contained than I give it credit for.  

But enough about that, let's get this started.

There's two plot threads in these opening chapters.  One reintroduces Robert E. O. Speedwagon, now a 70 year old oil tycoon, and Straizo, who has succeeded the late Tonpetti as the Ripple Master.   Speedwagon has been using his oil fortune to fund a research organization called the Speedwagon Foundation, and it discovered something major during an archaeological expedition: an engraving of the stone mask, the same one Dio used to turn himself into a vampire 50 years earlier.   Note that the mummified corpse lying on the slab with the engraving has vampire fangs.   Whoever this guy is, he didn't just know about the masks, he used one personally.

It might get revealed later in the comics, but I'm pretty sure the anime version had Speedwagon explain that he primary purpose of his foundation was to learn more about phenomena like the Stone Mask, which is probably why they were digging up an Aztec temple in Mexico to begin with.   As I recall, the Stone Mask was discovered in that part of the world, and taken back to Europe, where it eventually came into the possession of the Joestar family.   Speedwagon would know this tale, and so if he wanted to find out more about the mask, he would have known where to start.   Fifty years later, he seems to have hit paydirt.

But the mask engraving isn't why he called Straizo all the way in from Tibet.   Deeper in the temple, there's a weird looking area that looks like something from out of an H.R. Giger painting.   In the center stands this column, or pillar, if you will, and mounted on the pillar is...

...This guy, surrounded by more stone masks.   When I first watched this part of the anime, I though the big reveal here was that there were lots and lots of Stone Masks, which would be a big problem, since Part 1 made a big deal out of destroying the one Stone Mask that started all the trouble.   And maybe the guy in the pillar was the one who invented the things, I thought, but the bigger problem is that he made so many of them.   But no, Speedwagon explains that the "Pillar Man" is not an image carved into the stone, but a living being, in some form of suspended animation.  He even has a pulse.   

So who is this guy and why did he create the Stone Masks?   Speedwagon does not care.   He only wants this Pillar Man destroyed before he wakes up, and that's the sole reason he called in Straizo.   The two of them were the only survivors of the battle with Dio 50 years ago, and Straizo's Hamon power, also known as the Ripple, can destroy vampires that were created by the Stone Mask.    So he's desperately hoping Straizo can finish off the Pillar Man the same way.   But Straizo doesn't seem as concerned about it, and he asks about Joseph Joestar instead.    So I guess I ought to circle back to the other plotline... 

Fifty years after Jonathan Joestar sacrificed himself to defeat Dio Brando, his wife Erina and his grandson Joseph have moved to New York City.   Joseph tries to buy a Coke, but this kid swipes his wallet.   Kind of funny how Joesph's first and last appearances in JJBA are him getting robbed. 

But the kid runs afoul of the local corrupt cops, who bludgeon him with their batons and threaten to put him in jail for 20 years unless he agrees to give them a cut of whatever money he makes from pickpocketing.   When Joseph catches up to this scene, the cop even says he's going to keep Joseph's wallet "as evidence".   I gotta say, not everything from Battle Tendency has aged well, but this police brutality stuff has become incredibly relevant.  This could be 2021, except the cop would have had a gun, and he would have shot Smokey, then Joseph because he mistook the Coke bottle for a rocket launcher.  

Joseph tries to defuse the situation by claiming he gave the wallet to the kid as a gift, but the cop doesn't believe that story, and he wouldn't care even if he did.   He even smears boogers in Joseph's face just to prove that he can say and do whatever he pleases.    Up to this point, Joseph looks and seems a lot like Jonathan.  Later artwork tries to downplay that resemblance, probably just so it's easier to tell them apart.   The anime gave Joseph different color hair, and Hirohiko Araki himself started drawing young Joseph with aviator goggles all the time, even though he doesn't wear them that much in this story.  But starting out, the idea was that Joseph is the spitting image of his grandfather, and it almost looks like this is just an clever way to sneak Jonathan back into the story and transport him forward in time, except....

Coming through, coming through, coming through now  

Coming through, coming through, coming through now

Coming through, coming through, coming through 

Shake it like it's heat, Overdrive!

Yeah, so Joseph can do Hamon/Ripple tricks just like his grandfather, and all the others guys who could use Hamon back in Part 1.   The difference is that when Joseph does it, it looks coooooool.  After breaking Officer Hulk Hogan’s trigger finger, Joseph takes a big swig of soda, because it’s awesome.

To Smokey’s surprise, Joseph did all that badass stuff a second ago, but he’s terrified about his grandmother scolding him for it.  So Joseph wants to run for it, and that suits Smokey, so they rush off together, beginning a long tradition of JoJo’s running from things.   Enemies, consequences, you name it. 

Smokey asks Joseph how he learned how to do that trick with the coke bottle, and he says he has no idea, he’s just always been able to do it.    He knows his grandfather had the same power, but he’s dead, and so are his mother and father.  Curiously, Joseph’s father did not have Hamon powers, so it seems to have skipped a generation. 

And that sets up the other side of the plot.   Speedwagon wants Straizo to destroy the Pillar Man immediately, but Straizo first asks about Joseph.   He had heard some time ago that Joseph had innate Hamon abilities, and he had used them once to rescue Speedwagon from a kidnapping attempt in midair.   A flashback shows us this moment, with guys threatening to ransom and kill Speedwagon, but Joseph is just chilling in the back with a Superman comic. 

Okay, time out.   This panel rules and all, but the Superman comic book didn’t start until 1939, a year after Battle Tendency begins.   Superman was featured in the 1938 magazine Action Comics, but this scene on the plane is a flashback to Joseph from his early teens.   Also, the earliest DC bullet logo didn’t appear until 1940, so what is this?  Some kind of magic, time travelling comic book?    I hope someone got fired for this blunder! 

Anyway, Joseph was content to ignore the hijackers until one of them struck him, and even that wouldn’t have upset him except he got his own blood on his clothes, which Erina bought him, so that sends him into a rage.   Speedwagon was worried that Joseph might clobber the hijackers, but instead he knocks out the pilot, then drags him and Speedwagon out of the plane before it crashes.    The main thrust of that story was that Speedwagon was more worried about what Joseph might do than the hijackers who had already threatened to murder him.   Joseph is slow to anger, but once you piss him off he’s going to go to war, and he doesn’t always think things through.

