#anti pinstripe

[pseudowho]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

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You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

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A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

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Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

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"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

[hollowed-theory-hall]

In terms of wizarding fashion is it more traditional wizards that are wearing the robes outside of a professional setting? Like are the Weasley kids all wearing wizarding robes around the Burrow or do they don muggle clothing for leisure wear?

I talked a bit about what I think wizarding fashion would look like more or less throughout the decades here.

There is this article from Pottermore as well:

By and large, wizard clothing has remained outside of fashion, although small alterations have been made to such garments as dress robes. Standard wizard clothing comprises plain robes, worn with or without the traditional pointed hat, and will always be worn on such formal occasions as christenings, weddings and funerals. Women’s dresses tend to be long. Wizard clothing might be said to be frozen in time, harking back to the seventeenth century, when they went into hiding. Their nostalgic adherence to this old-fashioned form of dress may be seen as a clinging to old ways and old times; a matter of cultural pride. Day to day, however, even those who detest Muggles wear a version of Muggle clothing, which is undeniably practical compared with robes. Anti-Muggles will often attempt to demonstrate their superiority by adopting a deliberately flamboyant, out-of-date or dandyish style in public.

(From Pottermore)

Which gives a general indication.

That being said, I wanted to do a more proper rundown since we know they're not really frozen in time considering Ron's Yule ball dress robes were "out of fashion". So I did some outfits rundown for various characters on various occasions to get the mental image of how common muggle clothing is in wizard fashion and who's wearing robes vs muggle clothes and when:

Formalwear

Formal robes are worn in all formal occasions by both men and women:

“What?” said Ron, looking horror-struck. “Dress robes!” repeated Mrs. Weasley. “It says on your school list that you’re supposed to have dress robes this year... robes for formal occasions.”

(GoF)

however; his dress robes didn’t have any lace on them at all — in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

(GoF)

“Hi,” said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright turquoise.

(GoF)

Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry’s opinion made him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was clutching Malfoy’s arm. 

(GoF)

Mrs. Weasley was wearing a brand-new set of amethyst-colored robes with a matching hat. A moment later Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress robes, with large white roses in their buttonholes; 

(DH)

I assume the cuts of the robes are different, and that women's dress robes tend to be longer, which is true according to the books:

tried to sell Hermione wizard’s dress robes instead of witch’s

(HBP)

So wizard robes and witches dress robes are designed differently. I assume robes for daywear do have different cuts for wizards and witches but there are some unisex designs (like Hogwarts robes).

Daywear

Most wizards seem to wear casual robes in their daily lives and are unaccustomed to trousers and find them odd or uncomfortable, especially the older wizards who are unfamiliar with muggle culture:

“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers. “I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ’round my privates, thanks.”

(GoF)

Hogwarts Professors also wear robes on a daily basis:

Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations

(CoS)

Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward.

(PoA)

Professor McGonagall had broken away from the spectators, marched straight up to Professor Trelawney and was patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

(OotP)

Dumbledore, of course, is more extreme in his robes choice:

He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots.

(PS)

Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons.

(GoF)

For the most part wizards seem to wear full muggle outfits only when trying to fit in among muggles like in the first example in this section or Dumbledore's plum suit from HBP:

This younger Albus Dumbledore’s long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing. “Nice suit, sir,” said Harry, before he could stop himself

(HBP)

Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt. “What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, Harry?”

(GoF)

So it seems most wizards own at least one "muggle passing" outfit for extensions in the muggle world (to varying degrees of success depending on their muggle knowledge):

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous traveling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend THE WEIRD SISTERS. Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair graying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

(OotP)

Tonks who is more familiar with muggle fashion, clearly knows what to wear better than the Weasleys. That being said, we do see wizard-produced muggle clothes; like Tonks' Wierd Sisters T-shirt and Fred and George's jackets. So, it is accepted in the WW to wear "muggle-inspired" clothing in terms of cut, but with magical flare when it comes to materials or prints (which are way more colorful and whimsical).

Harry, who was raised in the muggle world, still wears muggle clothes on the breaks up to 5th year at least, but is very used to robes by this point:

“What?” said Ron, looking amazed (Harry wanted to stamp on Ron’s foot, but that sort of thing was much harder to bring off unnoticed when you were wearing jeans rather than robes).

(OotP)

We also know Ron owns at least one pair of jeans in DH:

“D-diffindo,” she said, pointing her wand at Ron, who roared in pain as she slashed open the knee of his jeans, leaving a deep cut. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ron, my hand’s shaking! Diffindo!” [...] “It’s no wonder I can’t get it out, Hermione, you packed my old jeans, they’re tight.”

(DH)

But Hermione packed said pair for him with the expectation they'll be hiding in the muggle world potentially, so I'm not sure if you could count it since it is implied Ron owns just one pair of jeans that actually fit him. It could be his one jeans for a muggle excursion or a comment on the Weasleys' finances, 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Wizards sometimes mix and match muggle and wizard clothes, like with the jumpers Mrs. Weasley knits.

So, while it seems most wizards do own some muggle clothing for when they go into the muggle world. We mostly see the Wesleys (and even Harry) in robes and cloaks even when not at school, but sometimes they are combined with muggle-inspired clothes (since they are clearly wizard-made due to color and pattern choices):

When he’d found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth

(CoS)

‘Tm sorry, sir,” said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes.

(HBP) - on a weekend.

“Keep it safe till we work out how to destroy it,” Harry replied, and, little though he wanted to, he hung the chain around his own neck, dropping the locket out of sight beneath his robes, where it rested against his chest beside the pouch Hagrid had given him.

(DH) - when on the run

More examples of mix and matching muggle-inspired clothes appear later in this post.

But to your question, I'd say the Weasleys probably don't wear muggle clothes around the Burrow usually. They don't seem that knowledgeable about muggle fashion. Molly and Arthur seem to only own the one set of muggle clothes for going into the muggle world. Their children do seem to own some muggle-inspired jackets and shirts and jumpers, but they are probably worn with robes more often than with jeans.

