#already saying riff raff

[goosewizard]

just heard my baby brother use the term riff raff im going to bed

[hennyjwrites]

I’d love to see something with Miguel Galindo.

Smut

“Use your words” and “Let me take a peek.” Because I hear him saying them and 🥵.

Thank you in advance!

Miguel knew you were Angel's wife. Did he care? No. He was infatuated with you. If anything, taking you from Angel would make him feel even better. Taking you away from the streets and putting you in a mansion above everything and everyone. He saw you in a bar and took his opportunity. You knew it was wrong to get into his car considering the bad blood but Angel had cheated once again. You were hurting and don't care at the moment.

You were sitting next to him in the limo, laughing at a joke he told you. His hand was on your thigh. Miguel was quite the charmer. His hand rubbed you slowly. Your laughter died down as you looked over at him. He was already staring at you, waiting for your reaction. His hand moved up your thigh pulling at your thong.

“Miguel.” You warned, knowing this was going to end badly in the future. Miguel’s finger traced over your pussy and you tried to close them before you drowned in the pleasure.

Miguel prayed your legs back open. “Open your legs mi amor. I just want to take a peek.” His voice was smooth and his accent made him sexier. Your legs opened slightly giving Miguel what he wanted.

Miguel laid you back on the seat once your legs opened. “This is about you tonight. I’m going to send you back to your so-called husband dripping, missing me between your legs.”

Miguel pulled your panties down your legs. The wetness from your pussy leaves a string between it and the fabric. Miguel trailed his finger down your pussy. He heard your breath hitch. He pushed one finger in. He felt your pussy swallow his finger making his dick harden.

“You want more?” He asked. You moaned out. “Use your words of love. Beg me to make you feel good.”

“Please Miguel, please.”

That’s all Miguel needed to hear before he dived into your pussy. Miguel tongued your clit, making sure to suck on it softly. He pushed another finger into your pussy. Your soft moans, egged him on. Your fingers tangling in his hair. He was so different then Angel. He was caring about your pleasure.

He fingered you as he ate you. He sat up and spit on your pussy before diving back in. Miguel didn’t care about breathing. He just wanted you to cum all over his face.

Miguel smiled into your pussy as your legs quivered and he felt you clench around his fingers. You came, a loud moan following. Miguel ate you through your orgasm, prolonging it.

When you finally stopped shaking, Miguel pulled away. The car finally stopped. And you realized you were in front of Angel's house. Miguel pulled your face towards him and tongue kissed you. You tasted your essence on his tongue. You pulled away and watched as Miguel pocketed your panties.

Migue made a show of stepping out and opening your door. Angel walked out, shocked to see you stepping out of Miguel’s Galindos car. Before you could walk away, Miguel pulled you back, “when you're ready to stop slumming with the riff raff, you know my number.” He looked at Angel who was fuming. He smirked at him and winked. “I’m expecting your call soon.”

Miguel got back in his car and as you walked past a complaining angel you were already pulling your phone out ready to join Miguel.

[stevethehairington]

right now i am thinking about the 118 doing a group rocky horror costume.

like, they're all sitting around the table during a slow part of their shift talking about the halloween party ravi knows about that they're all going to together, and they decide they want to do one big group costume. they're trying to think of something that has enough characters for them all to have a costume when lucy (bc fuck it all lucy, beloved, is still with the 118) suggests rocky horror.

it is, naturally, a hit with the group, they all think that's so fun.

and so buck immediately calls dibs on rocky because he already owns a pair of gold booty shorts (buck 1.0, he insists, do NOT ask questions), and then when the group agrees that he can have it, he promptly tunes the rest of the conversation out (in favor of napping against eddie's shoulder, or to go sous chef for bobby ((who unfortunately cannot make this party bc he and athena already have party plans of their own))).

the rest of the group starts figuring out who they want to be, and chim calls dibs on brad and janet for him and maddie. lucy says she wants to be eddie bc she's got a kickass vest already, and ravi says he thinks it'll be super fun to get decked out in sequined shorts and corset and necktie and tophat as columbia (plus ravi lucy bestieship beloved, ofc they'd want to be a pair). and hen and karen take riff raff and magenta — and are going back and forth on whether they should be riff raff and magenta from the first half of the movie or from the second half.

but that leaves everyone with their character assignment except for eddie... and there is only one character left: dr. frank n furter.

and eddie, who is newly out and simultaneously a lot more comfortable in his skin but still a little nervous about some parts of this, agrees bc he wants to try new things and step outside of his comfort zone and be confident about it, and he's like both really excited about it but also kind of terrified of the idea of strutting around in lingerie and— jesus, and heels.

(and day of, eddie gets all gussied up in his costume and he takes a look at himself in the mirror like this and he sort of freaks out a little. he has a whole Moment, and he ends up calling karen and is like karen, i can't do this. and karen is so gentle with him as she talks him off the ledge, and when he's finally found his footing again, she makes him facetime her so she can see how he looks and she's immediately wolf whistling and whooping and gushing about how hot he looks and "seriously eddie, im a lesbian, but you look so fuckable right now" (which makes eddie blush BRIGHT red) and hen pops into the frame and is like damn eddie. you are ABSOLUTELY going to be turning heads tonight and karen's like certain heads, definitely and eddie groans and regrets, not for the first time, letting his feelings for buck slip to karen that one time at wine night.)

BUT ANYWAYS.

eddie gets saddled with frank n furter as his costume, and buck, crucially, does not know this until halloween night rolls around, and the whole gang is set to meet at his loft so they can all head out together.

and so everyone has arrived except for eddie, and chim makes a comment like oh buck eddies not here yet? i thought you two would've gotten ready together, and bucks like hah yeah no actually. we're not attached at the hip like you seem to think. he said he wanted to get ready at home. and then before chim can reply there's a knock on the door and hen is closest so she opens it, and ofc it's eddie.

and then it's like the sea parting, as everyone steps aside to make a path for eddie to walk inside, and buck is at the end, distracted because he almost forgot he wanted to fill a bowl with candy to leave outside his door since he won't be home to pass any candy out (because he still gets trick or treaters, even in his building!) so he's got the bag of candy in hand and he's trying to open it and he turns around right as eddie reaches the end of the group, and buck promptly spills the entire bag of candy all over the floor because that is eddie diaz, standing there in fishnets, and a corset, and high heels, with eyeliner and lipstick and holy fucking shit— suddenly his skimpy gold booty shorts feel like a VERY dangerous costume to be wearing because uhhhh. UHHHHHH.