But he’s never been trained to use his powers like Straizo’s order.  Upon hearing this, Straizo kills his own disciples, and all of the Speedwagon Foundation guys, then knocks Speedwagon himself out.   This will anger Joseph when he hears about it, but Straizo is counting on this.    As he explains, Hamon power can slow his aging process down considerably.   He and Speedwagon are both about 70 here, but he looks much younger.   Even so, he’s feeling his age, and he confesses that he always admired Dio for his immortality and power.   So now that there’s Stone Masks available, he’s decided to use one on himself, become a vampire, and become “a being that surpasses all”.  

And that’s a theme that runs through all of Battle Tendency, along with the rest of the JoJo franchise.  The main villains always seek power to position themselves above the rest of humanity.  At first, it seems kind of random for one of the men who opposed Dio to suddenly switch allegiences like this, but in truth, it’s human nature to be tempted by this kind of power.  Dio succumbed to the lure of the Mask, and now we find that Straizo would have done the same.   He just didn’t have the opportunity until now.

But the reason he’s concerned about Joseph is that he’s thinking this through.  Dio was defeated after all, so Straizo wants to eliminate anyone who could potentially defeat him.  Aside from himself and Speedwagon, the only others who know about the battle with Dio and the Stone Mask are Erina and Joseph.   Once he eliminates them, he’ll be free to do as he pleases.

Back to New York, this is a pretty sweet drawing of a car.    I’m not a car guy, but even I can get behind this.  By now, Smokey has met Erina Joestar, and he finds out some of the backstory from Part 1.    Erina’s husband died at sea, and she was pregnant with their son, Joseph’s father, and had a baby girl whom she rescued from the same incident at sea.   The two children grew up, married, had Joseph, and died, the father in World War I, and the mother of some unspecified illness.  Perhaps out of loneliness, Erina is “unflinchingly kind” even to someone like Smokey Brown, who doesn’t seem to think he’s worthy of her favor.

Anyway, Erina wants to take Smokey out to dinner at this nice Italian restaurant, but this racist mafia guy makes a big stink about a Black person being allowed to eat there.    Joseph gets up to kick his ass, but first he has to check with Erina to make sure it’s okay, and she’s like “Yeah, destroy that guy,” because even though she doesn’t approve of Joseph beating up people, she can’t abide disrespect to her friends.   This leads to the memorable fight scene where Joseph is like eight steps ahead of his opponent.  He goes for his brass knuckles, but can’t find them, and Joseph deduces where they are because of some bloodstains on his shirt.  He even suggests what this guy is about to say next because he’s so predictable.

Then he dodges every blow, moving so quickly that this jerk thinks he was hitting Joseph, when in fact he was punching a hat rack behind Joseph, and somehow he didn’t notice that he impaled his hand on broken wood until Joseph explained it to him.     And honestly, this feels like the prototype for a lot of Stand Battles down the line.  I’ll have more to say on that later.

What puts Battle Tendency over the top is how Joseph not only outwits this big lummox, but the rest of the diners at this restaurant all start applauding him for doing it.    They’re just honored to be present in this insane comic book where literally anything can happen.   “He made that asshole punch a hat rack!   This is awesome!”

Then this dude suddenly speaks up.   He’s not only the mafia guy in charge of the first guy, but he’s also heard a hot tip about Speedwagon getting murdered in Mexico by a Tibetan man.   He knew Erina would be interested in hearing this, but he’d never met her before.  Small world, huh?  

How would this guy already know about it, though?  I guess Straizo deliberately leaked the story, specifically so Joseph would find out about it sooner, but it seems awfully convenient.   But that’s how Battle Tendency rolls.   This thing’s only seven volumes long, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover...

[deathonyourtongue]

How about something with Henry Cavill and the reader moving in together, while doing so he finds all her old cosplay photos and costumes, seeing she is as much a geek as him😊💗

I love this, but I’ll be the first to admit, I know NOTHING about cosplay, its rules, etc. so I don’t know if the character I picked is even cosplay-able, but...ENJOY!! Oh, and ten points if you can guess which character the reader cosplayed as. ;)

Amalgamating furniture and possessions is never an easy task, and deadlines for moving trucks and keys only make it worse. Though you’ve managed to label most of the boxes you’re bringing into your new home, towards the end, when the moving truck was rolling up, you start rushing and labeling goes right out the window. By the time everything is dumped into the new house, the only way to truly decipher which boxes are yours and which are Henry’s is the box brand’s logo. 

“Darling, where do you want these?” Henry calls as you pass by, holding an end table that’ll now serve as a temporary nightstand, since yours disintegrated on the way over; it’s what you get for buying cheap furniture. Though you’re slowly replacing the DIY-assembly furniture for more long-lasting pieces, it nevertheless adds to your stress and you can only manage a moment’s pause to look at which boxes Henry’s toeing carefully before making a decision. 

“Just...in the spare room. I can’t remember what I put in there,” you say, dismissing the importance of the boxes, especially since they’re the ones you hadn’t labeled back at the old place; whatever’s in them definitely doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

Henry nods, wishing he could get you to take a break, but knowing better than to try and stop you before you’re ready. He moves the boxes easily, setting them in the room before grabbing the box cutter from his pocket. While you’ve tasked yourself with furniture arranging, he’s been put in charge of unpacking and doing the initial organization of what goes in what room. The plan is for the two of you to organize things properly together later on, once everything is roughly in place.

After slipping the knife through the tape and flipping open the flaps, Henry has to sit back on his heels, his head cocked to one side in confusion. Though you’ve known each other going on five years, this is part of your life he’s never been privy to. 

The first item in the box is a leather corset. Hand-crafted, it not only looks like it cost a fortune, but has clearly been used a time or two. Henry’s fingertips slip over the embossing on the center panel, the design intricate and definitely well-done. He’s not sure if it means anything, but it adds to the mystique of the piece as a whole. 

His eyes go wide as he pulls out the next piece, now concluding this is a whole outfit. His mind races to a million different places, Henry wondering if you’ve been living some sort of double life the whole time he’s known you. Holding the black latex bodysuit out in front of him, he can’t help but get a little turned on, picturing you in it easily. 

Henry’s imagination doesn’t have to do much more work, as the next object in the box is a framed picture. Looking as though it was taken at a convention of some sort, Henry finds it strange that you’d have a picture of two strangers, but after having a closer look, gasps when he realizes you’re in the picture.

“Fuck me sideways,” he mutters to himself, the whole outfit making perfect sense when he takes it in in its entirety. He can’t keep the smile from his face as he pulls out the trench and the guns next, the orange tips on the revolvers being the only real way to tell that they’re props and not the real deal. 