Workwear

For Potions, Herbology, and other manual labor there are work robes that are worn by Hogwarts students and teachers alike:

Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

(CoS)

First-year students will require: 1 . Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) 

(PS)

So, contrary to the Pottermore article (which I suspect was written to justify the movies' choices a bit), it seems "robes" are the go-to for working around and not muggle trousers for most wizards and witches.

Sportswear

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

(CoS)

They were robes for Quidditch and sports.

Professional wear

Ministry personnel wear either robes:

“Morning, Reg!” called another wizard in navy blue robes as he let himself into a cubicle by inserting his golden token into a slot in the door.

(DH)

The man’s scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at odds with his magnificent, sweeping robes, which were embroidered with much gold thread.

(DH)

Or more muggle-influenced suits, as shown by Fudge:

Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry. “I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.”

(PoA)

This is an example of mixing muggle-inspired wizard clothes with more traditional cloaks. Umbridge also does this with her pink cardigan over more traditional robes:

squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

(OotP)

But it's clearly not quite muggle fashion as they mix and match muggle-inspired and wizard clothing. Again, these more muggle clothes are still wizardwear and have the typical whimsy of wizard fashion when it comes to colors (like the bright green scales of Fred & George's jackets) and fabrics (scales on the aforementioned jackets & Umbridge's fluffy cardigan is probably more extreme than the muggle version of it because wizards are extra like that).

Hats

Wizards are often mentioned wearing hats (mentioned in many of the quotes I brought up and other quotes I didn't copy here), in contrast to muggle fashion in the 1990s where hats were largely out of fashion. So when imagining wizard fashion in formal or professional settings, imagine a matching hat to the robes they are wearing. Hats in daywear seem to be quite common too, especially among older characters.

As you can tell, I love talking about wizard fashion.

[greml1nb0i]

THE HAZBIN LEAKS SHOW THAT S2 WILL ONLY GET WORSE: Characters

OK so my first gripe,

Emily's song is ear bleedingly annoying. Idk who her VA is but omg, idk if she's tone deaf or if they just have her mouth directly into the mic but my gods woman. STEP BACK you are assaulting my brain with these nonstop high sopranos.

Also the literal shot of Sir P trying to kill himself cuz of how either how annoying Emily is being or the fact he misses his friend, regardless it was a WILD fucking scene to show. Suicide isn't off the table for Viv's jokes, i guess.

Speaking of Sir P, his reason for being in Hell is so fucking stupid.

How tf is being scared of Jack The Ripper a sin?! His sin is just being scared of being murdered if he spoke out.

THAT'S JUST NORMAL HUMAN BEHAVIOR, WHAT?!

I hate to break it to you Viv, but not everyone is going to act like a macho hero when they see a damned murder!! Most people fucking run and hide! Why? CUZ THEY DONT WANNA DIE! They don't want to be targeted if shit goes south.

Also what is the thought process here in making his sin being just "cowardice"?? Viv are you trying to say that people who have most def been in Sir P's shoes, [witnessing a murder] are cowards that deserve to go to hell?? What's the motive here? Am i missing something?? Is being too afraid to be murdered, a sin??

Also apparently he was sent to Heaven for "saving Cherri Bomb"

save her from what?

Last i checked, in the final ep; he just kisses her as she's about to through a bomb and then says "i love you, remember me" only to have one of the most anti climatic "deaths" in the show. She wasnt even being attacked or threatened in anyway. So where tf does the plot point of "i saved her" come in??

Also can we talk about these fuck-ass human designs for Sir P and Alastor??

I don't mind Sir P's as much as i hate Alastor's. Its the fact Viv doesnt know wtf she's doing when she makes these designs.

Sir P just looks like a generic guy. One look at him and you cannot tell what time period he's from, same goes for Alastor. They could easily be frickin neighbors in the early or late 90s but no, they're supposedly from different timelines.

Alastor iirc is from the 1940-50s, and Sir P is from the 1800s, [Jack the rippers final kill was 1863-1888]

Why, Viv, cant you do any research for the time periods YOUR characters come from??

Why do they both look like cartoon barbers; not a radio show host and not a genius inventor?? Like did you even look at the differences in fashion and culture for any of these characters?!

Men fashion from the late 1800s looked like this:

This is [white] Men's fashion in the 1940-1950s:

See Viv, their fashion styles are different and shouldn't look the same at all. Why does every character have pinstripes, if it doesnt even reflect that time period in an authentic way??

And to add a cherry on top, this is what African American men would wear in Alastor's time period:

Do you see the difference in styles Viv?

Black men were not given the same nice everyday casual wear that white men did. They often wore hand-me-downs or had to work their asses off to just afford 1 nice looking suit.

you wanna know why?? Cuz Viv, the Jim Crow laws were still in full affect til the late 60s and early 70s. They were not seen as people, black men and women were still heavily discriminated against and were even still being victims of-

[MAJOR TW FOR RACISIT STUFF]

lynching's. Alastor would feel lucky, he only got mistaken for a deer and shot; he could have, and probably did, go through much much worse in his actually living life.

Tell me you didn't do any research for your characters without telling me you didn't do any research for your characters.

TLDR; So not only is Viv using more gross jokes in her next season, but the character designs have gotten even worse.

Lmk what you want the next topic to be about, if i missed anything you would've liked mentioned here, lmk in comments or asks and i'll reply. I reply to everyone as long as you arent being a jerk.

EDIT:

I've been made away that Alastor didn't in fact live in the 1940s and 50s but the 1930s. i will say most of my points still stand, but here the men's fashion for his time period.

also that makes his radio show even more of an impossible achievement, in the 1930s majority, if not, half of the black men in America were out of work cuz of racism, discrimination and segregation, ya know, cuz the Jim Crow. White people called for African Americans to be fired from any jobs as long as there were whites out of work. Racial violence again became more common, especially in the South.

Tell me again Viv, how tf did Alastor even thrive??

