#hes zooted and booted

[catboy-bride]

they all smoke weed bunts before they kiss (they are his girlfriends)

[lelianasbong]

BG3 blunt rotation gooooo!

Karlach lights the blunt with her lips (charming), pretends to pass it to Clive before catching herself because HE IS BABY, WHAT WAS SHE THINKING-! Apologizes profusely to her stuffed bear (who has never done anything wrong in his life) and passes the blunt mournfully to Gale.

Gale, who is on thin fucking ice. He keeps chiefing the blunt (relaying a memory of utmost relevance, he's getting to it-) and waving it dangerously close to people's eyeballs with every exaggerated hand gesture. Whips it too close to Lae'zel's face one too many times and she snatches it out of his fingers in irritation.

Lae'zel is horny and hungry and HANGRY. She's only sitting next to Gale because he's responsible for the food (and because he segued into asking very clinical questions about oviparity which is kind of doing it for her tbh). Puff puff pass and then she's elbowing people (painfully) out of the way for dinner.

Shadowheart is lost in the sauce. She took two hits and is staring at her hands, giggling absently. Every now and then she pulls a face at nothing. Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders and she's counting the individual threads. Astarion nicks the blunt after she's been sitting on it for a solid minute (she doesn't notice).

Astarion doesn't need to use his lungs but he can. Figures the whole process would be more enjoyable were he to drink from the tap, so to speak, of one of his absolutely zooted companions (and is seriously considering asking). Makes a drawling joke about having red eyes that only lands with 50% of his audience which he takes as a victory.

Wyll is pleasantly baked out of his mind. His body's so loose he's melted into the nearest felled tree, laughs too loudly at jokes that are NOT funny, listens earnestly after asking thoughtful questions about your childhood. Falls asleep with his mouth open and one boot toed-off and proceeds to sleep for ten hours.

Minthara: Paranoid little freak. Convinced there's something wrong with the bud (there isn't). No appetite, twitchy AND armed. Gets up every three minutes to stalk the perimeter and sniff Gale's hair suspiciously.

Halsin. He's the plug, this is all his fault. They don't call it the Circle of the Moon for nothing.

[milkcos]

redesigns!! ft. an entirely new style

more abt my choices behind the read more

maka: pretty much superficial stuff, gave her a cloak-like coat to replace the trench coat and updated her look a bit more? i wanted her to have more of a grunge vibe mixed with a prep look. so she’s got mary janes and a half tucked shirt

soul: he’s very much a grunge hipster based on canon aesthetics, so i changed his jacket into a quarter zip and gave him some baggier pants. also i feel like he would be that person perpetually carrying headphones

black star: he gets platforms!!! i feel like he would persist being stupid short for the rest of his life. otherwise his outfit remains pretty similar with just added bracers. i also incorporated more blue into his outfit and got rid of his dog cone collar.

tsubaki: unsexualized your girl, and then makes her more cool. no more tiddy window, but i did keep her slit just bc i feel like it’d give her more movement. she’s got shorts now and those martial artist slippers? for increased traction. and then yk pouches bc a girl has to have some sort of storage on her

kidd: i kept his suit style, but gave him a zoot suit instead. it gave him a more personalized look and kept him more on theme with the other redesigns. also skull bolo tie which fits the suit and his aesthetic. plus i like putting male characters in heels so he’s got heels on his mock dress shoe converse

patty: desexualizes and cowboys your girl. she’s got shorts in the original so i just made them longer and added a big belt buckle + bolo tie + cowboy boot + cowboy hat combination.

liz: desexualizes and cowboys your girl pt 2. since she’s got pants originally, i feel like boot cut jeans would make a lot of sense fr her? she’s got that kinda older sister y2k vibe. matching w patty also w her accessories too <3

[silver--scar]

MEET THE SP OC

TW: Mild blood and mentions of sensitive topics

Welcome to my first entry on this list! Inspired by @skenisasleb 's intro posts for their South Park characters, I realized that I wanted to do the same since I thought it would be fun! I will be following a similar format to theirs within this post and future ones to come. This is part one after all :D

So everyone put your hands together for my first ever South Park oc, Ashton Roscoe! (Below is his outfits during certain "episodes" or "b-plots", whatever you wanna call them. I'll be happy to explain them if there are questions, but I'll only go over a few in this post!)

The Basic Life

Ashton Roscoe is an only child, living an average life in an average two-story home with average parents. They're maybe a little distant, but nothing too concerning.

He is one of the newer kids to South Park. Like, freshly new. He is left in a constant state of confusion with just how bonkers South Park can be and has yet to get accustomed into his new life. Otherwise, he has a pretty mellowed out mood with a hint of stubbornness.

He owns a massive cardboard fort deep in the woods of South Park. Who knows what goes on in there, and why he lays so many traps around the area? (It's role-play. It's literally just a place to keep his Stick of Truth items) And he likes to dig! But unlike Christophe, he digs for treasure. Bits and bobs. Doodads. Thingamajigs.

Relationships

There's nothing too special in Ash's bonds with his friends and family, and especially so being demisexual. He has three buddies, Lucio Connors, Robert 'Bubba' Hendrix, and Killian Manfred. Your typical, all guys friend group.

Out of everyone, he's most likely closest to Lucio due to them meeting when Ash moved in to the town. He helped Ash get around and learn everything there is to know with a kind attitude to boot, while Lucio greatly enjoys meeting someone who isn't a wackjob.

Bubba and Killian were already friends with Lucio before, so it helped Ash ease in quicker with the people around him. Bubba is the prankster who Ash tolerates. He always stands on guard around the guy, waiting for when he might strike with his next trick. It gets a bit mentally draining with it all, especially with the constant chatter about girls and dating or the next big prank.

Ash and Killian are a mixed bag. They get into arguments a few times, with who being in the right constantly switched around. But otherwise, they're tight knit, and they often defend one another during troubles. Ash appreciates Killian when they're on good terms and likes to listen to his conversations, but it wears thin when Killian gets zooted out of his mind and gets into his usual existential crises.

In terms of South Park? He tries his utmost to avoid the gang (i.e. Stan's and Tolkien's friends) and is pretty successful sometimes.