Shaking his head, his smile only grows as he pulls out a folder of professionally shot pictures, the set and your poses meant to recreate scenes from your favorite movie. Everything done in painstaking details, it’s clear that both you and the photographer worked really hard on it. 

The amulet is next, and Henry has to fight the urge to clap as though cheering you on, knowing it would only interrupt you in your work. Excited is an understatement, and he beams as he turns the imitation over in his hand, once more marveling at the detail. 

Reaching the bottom of the box, Henry’s almost disappointed when he doesn’t find the fangs, but instead is met with the boots that seal the whole outfit together. He wonders if you’ve lost them over the years, and has half a mind to order you a new pair for...reasons. 

Henry’s so caught up in what he’s discovered that he doesn’t realize you’ve been on a break for the better part of ten minutes, after having unpacked some stuff for the bathroom that you needed. He also doesn’t hear you tip-toe in behind him, crouching down until your mouth is level with his ear. 

“I’ve been lost without you, my Lord; constantly hounded by Kraven and his never-ending infatuation,” you whisper in your best British accent, waiting only a moment before gently biting down on Henry’s neck, your hand holding the opposite side of his face as though willing him to keep still while you ‘feed’. 

The noise that leaves Henry is half strangled cry and half moan, and it’s exactly what you’re hoping to hear as you slowly suck a hickey into his neck, keeping your fangs pressed to his skin so that the bruising goes around the small circular marks the fangs leave. It’s a tried-and-true system of making it look like he’s been bit, and had he known you in your early twenties, he’d have had one on his neck nearly every week of the month.

“Jesus, love,” he mumbles, leaning back against you, eyes closed in what you can only read as pure arousal.

“You didn’t think you were the only geek in this house, did you? Some of us just keep it...in the dark.” Your purposely-evil laugh breaks any spell you had on him and Henry dissolves into a peel of delighted laughter, because that was, by far, the cheesiest thing he’s ever heard come out of your mouth.

@fumbling-fanfics @skiesfallithurts @pinkpenguin7 @madmedusa178 @crushed-pink-petals @fangoria @bluestarego @caffeinated-writer @my–own–personal–paradise @tastingmellow​ @honeychicana​ @lua-latina​ @angelicapriscilla​ @swiftyhowlz​ @schreiberpablo​ @pinkwatchblueshoes​ @kirasmomsstuff​ @prettypascal​ @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom​ @nardahsb​ @playbucky​ @veryfastspeedz @queen-of-the-kastle​ @freyahelps​ @cajunpeach​ @godlikeentity​ @captainsamwlsn​ @nakusaych9 @katerka88 @katerka88 @kirasmomsstuff @melaninmimii @alienor-romanova @downtowndk​ @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners​ @safiras​ @agniavateira​ @henryfanfics101​ @fatefuldestinies

[vicegrips-fr]

Someone send help I can’t stop picking up these brightly colored children :’| Anyway, new boy on the left calls himself Abracadabra! I’m thinking that his whole deal is being a fortune teller who specializes in telling people about what the future holds for their love life. Of course it’s a con and his real magical  talents are hexes and potion making, but this makes him more money for less effort. I want to put him in the Fang, so I’m going to say Big Boss picked him up as a new feature to the brothel after it’s been expanded into a hotel and casino.

New boy on the right is called Zinc and I’m probably going to make him Cyril’s barback. He’s a party boy with expensive taste who dreams of becoming a fashion designer. Big Boss probably lets him dabble in costuming and what have you for the boys on the side. I tried to keep his apparel minimal so that his accent wouldn’t be covered up.

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 4, page 24

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. “i thought it was the knights job to climb towers, not the prince he rescues” rami teases, hand on his chin. “uh, yeah! good point” lewis stutters, hand over his face to hide his expression, imagning himself as a smug-happy prince, crown and all.

“alright new plan: we’re both princes! wait no- we’re both knights!” he quips, his imagination taking over this time, picturing himself as a knight fully this time, not in a little scribbly doodle-like thought, but fully in the role. the panel changes, as if most of it was ripped away like paper, showing the oversatuarated fantasy imagination underneath. the scenary is the top of a sand-coloured castle, with a bright blue sky and fluffy sribbley looking clouds. lewis is pointing two fngerguns at rami, whos mostly in the ‘normal’ side of the panel and smiling back. “we can overthrow the crown! redistribute their riches to the less fortunate!” lewis leans into rami with a conspirital whisper.

“oh my, what you’re suggesting is high treason” smiles rami, joining in the fantasy. both the boys are dressed like knights, their outfits vaguely based on their superhero costumes. the most notable aspects are the helmets: lewis’s helmet covers his mouth completely, the visor flipped up so only his eyes are visible. the mouth part of the helmet as a simple fange design and the top of the helmet has two small horns. ramis’s is simple of mostly undecorated and only showing the bottom part of his face, the visor down and having no visible way for someone to see through. lewis also has a spear strapped to his back, and rami has a sword at his side.

“wherin does thine loyalties lie, good knight? with your king, or your people?” lewis asks, arms outstreched and now at the top of a spiral staircase. rami, lower down on the staircase, puts a hand to his chest, grinning. “i would choose the people every time!”. end id.]

what if we were both knights ⚔️ and we wanted to overthrow the monarchy 😱  and we were both boys 😏 haha just kidding.... unless?? 😳😳😳

a very fun kind of interaction with people if when someone says something silly and you just roll with whatever it is and do the bit with them. i do that sometimes with my mum and bro. eg when my bro and i have just cooked something the food will probably get refered to as ‘the sacrifice’ or soemthing

anyway: these organizations and charities could still really use your money right now

cash bail funds (us and toronto) | MN organizations | a masterpost of BLM links | various black lgbt+ funds | BLM UK | runnymede | stop hate uk | racial justice network | BLM carrd | black lives matter doc | long list of black trans groups

several of these also include useful resources eg petitions, information about protests, educating yourself and others, ect, so worth a look even if you cant donate

or if you cant spare money:

passively donate money via youtube ad revanue | tab for a cause | cartoonists database

[morweneledhwen]

Them.

[obsidianarchives]

Sineya, The First Slayer Reimagined — How 'Buffy' Failed Black Girl Magic

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a seminal work in both television as a medium and speculative fiction as a genre. One of the things that made Buffy such an addictive treat and a show worthy of its undeniable legacy is its deep and intricate lore. According to creator Joss Whedon in the DVD commentary of the pilot, Warner Brothers was particularly interested in all things having to do with the concept of the “Hell Mouth” that served as the central conceit for the show’s spooky happenings.