[death-limes]

Say, which characters in HB and HH do you hate the most character wise and then design wise

OHHH MAN i could write an entire video essay about this topic lmao, let me try to be as brief as possible

~~~

Hazbin - Worst Character: This one's hard, there are a few characters who probably suck but I just don't know that much about them. But based on what I know now, honestly…? Charlie. Coinsidering that… I think Faustisse?… confirmed that she's over 200 years old, the sheer level of naivete on her part is just annoying and unbelievable. She's over twice as old as Alastor, she should not be swayed so easily by him. As far as I'm aware she's not in a Disney Princess situation where she was shut inside the castle walls her entire life (PLEASE correct me if I'm wrong on that though) so there's no reason why she shouldn't be at least a little savvy to the ways of sinner demons. She should also have been able to see the VERY OBVIOUS SIGNS that Vaggie used to be an exorcist. Even Carmilla comments that it's super fuckin obvious; the Princess of Hell herself should be knowledgeable enough to pick up on hints that even the fandom picked up on when it was just the pilot. Overall, Charlie just comes across as kinda stupid imo. I don't find myself rooting for her at all.

Hazbin - Worst Design: Alastor. I know he may not necessarily look the worst, and I do in fact simp for him, but his design does absolutely NOTHING that a character design is supposed to do. Namely, it doesn't tell us anything about him & it doesn't help him stand out from the cast. Nothing about his design is uniquely 1930s (nobody wore their hair like that, pinstripe suits started in the 1800s and continue to be popular today, monocles were more of an 1800s thing and were considered old-fashioned by the 30s) or deer-esque (his ears really do not look like dear ears at all, and his "antlers" are just microscopic salad forks that don't even show up on his silhouette). The whole Voodoo thing, aside from being super disrespectful to a literal religion that is still actively practiced, is also so inconsequential to his character that it can be removed entirely and change NOTHING about him. Any of his traits that are in line with the Voodoo thing can still exist without it -- him being a trickster and a dealmaker, mostly. All the blacklight stuff doesn't match his aesthetic at all: in Princess and the Frog where everything was 1920s it gave a magic effect, but in Hazbin where all different time periods comingle it just gives a raver effect, which doesn't fit his anti-modern preferences at all. Also the living-shadow thing is yet another direct ripoff from Dr. Facilier (that might just be in the pilot though I'm not sure), I think the living microphone is a better route to take if you want him to have a spiritual companion type of thing; it's more relevant to his theming and more original. And of course none of this even touches on the "he's half-black" bullshit excuse that only came after V*v received backlash about the Voodoo thing. And it doesn't even solve the issue anyway. A mixed-race man from the 1930s would make for a very interesting character IF that unique experience/identity was actually integrated into his character in any noticeable way, but it's not. It was just slapped on at the last minute. Ugh. I could write an entire essay about Alastor alone tbh.

Helluva - Worst Character: Fizzarolli, but mostly when he was first introduced. Aesthetically he's the closest thing that I have to a "blorbo" in this show, but in the Ozzie's episode he just gave me the most rancid vibes ever. Definitely a "asexuality doesn't exist, you just haven't been with ME yet~" type of person. Admittedly that's more of a personal preference thing and less of a poor characterization; they're in the Lust ring, that type of attitude is kind of expected. What IS poor characterization, however, is his "development" later on when he and Ozzie basically get their own arc. His entire personality changes to be much softer and like…. idk, very obviously a trauma VICTIM and not so much of a potential trauma CAUSER? His character is not nearly as abrasive, but there's no corresponding event that would cause such a change. It just seems like now that he's supposed to be a sympathetic character, they changed his personality to be more appealing. He's not nearly as mean and rude as he used to be. Ozzie has a similar thing going on but it's not quiiiiite as severe, and he's saved from being the Worst by having a far more interesting and unique design. (If you had asked who I think has the BEST design in Helluva, I'd probably say Ozzie.)

Helluva - Worst Design: Beelzebub, no contest. A lot of people seemed to have a problem with her being bee-themed instead of fly-themed like the real Beelzebub in demonology, but that honestly doesn't bother me; I'm not expecting any Hellaverse stuff to be super accurate to The Real Lore so any tiny reference they can slip in (like with Ozzie's design) is just gravy. To me, bee and fly are close enough, I think it counts as a reference. Plus, the bee theme goes well with Gluttony ("nectar" is a common synonym for delicious food) and calling her Queen Bee is an easy way to make her name more appealing/sexy than, yknow. "Beelzebub." What DOES bother me is her canine aspect. Why is she a sparkledog? What is the logic behind that? Why isn't she huge-by-default like Ozzie and Mammon? (You'd think GLUTTONY of all sins would be a big character!) It really just feels like V*v wanted Ke$ha to have a cameo role as a major character and just arbitrarily picked one of the sins for her to be. So the character design has Ke$ha in mind faaaaar more than it has Beelzebub in mind. ***(Funny thing about Queen Bee: for a solid week after her episode came out, I was actually fooled by this page from an RP wiki: [https://hazbin-hotel-and-helluva-boss-rp.fandom.com/wiki/Beelzebub] The explanation that I'd gleaned for this version of her is that the picture shown is the REAL Beelzebub, and the one we see in the show is her daughter by the lord of Hellhounds, Cerberus, which explains her canine features. Queen Bee Jr. is the heiress to her mom's title in the same way Charlie is the heiress to Lucifer's title. The picture shown on that page is just SUCH a better design, and it looks like the show's style, and she seems to be a giant like Ozzie and Mammon…. can you blame me for being like "OH that makes sense!!" Cut to me a week later finding out this is just a fan RP wiki. Siiiigh.)

[majnoonathelibrarian]

Writers Guild Presents - Good Works Chapter 14: Good Company

 Good Works Written by Majnoona

Rating E for future chapters. These will be (skippable) self contained sections. Tags will be added as we get there, as well as per chapter warnings.