Lore Galore

Since Ash was my New Kid while playing the South Park games, it's only obligatory to go with those first. His personas are Ashpatch the Thief and Ezkaton!

These characters are something Ash put way too much effort in due to his affinity of escaping the world around him. He loves to play pretend.

Ashpatch is a thief class. He chose this because not only is he a natural at sneaking, he's an avid tinkerer. Most of his weapons, albeit rudimentary, are all handmade. He might put the things he nabbed to good use. At first, he just went by Ash, refusing to go by Douchebag but being too lazy to correct others around him. But later on, with his growing infuriation of Kupa Keep, Ash took the opportunity to switch sides the moment he saw it, donning the new name Ashpatch once he gained trust with the Elves.

He takes role-playing pretty seriously. As mentioned, he makes most of his weapons on his own out of objects he finds. If he wants something, he'll work his ass off to obtain it. Daggers, smoke screens, traps, you name it. Even though the other kids absolutely hate this, he doesn't care. He enjoys how it makes the games more authentic. And Ash even dressed the part, making an outfit to blend in the snow.

Ezkaton is his superhero persona, named after the word eschaton, meaning the final act of a divine plan. With a netherborn assassin class, Ash thought it was fitting to uphold an almost deity-like theme, and also because he's an edgy little boy... And also because he wanted to repurpose his abandoned Ghost cosplay, but he will never admit this.

His shawl is a Christmas tree skirt, and just like with Ashpatch, he crafts most of his inventory himself (aside the glowing scythes duh). He also works alone. The other kids don't really understand and think it's to keep up this 'bad boy' persona, but the real answer is that Ash doesn't want to end up getting others hurt. Especially with how they fight actual crime. He'll help out, he ain't a dick, but he works better without worrying that the villains' and his actions will result in an accident.

The other heroes make jabs for how over the top he is, or how he's a Mysterion clone, and to that he says, fuck you, because he'd also rather not admit he spent days coming up with an original identity only to be stumped. Plus, why be a superhero who isn't skilled at what he does? Ash is great at sneaking and traps. Why stop now?

"The Game Never Ends" (Assassin Ash)

If there's one thing to know about Ash, he's a tad bit gullible. There are times where he's skeptical, but those moments are few and far between. After the gang plays a match of paintball with a bunch of other kids, Bubba offhandedly mentions that paintball 'is never really over.' There's a few laughs, but over time, Ash gets insanely paranoid. And so, he goes around town finishing the job, taking out anyone to achieve his victory. Don't worry, there's only two counts of manslaughter.

"The Crystalites" (Album Debut Ash)

Ash loves music. It practically runs through his veins. If you want to find him, chances are he's in his backyard drumming it out in his dad's shed. He's debuting his first album for the town of South Park with his one man band, The Crystalites. However, it seems there are many obstacles he has to overcome, with that being money, gaining a crowd, organizing the event, and scrap bandits. People who are dismantling objects for an extra buck. So it's up to Ash to make his debut successful, and protected from grubby hands.

"Hardcore Parkour" (Parkour Ash)

Parkour is the next big thing in South Park. Everyone's doing it (well, every kid is), but it seems for some reason, Ash can't get the hang of it! He used to be a master at running around and climbing the strangest things during games, so why can't he get this right? Determined, he tries to figure out the cause of his 'curse' and actually stick a landing while his friends go on to the big leagues of competitive parkour.

"Alive and Buried" (Grave Crawler Ash)

Remember when I said his parents were not too concerning? Well it gets concerning. Every South Park kid has their traumas.

How does his family have the money to afford everything? Money laundering. And his dad is heavily in the business. However, a recent investigation showed that he was a suspect and CPS is threatening to take Ash away. With his mother being heavily distraught, the dad is blinded by the very thought of this and vows to keep Ash safe. He tries different things, but push comes to shove, and the poor boy is buried alive the last minute before cops arrive. Thankfully he managed to dig himself out, but his dad is arrested as he resurfaces. Now he has heavy claustrophobia and taphophobia. Ash would've liked to have kept all of this to himself, but news spreads around quickly in South Park.

"Supernatural Squatters" (Ghost Hunter Ash)

Ash and Lucio believes ghosts exists, much to Killian's and Bubba's mockery of it. Wanting to prove them wrong, they make a bet for the four to stay overnight at an abandoned building rumored to be haunted. Geared to the teeth, the kids venture in and finds exactly what they were looking for. Drugged out squatters. Now they must exorcise them to free their souls.

Thank you all so much for reading! I'm certainly going to do more for the rest of my South Park ocs. I'll also post a bit more images that couldn't fit within this post. Thank you skenisasleb for the idea! 🙏

[matchbet-allofthetime]

Speed running FNV hcs for the fancy boys (aka Benny, Swank, and The King.)

Me babbling about suits and shit under the cut:

Benny wears zoot suits partially because he likes that they're big and classy, but also because I hc his family came from Mexico a long time ago and somewhere along the way he learned about the baggy, rounded-off suits. Likes the way the pants bunch over his shoes (prefers winklepickers and derby shoes) and he likes when said pants have an ankle cuff. Likes ascots/bigger, poofier ties, but doesn't always wear them. Gold jewelry all the way, just because he likes the colour against his skin. Two long gold chains hang down from his right side- gets tangled with his watch sometimes if it's same side. Golden watch on his left hand. Also left-handed, but wears his watch on the "wrong" hand bc it's comfier. 50s styles.

Swank grew up with the Ben-man, but he prefers western bowties + your average bowties with nice suspenders and a bartender's vest under his suit jacket. (Will only wear a goddamn jacket if he absolutely has to.) Not entirely out of the habit of slipping on heavier boots, so when he has to wear dress shoes so often, he toes them off behind the counter. They're normally oxfords or chukka boots- black, or occasionally oxblood red if he can find them. Likes a decent-sized heel. Also thinks sleeve garters are sexy. Silver jewelry- mostly insignia rings. Right-handed, wears a silver-faced watch with a brown leather strap. Flat-front pants, fitted to show his ass. Higher-waisted pants- this man has a slutty waist and intends to let his vests and trousers show it. Secretly likes bellbottom suit pants. An odd mix of 40s and 60s-70s styles

The King prefers fitted suits with a half break ankle on his trousers! Pleated front to his pants is a must. Likes slimmer ties with gothic, wallpaper-like designs. Give him a double-breasted tux vest with a shawl collar and he'll be the happiest man alive. Shoes- wingtips for the win, baby! Prefers classic black and white, but if you've got a brown and cream, he'll be equally content. Find him a wool overcoat and he'll be overjoyed. Has a few silver chain necklaces and a single silver bracelet he wears on his right hand with his silver watch. Left-handed! Lower-waisted pants. ~30s-40s styles

[wanderingmind867]

Aphrodite's Makeovers of Lost Trio & Coach Hedge

Piper:

• She was wearing the Turquoise Dress she'd seen in her dream, plus black leggings and black leather boots.