For all of Buffy’s wonderful storytelling and intricate worldbuilding, there were some serious cultural blind spots in the writers’ room. The most egregious example of this is the depiction of The First Slayer or “The Primitive” as she was referred to on the show. She was thankfully given an actual name later: Sineya. Her origin was the truly unhelpful and nebulous “Africa” found in many a western story. 

In the penultimate episode of season 4, “Primeval,” the season’s arc came to a close when Buffy and her newly reunited “scoobies” invoked the essence of the First Slayer to bind them into a more powerful force so they could defeat Adam, a part-demon/part cybernetic Frankenstein monster. (This show is weird.)

It’s a huge love letter to one of the most salient themes of Buffy, strength through the reliance on and trust in her loved ones was her true strength, not her supernatural powers. However, in the Buffyverse no good deed goes unpunished. In the season finale, “Restless,” the gang has to contend with an affronted Sineya trying to kill them in their dreams because she was made to believe that to be the Slayer is to fight alone. Thematically, this is such a solid foundation to build from. The episode itself is regularly included on lists of best Buffy’s episodes. The events here reverberate throughout the rest of the show and set up the huge arcs of season 5.  

As the first slayer, Sineya was forced by warlocks called the Shadow Men to take an undiluted dose of shadow demon energy into her. It made her a stronger, more effective weapon against the forces of evil. She was more powerful than subsequent slayers in her mystical line, but she lost some of her humanity in the process. Because of this, she spent her days shunned by the human settlements and villages she protected from vampires and other beasties. Sineya’s story is depicted quite poignantly in the Buffy comics, but most of her context is left out of her appearances on the show. In fact, in “Restless,” a Spirit Guide speaks for her because she’s lost human speech.  

"I have no speech. No name. I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. I am destruction. Absolute .... alone."  -Sineya  

Throughout the run of Buffy, Buffy herself remarks that she is “only a girl” and laments that she has never had a say in being The Chosen One. It, therefore, makes poetic sense that Sineya was similarly also “just a girl” chosen. And repeatedly Buffy is seen as special not because of anything inherent to her but because she went against tradition and chose to partner with others to fulfill her sacred duty. But where Sineya’s television appearances fail is when we examine some of the tropes and downright racially motivated slights used against this figure of great strength and great sadness. The first issue is that because Sineya has lost speech, a spirit guide is used to speak for her. This spirit guide takes on the form of white Wiccan character, Tara McClay.  

This prickles the senses in an unpleasant way for those who have experienced the emphatic white feminist undergrad hopped up on the power of suffragette sentiment deciding it’s her duty as an enlightened woman to give voice to the needs of a “primitive” woman from a backward culture that needs saving. 

The next issue is Sineya’s physicality. Without the context of what she’d been through, this first meeting is a lot to take in. Sineya is hunched and bestial, reaching for Buffy with outstretched talons, daring not touch her form gleaming in the sandy desert setting. When she speaks, the few words she is permitted by the script, it’s with a deep bitten off growl through a mouth full of ruined yellow fangs. Her hair is a wig that has been mangled and matted — I’m guessing this was some failed attempt at giving her locs. It’s this last detail that prompts Buffy to quip that she should pay more attention to hair care. If that’s not a completely tone-deaf line played for laughs to make our flaxen-haired protagonist look stronger at the expense of the “ugly” other, I don’t know what it is.

When Buffy has her moment of realization that she’s talking to the first Slayer, instead of showing any empathy or connection or pausing to consider that she might be a rich fount of knowledge about her own origin, she snottily runs down all the reasons she's better than Sineya. Buffy walks and talks and doesn’t sleep on a bed of bones. Way to show your privilege and good fortune there, Buf.

Before Sineya is defeated, she oracles one of the most important lines of the show, “You think you know what you are and what’s to come. You haven’t even begun.” This not only sets up huge events in the narrative but it also gives Buffy a new drive to learn about her origin and power. She goes on multiple vision quests to commune with her spirit guide. Instead of it taking on Tara’s visage, it takes the form of Sineya, which is at once a nice touch and a big cheat. 

If I were redrawing Sineya, I’d place her in a specific region of Africa. Humankind started in Africa, but I’m guessing the slayer line is a few hundred or maybe a thousand years old, not millions. I’d have short flashbacks of Sineya’s life, contextualizing her for Buffy and for the audience. Above all else, I’d view her as a person and not a plot device to make Buffy look stronger by defeating her. 

I’d then hire Ruth E. Carter who was already a prominent costume designer at the turn of the century. She’d do some research to find the best options aesthetically and bring her own imagination to making the look her own. There are valuable and interesting components to the story that are worthy of the narrative but the execution was offensively delivered.

The final issue with Sineya in Buffy is that the storyline is never closed. One could argue that Buffy rededicating herself to being a Slayer in more than just duty but in mind and spirit is what led her to make the world-changing decision she does in the series finale. She convinces Willow to rewrite the spell of the Slayer so that every girl with the potential will be a Slayer at the same time. Perhaps just before or even during the spell, Buffy and Sineya could have had one final reckoning about whether the Slayer should be alone or be legion.

After a scene designed to respect both their journeys, which champions female autonomy, Sineya would give Buffy and Willow her blessing thus allowing Willow to complete the spell to imbue all the Potential Slayers with their full power. After all, Buffy, Faith, Kendra, Xin, Nikki and countless others dating all the way back to, Sineya their foremother have paid the price for that power with their blood and their lives.

[jazzraft]

ghastly ghouls

Day 1 for @ffxvhalloweenweeksfw Themes: Prompto’s Birthday/Haunted House/Spending the Holiday with Found Family Characters: Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum Rated: General Audiences Words: 1792 Read on AO3!

“Okay, everybody say… I don’t know. Monster toes!”

The gaggle of children in front of the graveyard took Prompto’s instructions a little too literally, all squealing, “I don’t know monster toes!” as the camera flashed. The cold white light beamed across purple painted faces and green felt masks, carved red horns and braided blue wigs, all ghastly grinning amongst the foam tombstones. Once Prompto lowered his camera, they were gone like ghosts, vanished back to their crypts. They left behind no proof of their existence, save for a scant trail of candy wrappers and echoes of screeching laughter.

Prompto shook his head, smiling at the image that appeared on his screen in spite of his exasperation. Getting a bunch of sugar-high schoolchildren to sit still for even a single moment – and on the eve of Hallowtide, no less – was an accomplishment that any photographer could take pride in. No matter how the shot turned out in the end, at least Prompto could count that split second of giddy serenity among his artistic achievements. Fortunately, the picture itself – fleeting though it had been – ended up looking pretty great, too. One to haunt next year’s ad campaign? He sure hoped so!