and buck is. a MESS. like, he almost trips over the candy too, and chim has to tell him to pick his jaw up off the floor while he's cleaning the candy up, and across the way karen is nudging eddie in the side and whispering "told you!!!!"

and like. EDDIE is also just as tongue tied and dumbstruck because BUCK is standing there in nothing but the world's tiniest pair of gold booty shorts, and he's just. he's this TANK of a man, and his— his entire CHEST is just OUT. his nipples are right there. and those shorts are. well, they're not leaving much to the imagination. and eddie feels like HE might pass out too.

and its just, eddie, trying to look anywhere but bucks b a r e c h e s t like um. uhh. aren't you— won't you um. get cold?

and buck, in a perpetual state of blush and practically sweating bc of eddie looking Like That going uh. nope no. nu uh. can't be cold when you're so ho— i mean im when im so hot, um warm. i mean like. um. body heat. yeahhhh. you know me, human furnace, hah.

and eddie, who knows buck is actually a human icicle because he is a menace that sleeps in fuzzy socks and sweatshirts even in the summer, but who is also still. very much Distracted can only go uh. yeah. mhmmmm. sure. yep.

AND JUST YEAHHHH.

[ghouldtime]

Hey there! I discovered you today and I wanted to tell you that I love your account and your König! Anyway, since I'm Austrian, I was curious about the following: Where do you HC König to be from? Which state, I mean? I always liked to think that he was from Styria, but I'd love to hear your input from that as well! Sorry if you've answered this before, though! Have a nice day! ^^

💚💚💚💚💚💚 Salutations! Hope you're doing well, thanks for the ask, and it's not one I've answered before! I'm glad you love them :D . I know I write him different than most and he isn't the typical depiction but I'm forever a regular dude König truther and will always try to give him some semblance of peace and life

I head cannon him as being from Styria too! I know we'll never get an official city or region where he's from but I agree and think it suits him the best. I just can't see him growing up in an area like Vienna or Salzburg, it just doesn't really "fit" him.

I type him as a very outdoorsy guy who naturally grew up with a lot of land and beautiful places to go without having to deal with the typical riff-raff of tourists that tend to flock to the usually more popular areas. Not to mention, I like to say he grew up on a farm. I'll never be able to see him anything different. Can't convince me he DIDN'T have a whole flock of chickens growing up (and he still can recount all of their names).

It significantly helped and hindered his social anxiety. On one hand, he didn't have to be social and it was a place for him to retreat to. On the other hand, it meant he wasn't exactly well socialized for much of his childhood (he wasn't keen on leaving the farm unless he was going on a hike) and the main socialization he got was negative from his peers. At least he had plenty of room to be himself when he got home - and always had plenty to do to keep his mind off of it.

It's also why he rose up the ranks in the military. He was already used to waking up at the crack of dawn and doing manual labor. He knew how to manage himself and the time he had and could essentially be left alone to get anything done. He had that natural discipline and disposition to him that gained him attention in the GOOD way for once.

Styria is just a perfect environment for him and because I like to imagine he had a happy home life (not so much with school and all that, but I'm giving him something), so that's where I put him because it has everything he could want. Hiking? Check. Great outdoors? Also check. Plenty to do in nature so you don't even have to go into major towns to have fun? Check.

That still sticks with him til this day. He doesn't like being in suburban areas or major cities, the vast open outdoors always called his name in an echo that lasts in his bones til this day. Maybe one day he'll be able to return for more than a vacation

[kokusfluffyhair]

Their Thoughts on Winter

(Demons can go out in the daytime/sunlight here)

Kokushibou

+ It isn't his preferred temperature, but he can tolerate it

+ He doesn't want to show weakness, so he won't complain

+ He gets a little calmer when it gets dark earlier -- the less sun reminds him less that he can't do Sun Breathing

+ He likes to cuddle up at night with his s/o, and colder weather is good for that

+ But still, he doesn't like feeling cold when he's outside

+ His long, luscious hair helps keep him warm

+ He tries not to let the season change ruin his vibe

+ The cold air does dry out his eyes some, so he needs some eye drops for that

Muzan

+ He likes it -- it keeps the riff-raff away

+ He's relieved when there are less crazy summer people on the streets

+ Everyone gets paler in the winter, so his own skin colour is less evident than in warmer months

+ He does get very angry that the sun isn't out as long

+ He wishes it could be colder but with long hours of sun

+ His little experiments aren't as productive as in the summer because he's always gritting his teeth about how it gets dark so fast

+ His patience wears thin easier and he kills more humans during the winter

+ If you're Douma or Gyokko, you probably get your body slashed in half more often during the winter

Douma

+ This one gets seasonal depression

+ He hates having to wear a coat or layers

+ He hates having to wear a hat to cover up that gorgeous hair of his

+ He complains a lot

+ He says that his bubbly personality needs the sun to give him energy

+ Because he gets depressed, he requires more intimacy with his s/o to get through the winter

+ The only joy he finds in the cold is working on ice sculptures

+ Still, the quality of the natural snow and ice is subpar compared to what he can create during any season

Gyutaro

+ His first words are "fuck, man" whenever he walks outside

+ He's bundled up in so many layers but it's not enough for his skinny ass

+ He can see his breath in the air before anyone else does

+ Sometimes he pulls down his hat so far that it's almost covering his eyes

+ He doesn't understand how or why Daki is still not covering up and wearing skimpy clothes in this weather

+ His skin gets paler and it makes his birthmarks more evident

+ He gets bad dry skin in the winter too

+ Someone give him moisturiser and force him to use it, please

Tahomaru

+ He wants to build snowmen and play in the snow but he always gets sick when he does

+ "Already?" he asks every day when it gets dark early

+ He's pretty tolerant to the cold

+ He likes having warm drinks and soups

+ If his s/o or best friend gets depressed in the winter, he'll feel bad and try to cheer them up

+ He would make candlelight hand-puppet shows

+ He loves to cuddle under blankets

+ He likes that he doesn't get as sweaty but wishes that the winter wouldn't last as long as it doesn

Daigo Kagemitsu

+ He hates winter even more than I do

+ He gets really cranky and angry when there's less sunlight

+ It reminds him of when it used to flood all the time and he gets anxiety from it

+ He's very sensitive to the cold but won't tell anyone

+ He looks like he wants to burn down the world whenever he has to walk in snow

+ He has a hard time waking up in the morning knowing that it's going to be grey and cold

+ This man really needs sunshine and he's struggling

Saburota

+ He's invincible to the cold

+ But he's very sensitive to being wet

+ He's fine, as long as there's no dampness or freezing rain or snow

+ He gets sick when there's snow

+ He uses the cold weather as an excuse to cook more and experiment with food

+ He uses the oven a lot so he can leave it open and let the warm air come into the house

+ He gets tired when it gets dark early

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (3/?)