• She had on her favourite silver charm bracelet, and her old snowboarding jacket from her dad.

• Judging from her reflection, she'd had her hair done too.

Leo:

• Pinstriped pants

• Black leather shoes

• a white collarless shirt with suspenders

• his tool belt, Ray-Ban sunglasses and a porkpie hat

Coach Hedge:

• The Satyr was a Pastel Nightmare.

• baggy canary yellow zoot suit

• two-tone shoes

• yellow broad-brimmed hat

• rose coloured shirt

• baby blue tie

• blue carnation on his lapel, which Hedge sniffed and then ate

Jason:

• Looking at him Piper's heart did a little tap dance. Jason was dressed simply in jeans and a clean purple t-shirt, like he'd worn at the Grand Canyon. He had new track shoes on, and his hair was newly trimmed. His eyes were the same colour as the sky. Aphrodite's message was clear: "This one needs no improvement." And Piper agreed.

[firecooking]

A fun piece that took me WAY too long to complete!

I wanted to draw out the Z stacks for my humanoid au and do something fun with the outfits and the posing. I almost always draw them in some form of work uniform or in their formal gear and while that's pretty accurate for most situations they also have non work good clothes, of course in shades of Zero Marine Bigg City approved browns and blacks.

I also wanted to highlight more personal styles with them as well as keeping the context of the 1920s in mind! I also gave them all weapons for fun!

Zip has a VERY stylish youthful way of dressing for the 1920s, his bow tie would be seen as rather formal in contrast to his outfit which would be very youthful and in matching, shorts don't match with sweaters, boots don't match short sleeves, young men often dressed 'eclectically' to 'stand out'. Zip Carries a rather standard hunting rifle, he doesn't much like to use it, but it lets him stay away from danger while protecting himself. He's a small guy and doesn't like to be in the action, the gun lets him keep his distance, and he quite likes that. He does know how to use it and will if necessary.

Zug wears a pretty average day suit, it's pants cut is a little big and the coat is a sport cut, he'd been seen as basically a lousy dresser, sorta like a used car sales man. Zug carries a Tommy Gun, he's a small guy and it gets the job done.

Zorran dresses in a modern for the time business suit, the cut is straight on the pants and jacket and the bi coloured pants and jacket would be seen as a more relaxed choice and he's forgone the vest of old. Winged saddle shoes complete the look, he would be a snazzy dresser in the eclectic sense like Zip. Zorran is a resourceful man and will fight with anything at hand, but a good old fashioned lead pipe is easy enough to carry and conceal and even easier to ditch without suspicion

Zebedee forgoes convention, instead going for comfort and a relaxed fit. The Zoot Suit is still two decades out but the smoking suit is making its debut, considered a wasteful use of fabric Zebedee is on the cutting edge of fashion, even if he just wanted something comfortable. He is a fan of brass knuckles, if he has to fight he'd rather brawl fair and square

Zak, like Zorran, forgoes a piece of the standard business suit, However his piece of choice is the Vest, which sets him firmly into casual. With a dark grey shirt and matching tie, pants, hat and shoes, Zak is scrubbing against the grain of fashion conventions of the time, Zak would be kicked out of a fancy restaurant on sight in such an outfit. Zak keeps a switch blade on him at all times, he's a big fan of stiletto style knives, they make quick work of any target

Zaffre opts to forgo feminine dress but doesn't abandon women's wear. The Blazer is in its second decade as women wear, note the lack of collar notches on the blazer and the single button, and the loose fitting light fabric pants are the trend with young flappers for day wear. Her shirt and tie are what step back into men's wear but are not unheard of anymore. She's young and a great example of a second generation suffragette, the right to vote is just the first step, you know. Zaffre hasn't opted for any weapons yet, the hat pins and batons of days past are not needed when you are ready and willing to beat someone to death with your bare hands. Maybe she'll find something someday

Also have a high chart because I am terrible at drawing them to scale, by 1920s average heights they are all pretty average, Zug and Zaff being extreme but not unheard of, by today's average heights literally all of them are average and below with Zug being unheard of as a 'normal' hight

[eskiworks]

Pain, Pain, and more Pain

My husband has a lot of medical problems right now that is making life very difficult. One of his ankles has been hurting all year long so far, and the podiatrist he's seeing still doesn't know what's going on. He's had an x-ray, an MRI with contrast, and he has surgery in a week to take bone, tissue, and fluid samples. We *think* cancer is ruled out by looking at the MRI, but it's possible he has an infection in the bone that will require hospitalization.

He's in so so so much pain. He says it feels like a broken bone that isn't healing (he would know, and yes a broken bone has been ruled out). The doctor gave us the go-ahead to lean on the really heavy pain killers for now, since he can't sleep through the pain. I've moved his computer upstairs into my office so he doesn't have to do stairs anymore. He has a medical boot on to support it. He uses a walker to get around. I help him with absolutely everything right now.

Somehow, he has been able to rally to stay relatively normal in his streams, but he spend the rest of his awake time in agony or zooted out of his mind on pain killers.

......

Oh, and tomorrow he has surgery on his eye to dig out a scarred up cyst that has been causing repeated infections since the beginning of October.

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Rings of Flames. Ch 8: No Band Leader

   It was nighttime now. Perfect time to let the feline outside for fresh air. The darkness out the night was perfect to hide the wereblood. The band spent some hours pushing the doc outside. The group fell to the ground with a loud huff. Sweat was running down their faces as they tried to catch their breath. 