“Getting some good ones?”

Prompto jumped in surprise, clutching his camera to his chest so he didn’t drop it. There might not be a next year for him, if Noct ended up scaring him to death before this one was out. His friend laughed at his distress, fake green gills giggling in tandem with the shake of his shoulders.

“Dude, I wasn’t even trying that time!” he said.

“You’ve gotta stop creeping up on me, man,” Prompto wheezed, catching his breath. “You’re creepy, even when you’re trying not to be. You’re a creeper!”

“That’s the point. It’s Hallowtide, you dork.”

Noctis cuffed his shoulder, his rubber gloves as clammy and cold as the creature he was aiming to drag from the depths of the costume department. He never did miss an opportunity to fish, whether it be from the coast or the rental rack. This year, the Prince had disguised himself as some sort of radioactive, mutated monstrosity of fins and fangs that crawled up from the pits of science fiction’s deepest sea. Prompto probably wouldn’t have recognized him beneath all of the blue-green paint, pond scum prosthetics, and primeval trappings of the most demented bottom-dweller.

He might have thought that he was a part of the attraction. Noctis quirked his head towards the haunted façade with a ghoulish grin. “So. You going in?”

Haunted houses were expensive, sometimes exclusive establishments around Insomnia come Hallowtide. A lot of them required reservations and were geared towards adults, drenched in gruesome décor and plagued by gory, hatchet-wielding psychopaths that chased victims through blackened, bloody mazes. Prompto knew this because Noctis all but dragged him through each and every one before the season really started. It was for research, he’d said. Because if he was going to open a haunted house of his own, he needed to know how not to traumatize his kid clientele.

Prompto wasn’t convinced that Noct couldn’t dream up a design without “researching the competition,” but he went along with him anyway. Because Noct was his best friend, and best friends didn’t let each other walk into a den of fake axe murderers without moral support and magical warp escape capabilities.

“I guess so,” Prompto sighed, dramatically, laying it on thick to ensure Noctis felt guilty enough into coming with him. “Should probably know what my winning photo will really be the face of, huh?”

“If that’s your way of trying to pull favor, I’d save it for someone who’s actually on the judging panel.”

“Honestly, Noct, what good is our friendship if it can’t be abused for my own nefarious ends?”

“It’s good for me and my nefarious ends,” Noctis declared, and gestured to the door beyond the cemetery, where costumed children of all ages were daring each other to go inside.

Cobwebs and cardboard cut-outs framed the entrance, with glow-in-the-dark eyes peering from every crack and crevice. There was a sign that promised candy to the brave souls who survived the “Citadel’s Sinister Séance House” to the end, an irresistible reward for the cavity inclined.

“Alright, alright,” Prompto relented. He looped his camera around his neck and swept an arm forward. “Lead the way, Oh Esteemed Lord of the Lagoon.”

Noctis bared his fake fish-beast teeth in a mock snarl, then braved the threshold. He spooked the cluster of kids ahead of them inside with a playful “boo!” They went running off to their doom under a cloak of laughter, thereby making them invincible against the ghosts and ghouls that lurked within. Prompto took a breath and siphoned off some of their courage for himself. If a bunch of twelve year olds could go up against the horrors of the night with nothing but some plastic pumpkin candy carriers and balloon swords, then he could make it to the end, too. Besides, Noct’s haunted house was rated E for Everyone.

Inside, the first obstacle was a corridor draped in tattered white cloth and gauze, illuminated by heavily webbed electric candelabra crawling with black plastic spiders. Ghostly wails welcomed them within, the voices purposely over-acting to instill a more eccentric and inviting vibe for the kids. The lights were bright against the white walls for the first few steps, but they gradually dimmed the further they went inside.

Once they crossed into the first room, it went dark, only to be ignited in neon under strategically hidden black lights. The skeletons of bats and cats and whiskered rats haunted the rungs of shadowy staircases and tattered upholstery. White-sheet ghosts glowed where they hung from the ceiling rafters, their shrouds drifting on an unseen breeze. On the floor were costumed actors shambling between the furniture, beckoning their guests to an untimely grave with over-bright, sickly blue-toothed smiles beneath the lights.

It was suspiciously tame and quiet, Prompto thought. Luring their victims into a false sense of security for the rest of the attraction? He knew Noct. He knew that he had to have designed at least one innocuous jumpscare before the end. This was just to set the mood. And it was a nice mood, he had to admit. Better than the sadistic serial killer lairs he’d had to suffer through all month. This was classier, tasteful, more in the spirit of folktales and fantasy than the headline horrors which inspired the more mature houses.

There was a kitchen decked in witch’s potions, with frogs on the counters and crows on the cupboards. Kids were invited by a wart-faced crone to try her wicked potion – it was apple juice – and were cast beneath her eerie spell to better protect them from the ghouls to come. Prompto thought that he might recognize her beneath the costume, but he couldn’t quite place her. Not until they were shown into the dining room by an undead Dustin Ackers in a ripped up butler’s garb. The witch had been Monica Elshett, Prompto realized. In fact, all of the actors were Crownsguard, now that he was looking for them.

“And you were just making fun of me for pulling favor,” Prompto teased Noctis between rooms.

“I did no such thing,” Noctis insisted, forcing on a straight face. “It’s volunteer only.”

“Uh huh, sure. Didn’t need to bat your eyes or anything.”

“Only bats done are these,” Noctis said, tugging on a rubber bat hanging from the ceiling.

If there had been any doubt that Noct’s haunted house was safe for kids, it was certainly vanquished once Prompto knew that all the actors were highly trained security professionals. Noctis took no small measures when it came to the safety of Insomnia’s children. Prompto heard the distant sounds of delighted screams and hyper giggling ahead and behind them as the batches of kids cycled through the house. He heard a few adult shouts of fright every now and then when a monster caught them by surprise, and that only made the kids laugh harder.

Prompto was proud to say that he was no such victim of a surprise attack by the end of it. No ghosts were going to get an unmanned squeal out of him, he thought. Hah! They were out the back door, looped around to the front of the building where the cemetery was sprawled out. Lines of kids were going in and going out, rushing up to the hired hand at the end of the cemetery fence who was holding their promised candy.

“That was pretty good!” Prompto told Noctis as they meandered to the end.

“Could probably be scarier, I guess,” Noctis said, reviewing all of the little sets they’d walked through.