Word Count: 1,186 Words

Rating: Explicit (Violence/Gore)

Chapter 3

"I can be your heavenly or I can be your hell

I can say a prayer for you or I can cast a spell

I push you to the darkness just to pull you to the light

'Cause I can take away your breath or I can bring you back to life..."

- In This Moment

Directly following the events of Lucifer’s visit: Alastor smoothly shifted from the shadows, materializing himself into the midst of his radio station that was attached to the hotel. He glared at Lucifer, the fallen angel languidly stretched out fully and comfortably in his chair beside the radio control panel; a large shit-eating grin across his face. 

"What are you doing here?" Alastor asked him, lowly. 

"Charlie invited me." Lucifer's grin actually widened. 

"I'm well aware." Alastor bit back. "I mean what are you doing here? Now? Don't you have a meeting to arrange?" 

"It's already done." Lucifer shrugged. "Lilith has it all taken care of. I'm here to check-in; suck your dick if you’d like. You seem a little...tense." 

"I decline. Now get out." 

"You're sure?" Lucifer asked him, laughing. "It wouldn't take long and I assure you, I'm quite good." 

Alastor bristled. 

Normally, he wouldn't let the man get so under his skin... However, these past couple of days, Alastor had been feeling the beginnings of an impending rut. He was refusing to admit that little bit of honesty to himself, though, let alone Lucifer. There was still too much to do yet; the extermination was merely a couple months away....he didn't have time for such nonsense. 

"You seem like you could really use it, too." Lucifer was digging in. "Aren't you supposed to be protecting this place? I thought the radio demon avoided all that kind of riff-raff." 

"I took care of it." 

"Hm, yes. I saw. A very intimidating display. You know, had you been better at addressing Charlie's needs here, I never would have gotten to see it." 

"I haven't heard any complaints from…my Queen." Alastor told him.

"Nor would you..." Lucifer sighed; getting up from the chair now and walking over to where Alastor stood. "She seems rather fond of her new...pet." 

Alastor fought to maintain his composure at this; the remark effectively agitating an already struck nerve. Lucifer smirked at this; enjoying the effect his little planned comment had made. He hadn’t missed the little discussion Alastor had had with the bartender; just one of the unfortunate souls Alastor still had bound by his chain.

Lucifer stopped; standing very close to Alastor now. 

"Last chance. We could whip this out right now and you can go enjoy yourself a nice cigarette." Lucifer leaned in, his eyes darting to Alastor's crotch then back again; his eyebrows bouncing in a overly dramatic and suggestive way. 

"Must you act like that?" Alastor hissed. 

"Like what?" 

"A child?" Alastor glared. 

"How should I act, to you, Alastor? Is it so important to you that I display myself in frightening and intimidating ways so that others may respect and fear me every moment they are within my presence? I am well aware of the power that I command; I don't have to be concerned with what others believe or may think...that would possibly suggest a significant level of...insecurity."

Alastor growled; his eyes glowing a soft red. 

"Well, that turned you on." Lucifer quipped. 

"You know," Alastor's eyes flared redder. "I almost want to let you..." Alastor reached out, clawed fingers curled - he set his hand beneath the King's chin, leaning in.

Alastor's shadow slipped from him; sliding along a darkened corner and rising slowly behind Lucifer.

"If only to watch you choke on my cock; jammed deep into your throat as I utterly wreck that pretty face of yours."

Alastor's shadow pressed in closer, clawed hands reaching...

"Oh, so you think I'm pretty?" Lucifer blurted, rather cockily.

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "You'd be beautiful...gasping and choking beneath me...wondering at just how a fallen angel ever could manage to sink so low..." 

"Uh, huh." Lucifer had had enough.

Alastor's shadow darted for him but before it could touch the angel it was struck sharply by the end of a brightly glowing and golden chain. Hissing and spitting, Alastor's shadow fled. Alastor barely had time to flinch before Lucifer turned the chain on him; sending it to tighten around his neck and hoisting him sharply upwards so that he was kicking and strangling in its grip. Moving; the chain drug him backwards, slamming him painfully into a wall and holding him fast.

“Your pillow talk really needs some work.” Lucifer told him, darkly as he approached him.  

Alastor still struggling; choked against the chain. Reaching out, Lucifer clenched Alastor’s side with sharpened talons; claws sinking into his hip and holding him firmly in place against the wall. Gasping; all the remaining air left Alastor’s lungs and his struggles drastically lessened.

“Now.” Lucifer flicked a sharpened claw; tracing it over Alastor’s fine pin-striped suit – sharply cutting into it and the soft cavity of Alastor’s abdomen – just below the sternum. “Let’s discuss this rather poor attitude of yours.”

Pulling the claw down; Lucifer gutted the radio demon like a fish. Alastor gave a garbled cry; writhing against the chain and against the wall – his blood and guts spilling into Lucifer’s outstretched hands.

Twisting the writhing intestines between his fingers; Lucifer stared up at the look of pure look of manic horror that was Alastor’s face. The sinner was still smiling but his ears where laid flat to his head in complete and desperate submission; his eyes wide and panicked; his body flaying less and less…

“I don’t care what you think of me, Alastor.” Lucifer said, softly. “You walk a rather treacherous path, my friend. Never let your detestation – no matter how great - cloud your perceptions of someone… You may think little of me but that does not change the amount of power I have at my command.” He gripped the moving intestines tightly in his hands and Alastor shrieked; foaming at the mouth.

“Lilith requires your services, you bastard.” Lucifer continued. “I cannot take that from her; but I can put you in your place.”

Alastor’s body had stopped it’s flaying - going limp now; his consciousness quickly fading.

Sighing; Lucifer released him. The intestines pulled from his hands; curling themselves back into Alastor’s cavity – his abdomen and suit zipping themselves neatly closed as if Lucifer had merely pulled down on a zipper. The golden chain came loose; dropping Alastor unceremoniously onto the ground.    