Summary:

It's 1987 London and anti-gay sentiment is on the rise ahead of the government's push to pass Section 28 to prohibited the "promotion of homosexuality" by local authorities -- including banning books and education in schools.

Why do Fell, low level government administrator, and Crowley, a "fixer" for a nefarious consulting company and reluctant queer community organiser, keep running into each other -- quite literally? Is it just romantic fate bringing together two middle aged "confirmed bachelors" who thought it was too late to find love, or is there some other connection? Can they figure it out? (Are they sure they want to?)

Chapter Excerpt:

​​The foyer of the B&B was paneled in dark wood and softly lit. Crowley appreciated the sparse decor– a few bland landscape paintings, a single vase of dyed green carnations adding a flash of color to the registration desk. Too many B&B’s had white doilies littered everywhere and too much fucking pink – made him feel like he was at someone’s Nan’s. This place had just enough personality to be inviting without making Crowley choke on any words like “quaint” or “charming.”

“Mr… ah, yes,” The man behind the desk peered at the registration book. “Mr. Andrew J Crowford and guest, ” he read in a very refined Scottish accent, miles from the rough dialect Crowley had shown off earlier. He wore a pinstripe suit, tailored within an inch of its life, and a small brass name tag which read, “Mr. Mutt, Sr. Night Mgr.”. 

Crowley felt Angel shift on his feet beside him at the unfamiliar name but, when he turned, there was only a bland look of polite interest on his face. He was a quick study. 

Continue reading Chapter 14 on AO3

Or start from  Chapter 1 - The 24 Hour Print Shop, July 1987

Special thanks for multiple rounds of excellent beta input from On1occasionfork !  @goodomensafterdark

[foreverwinter33]

eras tour outfits masterlist

lover

lover bodysuits :

pink and blue

blue and gold

purple tassels

barbie

tangerine

lover blazers :

silver

black pinstripes

blurple

barbie

tangerine

lover guitars :

pink guitar

blue guitar

purple guitar

fearless

gluten free gold fringe

gold noodle / octopus

silver noodle / octopus

cacio e pepe

black and gold tiger

distant diamond sky

red

22 t shirts :

a lot going on at the moment

who's taylor swift anyway? ew

we are never ever getting back together

this is not taylor's version

i bet you think about me

i knew u were trouble

bodysuits + long coat :

pre altered bodysuit

altered bodysuit

all too well long coat

all too well guitars :

red guitar

black glitter guitar

speak now

champagne everything bagel ballgown

pink ballgown

silver ballgown

tissue flower / tree mushroom dress

purple cupcake ballgown

blue elsa halter neck ballgown

purple wonderstruck ballgown

blue cinderella dress

reputation

original red snakes

gold snakes

folklore + evermore

original evermore set dresses ( rip ) :

orange flower dress

pre altered bronze dress

altered bronze dress

willow cloaks :

green cloak

purple-ish cloak

folklore / evermore dresses :

purple

pink

white

green

blue

butter yellow

folklobster

1989

old 1989 sets :

pink set

green set

orange set

blue set

new 1989 sets ( top + skirt ) :

pink + pink

orange + orange

yellow + yellow

blue + blue

purple + purple

pink + orange

pink + yellow

pink + green

pink + blue

pink + purple

orange + pink

orange + yellow

orange + green

orange + blue

orange + purple

yellow + pink

yellow + orange

yellow + green

yellow + blue

yellow + purple

green + pink

green + orange ( carrot )

green + blue

green + purple

blue + pink

blue + orange

blue + yellow

blue + green

blue + purple

purple + pink

purple + orange

purple + yellow

purple + green ( ariel )

purple + blue

the tortured poets department

crumpled up piece of paper dresses + the smallest man who ever lived coat :

i love you, it's ruining my life

you should be

the smallest man who ever lived coat

broken heart sets :

black set + gold jacket

gold top + black shorts + gold jacket

graphite set + graphite jacket

black set + graphite jacket

white set + white jacket w/ silver lapels

white set + white jacket w/ black lapels

black set + white jacket w/ black lapels

surprise songs / acoustic set

old surprise song dresses :

pink

green

yellow

blue

new surprise song dresses :

pink raspberry

orange blueberry

orange orange

betta fish ( pink & blue )

sunrise boulevard ( yellow, orange & pink )

amethyst ( purple )

tide pod ( blue, orange & white )

midnights

lavender haze fluffy coat

anti hero t shirts :

silver sequins

blue

lavender ( light purple )

orchid ( dark purple )

pink

iridiscent

lavender sequins

icy blue

midnights bodysuits :

navy starburst

blurple scallops

fake abs cutouts

chevron

moonstone / stars aligned

karma jackets :

multicolour

magenta

light pink

blue

[tfdtreasurer]

hi sooo i have very very VERYYY intense eridan x yn brainrot happening and its all i can post about and think about, can you please tell me how the actual fuck do i cope with the ampora brainrot TEACH ME UR SECRETS /hj (funnily enough i found ur blog through you liking one of my eridan posts, soo yk)

It is not a total exaggeration to say that Eridan brainrot has taken over the entirety of my creative thinking capabilities. Some would see this as a negative, but I believe I have achieved zen mastery over my brainrot, which I think is the best case scenario, very possibly enlightenment. So in short, embrace the Eridan and channel it creatively. This also applies to literally any character that you form brain rot over, so I hope the rest of this ask may be universal to other people too.

The long and universal answer is that you have to start by forming an in depth interpretation of the character that you can creatively work with. Research everything you possibly can about them and when you're done research more until you're so wrapped up in thoughts and ideas you want to spin into yarns you're not sure what are spurious connections or load bearing columns. Link your thoughts about the character to your own personal philosophy on nothing less grand than life itself. From there, anything you will want to say will steadily become clearer, and you'll be better equipped to express it in artistic and creative medium.

For me with Eridan I can spend hours in Wiki holes and esoteric and specialist websites for the strangest things. I know the symbolism of the water carrier and the shoulder yoke. I know the myth of Ganymede, cup bearing and drinking poison. I know the exact names and manufacturers of 1800s whaling equipment, their mechanisms and specifications. I know that Starbuck is the name of a significant whaling dynasty. I know the scents of lightning. I know the instruments of the apocalypse and armies. I know the complicated etymology of romance. I know emperors and conquerors. I know of biblically wicked kings. Think of nothing that you research or notice shallowly. Look for deeper meaning because even if you determine it's not intended in that case, you can create something with it where it is. Do that and your repertoire of symbols and devices will become infinite.