“Nope! Doesn’t need to be scarier,” Prompto assured him.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like being scared.”

“Am not! I’m just saying that, for the kids, it’s perfect.”

“Don’t hide behind the kids,” Noctis chuckled. “They can’t protect you.”

Prompto opened his mouth to further argue in defense of his own bravery, only to have it dismantled completely by a high-pitched squeak when he felt two hands land on his shoulders. He threw Noctis at the zombie who crept up behind him in self-defense, unashamedly using the Prince of Lucis as a human meat shield to save his own skin.

“Take him! Fish are better for you!”

“It’s true,” Noctis conceded, barely containing his laughter. “You probably wouldn’t like chicken, anyway.”

Prompto slapped him in the back and shoved him towards the zombie for that. Sacrifices had to be made. But the only sacrifice made was Prompto’s own pride as Noctis leaned against the surprisingly stalwart zombie and laughed. Prompto didn’t know what was more horrifying: having to live this down with Noct for the rest of his life, or the fact that the zombie turned out to be Cor the Immortal Leonis. He just stared, completely deadpan, at the two of them. Prompto had no idea if that was because he was in character, or because he didn’t even need to play the part to look that dead inside.

“So, um,” Prompto said, weakly. “Guess throwing the Prince at an undead mob falls under what not to do when applying for the Crownsguard, huh?”

Without moving his head – which was supposedly stitched and screwed together by a mad scientist – Cor glanced at Noctis, holding his ribs as he wheezed through his laughter. Then he looked back to Prompto, through the black-rimmed, grave-sunken, long-suffering eyes of a man haunted by the torments of a thousand hyper-active, hazardous children for the past month, all in the name of the Crown Prince.

“Just this once, I think I can make an exception.”

[flyingdragonfang]

My Shiny | AU

Soo-Ling panted quietly, his hands bracing his upper body on his knees as a cool breeze rushed through the lonely clearing. The glistening blade in his hand drew his eyes in slight frustration. He had been practicing this final, ridiculous, ceremonial move for ages already. Tomorrow was the day it had to be perfect and absolutely ready to dazzle the village crowds, convince them that the next warrior in the family was as strong and graceful as the dragons.

With a sign, he straightened up in his golden robes. If only this stupid costume wasn't laden with all these gold coins of fortune. He was a warrior, not a jewelry box. At least he wouldn't have to wear it again for a long time.

Alright, last time. Make it perfect.

Inhaling deeply, he took a powerful stance that caught the sunlight in his clothes. Slowly, with great purpose, he unfurled the silver chain that hung from his dragon fang. Years of intense practice was on full display as he seamlessly went through a series of impressive moves that were designed to exemplify strength and catch the natural light around him.

As he got to the final section, a very intricate series of attacks and overhead swings that dangerously switched directions, he was completely swallowed up in the moment. It was far too late when he realized he wasn't alone.

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Ch. 55

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3.1K, 55/55

Summary: Will everyone be in place when the curtain rises?

The Curtain Rises

Nico had her closet open and Maki was lying on her bed, barely covered by a sheet, hanging off the side, enjoying an upside down view of Nico in her slip. Nico was vibrating with excitement, humming, happy, a quick fresh shower having invigorated her.

"Wear something warm." Maki suggested, her arms stretched out, waving fingers at a smirking Nico.

"Nico didn't realize you knew that was a thing, pretty girl."

Maki rolled up, distracting Nico only for the briefest of moments before she turned back to the vitally important issue of which little black dress to receive compliments and awed praise while wearing. Then something soft whumped into her face, and she felt the pillow fall at her feet. Nico snorted, "Don't you have a date to dress for?"

"I'm fast." Maki flipped so she was on her stomach, any sheet or clothing covering option totally ignored. Nico pulled out her bathrobe and tossed it in Maki's direction, "If you're going to drool over…

"I'm not…"

Nico rolled her eyes and continued, "If you're going to drool over Nico in lingerie, at least cover those curves. Nico has a busy night." Nico swivelled, pounced at the bed, crouched, arms on either side of Maki, nose to nose with the suddenly flustered, blinking madly, not up to Nico's level of game redhead, "Plus, Nico recently paid very close attention to you."

Maki continued to be fascinated by the way the thrill and presence of Nico lanced through every other sensation she could get off Nico, a core of mutual want they kept layering and texturing more levels of…

Nico bumped Maki's nose, to get the werewolf to refocus on the conversation and not just drift aimlessly through whatever olfactory clues she was picking up from Nico. Maki whined slightly, then her eyes locked onto Nico's slightly scolding glance, recent sexiness still smoldering like the chips of neon green, banked down to be revived later. Nico shook her head, now she was getting distracted.

Maki grinned, full fanged, and then kissed Nico with an overly dramatic noisy smack, "Wear anything. People will be so impressed by Mina they won't even notice."

Nico dropped her fuzzy bathrobe over Maki as she sat herself on the bed, next to her never clothed in the bedroom girlfriend. Nico nearly crossed her arms with a side of discouraging scowl, but Maki was gazing up at her with such open, adorable goofiness that she decided to side step the opening for teasing and untangle a few tousled clumps of silky mane, "Nico's so excited. This show is going to be amazing. You did so well, pretty girl, helping Kashima almost sing."

Maki snort laughed. Kashima was managing to not cause the entire orchestra to wince in pain, but it was a very near thing. Fortunately, all the audience would be hearing in their heads was Nico's final solo, a soaring triumph of hope cresting over loss.

"They'll only remember you." Maki body hopped into Nico.

"That's the plan." Nico let her hand linger across the length of Maki's back one more time before practical, professional Nico took over. Maybe Maki was right and warm was a good idea. That would help narrow down the dress choice and Nico suddenly knew what she wanted her post curtain TWIG feed to feature. A ribbed dark charcoal dress with a cowl neck that fell nicely forward. Warm, stylish, mature, eye catching and she had a sexy set of black tiger stripe tights that Maki would probably find irresistibly eye catching. Nico grabbed it off the rod, but then paused, with the dress in front of her, eyeballing Maki suspiciously.

"What?" Maki sat up, Nico's robe wrapped around her as best she could, which meant barely hanging on a shoulder and completely open in the front.

Nico shook her head, "Never mind."

"What? Tell me?" Maki bounded up, nearly leaving the robe behind her, to loom over Nico.

"Nico just wondered if you ever use your eyes instead of your nose."

Maki whiffled her face through Nico's hair, completely rendering Nico's post shower coiffure tending irrelevant, "You...you" embarrassed werewolf now had her chin driving into Nico's shoulder "every way, every sense."

