#i apologize to so many artists i had to cut

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses. 

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place. 

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side. 

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut. 

But the best part? 

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me. 

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest. 

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“ 

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold. 

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like? 

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax. 

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative. 

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive. 

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me. 

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time. 

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me. 

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room. 

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were. 

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more. 

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits. 

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me. 

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead. 

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence. 

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements. 

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me. 

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget. 

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor. 

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me. 

It put me on edge. 

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act. 

She was still offering her finger. 

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned. 

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that. 

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

 I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both. 

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she? 

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.” 

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup. 

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go. 

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her. 

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically. 

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us. 

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again. 

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over. 

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past. 

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…”  Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine. 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.” 

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit. 

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?” 

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.” 

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth! 

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin. 

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked. 

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me. 

***** 

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed. 

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time. 

Five and half inches, exactly. 

My heart melted. 

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. 

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself. 

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body. 

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull. 

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand. 

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice. 

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room. 

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk. 

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop. 

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!” 

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me. 

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers. 

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“  

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?” 

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“ 

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop. 

And suddenly it was just he and I. 

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar. 

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm. 

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me. 

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.” 

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.” 

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast. 

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought. 

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again. 

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with. 

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…” 

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!” 

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much. 

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?” 

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.” 

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?” 

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!” 

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??” 

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat. 

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back. 

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this? 

I was finding it hard to breathe. 

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?” 

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb. 

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.  

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.”  Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention. 

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my right side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me. 

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction. 

I’d never felt so big in all my life. 

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel.  Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me? 

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings. 

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming. 

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.” 

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb. 

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump. 

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?” 

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices. 

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”. 

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste. 

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them. 

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table. 

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it. 

What has gotten into me?? 

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain. 

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside. 

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this. 

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant? 

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…”  from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above. 

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space. 

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise. 

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…” 

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another. 

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation. 

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers. 

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking. 

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me. 

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment? 

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me. 

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass. 

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame. 

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion. 

********** 

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work. 

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse. 

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too. 

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall. 

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander. 

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right. 

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look. 

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers. 

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before. 

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror. 

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder. 

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood. 

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well. 

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck. 

***** 

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief. 

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”. 

I was flabbergasted. 

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me? 

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me. 

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.” 

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together. 

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garmet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more. 

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you. 

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful. 

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now. 

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks. 

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all. 

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?” 

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did. 

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered. 

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.” 

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.” 

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight. 

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age. 

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks! 

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”. 

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions. 

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any. 

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me? 

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself. 

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were. 

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore. 

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me. 

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.” 

What a lovely dream this was. 

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…” 

“I want you to have them.” 

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another: 

“No, no you’re being far too kind—” 

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!” 

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!” 

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.” 

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled. 

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy. 

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. 

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods. 

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself. 

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.” 

******* 

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red. 

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted. 

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.” 

“Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to. 

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it. 

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax. 

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind. 

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

Tag List

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@writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing

@patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @themarlo @cup-o-chai @raccoontoaster

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@certainwizardguy @closetedgtaccount

[medicasino]

EVERYONE GO LISTEN TO JHARIAH !!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hotvintagepoll]

LAST POLL OF ROUND 6

Propaganda

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

[ember-ling]

It was only a matter of time before I joined this trend. I absolutely love how many Clangen blogs have sprung up, each with unique stories, characters that rip my heart out, and art I can and will stare at for ages. Here are six I particularly enjoy. (Specifics under the cut.)

Cats, in order:

Partridgechaser from @whispering-clan -- I'm super interested to see what a connection to the Dark Forest means in this context (where the good vs. bad associations of StarClan and the Dark Forest are blurred). I had the hardest time choosing who to draw from this Clan of all the blogs, but ultimately her DF association and cool design made me want to draw her!

Brackenshine from @glitterclan -- she's been through so much and deserves a break, but I feel like prophecy cats don't have much luck with that. I'm interested in seeing how she and her siblings interpret StarClan's message, and what they'll do next!

Dropletsplash from @splinterclan -- I love this story so much, especially seeing the unique relationships every member of SplinterClan has with each other. I often overlook Droplet in favor of the kits or their parents, but she deserves everything and is trying so hard. Congrats on the apprentice!

Petuniapaw from @clansofafeather -- I wish for their sake they had a better family, but I love a character who tries to be a good person (...or cat) despite being dealt a bad hand. I loved seeing them bond with Amber and the kits, and seeing them be so protective of them despite just being an apprentice. (This is technically not a Clangen blog but the artist/writer has done several of those too!)