At every step and revelation about Eridan as a character I related it to my own worldview and practiced endless self inquiry like a fucked up fandom fueled Socratic dialogue. And as my worldview refined, without meaning to sound ridiculous, I came to view things through the lens of Eridan goddamn Ampora. Does that sound ridiculous? Yes, absolutely. Would I admit in person? Maybe on my deathbed or in a criminal confession. Is it the truth? Yeah. Sorry to get all hippie communist all of a sudden but I can seriously link Eridan to my thoughts on capitalism and class struggle, on anarchism and anti-authoritarianism, the status quo and revolution, on psychology and how to relate to our fellow human beings. Not because she's instrumental in getting to those beliefs, but because the art I want to create to express myself and consequently the beliefs that form myself will inexorably use my ultra brairot powers to do so. Even if you don't seek to create art, training yourself to look deeper and analyze at that level about anything will help you consuming art in a way that will give you so much satisfaction in the long run.

For me personally, I have written works of art that are just channels for all my complicated thoughts on Eridan. I've written my own version of orphaners, of kids that wanted different lives than the one they ended up with, allegories of the Aquarius zodiac, magicians and scientists, punks and soldiers, bespectacled and pinstripe-wearing villains. I've entered them into contests and to literary journals. On small scales, I've won money and gotten published.

Yes I realize that it's mostly plain ol brain rot but at the same time a part of me is always wondering if this is just the nature of how we're influenced by art. The way that Homestuck is written feels like it's somebody's own experience with an obsession with something in particular that spiraled outward into all these esoteric sources that were then synthesized into a singular creative work. Gnosticism and genetics and Internet culture and video games and music, but also little its and bits of things like lovecraftian horror, anime, chess, Peter Pan. To borrow the words of a recently relevant political figure,

"You think you just fell out of a coconut tree? [...] You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.”

It's the same thing with art. I came to understand at some point in my life that I am less merely effected by my influences, and more possessed by them. In writing, I find myself acting irrationally, random impulses to include depths of symbolic comparison that nobody but myself could possibly hope to understand. I try to tame these impulses when they arise, make them more accessible, but my subconscious psyche is a pair of invisible hands perpetually at the wheel. So, I really just wish that someone eventually reads into my writing and is just as possessed by my words as I was by something else writing them. Even if it's not what I intended or the ghosts possessing me even intended, because writing is strange like that, in how we leave so much in the hands of the audience to interpret their own way. Like, I don't know if the cup-bearer-zodiac-Eridan drinking something later linked to an allusion of poison was intentional, but it will be for my own art. I don't know if Eridan's scare-everyone-away personality was connected to the skunk stripe-like hair, but for the characters I write it will. And I hope my legacy is like a legion of weird eridan-like ghosts haunting others' writing everlasting into eternity.

So, yeah, how do you cope with Eridan Ampora brainrot? Learn to love it, and learn to use it. Most of all, learn to love using it.

[acillianproblem]

By Eileen Cartter

The Oppenheimer star hit what could be his final red-carpet appearance for the foreseeable future in a sheer Saint Laurent look that would melt the polymer right off a Ken doll’s torso.

Shortly before Cillian Murphy and his fellow Oppenheimer cast members walked off a London red carpet on Thursday in solidarity with SAG-AFTRA joining the WGA on the picket line, the actor debuted his biggest fit yet: a black-pinstriped Saint Laurent suit worn open over a gauzy sheer shirt, with a gold-tipped bolo tie, high-waisted trousers, and a pair of the brand’s Wyatt boots—or, as they’re known ’round these parts, “the Rolex of Chelsea boots.”

Photos of Murphy—whose ice-blue eyes could gouge a diamond—attending various Oppenheimer premieres over the last week have already garnered meme cachet online. But this look—and his facial expressions while wearing it—seemed to signal that he (and his stylist, Rose Forde) had saved the best for last. (The London event could be his final red carpet for a while; per the strike, SAG members cannot participate in press tours or events.) Throughout the truncated promotional run, the actor’s fashion choices have emitted a certain “nuclear Kenergy” in stark contrast with his bubblegum confrères over in Barbie Land, which has become Oppenheimer’s spiritual counter-realm. In other words, Cillian Murphy, who portrays the titular “father of the atomic bomb” J. Robert Oppenheimer in his film, has sort of been dressing like the Anti-Ken.

Where there’s Ryan Gosling, in his pastel cotton-candy-pink and blue-raspberry-hued Gucci suits, there’s also Murphy, in his brooding, pseudo-sexy YSL. (Inside you are two wolves, as they say.) At Oppenheimer’s first premiere in Paris, Murphy arrived in a custom Prada tan shirt and matching short tie—not unlike a World War II-era khaki summer service uniform, making it nearly period-appropriate given Oppenheimer’s milieu—with a dark jacket worn, chicly, with just the top button buttoned. During a rainy photocall in London’s Trafalgar Square, Murphy wore Margiela shades and a staunch Studio Nicholson cardigan over a simple white T-shirt, tucked into another pair of high-waisted trousers; he wore a similar look, this time with a nubby red cardigan and Ray-Bans, the next day.

Though the Barbie vs. Oppenheimer style rivalry held strong, the movies’ respective stars—in another show of solidarity—have expressed nothing but excitement for their fellow thespians’ efforts. “I mean, I’ll be going to see Barbie, 100 percent. I can’t wait to see it,” Murphy told IGN this week. “I think it’s just great for the industry and for audiences that we have two amazing films by amazing filmmakers coming out the same day. Yeah, you can spend the whole day in the cinema—what’s better than that?”