“Finally. He’s out” groan Floyd Pepper as he gets up and pops his back. A loud pop filled the silence air around them. The red haired male let out another groan as he rubbed his back after popping it. 

“For sure,” replied Janice as she got up. Lips nods as he gets up but falls back on his butt when Teeth’s tail went in front of his legs. The blonde male quickly got back up and walked away from the good doctor. 

Animal groaned as he got up. “Heavy,” said the drummer. Floyd let out a laugh at the words of the wild man. The blonde female hit the red haired male’s ribs with her elbow. 

“What? It was funny” replied Floyd Pepper as he rubbed his rib where she had elbowed him at. 

“Not the time” replied Janice with a bit of a cold tone in her voice. The blonde female let out a soft sigh. She looked over at Zoot who was using Dr. Teeth as a wall against his back. Soft sounds of the chain moving filled the air. The wereblood was asleep the whole time they were moving him outside. 

“Zoot, do you want us to stay outside with you and Teeth?” asked Janice as she faced the dark blue haired male. The saxophonist looked up at the blonde female. He let out a yawn before answering. 

“No, I'm fine. You guys go inside and get some rest” replied Zoot. 

“You sure?” replied Janice. 

“Yep” replied the dark blue haired male with a thumbs up. The band went back inside the house. Lips look back at the saxophonist before shutting the back door. Floyd and Janice head to their bedroom for the night. Lips head down to the basement to collect some drool and fur off the floor. He wanted to see if he could test it to find what is wrong with Dr. Teeth. 

The blonde male stops before entering the basement. Lips noticed the front door crack a little bit open. He went over to the front door and closed it. The trumpet player locks the door before heading back to the basement. Lips walk down the stairs and start to use a napkin to hold the drool and fur. 

As the blonde male was picking up fur and drool that the wereblood left behind, he heard a sound behind him. Lips quickly turned before something metal hit his head. The trumpet player fell on the floor, unconscious. A bit of blood was dripping from Lips’ head from the hit. 

Stepping out of the shadows was…Lops. The blonde male let out a laugh as he held the metal baseball bat behind him. He moved his golden locks out of his face. His dreadlocks fall back on his shoulders. Some of his hair was in a man bun like Zot’s. His leather jacket shines in a bit of the moonlight. His black eyelids with dark purple running down the middle narrow as a smirk form on his face. 

His black heel boots click against the hard floor of the basement. “He is out. Perfect” he said under his breath as he rubbed his fingers on his chin. He had some hair on his chin that wasn’t long, it was a goatee  sour patch. His ripped jeans almost got caught on Animal’s old drum kit but he moved away from the drum kit. 

Lops head up stairs and lock the basement door to keep the trumpet player out of the way. He hides behind the stairs that go upstairs. The blonde male didn’t want the band’s drummer to find him. Luckily, the wild man was in bed. Lops pulled out his phone and called Zot. 

“I got them taken care of. Well, except for Zoot. He is watching over the band leader.” said the blonde male as he looked at the back door and saw the two. 

“Don’t worry about that worm. Me and Flooyd will take care of him” replied Zot with a smirk. He hung up on Lops before getting out of the truck. They got a truck with a huge horse carrier attached to the back. Flooyd followed after him. 

Zot fixed his black sweater. His hands have fingerless leather gloves. The dark blue haired male’s leather boots hit against the grass. His nose ring shines in the light. Zot dusted off his blue jeans before letting out a huff. “Come on, Flooyd” said the dark blue haired male as he slowly walk to the back yard. 

Flooyd huff. “I’m coming!” replied the red haired male. He has some gray hair especially in his mustache and goatee. His fluffy eyebrows were white as snow, they narrowed at the dark blue haired male. The red haired male’s black tennis shoes hit the ground as he walked up to Zot. Flooyd’s blue jeans had some hole in them due to falling a lot. His white t-shirt was dirty due to falling on the ground before leaving to get Teeth. 

The two walk up to the corner of the house. “There they are,” said Zot with a grin on his face. Dr. Teeth and Zoot were asleep in the backyard. 

“So, how will we get him away from the feline?” replied the red haired male. 

“I will take care of it. You back the truck into here and get Lops to help you load the feline into the trailer” replied the dark blue haired male. 

“Alright” replied Flooyd as he quickly ran back to the truck and got in. Zot slowly walked up to the two. He quickly kicks the sleeping saxophonist in the face to get him off the cheshire smilodon. His sunglasses fall off. 

Zoot quickly wakes up and looks up at Zot. “You!” yelled the dark blue haired male as he quickly got up. His nose was bleeding but he didn’t care. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” hiss the saxophonist. His eyes narrow at the moopet. 

“Collecting our prize,” replied Zot with a shit eating grin on his face. 

“What do you mean?” replied Zoot with a snarl on his face. 

“Our boss wants your cheshire smilodon. He is the only species of his kind. No other cheshire smilodon exists. He is a prize” replied the moopet. 

“You’re not getting him! He is my friend!” yelled Zoot in anger. His green eyes look dead into the other male’s eyes. Anger filled them. 

“Oh? Then I may have to kill you for him!” replied Zot with an evil laugh. The saxophonist snaps, he sucker punches him in the face. Zot falls back a bit but stops himself. A black eye was forming on his left eye. 

The dark blue haired male punched Zoot in the stomach. The saxophonist fell to the ground with a cough. He held his stomach. Pain was filling his body but that isn’t going to stop him from protecting his friend. Zoot quickly kicks Zot between his legs which causes the moopet to scream in pain. 

The saxophonist stood over the dark blue haired male, he was about to stomp on his head. Suddenly something hit the back of Zoot’s head. He fell to the ground. His eyes close. Lops was behind the unconscious saxophonist. He helped Zot up from the ground. 

“Got him loaded up?” the dark blue haired male with a huff as he tries to stand. 

“Yep. Now let's leave” replied the blonde male. He quickly helped Zot into the truck. The two got into the truck. Flooyd had finished locking the door to the trailer. He wiped his hands on his pants. The red haired male was about to head to the truck when something grabbed him and pulled him down to the ground. 

Flooyd lookup and he was about to scream but a hand quickly cover his mouth. It was Zoot. Blood was running down from his face and was dripping onto the red haired male’s face. His green eyes stare down at the moopet. Flooyd can see the rage in the saxophonist’s eyes. 