Honeypaw from @the-exiled-comic -- technically not a Clangen comic, but I wanted to include someone from this one anyways! I love Honeypaw for his design, enthusiasm, and kindness, and I've enjoyed seeing more of him in the recent chapters.

Wildfirecry from @loudclan-clangen -- the last few updates have been rough, but I absolutely love the character moments and seeing Wildfire get his revenge. Such a cool artstyle, too! Please get out of the crude oil

I'm nervous I mistagged or misnamed anyone, so apologies if that's the case! All of these blogs are such inspirations to me and I'm excited to see where their stories go.

[hyunnielix]

things i wish you said. | h.h

Series Masterlist

'Sorry, that I pulled the "It's not you, it's me" One day, I'll make sure you get a real apology'

— hyunjin x (f) reader

— word count: 3.4k (she's a long one sorry + unedited)

— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance (I know who would've thought. eventual smut (not in this chapter sorry).

— warning's: bestie!minho, angst. Minho is pissed!, Hyunjin being a flirt, sexual references, fluff, reminiscing on the past! SO MUCH ANGST, reader is gifted a painting!

→ playlist on spotify

The room hummed softly with your playlist, melodic symphonies and sultry beats. The whole day you'd felt on edge, anxiety eating you alive.

The dim glow of your bedside lamp cast a warm light over your room. Standing before your desk mirror, you slipped into a black and white dress. Tiny diamanté's sparkled along the bodice, catching the light like scattered stars every time you moved. While the cinched waist accentuated your silhouette.

You sat on the ivory chair in front of the mirror, reaching for the makeup scattered along the desk. You dusted highlighter along your cheekbones and couldn’t help but think of him—his absence lingered like a ghost in the room, uninvited and impossible to ignore. But tonight wasn’t for grief or longing. This was your stage, your chance to shine in a way which let him see exactly what he’d left behind.

As you swept another brush over your cheeks, adding just the right amount of blush, you paused, staring at your reflection. This wasn’t just a night out. With each stroke of mascara, you steeled yourself, straightening your posture. This was your statement. Your chance to show him — and yourself — how far you’d come. A final touch of lipstick sealed it: a bold red, fierce and unapologetic. You weren’t the person he left behind, and tonight, you intended to prove it.

You reached for your die-cube handbag and slung it over your shoulder. Giving yourself a once over, you smiled. With a final breath, you turned away from the mirror and exited your room, down the hallway.

You stopped in your tracks, drawn to the painting hanging in the hall—the one Hyunjin had gifted you on one of your birthdays. It depicted the silhouette of a couple standing close, an umbrella shielding them from an oncoming storm. Their hands clasped in an intimate grip, a quiet tenderness captured in oil. The muted blues and earthy browns swirled together in a way that felt alive, reminiscent of so many moments you’d shared with him. Once, you loved getting lost in its strokes, marveling at the way it seemed to breathe. Now, the sight of it made your chest tighten, the ache a stark reminder of what you lost.

You wondered, not for the first time, why you couldn’t bring yourself to hide the painting. It hung there like a ghost, its presence both soothing and tormenting. Every glance at it stirred something deep inside you—a mix of longing and resentment you couldn’t quite untangle. Maybe it was the memory of how happy you’d been when he gave it to you, or perhaps it was the quiet defiance of keeping it in plain sight.

"I think it’s about time to put that painting to rest, huh?" The suddenness of Minho's voice made you flinch, his tone cutting through the quiet hum of the apartment.

You turned awkwardly on your heel, clutching your bag tight to your chest. The dim overhead light cast warm shadows across the small kitchen, the faint scent of dish soap hanging in the air. "It’s probably for the best," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Minho stood at the sink, his sleeves rolled up as his hands moved in the soapy water. The clinking of plates stopped, and his brows furrowed slightly as he turned to glance at you. "Where are you going all dolled up, pretty?"

You shifted uncomfortably, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you approached the bench. "I’m going to La Luxe for dinner."

His lips quirked into a teasing smirk as he returned to scrubbing the dishes. "You finally found someone to take you again? Don’t tell me it’s Felix."

His playful jab caught you off guard, and you rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh, though the weight of the conversation pressed on your chest. “It’s nothing like that, Min,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress. “Just a catch-up with an old friend.”

“Would I happen to know this old friend?” His eyes narrowed, the edge of his tone sharper than usual.