[n-trance]

Trying so hard to not get mad at the Tawna mum concept art bc its purely a Me Problem, but I hate Tawna/Pinstripe as a ship. I really like the characterisation of her in the original production document for Crash 1 where it's kinda implied that she tries to unionize the mutants & Pinstripe is the CEO of Cortex Power with horrendous work safety violations.

It feels extremely anti-thetical to her character for me & I know it's purely a me problem for holding on to a characterisation that never came to fruition, like it very much is cut content that doesn't matter, but I like it so much more than the accepted semi-canon of her ditching crash to be with Pinstripe.

Tawna/Pinstripe always felt extremely shallow & superficial, like ppl only decided that's what happened bc Tawna is an attractive woman & Pinstripe is an attractive man so they must be together since she's not in the series anymore & then japan decided that was canon in their specific context. She's never given any characterisation beyond being an attractive woman in the series & so many ppl use that to be rly misogynist about her & ppl use the Pinstripe/Tawna ship to justify hating her.

Like idk I'm kinda rambling & I think it's cool if ppl ship it in a non-gross way, but I just wish there was more thought about Tawna outside her being arm candy for one of the guy characters or the butt of misogynist jokes & stereotypes.

[catchyhuh]

HALLOWEEN!!!!

halloween pretty much started late august anyway this is overdue. let’s get seasonal. but first,

PRO VS ANTI CANDY CORN, IN ORDER:

zeni, lup (just gets a bit too sweet after that first handful) jigen, fujicakes, goemon (“tastes like a dollop of corn syrup drowned in orange sugar”)

lupin: 

fucking LOVES it. i mean you know he already loves dressing up and playing made up characters so this just feels like another excuse to get crafty with it. if he could stand the consistency/normalcy of owning a house he’d absolutely be that guy getting arrested for having way too many obnoxious decorations lighting up the street at 4 a.m. and you KNOW IT!!

would he, a grown ass man, trick or treat? no. unless you count hightailing it to walmart and stuffing those mixed packs into his shorts lolz I MEAN THAT IS TECHNICALLY FREE CANDY SO MAYBE IT COUNTS

costume: boring answer is vampire but. yeah that IS his go-to. he just loves the variety and consistency he gets with it simultaneously! of course, not to say he doesn’t have fun with it time to time. he just seems to be a vampire like, every other year

jigen:

he can have a little fun with it if he so chooses. depends on the weather, literally. if the air is crisp and the leaves are pretty and falling all nicely where they’re currently stationed for some heist or something, he’ll get in a autumny mood, but if it’s already gotten too cold, or worse, it’s still hot, then yeah he’s not super impressed

dude lowkey adores the excuse to startle people. if they actually handed out candy and shit he’d absolutely pretend to be a halloween prop sitting on the porch only to move when someone reaches for the candy bowl and tries to take two. and then he laughs so obnoxiously loudly about it that the next like five batches of kids aren’t even phased. don’t worry. a fresh, unsuspecting pack will arrive soon enough.

costume: again boring, usual answer is a werewolf. look at that beard dude he LOOKS like a werewolf!! but he could have fun with like a zombie getup, or maybe like a stereotypical 20’s mafia type. he can even wear the same hat and keep smoking, but it’s INSISTED that he get the pinstripe suit too

fujiko:

“haha, don’t you think that’s a little juvenile for me?” frankly no i don’t is cuz that a fucking bedazzled jason voorhees mask on your front door??

she’s not exactly breaking into spirit halloween, pulling out the mummy cakepops and shit, but like lupin, she loves an excuse go dress up, she just… keeps it a little more reasonable than he does

on the night of, she probably goes to like, one party, then when she’s inevitably disappointed by it, she goes home and pops in like rocky horror or something. it’s halloweeny enough

costume: NO DOUBLEDIPPING!! NEVER! she’s gone as everything reasonably attainable under the sun, so long as it doesn’t cover her lovely face up. she likes having unique costumes, but the actual ooak costume making process with the sewing machine and everything didn't really work out for her the one time she tried, so she’ll either bring together different pieces to pull it off or use some poor schmuck’s money to get one made for herself. she has fun with it!!

goemon:

doesn’t FEEL the hype but GETS it. understands it from an outsider standpoint. he knows his company well, and he understands why it appeals to them. before meeting them, he probably saw fall as a calm time of year. lmao. lol even.

really the only one i can reasonably see handing out candy in a normal, pleasant fashion. firmly insists the child may take one. but maybe they can pick a second one, since they were so polite. and maybe a third as well since they clearly put love into their costume, and it IS a bit chilly tonight-- BUT NO MORE! 

costume: guy’s already dressed like this, put some white face paint on him and ring his eyes with purple and you have your spooky long-deceased spirit of the damned. ooouuouuouuu scary! the others try to throw less generic ones at him time to time, but he doesn’t like anything TOO wacky, and need he remind you he doesn’t HAVE to partake in the festivities, so maybe he’ll be a jedi for ONE year, count it, ONE singular year, but that’s IT

zenigata:

for such a tough guy he’s very easily startled! he recovers easy but god is he sick of those stupid motion activated animatronics. he’d rather eat phillips head screws soaked in vinegar than go to a haunted house

that said his favorite parts are easily the costumes and snacks. which. duh that’s everyone’s favorite but he really is content just hanging back and looking at what other people have come up with! even if it’s common it’s fun to like. tally how many elsa’s are out there. the food, of course, is self explanatory. he may be one of the few people left on earth who immediately associate candy apples with halloween. also makes a beeline for the monster cereal the minute september hits ITS A CUTE THEME OKAY!! BOOBERRY JUST TASTES GOOD

costume: may have to be bribed into it. it’s not that he hates the fun. like i said, he thinks the costumes are cute, but he feels like it’d be too silly for him to really go out of his way getting dressed up. this of course is patently bullshit almost nothing is “too silly” for this fucker and it’s not too hard to convince him to do some bullshit. otherwise he just looks like he’s going as columbo and inspector gadget’s fused clone. 