"Good." Nico dislodged the clingy girlfriend and pulled the form fitting dress over her head, "Time for you to go, pretty girl. We both have a busy night."

"Yeah." Maki grumbled, head hanging a bit low.

"Hey," Nico put her hands on Maki's forearm, "This is very exciting for me. You're the one person Nico really wants to be there tonight." Nico didn't know how to explain that, the feeling that Maki, the woman she loved, the woman she'd opened up to, the woman who made her feel like she could achieve anything, would be there, eyes locked on the stage, paying attention to every nuance. It took Nico's normal opening night champagne levels of fizz and boosted it to a nearly illegal high. And watching the neon glow steadily pulse in Maki's eyes as Nico's lips brushed against hers, Nico knew Maki understood.

##################

Not hushed, backstage is never hushed until the audience is allowed in, but efficient quiet chatter reigned as stagehands checked set and prop placement, light and sound cues were doublechecked, and actors began to arrive. A giggle here and there, but surrounding the stage, there was a bubble of intensity that left the hubbub of happy, nervous extroverts in the green room. Ninety minutes until audience arrival and everyone was a little early. Forty five minutes to fight call. Ten minutes to dance warmups. Eli found herself pacing, the half lit contours of the stage suddenly strange. She was in her warmup gear, white leotard, powder blue tights. A bright spot in the middle of Transylvanian winter...Nozomi paused at the lightboard, ignoring Shalin for a minute, to watch as Eli paced back and forth, head down, hands wringing out something in front of her, ponytail bobbing back and forth with the slight movements of her head.

"I'm still a little worried about the manuals. Erena was tweaking the timing until last night." Shalin muttered.

Shalin waited, not certain of what the designer or director had left things with so many last minute changes. Now that Erena had resigned from the show and from what anyone could tell left school, along with Anju and Tsubasa, Nozomi was the go to for lighting questions. Which was fine, Nozomi had always had a strong vision and Erena's absence just let her tweak things to be more in tune with her aesthetic. Asuka hadn't mentioned anything yet. But in costumes, Kotori was in a fluttery panic, Umi and Honoka had offered to help, but Umi refused to set foot in dressing rooms and Honoka was too easily distracted. Free after the cues were all finalized and the show began its run, Nozomi had volunteered to take Tsubasa's place on the set crew, but maybe she should switch with Umi...give her a night to get familiar with the show, let her take over tomorrow, and then Nozomi could help Kotori. But first, Shalin's question.

"Let's run the storm…" Nozomi started, then caught sight of Eli again. "Oh wait, please, Shalin. Just pull up the cue. I need to take care of something before we actually try out the timing."

Shalin nodded, her fingers typing instructions while Nozomi headed to the stage.

"Eli-chi?" Nozomi called softly as she approached the front of the stage and Eli's head snapped up, a small smile at the sight of her fiancée.

"Hi, Nozomi! When did you get here?"

Nozomi shrugged, "We need to run a cue before your warm ups so you might want to head backstage."

Eli looked puzzled.

"It's the storm."

Eli paled.

Nozomi smiled encouragingly. "Do me a favor and tell Kotori I can help her after I settle Shalin a bit. And if you see Umi tell her I want to talk to her."

"Why?" Eli didn't know Umi well but she could picture the dubious look at that request.

"I want Umi to learn Tsubasa's job but she's going to have to assist me for a night."

Eli shook her head, blue eyes amused, "Good luck convincing her it's not some kind of trap."

"I have only the best interests of the show at heart." Nozomi put her most sincere attitude, hand dramatically clasped to heart, "Umi will sense my intent."

Eli, hand on hips, leaned forward as she chuckled, "I'll run your messages, Nozomi."

Nozomi winked, "There's a tip in it."

Eli waved, "You might not have anything left after you get my bill."

######################

Kashima. Kotori closed her eyes and focused on the aesthetics as Dracula loomed, reflection very apparent in the mirror. Kashima was fussing with her cuffs now, her collar being left for another time, probably when Kotori had five repairs to make.

"The cufflinks weigh down my arms."

Kotori stepped closer as Kashima swooped her arms up, so close to Kotori's nose she squeaked, startled. But with a quick inhale, Kotori the charmer was back.

"The look is so dashing." Kotori's hands adjusted the shirt over Kashima's shoulders, smiling up at the actress.

"True." Kashima contemplated the effect in the mirror, baring her fangs, swooshing her hands in front of her, above Kotori, as if hypnotizing herself, "But what if we went without them?" Kashima reached for her left wrist but Kotori was faster, hand wrapped around the cuff so hard she could feel the cufflinks cutting into her palm. Kotori yanked Kashima's arm down.

"There are no changes." Kotori's voice was soft, but Honoka, sitting in a corner playing a game on her phone, glanced up, putting the phone away. "This is the look I decided works for Dracula."

"But, Kotor…"

"There are no changes." Kotori repeated, voice a little louder, words a little faster.

"Hey, Kashima, where's your jacket? Do you need me to go get it for you?" Honoka leaned over the chair behind Kashima, her reflection smiling from the mirror. "Or maybe you could show me where you hang your clothes so I can have them ready for your change?"

"That's a great idea, Honoka." Eli agreed as she stepped into the room, "Oh Kotori, Nozomi wanted me to tell you she can help when she finishes checking the storm timing."

"Oh that's sweet." Kotori's face relaxed, "She can help me with repairs. Everything's tearing."

"It's the extra weight." Kashima intoned, holding her arm out and letting her wrist drop toward the floor while glaring accusingly at her French cuffs.

Kotori's eyes narrowed. Honoka took that as a cue to shove Kashima into the hallway, "We'll be back Kotori. I'm gonna find Umi."

"Okay, Honoka." Kotori sighed.

Eli turned to watch Honoka's progress with removing Kashima from the room before something crashed into her pompaded coif. "It's almost too bad Chantal didn't let Nico hit Kashima with a real sword."

"Yeah." Kotori nodded, stabbing a pin into a lapel.

############################

Opening Night. Closing the backstage door behind her, the rush hit Nico, her excitement surging even higher. Chantal was hurrying down the hall, black turtleneck and skirt, clipboard under her arm, but she paused to greet Nico.

"You're early. I thought I owed you a nap."

Nico twirled, "Nico is a professional. And I need to try the quick change again, after Kotori made adjustments."

Chantal flashed the Vulcan blessing, "Just be ready and on time for vocal warm ups. Conductor's flipping out a bit. I think she's been having Kashima nightmares."