Alastor fell forward; his body violently shaking as he heaved in great gulps of air and tried to process what the fuck had just happened.

Rolling his eyes; Lucifer turned and walked away – throwing up a swirling golden portal with a wave of the hand.

“Per our deal, I leave you to it. Call on me when or if you require it.” Lucifer told him.

Alastor shakily rose himself from the ground so that he was knelt before Lucifer on his knees – still clutching for air and ears pulled back; staring crazily at the King. Lucifer’s eyes shifted to the seam of his pants. Raising an eyebrow just before he stepped away and into the portal he said; “You’ll have to take care of that one yourself.” – referring to the very distinct tent that jutted from the layer of fabric between Alastor’s legs – leaving the radio demon alone: feeling rather whipped and humiliated.

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

Chapter 4

[lurveinn]

Sirius threatens Lucius

Diagon Alley is bustling with peasants and riff-raff in the days leading up to the Hogwarts term; Lucius sneers at the crowds as he makes his way into the higher-end streets of Knockturn, which remain, thankfully, invitation only. He has a meeting with a real estate contact at midday, after which he’ll meet Father for the most intimidating appointment in his social calendar thus far- a full council with the Blacks, to formally ask for Narcissa’s hand in marriage. Of course, it’s merely a formality; he was promised one of the Black sisters years ago, but up until a few months ago, it was to be Andromeda. Now, Andromeda is being paraded around Europe’s marriage market, under Bellatrix’s watchful eye- from what he has gathered, she is tempted by a mudblood boy in England. There are even rumors that he is poor, though he isn’t sure of those- although he hasn’t spoken to her since the end of their courtship, he knows Andromeda, and she loves her finery. She’s as much of a snob as he is. 

And Narcissa; Lucius has sampled many women, from all over Europe, pure-blooded and though he won’t admit it, even half-blooded, yet none have taken him quite as she does. She is lovely. He wouldn’t dare express it to Father, who much preferred for him to marry a dark-haired girl (“A Black that looks like a Black, Lucius! The prestige is much greater that way”), but frankly- she is perfect. She already fits the part of a Malfoy- her hair is half white-blonde on her right side and half ink-black on her left, a trait that she clearly inherited from her Rosier side. She wears it in a complex braid that Lucius yearns to untangle, run his fingers through, and then plait back up. The rest of her is completely and utterly Black, from her storm-gray eyes to her high cheekbones; yet, unlike her cousins and sisters whose features are beautiful in a striking manner, Narcissa is angelic. It is said that there are no creatures on Earth as gorgeous as the Blacks, and in three hours, Lucius will officially have acquired the most heavenly of them all.

He thinks of her throughout his meeting, though he focuses when the matter of payment comes up, and as he exits the establishment, he is so lost in thought that he completely misses the figure trailing him. They say that Blacks aren’t made to be discreet, that one can hear their footsteps a mile away, but somehow Sirius has managed to creep up on Lucius. Faster than he can call a greeting, there is a wand at Lucius’ throat and two piercing eyes (just like Narcissa’s, his useless, traitorous brain reminds him) boring into his. 

“Malfoy.”, Sirius says, coolly, as if cornering your future brother-in-law two hours before you’re supposed to receive him at your home is a routine occurrence. 

Still, Lucius knows how to deal with a Black. He remembers his father’s words: act nonchalant no matter how they insult you, do not respond in any way that could even remotely be interpreted as a threat, and do not, under any circumstances, insult their family. 

He responds genially: “Sirius. I knew we’d be meeting today, but I wasn’t expecting you at this moment.” 

Sirius brushes it aside. He’s sixteen and fierce, a Slytherin who wormed his way into Gryffindor to prove a point, already betrothed to his cousin, who is identical to him in both spirit and appearance. The crown jewel of the Black family, Orion and Arcturus insist, though Sirius does his best to go against all etiquette ingrained in the rest of the Sacred 28. But then again, Blacks are always a bit crazy; Bella is the same, and Father says Sirius takes after his namesake grandfather greatly. Lucius isn’t scared of Sirius- a Malfoy is just as great as a Black, no matter what they insist-, he’s seen him grow up, seen him in nappies, but in that moment, he understands what Orion sees in him- he is fearless. He almost feels a sense of pride towards the man Sirius is becoming, before the little brat has to ruin it all: 

“I’ve come to threaten you.”, Sirius states, matter-of-factly. Blacks are always so dramatic. He hopes Narcissa hasn’t inherited the characteristic.

“Concerning?”, Lucius asks, though he has an inkling as to where this conversation is going. The Blacks are Wizarding Britain’s most tight-knit family and ridiculously protective of each other. He recalls Sirius and Narcissa’s shared time at Hogwarts- Lucius was in his seventh year when she was in her fifth and Sirius was in his second- when the boy spent much of his time in the Slytherin common room. Prim, proper Narcissa would loosen up around her cousin, especially when it was just family around, holding Sirius’ hand, combing her fingers through his hair. Often, Bellatrix would come to visit her sisters and Sirius at school, and they would all retire to one of Slytherin’s abandoned common rooms; nobody went in, of course, unless they had tacit permission from the Blacks, but the sound of laughter would carry through the dungeons on the occasions that the cousins forgot their silencing charms. It was a foreign concept to Lucius, such a large family. Malfoys usually have a maximum of two children, and never more than one son.

In the present moment, Sirius’ eyes cloud over at Lucius’ lack of reaction, but he gets straight to the point:

“I trust you, Lucius, I do. I support you and Cissa. But, and this is coming from me and from Bella-  if your father dares to lay a hand on my cousin, hurts her or any child that she ever has with you, then I will hunt him down and slit his throat, Azkaban and consequences be damned. Keep that in mind.”

The wand against Lucius’ throat is dislodged, and Sirius Black turns on his heel and walks away.

[little-murmaider]

(A little WIP Wednesday (On A Thursday) because moments after completing AOTD for the first time I launched into an intense in-depth Skwisgaar character study, Obviously.)

“I know what’cher doin’.”

“De works of t’ree men? Ja, what else ams new, cans we fockus?” He pushes Nathan’s reading glasses up the slope of his nose and into his hair. “Dere’s somet’ings abouts dis chords progression dat’s not gelling for mes…”

Skwisgaar glances up. Pickles has pivoted to face away from his kit, hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs. His Rock Talk pose. Goddamnit.