[hasmephydoneanythingwrong]

Fate Fanservant: Beelzebub, the Breeder of Chaos (Beast IX:D [Diptera])

(Picrew link, these designs are nowhere near final)

Ascension Stages:

First Stage: A tall, pale, rail-thin man with short, wild black hair and a pinstriped suit. Small flies buzz around him. Think your typical Tumblr sexyman, but he’s been stretched like taffy and hasn’t showered in months.

Second Stage: Beelzebub now wears a much more extravagant suit that combines various patterns and headache-inducing color combinations. His hair has grown out, his eyes are now compound and he’s gained a dad bod. The flies are about fist-sized now.

(I'm not sure about the dad bod, TBH. Apparently he sometimes represents gluttony and also I wanted to come up with a Heroic Spirit who has a dad bod, but I don't know if this comes across as fatphobic since he's, you know, Beelzebub)

Third Stage: Beelzebub now has the head of an actual fly, with the flies surrounding him having donned his second-stage head. He has swapped his clothes out for tattered robes and a hooded cape, although he makes a point to keep the hood down.

Theme:

Stages 1 and 2: Such Horrible Things — Creature Feature

Stage 3: Coup d’État — Ghost and Pals

Traits:

Class: Beast

Alternate Classes: Alter Ego

True Name: Beelzebub

Source: Old Testament

Region: Israel

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Attribute: Beast

Also known as: Baʿal Zebub, Beelzebul, Belzebuth, the Lord of the Flies

Voice Claim: Will Wood

Traits: Bestial (thank you, @300iqprower!), Demon, Demonic (seriously, why are there two of them), Demonic Beast, Enuma Elish Nullification, Non-Hominidae Servant, Servant, Wild Beast (3rd Stage only)

Parameters:

Strength: E+

Endurance: D

Agility: A

Mana: EX

Luck: B

NP: B

Passive Skills:

Independent Manifestation A--

Authority of the Beast C

Active Skills:

Nega-Stasis B

A skill that opposes and corrodes the status quo. So long as a human can be perceived by Beast IX:D, they can and likely will have any semblance of stability ripped out from under them as the very fundamentals of their world are turned upside down.

Apply Special Defense (-50%) and Special Attack (+100%) against Human enemies.

Decrease one enemy’s Buff Success Rate by 500%.

Animal Communication B

As Lord of the Flies and second-in-command of Hell, Beast IX:D can communicate will all insects and arachnids.

Buzz of Insanity A-

With the mere flap of a wing, Beast IX:D can drive a mere mortal to madness.

Invert one enemy’s alignment. [Good becomes Evil, Lawful becomes Chaotic, etc.]

Apply Berserker class defenses to one enemy.

Noble Phantasm: Lord of the Flies — This Misunderstanding is Mine to Own

Rank: B

NP Type: Anti-City

Maximum Targets: 7

A Noble Phantasm that expands the title “Lord of the Flies” to include the 1954 British novel. The target(s) are isolated within a Reality Marble that forces them to experience up to seven months on a deserted island within the span of a minute. This Noble Phantasm’s capacity to dull the senses increases in effectiveness based on strength of the opponent’s own struggles.

Inflict Terror to all enemies (including backline).

Decrease charge for all affected enemies.

Increase own NP Gauge based on number of enemies affected.

“My Room” Line Ideas

Gilles de Rais (both), Gilgamesh (Archer, Caster), Elizabeth Báthory (Lancer), Martha (Rider and Ruler), Mephistopheles, Asterios, Jeanne d’Arc (Ruler and Summer), Elizabeth Báthory (Halloween), David, Cú Chulainn (Alter), Angra Mainyu, “Pharaoh” trait Heroic Spirits, Enkidu, Circe, Abigail Williams (both), Junao, Ashwatthama, Asclepius, Paris, Salome, Caren C. Hortensia, Oberon, Elizabeth Báthory (Cinderella), Martha (Santa), Grigori Rasputin, Aesc the Savior (Stages 1 and 2)

[brw]

Hank McCoy, 6, 8, 30

AND

Simon Williams, 15, 26, 28!

6) My least favourite ship of them

Difficult one to answer, because I rarely see big Hank McCoy ships out in the wild and much less ones that I don't see / don't like. I guess I don't particularly care for the XMCU ships like Hank/Mystique and Hank/Havok if I absolutely must answer, but that's probably because I'm not particularly charmed by Nicholas Hoult's Beast in general.

8) Your favourite outfit of them

Love to see him in a patterned shirt.

Honourable mention to the absolute serve he was giving at Charles' funeral

Yellow checkered bowtie with the blue pinstripe waistcoat? Alright king.

30) Funniest scene they had

Okay there's a lot of good options out there (singing Karaoke with Absorbing Man, arguing so much with Dr Strange he makes the poor SHIELD agent homophobic, the absolute terror of when he reconnects with Vera, coming out as gay), but there's also a lot of unintentionally funny scenes (trying to take out X Force with a sniper??? blowing himself up with a nuke after panicking after seeing the guy he's in love with, going to talk to Wolverine after Simon dropped a full anti mutant slur because he's just that much of a wet carpet, Vision getting annoyed with him over being a bit of a slut in the 70s, etc) so it's difficult to choose just the one.

Gonna go with this one, not because it's the very funniest but I just like his face and little hat. And how fond of the whole thing Steve looks.

15) Worst Storyline they ever had

Wonder Man v3 by Peter David, my fair superhero. Not going into it because it pisses me off that much but it is such a bizarre comic with such an ugly art style, I truly don't know how or why it was made because it's very clear Peter does not know nor particularly care about Simon very well. Bizarre book.

26) When do you think they were being "themselves" the most?

Like Hank, Simon is someone who finds himself playing roles more often than not, with a similar backstory for this too. The man not be a fantastic actor, but he's still an actor, and certainly acts his way through day to day life too. Anyway, I'd say Vision and the Scarlet Witch #3 feels like one of the most genuine Simons, even though we don't see him for very long because the focus is on Vision, but it just feels very Simon in a very right way. Other than that, post-Remender pacifist Simon in general comes across very genuine for the most part and doesn't seem to be trying to play his role nearly as much as when he was in the 80s and 90s, for example.

28) Most unnecessary thing they ever did?

I mean, withholding Vision's brainwaves because he had a crush on Wanda. Like on what fucking universe does condemning your twin to a fate worse than death endear you to their wife you want to fuck. Probably the entirety of Byrne Simon can appear under here, tbh.

[midnightsslut]