The truck started and start to drive away. Zoot suddenly drops the red haired male. He went off after the truck. 

Lops noticed Zoot running after the truck. He quickly pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it at the saxophonist. The bomb went off and it blinded the dark blue haired male’s eyes. He stops and starts to cough. The smoke blind his vision. He can’t follow them with the smoke in the air around him. 

When the smoke cleared, the truck and Teeth were gone. Zoot’s heart drops. He failed Dr. Teeth. The dark haired male walk back to the house and see Flooyd still on the ground. The red haired male look up at Zoot and gives a nervous laugh. 

[thebelljarwriter]

Lady in Red - day 20: cruise

im a bit late sorry just catching up with some days </3, day 20 for @31-daysofhorror :], day 21 will come soon I hope when I can write it

also once again, a lil bfucu ficlet starring Francesca Norris, a beloved here, let's go :>

1969

There was a certain chill in the December air, the horn of the ship had let out a roar that echoed into the sky as its passengers walked onto the board like marching soldiers, the folk chattering about, conversation seeming to mix into something unintelligible. The ship’s captain had noticed a young woman walk towards him, wearing a wine-red trench coat, a wine-red beret, wine-red pants, and black boots, she lowered her shades and locked eyes with the captain.

 “Excuse me,” she spoke calmly, “is this the SS Dorothea?” 

 The ship captain nodded, and the lady in red thanked him graciously. 

 Francesca’s smile faded once she stepped foot onto the floorboards of the cruise, pushing her shades back to her nose. Despite the cruel, wintry chill, she had dressed fashionably for the occasion. Wine-red had been her favorite shade, oftentimes, you’d mistake the color for blood. Her eyes darted around the cruise before finally setting her sights on someone in the crowd. A tall noticeably figure in the crowd, dressed in a dark blue zoot suit and fedora, his cigarette smoke being noticeably as it floated in the air, Francesca winced, she could almost smell it from her, it was a surprise it didn’t burn her nostrils. She could hear his laughter as she went close to him, sometimes you could tell what type of person someone is by the way they dress.

 She knew what kind of man this was, a typical man who did odd jobs for the mob, liked the burning taste of liquor and the thrill of rolling dice and shuffling cards in casinos, and the adrenaline of bar fights during the night. The man in blue.

 Wayne Kinney was the son of a wealthy politician who had worked for the mob, being the politician’s son, he got away with a lot, that included stealing money from Francesca’s boss who declared he’d have his head served on a dinner dish along with his rat bastard father. (“Fran, I have a job for you. Mr. Kinney’s son, that little shit is going on a cruise with my money, I want you to put a bullet in that numbskull’s head, you hear me?” she remembered her boss saying to her the week before, “you have my word, sir.” she said to him before leaving.) 

 When Francesca got close to him, she could see he was in a drunken stupor, laughing harshly with a crowd of women surrounding him. He had rings on each finger, a golden chain necklace around his throat, and a diamond-encrusted bracelet. Francesca found herself staring in awe, she supposed he spent that money well. But she had a job to do, she wouldn’t let herself be distracted by miniscule detail.

 The party had died down later that night, Wayne had stumbled across the hall and to his room, the door creaking to show a pitch-black room, his eyes trying to adjust to the nocturnal air as he walked in, the glass in his hand dropping to the carpet, the cherry wine staining the floor. For a moment, Wayne stopped, steadying his balance as he leaned against the bed frame of his bed, his eyes darted around the room, goosebumps beginning to form on his arms, the hair standing on his neck. Despite his drunken state, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. 

 At once, the door slammed shut behind him and Wayne jumped like a frightened animal, almost falling onto the carpet. He could feel his heart thump in his chest, his breathing sharp and uneven. He got up, and the shine of the moonlight was the only thing that illuminated the room, and right beside him, the silhouette of a figure stood behind the mirror, her face enshadowed by the darkness of the room. Wayne flinched upon seeing the figure, like a ghost that had been waiting for him from his night of hedonism. 

 “Wayne Kinney.” The figure spoke in a monotone, feminine voice. “That is you, am I correct?” 

 Wayne stared at the figure, finding himself becoming shaky and weary, “who are you? What do you want from me?” he backed away slowly, his hand reaching for his nightstand and trying to look for the pistol he had there while keeping his eyes locked on the shadowy figure. He felt nothing but the smooth surface of the nightstand.

 “Looking for this, Mr. Kinney?” 

 Wayne choked, hearing the cock of the gun in the figure’s hand. The blood in his veins grew cold, hearing the light flicker on and then … he saw her. 

 Francesca Norris. Lady in red.

 Wayne felt himself backed into the corner like a scared dog, spluttering and trying to find the right words in his brain but nothing came out, making him look like a gawking fish. There she was, a mist in the wind, a woman who would kill without giving it a second thought. A cat that had finally cornered her prey, she smiled, the kind of smile that sent shivers down your spine. In her gloved hand, the pistol which Wayne had kept.

 She inspected it for a moment, gazing with admiration.

 “A colt m1911, I see, you know my father had one of these,” she let out a dry chuckle, “oh, yes, he kept one in a safe in case anyone tried to break into our home. Oh, yes, my father never used this though.”

 Then, she aimed it at him, making Wayne freeze.

 “Well, maybe only once.”

 Francesca moved away from the window, keeping her aim at Wayne and stalking towards him – slow and graceful. Her smile quickly fading as her eyes narrowed at the man sliding his back against the wall, his hair a mess and eyes wide as dinner plates, she stopped and continued. 

 “One time, when I was very young, I woke up to the sound of my father telling me, my mother, Cathy and Kenny to get out of the house because of a suspected robbery,” she stated, “we were outside that night, waiting.”

 Her grip on the gun tightened, “a thief had tried to take my father’s cash, and you know what happened?”

 Wayne didn’t respond, head shaking innocuously. 

 Silence filled the room, only the heavy breathing that came from Wayne Kinney could be heard. Francesca had aimed the gun right at Wayne’s chest, her eye squinting at where to target it. She remembers as a little girl her father had taught her how to aim, she was taught archery from an early age, it would be no different aiming a pistol than aiming a bow and arrow. Just have to wait for the right time to strike.