"Nico will keep Kashima on key." Nico chuckled, "by pure willpower if necessary."

"You know, I think you could. Break a leg, Nico, just not Kashima's."

"Thanks, Chantal. Make sure you don't miss any of Nico's light cues."

Chantal shook her head, "You're laser focused, aren't you. We're not all just here for you, you know."

Nico's half shrug was a study in modest disbelief, "Tell yourself whatever you want, but Nico's what they're going to remember."

Chantal continued on her backstage ramble with an amused nod, not wanting to fuel Nico's ego any further by telling the junior how right she was about what was looking like the breakout performance of the decade. After last night, chatter about Nico's performance was outpacing chatter about Kashima's curtain call prank, although Chantal was sure several TWIG posts about it had been mysteriously deleted, based on comments made by a few members of the cast.

################### Maki knew she shouldn't have left it this long. And yet here she was, in a small clothing boutique, behind schedule, with nothing to wear that would impress Nico. And she needed to run home before going to the theatre. PROBABLY. There was a florist nearby. And she'd already stopped by the jeweler to pick up the earrings she'd ordered for Nico.

A saleswoman, about Nico's height, came up to her, "Hi. Can I help you?"

Maki sighed. Time to get some assistance. "I need an outfit…"

"For?"

"Opening night." Maki stood a little taller, "My GIRLFRIEND'S got two solos." How long ago had it been that Nico had excitedly been explaining the concept of 'thrall' to Maki, unaware that Maki was the 'Princess' she'd christened the night before? A different lifetime almost, Maki thought, compared to her current easy habit of rolling off Nico's bed in human form and hitting the floor with four paws, while Nico giggled, reaching to grab her for a hug.

"Well," brown eyes took in Maki's current outfit of hoodie and shorts, "You're obviously not bothered by the cold and we just got an eye catching asymmetrical pleather skirt in."

Nico liked Maki in shorts so a skirt would probably be the right choice for grabbing her attention.

"And there's this to go with it, it's a different kind of sweatshirt." Stepping to a display, the saleswoman offered Maki a shoulderless heather gray top with overlong sleeves that laced loosely up to the elbow. "But it's a sexy way to keep the sporty in your outfit."

Maki nodded, eyes gleaming a little, nose picking up interest from the woman helping her, whether in her or the sale, Maki wasn't sure.

"Why don't you try it on? See if you like how it feels?" Maki took the offered hanger as the saleswoman continued, "I'll grab the skirt and bring it back to the dressing room. What are you, a 10?"

"Huh?" Maki frowned, didn't she just mention she had a GIRLFRIEND.

"Your size."

"Oh," Maki relaxed, her hackles flattening, "Medium."

"Okay, I'll bring you an 8 and a 10 to try."

"Thanks!"

###################

The dressing room was starting to fill, actors in various stages of prepared for the first act. Nico was checking her night gown. Kotori was supposed to repair it yesterday, the hem had come undone and was getting ragged.

"Nico!"

Nico whirled, to see Eli striding toward her, "I've got vocal warm ups in a minute, Eli."

"I know. We just finished ours. Have you seen Umi?"

"No. Dressing room's probably the last place to look." Nico rehung her nightgown, happy with the repair, "Why do you need her?"

"Nozomi wants..."

"No." Nico crossed her arms in a 'do not pass' gesture.

Eli sighed, "It's to help Kotori. Nozomi wants Umi to take over set duties…"

"So Nozo can help with costumes...not a bad idea." Nico acknowledged, stepping out of her dress.

"Just tell Umi that."

"Nope. Nico is a busy woman." Nico was happy Kotori hadn't insisted on corsets. Breathing freely was so important to performance. "Your bedroom buddy is on her own there."

"Fiancée." Eli corrected, flashing the crystal and silver ring at Nico with a fox eats Nico sized canary grin Nozomi would have been proud of.

Nico ignored Eli, who headed for the stage, planning to grab Umi if she passed her.

############

Dr. Nishikino was handing his wife her coat when their only child came tearing through the door. He veronica-ed the coat like a bullfighter as Maki charged past him, carrying shopping bags.

"Maki, you're late." Dr. Nishikino the chider stated as she retrieved into her coat, rolling her eyes at her husband.

"Five minutes." The racing werewolf panted at her mother.

Dr. Nishikino's voice went high, as did her judgier eyebrow, "I thought Nico's list said '30 minutes before curtain.'"

"Be nice." Maki's father pulled his wife in for a quick embrace.

He felt the shrug. "Punctuality is an attractive trait."

"So I've heard." Dr. Nishikino glanced at the watch his wife had given him many years ago after he was nervous and late to their first anniversary date. "Maki, your mother and I will wait for you."

"Thanks, Papa" was shouted from the upstairs.

##############

In the wings. One step away, one moment...poised, Nico could hear the audience breathing, shifting, rustling, their talk fading as the lights did. The orchestra began the overture. As the opening notes for each song played, blending together, the scenes flashed through Nico's mind, Nico aware of every word, every angle, every connection that she could use to leverage the audience members forward, under Nico's thrall for a night, tilting toward the stage, each one caught in Mina's struggle, to be freed by the triumph of actor and art. The lights darkened, the music stilled, and there was Mina, striding forward, ALIVE for this night, this audience, sharp, smart, loving, brave, vital. Ready to cheer friend and face foe, as yet unaware of the storm approaching. Nico let that joy, that optimism fill her as Lucy stepped out from stage right, letter in hand, Mina joining the scene from stage left, Nico's voice rising, amused, self deprecating, then twisting around the roots of worry over Jonathan. What shadow would Transylvania cast on their future?

"My dearest Lucy,

Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air..."

The lines from Lucy's reply had haunted Nico for a week or two as she tried to make sense of Mina, to find Mina's strengths in herself, to find the place where fear could never break either of them.

"Do you ever try to read your own face?"

There were no secrets left in Nico's mirror. All the discoveries possible were here, on the stage, in front of an audience anticipating wonders. And there, breathing in possibility, speaking out magic, Nico ventured, to dare much for Mina's sake.

A/N: Hello, my name is...well, surely you know by now, and I am addicted to the casualness of Casual Lunacy, which surely also you know ; )

An after party is planned, although a Christmas treat or two may delay its arrival.

I could write a book's worth of poems about how grateful I am for your patience, support, questions, answers, puns, comments, et alia. Casual Lunacy has kept me on track through 18 of my more difficult months and I am thankful for your company.

Drop me a Christmas song in the comments, it's making a playlist time ; )