“Whats.”

“Yer checkin’ in on everybahdy.” He flicks his wrist in the space between them. “Dis is a check-in.”

“De songs gots to gets done, does it nots?” He dodges. Pickles doesn’t buy it. He rises, idly scratching the side of his neck with the end of his drumstick.

“Sure,” he drawls, ambling over to where Skwisgaar is cross-legged on the ground. “Butcha saught me out t’work on th’sahng right after Nathan screamed at me t’go fuck myself.”

“Did dat happens?” Skwisgaar shoots for airy innocence and misses by a mile.

Pickles plops down in front of him. “I’m just sayin’ yer timin’s nyeeeehhhhhhhh a l’il suspect.”

“Mine timings am imppecables,” he snaps. “Ams always where I needs to bes.”

Pickles’s mouth stretches in that stupid, sideways, Cheshire Cat-like grin, polishing his front teeth his tongue—FUCK Skwisgaar walked right into that one.

“Musickallys,” he adds, pathetically.

“Dood, y’wanna talk about naht new? Dis is naht new. You actin’ all—”

He extends his arms out to full length and tips back, dropping his voice and crossing his eyes.

“YYYYYUUUUUUEEEEEGHHHHHHHH Gets Away From Mes I Hates You Peoples while sneakin’ around makin’ sure all’a us are okey? Y’think I don’ notice dat?”

“I t’inks de lack of access to drugs ams giving you brain damage.”

“Y’might be able t’fool dese other dooshbeegs, but y’ceen’t fool me. I’ve had ya klocked—and I’m sayin’ clock wit’ a k, t’be clear—since ya braught det Norwegian riff-raff into our lives.”

“When dids you becomes de type of guys what say riff-raff?”

“I see ya, Skwis. I’ve always seen ya.”

“Ooooooh does yous?” There was a time where the one-two punch of his withering tone and devastating eye roll would reduce a man to ash. But it’s been a rough few years. He’s gotten soft. His roller shoulders and rapid-fire arpeggios betray him. “And whats eggs-acktly ams you seeing wif dem beady littles badger eyes?”

The toe of Pickles sneaker brushes Skwisgaar’s ankle and he fights off a flinch.

“Dat despite yer best efforts.” His voice is too familiar, too fond. He scooches closer. “Yer a good guy, Skwigelf.”

Skwisgaar scoffs. The metal strings sting against his callouses, blood pooling hot in the ends of his fingers, and something must be wrong with his hookup because there’s a high pitch whine in his ears and a buzz in his chest and they need to finish the song the song’s not done they need to get it done—

“Skwisgaar.”

The pinch of Pickles’s thumb and forefinger on Skwisgaar’s jaw shocks a gasp out of him, the guitar clattering to the ground with a CLANG. Skwisgaar’s jolts, involuntary, but Pickles’s hold is firm.

“Look at me.” His voice is level, his gaze bright and a little watery, pinning him to the spot. “You are good, Skwisgaar.”

And, well.

He doesn’t know why this, out of everything, is what gets him. He’s been more than a little unnerved by the Pickles is Band Mom thing, mostly because he already has a mom and he actually likes Pickles, but here is his friend, at the end of the world, saying the words he has always, always wanted to hear, and the gossamer bubble of emotion that’s been swelling against his ribs these last few months, at last, bursts.

Distantly he hears his breath hitch, feels tears stream down his cheeks. He’s an embarrassingly ugly crier so when so when he’s crushed into Pickles’s chest, when he inhales that familiar scent of hair wax and old weed and something uniquely Pickles (how does he smell wet he always smells wet) he curls his arms around his waist and sobs.

[fmajorenthusiast]

Janet: Say no to drugs!

Riff Raff: You know, it doesn't really matter what you say to drugs, because if you're talking to drugs you're probably already on them

[volumebaixo]

God can you imagine actually being in Riff Raff’s position though?

Like, serving as the vanguard of an intergalactic invasion’s already a not-great starting point, but then your commander goes and gets obsessed with the Earthlings in the worst way possible, starts bedding anyone who catches his eye and killing anyone who bruises his ego, makes you LARP as a creepy butler and stay on perpetual cuck chair duty, then has you build a scientific miracle just to use as his sextoy and then HAS THE GALL TO TAKE THE CREDIT FOR MAKING IT? At that point I’d be tempted to blow everyone up with a laser too

LMAOOO yeah it's CRAZY, that's one of the reasons he's my fav tho, Riff was building up his anger till the point he exploded (at least on the movie version, he responds very differently on some stage productions)

Not that he's a full victim in any way lol, I'm just SURE that if he had the power he would let it get to his head and be just as awful (or worse). We know he takes his anger out on people in weaker/lower positions than his own, that says a lot about him... And it makes him even more fun to write about, in my perspective

I like how messy the whole situation is, so fun to think about all the reasons behind why he and Mag stayed in this position for so long, like what they were waiting for...? The perfect moment? Maybe something else? (I have a lot of AUs with my friends where we find a lot of different ways to complete their backgrounds with extra info, it's really really fun)

I'm so anxious about posting this, I always get embarrassed when I talk about them openly like this idk why, I think I might mess up explaining my interpretation or something lol... So keep in mind I might delete this later if I panic but thank you so much for talking about him, anon.... I love it so much...

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

"Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing...This crowd was checking their watches."

"If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled...Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan. Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say."

"And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night."

MAUREEN CALLAHAN: Meghan's word-salad Manhattan gala appearance

She so badly wants to be the Queen of Hearts.

But, as she arrived on Tuesday night, making her grand entrance in Midtown Manhattan, sauntering past that rental-car backdrop, it was more like the Queen of Hertz.

Of course, as the world is now all too aware, Meghan Markle capped off winning a meaningless award with what we’re told was a ‘near catastrophic’, ‘two-hour’ car chase through the streets of Manhattan.

Yes, according to a spokesperson, Meghan, along with hapless Harry and mom Doria, were the subjects of a wild, impassioned hunt by the paparazzi.

Some sympathetic commentators have already made the gruesome comparisons to Princess Diana’s tragic final fate.

But to echo the statements made by New York City’s own mayor Eric Adams and the police department: Perhaps it didn’t quite happen the way it was painted.

Recollections may vary.