 And Francesca was good at striking as she was good at aiming. 

 A bang echoed through the room, the smoke from the gun emitting from its muzzle. The red staining Wayne’s blue suit before he fell to the floor, the blood seeping onto the carpet. Francesca stood still, watching, she whispered under her breath, “he shot him.” 

***

 The next morning, the cruise had gone home early, news of a young man shot in his room had made rounds that following dawn. Some say they witnessed him being followed by a lady in a red coat and red hat and seemingly disappeared that following night. Rumors and gossip would eventually flood around the city, floating in the air through news articles and headlines and even amongst folks.

  As for Howard Kinney, Wayne Kinney’s father, nobody has seen or heard from him ever since.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"It's Jump Suit, Not Zoot That Draws Oshawa Eyes," Toronto Star. April 29, 1943. Page 8. ---- Oshawa, April 29 - Oshawa citizens turned and stared during the early part of the week at what they thought was a military version of the "zoot suit." It was Dave Williamson, Simcoe St. S., wearing the only clothes he had after sending his regular parachute trooper uniform to the cleaners. Home on leave, he walked the streets in his "jump suit," issued by the American army.

Williamson, "a qualified parachuter," attached to the First Canadian Battalion of Parachute Troops, returned from Fort Benning, Georgia, where he trained for seven months.

The jump suit is of gabardine and the coat, which is baggy and full of pockets, comes nearly to the knees. The pants, likewise bulky and with several pockets, tuck into the tops of high brown "jump boots.".

"The first time I jumped I did not have any sensation at all. I just blacked out," he said. "Not until the fourth jump did I feel anything much. It was a swell ride down - lots of fun. It is a scary business when they tell you to stand up and jump; you get butterflies in the stomach."

Williamson was told to count to 3.000 by 1,000's before opening his chute. "If it doesn't open you pull your reserve and if that doesn't open you just pray for a new chute," he added.

Impatient to join the army. Williamson was admitted to a signalling corps on his 18th birthday after being turned down seven times as too young. He volunteered for parachute training and has been in Fort Benning ever since. He was born in Midland and brought up in Oshawa.

[writer59january13]

Variations On A Theme...

of hodgepodge strewn helter skelter

wonky inviting reader to mentally swelter.

Ach'n (ache Ken and burn'n) kickstarting existential and proverbial struggle

me species classified as generic muggle

analogous to entertainer

with namesake of yours truly

starring an out of world

stellar performer who doth juggle

regarding mein kampf, who sports thrift store couture NOT worn by Bellini, Paganini, Rossini... Eeny Meany Miney Moe - si, nor the three stooges tee hee hee “woo-woo-woo!,” “soitenly!” Punster mocker twill never cease

silly swill syllabification

meaning often twitching

inane written trend

not intending reader to offend of mine will never abide where verboten

arbitrarily, indiscriminately, and understandably

recklessly flaunting usage

and re:noun sing gerund only when...mortality brings life to an end ike'n no longer defend,

and thankfully late mother of mine

Riley's life she chose NOT

in a million years to abend!

Thus...once again, (or...as per usual),

male gender nonconforming wordsmith derelict

defies nothing but obscure alphabetic logic

opportunistically, indiscriminately, and digitally

furiously cutting and pasting discombobulated, disjointed, and displaced

outrageous images evoked

his invisible faux poetic mishmash pastiche emulating emperor donning his new clothes

oblivious clothing apparel absent

despite stunned into silence observers

himself sovereign paraded

without being astute; this poem iz also NOT a boot ruminations visiting shortish nasty brute, (he just learned how to walk

erect this morning) referencing who else except this ole coot

while (cue in dolorous, ludicrous, and tenebrous melody issued from

Mose Arts magic flute)

of course this complete fallacy just smore hove my asinine

baseless, fruitless, witless, et cetera at das receiving end damned lifetime role, and goot raw end of deal, sans docks side of moon efficient intervention

more offal than glute tee us expulsion trumpeted;

Teachers never gave a hoot

or proper fitting space age jumpsuit,

thenceforth viper got ramrod rigid taut as jute as they appeared oblivious, how moost all classmates did loot

when I travelled (with my cute Malamute outsize prairie dog like fine home companion) to the outer limits

of the twilight zone,

which groovy farout signals detected by vodafone

and desperate plea made for aliens to abduct me asap (receiving an affirmative digital binary tone)

similarly couched courtesy of publishers, unlike the negative responses, predictably forecast, no complex koan but clear as day -

inducing a slight inward moan, which figurative slap in face finding yours supine prone, hence...a recurring well known fantasy regarding plucking this chicken (198920) heart lee moss see jagged rolling stone;

as iced (sic culled) hood reaper remained mute and scythe lent,

whereat serpent (also known in political circles as Sally Salamander Newt Gingrich) charmed goaded, and relentlessly needled

a dam Eve with snake hushed snoot,

and wreaked havoc as root of all misfortunate previous to man/woman kind existence, at expense emotional account, viz

cheap trick super tramping suit reviled, renounced, and recanted fully "FAKE" pre fabric hated

discombobulated trumpeting ill suit head prevarications – more cheeky effects, thus allowing, enabling, and providing adapt tub bull usage as zoot suit.

[cobragardens]

Yeah I mean David Tennant is gorgeous, Crowley is gorgeous, and the 1940s had some of the most beautiful menswear in the history of clothes ever and certainly of the 20th century, sock garters notwithstanding. I think you'd have to be actually dead and your eyeballs eaten by corvids to be unaffected by Tennant's Crowley in a zoot suit and fedora, so I respect the things 1941 Crowley does to you, and since you like 1941 Crowley, may I gush a moment about that dye job?

1827 Crowley is the Crowley that does things to me personally, but the dye job on 1941 Crowley just, hnnnnngh. It's SO good. I don't even like the haircut that much, I think it's too short and severe, but the streaks of bright wine-red on the cherry-dark? That discrete streak of wine red that starts at his hairline about an inch and a half to the left of the point of the widow's peak?