no one asked but:

lover: purple > pink and blue > blue and gold > hot pink

the man blazers: hot pink > purple > silver > black pinstripe

fearless dresses: gold fringe > silver noodle > gold noodle

evermore dresses: bronze > anything else > dark pit > the center of hell > orange

speak now ballgowns: blue > pink > gold > purple > silver > floral appliqué

folklore dresses: green > pink > white > blue > purple

1989 co-ords: blue > orange > pink > green

surprise song dresses: none > blue > green > red > pits of hell > that yellow bird thing

anti-hero dresses: original silver > iridescent > dark purple > light purple > blue > pink

midnights leotards: oscar > royal blue zuhair murad > moth cutout zuhair murad

karma jackets: bubblegum pink > royal blue > magenta > gunmetal

[baiika]

My muses' costumes! Ft some corpse paint. Left to right:

Blitzo: Sweeney Todd

I chose this because Blitz likes murder & musicals! He looks good in pinstripe pants too lol.

Karin: Asian rendition of The Purge costumes

I was tossing between Purge & oni, & then I realized the combination would be awesome since The Purge is already anti-authoritarian. She bought the mask & then had a friend help with the rising sun.

Layla: pot-smoking cheerleader I guess

Layla really likes pink & weed. Dolls Kill & some other sites have funny girl scout/cheerleader uniforms that I think Layla would like.

Momo: caribou-inspired witch

I always use cervine & mystical imagery for Momo. More importantly, Momo puts hours into making her own costumes... booty reveal intentional.

Nemu: hot latex nun

I use a lot of Christian iconography, & their subversion, in juuniibantai. I think Nemu would be drawn to it & the fetish aspect when searching for costumes.

Ryuuji: scarecrow

Ryuuji always gets a scary costume for Halloween & cuts off the arms so he can show his biceps. Like a slut.

Sousuke: headless ghost

He definitely enjoys Halloween but costumes aren't his thing. Momo makes him costumes anyway. It's usually some kind of ghost. The "torso" is a lightweight bamboo frame with a harness & covered with plaster. There's a slit in the yukata where he puts his head through. The "feet" are insulated boots.

[epickiya722]

I think if we see villain aus as "opposites" of canon characters, specifically Deku, then it would kind of make sense for him to use fancy clothing

But we usually like to make it look fitting, even if it would technically be all pretty ooc. Though, i think by that Deku would be less of a "villain" and more of a vigilante/anti-hero.

But iirc using your quirk or doing hero job without a licence is against the law, so i guess that checks out anyway lol

I just personally don't see "Deku" when he wears a suit for Villain AUs because...

It's too "AFO", I'm gonna be real here. Anytime I see a Villain!Deku in a suit, I see a mini AFO. It plays into the DFO theory where if Deku is a villain, he's also AFO's son (which if I were to say they were related, that's his granddad, it would mirror Tomura more, but that's on another post).

Even if he's not AFO's son, it's still too AFO for me and not Deku.

Anytime a character wears a suit in canon and they're a villain? They all tie back to AFO. Tomura in a suit? AFO was just shaping him up to be the next AFO. Kurogiri? A Nomu who serves AFO. Giran? He works for the LOV, an informant of AFO. How about Re-Destro and his crew? Professional looks... and then they now serve under Tomura who is what? AFO's adopted son.

He's awkward in formal wear in canon, the latest sketch he finally looks comfortable enough to wear a tie properly... but it's still Deku. If he's gonna wear a suit as a villain, it needs to be with that Midoriya charm. Put him a green suit!

Nighteye that suit!! All Might pinstripes!

Something quirky to his look!

And I want to add that any time a hero has to wear a black suit, guess what? It involves AFO somehow! The first one with Bakugou's kidnapping? AFO showed up. The second one with Hawks, Best Jeanist and Endeavor? AFO happened!!

Suits, especially black ones usually mean business. And All For One means business.

It's why I don't see "Midoriya" in suits, especially black ones. It's always black ones!

I wanna see him wear a hero themed tie as a villain as to mock heroes while he's doing bad things. Canon Midoriya admires heroes. A Midoriya opposite of him wouldn't, he'd be as disrespectful as hell.

And really, if a villain!Deku in a suit would serve as an "opposite" Deku... it really doesn't fit??

Again, he would be like a mini AFO... he's not his own image, his own aesthetic. In canon, that's how he is.

He had to work to not be like All Might. It's why he switched from using his fists to his feet. And even with that, he still uses a skill set from others to shape into his own.

If a Villain!Deku was a true opposite, he would have his own skill set. He wouldn't work for and with others, not even with the League of Villains. He would have his image. It's why I like the idea of him not wearing a suit because his tees and red shoes are iconic to his character. It's his thing.

Now, don't get me wrong, Deku in a suit isn't bad for any AU. I don't mind it really, I don't hate it. I like him in a suit! I have seen some fantastic fanart of that!

Just saying that if Deku is gonna be a villain, he would be great in tees, or more colorful suits.

[rhotic-shwa]

ID: A red-tinted photo of Michael Parenti, a mustached, middle aged man. Text reads "The concentration camp was never the normal condition for the average gentile German. Unless one were Jewish, or poor and unemployed, or of active leftist persuasion or otherwise openly anti-Nazi, Germany from 1933 until well into the war was not a nightmarish place. All the "good Germans" had to do was obey the law, pay their taxes, give their sons to the army, avoid any sign of political heterodoxy, and look the other way when unions were busted and troublesome people disappeared.

Since many "middle Americans" already obey the law, pay their taxes, give their sons to the army, are themselves distrustful of political heterodoxy, and applaud when unions are broken and troublesome people are disposed of, they probably could live without too much personal torment in a fascist state. Some of them certainly seem eager to do so."

— Michael Parenti, Fascism in a Pinstriped Suit

end ID.

Absolute fucking banger, liberals will always side with fascism, time and time again. So many liberals have been showing their ass after this election. I’ve seen countless posts about “I hope Latinos who voted Trump get deported.” “I hope Gaza gets turned into a parking lot.” “Who’s going to fix your roof if there’s a mass deportation?” Liberals see immigrants as cheap labor, not as human beings. And they wonder why they lose- time and time again.