Naturally, their mouthpiece Omid Scobie is whining that no one from the Palace has yet reached out.

Wonder why?

One also wonders what Gloria Steinem, the 89-year-old feminist icon who chose to honor Meghan as a ‘Woman of Vision’ at Tuesday night’s Ms. Foundation Gala, must be thinking now.

After all, the car ‘chase’ debacle soon stole all the thunder from her event, which I was lucky enough to witness first-hand.

Now, it was hardly the red carpet one might expect. Hardly the pomp and circumstance of, say, a coronation.

Yet Meghan forged ahead as she always does, as if this were her crowning moment, sheathed in gold as if to symbolize a crown.

Or an Oscar statuette.

Same difference, really, if your only goal is fame. That’s our Meghan, none too subtle as ever, literally going for the gold as Harry and Doria took their positions three steps behind.

Harry may be a prince of the blood, but never forget — Meghan is The Star. Her Norma Desmond-ing is among the great spectacles of our modern age.

And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night.

Upon entering the Zeigfeld Ballroom, guests were asked whether they were ‘VIP’ — seems even feminist movements have their echelons — and turfed to the lobby.

My $1,500 entry-level ticket got me a hard seat with a front-row view of coat check.

After ten minutes, circumstances having changed inexplicably, the riff-raff were allowed up to the second floor.

Here were two open bars serving top-shelf liquor and the shock of post-pandemic dress code slovenliness. One unkempt guest was wearing sparkly Birkenstock sandals and a black stretchy minidress under a pink puffer jacket.

These were the VIPs?

The only recognizable person I saw was Peloton instructor Ally Love, and that’s saying something. Where were the stars? Where were the notables of the movement? The Malalas? The Fondas? The Beyoncés?

Perhaps no one was meant to outshine Meghan. Only one feminist icon was going to enter via rental car office!

Down in the ballroom, the plated salads on our banquet tables were ready waiting for us – dry, unsightly, stringy greens that resembled nothing so much as regurgitated hairballs. Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan.

Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say.

If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled.

It says something when a table of size-6 women tear into their heavily glazed steak and buttery mashed potatoes with abandon.

Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing.

Verbiage and word salad that were content-free, except when speaking on her favorite subject: herself.

Here, in real time, we observed Meghan’s inability to read a room. She thanked the ‘other honorees’ without naming them.

‘Congratulations,’ she said, ‘and frankly, well deserved.’

It was all so smug and supercilious, this glorified podcaster telling these boots-on-the-ground activists — no matter what one thinks of their politics — that they had, in fact, earned their place on the same stage as the great Meghan Markle. That ‘frankly’ was so typical. It was meant to redound to Meghan’s benefit, as the lone wolf daring to speak the unspeakable.

There was the cringe-inducing humblebrag, calling her new friend Gloria ‘Glo’.

It brought to mind the forced intimacy of meeting Kate Middleton barefoot and insisting that the pair share lip gloss.

It's 'Glo' to Meghan, but Meghan is 'Duchess' to us.

‘We all bear witness,’ Meghan continued of her fellow honorees, ‘to you standing in elegance and the power of your strength.’

Huh?

This crowd was not convinced. This crowd was checking their watches. There were trains to catch, children to kiss goodnight. Alas, we were stuck with the vapidity of La Markle.

Her speech didn’t even deliver fresh content! She repeated the story, as told on her podcast, of poor little Meghan coming home from school to her TV dinner, cat collars and copies of Ms. Magazine strewn about courtesy of her mother — even though it’s well-documented that her father primarily raised her.

‘Having these pages in our home,’ she went on, ‘. . . signaled to me that there was so much more than the dolled-up covers and those images that you would see on the grocery store covers. It signaled to me that substance mattered.’

Says the former D-list actress and former briefcase game-show girl who used her looks to get ahead. Who has posed for those very same magazine covers.This warmed-over speech, less heated than our steaks, was Meghan’s greatest hits:

‘Change is just one action away.’

‘You can be the visionary of your own life.’

‘Daily acts of service, in kindness, in advocacy, in grace and in fairness.’

‘The imprints that were forged in my mind — I can now connect the dots in a much better way to understand how I became a young feminist and evolved into a grown activist.’

A feminist who, let us not forget, has publicly demonized her famous sister-in-law — ‘Waity Katie’ to Oprah and an audience of millions.

Kate made me cry! WAAAGH!

In truth, Meghan's a self-identified 'grown activist' who has done nothing. The pontification, her sing-song-y cadence as she luxuriated in her own praise, was as insufferable as it was revealing.

‘Ms.’ she said, ‘was formative in [my] cocooning. It piqued my curiosity, and it became the chrysalis for the woman that I would become and that I am today.’

Right: The woman who vilified the institution headed-up by Queen Elizabeth II in her final years. The woman who heavily alleged institutional racism until her husband finally backed away from that terrible smear.

A woman with no substance and no accomplishments as a feminist. A woman who is still trying to one-up the royals, even from a car-park adjacent ballroom with no red carpet. Meghan is the personification of Ms. as an organization that has lost its way.

Indeed, most of the night was spent advocating not for women but for trans rights and Critical Race Theory.

‘Abortion is racist,’ we were told.

Beware the ‘the white supremacist patriarchal system.’

Yes, even the Ms. Foundation – established for biological women out of a deep, and enduring, necessity – has been subsumed by men who identify as women.

How fitting then that the night was overshadowed by a grasping phony whose empty platitudes on stage failed to make headlines, whose spokesperson told a wild story of a high-stakes car chase.

Pity Meghan, but recognize her strength. Admire her, but never laugh at her. And never, ever question her veracity.

Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

[vwritesaus]

Thomas drops a handful of broken timber planks onto the ground with a sigh. Sweat pools at the back of his neck and at his hairline, ice cold against his skin. The sun has decided not to make itself present today, hiding behind dour, blackened clouds that promise a frigid, windy afternoon. Not that it bothers him in the slightest. Thomas prefers to be out at the Institute, sorting through debris in a cracked, stained courtyard in poor weather than sitting around doing nothing at all.       After all, sitting around doing nothing at all gives way to dangerous thoughts barging into his head, ones he doesn’t want to think about lest they crush his soul more than it already has been.       No, it is better to be productive. Better to be busy. Better to be surrounded by people he knows and loves than to be at home alone.       His family is out for the day, Eugenia in search of a new set of embroidery needles, and Alastair—the one whom Thomas wants to see more than anyone else when his mind is like this—is babysitting Zachary in Kensington. As per the letter he’d gotten yesterday, Thomas has been invited to see them later on in the day, but the gap between the morning and the afternoon is a long time, indeed. So when James and Matthew’s fire message came to him that morning requesting (namely, begging) his assistance with cleaning up, Thomas rushed out of his home in Golders Green without a backward glance.       At the present moment, both Matthew and James are kicking at loose rock and dry leaves in the distance. The trees bordering the London streets and the Institute seem to have dumped all their broken branches into the courtyard, creating a crooked, spiny cemetery circled by dust and dirt and withered foliage. Shattered roof tiles, odd riff-raff from horse-drawn carriages, ripped shop awnings and jagged pieces from window panes, and general rubble and dirt make up the rest of the unfortunate picture. But Thomas finds himself really not caring about the mammoth clean-up task left to the Shadowhunters of the London Enclave.       It’s easier not to care, he’s found. It helps with this evidently everlasting numbness.       He turns his attention to the handful of broken planks he’s dumped onto the ground and forces himself to count each individual ringed spot and dark-stained grain.       Focus. He must focus—

continue reading on ao3

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prev

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SO.

hi

i know it's been AGES since i posted the first chapter of this fic (and, indeed, any fic....) and all i can i say is that the work/life balance this year hasn't been kind to me in the slightest :')

but!!! we're finally here, and the other chapters are getting there... slowly lol

i hope you all had a lovely holiday break and are looking forward to the new year (i know i am, good grief). hope you enjoy this chapter !!

~

tag list: @drunkonimagination @astriefer @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @alastairstom @what-ho-christopher-put-in @thomastaircompassrose @faithfromanewperspective (thought you might be interested, but no pressure!!) let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[abnormalpsychology]

I went to my first Rocky horror screening on Friday and I literally miss it so bad!!! I lost my mind and felt so hot and it was . transcendent . so I made a list of highlights:

- MY FRIEND AND I GETTING SAT IN THE SECOND UP CLOSE FRONT ROW BC WE LOOKED SO ENTHUSIASTIC IN OUR FLOOR SHOW MAKEUP AAGHDH 😳😳

-MY FRIEND AND I GETTING TO BE BETTY AND RALPH HAPSHATT (HER SAYING YES DESPITE NOT EVEN KNOWING WHO THEY WERE LMAO) AND ME MISSING THE BOUQUET TOSS TIMING - MY ONE JOB!!!! - OUT OF SHEER BLUESCREENING FROM SEROTONIN OVERLOAD AND PANIC LMAO

- OUR VIRGIN GAME WAS LITERALLY NOT BAD AT ALL DESPITE ME HAVING BEEN SO SCARED LOL. “I went to Rocky horror and now I’m popped!!” as our repeated call to worship with a guy dressed as the pope agahshgk, they were so gentle w us fr

- THE CAST DID THIS PRE RECORDED ROCKY HORROR VERSION OF THE NICOLE KIDMAN AD AHHAJDJ

- the audience making a joke to the stage guy (who was like probably 30) abt skibidi toliet and him being like “what the FUCK are you talking about” 💀

- preparing the audience for the ride like “people are going to be yelling the worst things you’ve ever heard in your life at the screen.”

- RIGHT INTO IT WITH A STRIPTEASE AND TIDDIES COMING ALL THE WAY OUT ON SCIENCE FICTION DOUBLE FEATURE

- “fight a triffid” “WHAT THE FUCK IS A TRIFFID”

- doing the time warp with a crowd was like the most fun I’ve ever had

- I ALSO GOT TO BE THE FUCKING LEVER RIFF RAFF CRANKS FOR ROCKY TO RISE OUT OF THE TANK LMAO

- I can’t even remember all the crowd chants but so many absolutely DESTROYED me w laughter

- “LIKE UR NECK BITCH”

- “you say goodbye / and I say” “hello 😒”

- “hey Janet are you a slut?” “yes ☺️ I am”

- IT WAS WEIRDLY LIKE CHURCH BC EVERYONE KNEW HOW ALL THIS SHIT WORKED AND HAD THEIR LINES MEMORIZED AND WE DIDNT BUT THEY LITERALLY HAD SIGNS AND SO MUCH KIND NICE INSTRUCTION FOR NEW PPL AND LIKE. I LOVE THEM

- THE LINES I KNEW I WAS SO GODDAMN HAPPY TO KNOW AND I EVEN YELLED OUT MY OWN ONES I CAME UP WITH AND THESE OLDER LADIES BEHIND US KNEW ALL THESE ORIGINAL ONES TOO

- “keep calm / don’t panic” or something like that and everyone just screamed in unison 😭 multiple times lol

- FORGOT TO GET US A PROP BAG BC WE GOT TO BE VIPS WHICH KILLED ME BUT IM GOING BACK ANYWAYS SOOOO 🤪🤪

- everyone had so many funny chants that kept surprising me but I was just singing along bc the songs already are just sOOOOO INCREDIBLY FUN anyways

- the improvisations by the cast were so consistently v funny, I loved them . and like everyone was trans!!! so many binders!!! it was incredible

- “-visitors, let alone offer them hospitality “HORSE BRUTALITY?” WAS SAID SOOO LOUD LMAO

- “it’s a Bird it’s a plane it’s SUPER ASSHOLE”

- THE WEAKLING WEIGHING 98 LBS CALLBACK LINE WAS EVERYONE JUST BEING MEAN TO BRAD AND IT WAS SOOO FUNNY LMAO

- EVERYONE THROWING UP TOLIET PAPER AND PARTY POPPERS AND CARDS IN THE AIR WAS SO BEAUTIFUL TO WATCH ACTUALLY <3

- THE BEDROOM SCENE OUR FRANK WAS LIKE “yep it’s totally me . Brad majors 😐 That’s me” not even TRYING and I fucking died lmao

- OH MY GOD. THE BEDROOM SCENES IN SILHOUETTE WHERE THEY HAD THEM PULL DIFF INSANE PROPS OUT OF BRAD AND JANETS ASSHOLES 💀💀💀💀 I WAS LIKE “THATS NOT HOT????”