This is some kind of hair-dye apotheosis and I want to send the hair colorist flowers. I don't like hair and actively resent being a mammal and honestly did not know until S2 Crowley's 2023 hairstyle, Aziraphale's cotillion ball hairstyle, or Crowley's 1941 dye job that hair could make me go "Oh wow that's gorgeous" the way some clothes, jewellery, boots, and makeup do. It had never happened before.

@therachan: Whatever it is, this brings me to thinking about Shax talking about them in the car, when she mentions hearing that they were an “item”. To me that particular word has a definite romantic/sexual connotation, but so far we’ve not seen Crowley and Aziraphale interact that way, especially in front of other characters. Working together? Yes. Trusting one another? Sure. But the reasonable jump from what we (and the zombies/Furfur) have seen would be to assume they were *gasp* friends. But an “item”? What has present day Shax (or another character who might have started that rumor) seen or heard that would link A&C romantically? I do think we’re still missing that part.

Holy shit, you're right. I didn't think about that. I've been assuming this whole time it was because Furfur found the two of them together in the dressing room, but I didn't stop to think that they're both male-coded at that time, and neither was doing anything that could be perceived as romantic, so why would anyone who isn't a filthy-minded slashshipper think their association anything other than friendship? I propose one of three explanations:

Shax made up the rumor completely to needle Aziraphale. She saw Aziraphale was driving the Bentley, Crowley's attachment to his car is famous in Hell because Hastur bitches about it all the time, and she made an educated guess. I don't think this possibility is likely because Shax says, "Sometime in the last 80, 90 years, I remember hearing that you and Crowley were an item," so she dates this recollection to a specific time period, and then says "Poor old Furfur," further connecting the rumor to a specific time.

1941 Part 3: There's an event we haven't seen yet that someone else witnesses, and that witness starts a rumor. Is it the same event that leads Aziraphale to say "You go too fast for me"?

Furfur and the Nazis start the rumor that Crowley and Aziraphale are working together, and everyone in Hell just assumes they must be fucking because why else would a demon want to work with an angel?

@therachan: He just seems… I don’t know. Dimmed? He seems a little shadowed. He really doesn’t take off the hat or glasses much (and really not at the same time.)

I think part of it is that the lenses of the 1941 glasses are the biggest and darkest of all the shades he wears in S2 so they cover a lot of his face around the eyes and eyebrows where we pick up facial expressions; and whenever he's wearing the hat, we can't watch for movement in the muscles of his forehead either. We literally can't see what his face is doing.

And there are two other things going on too. One is, as you say, "this is supposedly being told from Aziraphale’s point of view." I don't think it's that Aziraphale is "the star of his own memory" so much as it is that, to Aziraphale, Crowley seems to be more unreadable, aloof, and cool than he actually is. We know he thinks Crowley is more aloof and cool than he actually is because we see how he behaves when he's impersonating Crowley. And this is the night Aziraphale realizes he's in love with Crowley; Crowley is never going to seem more glamorous to Aziraphale than he does on this night.

The other thing is that Crowley is deliberately taking a back seat here. He's the one in charge of the evening from the point when he enters the church to the point when Aziraphale whips out a handkerchief and tells Mrs H he can do stage magic and would be happy to donate a performance on behalf of his "dear friend."

At that moment, Crowley sees Aziraphale's excitement and decides I have got to see what this is about, and immediately starts letting the evening, and Aziraphale, happen to him. I actually love Crowley in this scene for just this reason. I make a long, semi-breathless argument here that his subdued response to Aziraphale in 1941 should be read in the context of both period and contemporary English masculine behavior norms as deeply supportive, and is read as deeply supportive by Aziraphale, if that's up your street at all.

Red & Yellow Can Hurt a Fellow:

Color Symbolism in 1941 (Part 2)

So in Part 1 I held forth about how the use of red in and yellow in this minisode continues its symbolism from elsewhere in the show for romantic love and fear of head offices, respectively. From the moment of Aziraphale's realization that he is in love with Crowley, all the backgrounds become saturated with the vivid passionate red.

Then, in the dressing room, after the Bullet Catch, the walls are slightly more orange in comparison to the true crimson featured in the rest of the show, foreshadowing the intrusion of fear (symbolized throughout the show by the color yellow) into Aziraphale's romantic feelings for Crowley. This yellow becomes discretely visible the moment Furfur enters the dressing room, and it remains visible around Aziraphale and between Aziraphale and Furfur as Furfur menaces Crowley through the rest of the scene.

In the final scene of the "Nazi Zombie Flesheaters" minisode, after Aziraphale reveals (offscreen) that he has stolen the photographic proof of Crowley's fraternization with him from Furfur, Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate, sharing a bottle of wine by candlelight.

Pretty romantic, right?

Hmm.

Aziraphale and Crowley are each sitting on a red velvet chair, sharing red wine from a bottle with red paper at the top. The passionate romantic love is still there. But it's fragmented, isolated in small islands surrounded by yellow. Yellow backgrounds indicating fear are used in "A Companion to Owls" and "I Know Where I'm Going," so we've already been primed for what a yellow background means by the time we hit "Nazi Zombie Flesheaters." After the scare with Furfur, the background of Aziraphale's existence becomes once again saturated with fear.

Remember, this is Aziraphale's memory, so it's his feelings that are coloring these walls. Here's the same room in S1, looking toward where Crowley sits in 1941:

Now look at S2 again.

The walls are yellow in both (which fits the fear Aziraphale feels and must hide in the S1 scene as well), but the clarity and intensity of the yellow--and the fear--has been turned up and illuminated around Crowley.

@vidavalor proposes in "The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it" that the story of the husbands in 1941 is likely to be a triptych, given that a literal Chekov's gun has been established (Aziraphale keeps a derringer in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop) and given that Aziraphale clearly references "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in the conversation in the Bentley in 1967 but the song has not been established as one either of the husbands are aware of as significant to them by that year.

I agree with @vidavalor that a third part of the story is likely for two other reasons: firstly, the Nazi zombies are still shambling around London, another Chekov's gun; and secondly, because Aziraphale says, "You go too fast for me, Crowley." 1941 is the last record of a meeting between the husbands we have before Aziraphale says that, but...we haven't seen Crowley go fast with Aziraphale. At all. He's been responding to what Aziraphale wants, what Aziraphale decides to do.