- the Eddie chanting (“not the ass but the side!”) was SO FUN I WAS SO HAPPY I STUDIED FOR HOURS READING THE PARTICIPATION SCRIPTS LMAO

- Eddie live where they did the hand jive and I couldn’t do it fast enough and Rocky was wtaching me and said “IM LOOKING AT YOU”

- THE REVEAL OF EDDIE’S BODY WHERE THEY COULDNT HAVE HIM LYING UNDERNEATH THE TABLE SO THEY JUST HAD HIS ACTOR RUN OUT AND BE DEAD AS FAST AS POSSIBLE FHSAHSHHAHAHA

- them like “haha Dr Scott! we are eating ur nephew” 💀 #prankd

- I got to throw in my own little lines with like “You’re going to kill him? What’s his crime?”“WHATS NOT?” And I FELT SO FUNNY FOR IT

- riff saying “my most beautiful sister” and my friend (WHO HADNT FINISHED THE MOVIE) turning to me slowly like .. 😟?

- EVEN IN “IM GOING HOME” THEY STILL HAD CHANTS MAKING FUN OF IT FHAJQHS

- THEY DID SUPER HEROES AND I WENT “THANK YOU JESUS” ALOUD HFJSJW

- they had audience members also be the table Frank rides in the scene and the sonic oscillator which was so great!!! my FAVORITE of which was the cutie playing the globe at the end who got so dizzy she had to stop 😭❤️

- anyways it went crazy. pls go to Rocky horror if you get a chance asap!!!! go to events! be gay! it will change ur life

- <3 u rockyhorror :)

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday - Sneak Peek

tagging the coemancer crew, @silurisanguine, @fangbangerghoul, @toxiclizardwrites, @a-cosmic-elf (i finally got it right this time! for weeks i thought it was an _ =P), @eridanidreams, @aro-pancake, @aislingdmdt, @atonalginger, @staticpallour, @bearlytolerant, any anyone else i forgot.

we've got a new chapter on deck. it won't get published this week; this week will be another vignette. but, i want to show ppl what i've been working on and where it's going.

sorry, no smutty goodness in this one. will be titled Hart & Soul. i might have to split it into 2 parts, however. as it's pretty long already, and it's not even fleshed out yet.

if you wanna read the whole thing, it's hosted on ao3. warning, smuttiness, adult content, happy fun adult times, and trauma. so much trauma.

on with the sneak peek!

“It’s a narrow-beam transponder,” she shouted back. “No one’s here yet, though it’s likely they’re close, probably in low orbit.” He and Lillian jogged up to the small declivity. “They’ll land as soon as the transponder is triggered by this,” and she pointed to a simple wire trigger mechanism that was wrapped around the transponder.  “If you’d had pulled that out, the trigger would send the message. Damn sloppy, Cora could have designed a better trigger mechanism than this,” she mumbled. “If we wanted, we could disengage the entire thing without triggering it.”

“Then why don’t we? That would solve this whole ambush problem,” Lillian said.

Hwa turned to Lillian, “You pissed off the Syndicate. They’re not going to leave you alone until you hurt them and make them realize that making you a target is more expensive than taking you out. Do you have any clue of what you started?”

“I’ve dealt with the Syndicate before. I’m not some rookie,” Lillian replied defensively.

“No, you’ve dealt with the riff raff of Neon, the cannon-fodder and street thugs.” Hwa got directly into Lillian’s face, just inches from it. “You have never dealt with the actual people running the show. Let me tell you what they’ll do if we don’t take Valerie and her crew out today: they will hunt down every person you know and love. They will torture, rape, then kill them. In front of you. And laugh. You keep accusing Sam of putting Cora in danger? Well, you just painted a big fucking bullseye on her back because of your stupidity. And, for Cora’s sake, I’ll clean up the mess.” Hwa turned her back on Lillian and replaced the transponder.

“How the hell do you know that? You have no idea about the Syndicate!” Lillian shouted.

Sam grabbed Lillian’s arm, “Yes, she does, Lillian,” he said in a low, grim voice. “If you value yours and Cora’s life, you will listen to everything she says.”

“Sam, you can’t be,” Lillian started.

“No,” he cut across her. “This is not up for debate. You will do everything that Hwa instructs. Trust me.”

[blackscarabfilmz]

Not to fandompost in 2023 but because it's October, I'm constantly thinking about RHPS and then I thought about that picture of the Star Trek: Enterprise cast dressed up as characters from Rocky Horror,

and of course, Scott Bakula always turns this young man's fancy back to Quantum Leap. Except it made me think of Quantum Leap from the year 2022.

So here are my headcanons for what costume each character would wear based on their vibes because there's no way that Ian isn't a huge fan and there's no way that the QL Project team didn't sit down for a movie night (or go to a midnight showing) and dress up one year before Ben leaped.

Ian: They're first on the list because they were the first one where I knew it. The obvious answer is Frank-n-Furter, but I think it would be Riff Raff. Frank is too obvious for Ian, cause yeah the fashion, but given that Riff Raff is the put-upon servant, I would imagine Ian identifies with him as a put-upon tech genius. Also, I think Ian is the only one capable of hitting that note perfectly in "Time Warp" when Riff Raff goes "Like you're under sedation!"

Ben & Addison: Smart answer is of course, Brad and Janet, they're the couple, but they don't have a big enough cast to fill out all the roles and honestly I think that it would make more sense for Ben to be Rocky and Addison to be Janet, because I think Addison would get a kick out of Ben being in a gold speedo. (Plus I bet Ben makes some sort of joke about it being the most mortifying outfit he's ever worn, which is hilarious in hindsight once he becomes a leaper)

Jenn: I admit, because we know the least about her, this one is tough, but honestly with her fashion sense, I would say that either Columbia or Magenta is a safe bet. But I also can't say that Jenn wouldn't totally rock a Frank-n-Furter costume.

Magic: Clearly the least into the whole thing, I think Ian would try to goad Magic into being Frank-n-Furter but he'd probably end up as Dr. Scott, because it's just a suit and a wheelchair. Plus Magic's already got the stache.

[beanieman]

Do you think Reko would be protective of Shin without all the Sou Hiyori shenanigans? She's not fond of most men, but she has a soft spot for the weak. And Shin is very much the weak lmao

I think so! It seemed like she was already starting to have one for him before his entire "riff raff" breakdown. She says this to him as early as 1-1:

So since she was already seeing him like a kid, I could imagine her taking him under her wing in a "Shin can be a normal person for five minutes." AU. Which I would love because it would be the platonic version of the "He asked for no pickles." meme.