So what happened between

and

? (Notice how this is still backlit in the pink and red or romantic and passionate and/or romantic love.)

How does "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" become a song Aziraphale references and Crowley picks up in 1967?

And, most importantly: Why does Aziraphale have to do the apology dance in 1941?

***

A Few More 1941 Observations

Do these curtains in 202? look like this--

(Note the symbolic Metatron head!)

--because Aziraphale wants this to be a romantic night and he's re-creating the most romantic night he's ever experienced?

***

Look who's hanging around next to Crowley even when he doesn't take off his sunglasses.

It's not just a passing shot, either: the dark horse stays in frame and visible the entire scene.

***

There's a post running around on Tumblr somewhere about how contemporary slang would interpret the language of the Bullet Catch (e.g. "never fired a gun at someone before") to mean that Crowley is a virgin (which I absolutely believe to be true) and Aziraphale is not (which I would find pretty surprising). Tumblr's search function being what it is, I have been unable to find it, so if someone would drop a link in the comments if they run across it so I can add it to the information here, I would I appreciate it deeply.

***

And finally, let us take a moment to appreciate Furfur's beautiful hair.

The wigwork in this series makes me sigh with happiness.

I think it's a telling choice that some of the angels have some dreadful visual qualities (Sandalphon's grille, Gabriel's jogging sweats) and some of the demons have beautiful visual qualities (Furfur's hair, Shax' 50s style).

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Song of Beasts. Ch 27: Eight Days a Week

Light jazz music starts to play as Lips turn volume one on the speaker to 11.5. “Action,” said Kevin. The camera shows Floyd tapping his boot slowly as he messes around with his guitar. There was a “Mr. Bassman” sticker on his instrument. 

The camera cuts to Lips running into the camera. “Whoa!” said the blonde haired male before quickly turning the camera away from himself. After the camera was away, Lips made his way to the bathroom. He doesn't know why but his head have been hurting a bit and his stomach wasn’t in a good mood. 

After the trumpet player shut the bathroom door, he quickly felt vomit traveling up his throat. Lips quickly lift up the toilet seat and vomit in the toilet. The blonde haired male breathes heavily, sweat forming on his face. “What is going on?” he asked himself. 

Meanwhile, Zoot was eating some triangle sandwich. Moog was next to the dark blue haired male, pouring himself a cup of  Herbal tea. “Nice” said the black haired male. 

“Herbal tea?” he asked himself. The saxophonist looked up to the black haired male. 

“Elvis Presley should play me in this movie,” said Zoot. 

“Zoot, buddy, Elvis is dead” replied Moog with a bit of a sad tone to his voice. 

“What? When?” asked the dark blue haired male in shock. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Teeth and Floyd were playing a jazz riff. “Yeah. I’m digging that riff, man.” said the red haired male. 

“Add some sauce, boss” replied the doc with a smile. 

“Here we go!” replied Floyd Pepper as he and the good doctor began to play. 

“Don’t mind me” said Penny who was next to Dr Teeth. She was knitting a light purple sweater. “I’ll just be over here, knitting” the pink haired female added. 

“You won’t even know I’m here,” said Mrs. Waxman. She starts to clear her throat which throws off the music a bit. Floyd noticed this and looked a bit upset. 

“Ain’t she something?” asked the ginger haired male. 

“Yes, she’s definitely something” replied Floyd in a bit of an upset tone. The red haired male thought it was a bit strange for Teeth to be close to Penny since He was in a relationship with Lips and Zoot. 

Meanwhile in  the makeup room where Hannah was doing her sister’s makeup. Nora sighs. “Thanks for helping everyone get camera-ready, Han” the black haired female said to her sister with a smile. 

“Are you kidding? I love being the glam squad” replied Hannah as she does touch up on Label Lady’s face. 

“Also, trapping people in my make-up chair gets me all the hot goss.” she added. 

“Oh. Speaking of, spill the tea on you and JJ” said Hannah. 

“There’s no tea to spill. The only thing I have for is finishing this album” replied Nora. 

“And shooting this doc” she added. 

“And booking the band at the Hollywood Bowl” said Label Lady. 

“So, you’re doing the thing where you used busy work life as an excuse to blow off your love life” replied her sister. The moment between the sister got interrupted. 

“Help! I need somebody!” yelled JJ as he run by the room. Animal was chasing him like a dog after a squirrel. 

“I’m gonna go save him.” said Nora as she got up from the chair. Hannah nods. The cameras show Animal was playing his drums. Janice was tuning her guitar. 

Meanwhile, JJ walks into the recording room. “Yo, Moop” said the male. 

“Moog” corrected Moog. 

“I know, right?” replied JJ. 

“So, I’ve been thinking. Your knowledge of all things Mayhem could really help this doc be that lovefest that Nora wants it to be.” he added. The black haired male gets up from his chair. 

“Yeah. No. Yeah. What… Anything to help Nora.” replied Moog. 

“Great. What do you have on Animal that’s fun?” asked JJ. 

“Are you serious? Yeah, no…. Uh…” the black haired male started to say. 

“First off, Animal rarely takes baths. He’s always like, “Too wet” added Moog. They both chuckles. 

“Good stuff. That’s good” replied JJ with a fake smile. 

“Oh!” the mayhem fan remembers something. “Animal love bunnies,” he added. 

“Bunnies?” asked the other male. 

“Yes” replied the black haired male. 

“Yeah, okay, that’ll work.”  replied JJ. 

“For what?” asked Moog. 

“To stop Animal from killing my vibe with Nora. Thanks, pal” he replied as he pats the black haired male’s shoulder before leaving the room. Moog was confused on what just happened. 

“Wait. What just happened? Can you play that back for me, please?” he asked as he pointed at the camera that Kevin Smith was holding. 

He hesitates before answering. “No” replied Smith. 

[carcarrot]

Dantalian's Chariot, featuring Andy Summers, photographed by John Fowlie in Copenhagen, Denmark, 1967

[saint-cecilias]

liam's here rolling me a blunt (im absolute shite at rolling) while i lay sprawled out on the couch with no top on just tiddies to the wind. on dis here app. 

 this is what V'Day is like when y'all are 10 years deep.