“What’s with you and the questions?” You sighed, avoiding his gaze. You hated how easily he could read you.

He tilted his head, crossing his arms like a disappointed parent. “You’re getting defensive. So, I definitely know them.”

Your gaze drifted to the painting on the wall—that painting. The one you couldn’t bring yourself to take down.

“Y/N,” Minho's voice softened, barely above a whisper.

“He’s back,” you murmured, turning to face him. “He came back.” The fabric of your dress suddenly felt too restricting, like it was suffocating you. You caught the flicker of surprise on his face—and was that disappointment? Felix was right. Of course he'd be upset.

“And tonight, you’re going to tell him you don’t accept his half-assed apology, right?” Minho's tone carried a warning edge.

A silence swallowed the room. Your answer lingered there, unspoken but painfully clear.

“He can’t just waltz back into your life after three years and expect you to grovel at his feet. It’s pathetic. He should know better.”

“Min,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady, “you know I love you, but I need to handle this on my own. Please, let me make my own decisions. Okay?”

"If you get hurt again, I won't be the one picking up the pieces," Minho huffed, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He left the rest of the dishes undone, wiping his hands on a towel before disappearing into his room.

The tension in the apartment lingered. The last thing you needed was him being mad at you. Although, Minho's frustration was nothing compared to the storm brewing in your chest. With or without his blessing, you had to face your tangled mess of emotions.

A buzz interrupted your train of thought, you slipped your phone out of your handbag and read the notification.

Hyune: I know I said we would meet there but I'm outside your apartment. You don't mind if I give you a ride right? If it's too weird I can just go.

Y/N: It's okay. I'll be out in a minute.

The car ride was filled with small talk and a comfortable familiarity that you hadn’t anticipated, especially considering how cold he had been the last time you saw him. An ease lingered in the air, the kind of casual chatter which made it feel like no time had passed at all. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, the same dry humor which used to irritate you, now felt oddly comforting. The tension you braced yourself for never materialized; instead, it felt like slipping into a well-worn pair of shoes—familiar, yet strange and new.

You'd almost forgotten how the interior of the restaurant, La Luxe Charm, looked. Bathed in warm, intimate glows of low golden lighting.

Hyunjin's hand ghosted your waist, his fingertips close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin but never quite making contact. His frame stood beside yours, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne— Mint and raspberry, reached your nose, refreshing and sweet.

As you stepped inside, the clicking of your heels was silenced, the plush carpet beneath muffling the sound of your steps. The walls were lined with a deep crimson velvet, embossed with intricate golden patterns which shimmered subtly under the soft light of chandeliers which hung overhead. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the faint aroma of gourmet dishes being prepared in the kitchen.

Dark wood panels created a sense of secrecy, while gilded frames adorned the walls, each holding carefully chosen artwork that spoke of refined taste. Your gaze drew to one of the paintings, the style eerily familiar.

Instinctually, you reached for Hyunjin's hand, intertwining your fingers. His skin was warm against yours, the subtle callouses on his fingertips a reminder of the hours he spent painting. You turned your head slightly, leaning closer until your lips hovered near his ear, your voice dropping to a whisper, "It seems like they have taste too. Look at the work they're featuring."

You glanced back at him, catching the way his gaze lingered on your joined hands. His expression softened, almost as if he were entranced by how naturally your fingers fit together.

"Hyune?" The name slipped out before you could stop it. His eyes flicked to yours, surprised. "Oh. Sorry." You quickly dropped his hand, the warmth lingering on your fingertips. A blush crept up your cheeks as you glanced away, suddenly self-conscious. "Force of habit," you mumbled, the words barely audible.

"Hmm? yeah it's flattering to say the least."

You forced your gaze ahead of you. Tables were draped in crisp white linens, set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses. But the booths were your favourite part, deep and inviting, with high backs, offering an air of privacy and comfort as patrons conversed in hushed tones. Everything about the space—every detail from the dark, rich color palette to the gleaming accents— you adored. It was the sort of place where time seemed to slow, and every moment felt like something to savor.

You were led to your table by a cute waitress, her smile genuine as she gestured toward the velvet-upholstered chair. Hyunjin stepped in, excusing the waitress and pulled out the chair for you, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

The waitress dipped, placing the menus and glasses on the table. The soft swish of her movements almost blended into the elegant surroundings and her gaze lingered for just a moment longer before she turned to leave.

"I can't believe we used to come here every Wednesday. We'd argue so much over what pasta to try and then you'd steal my desert." You sat, placing your handbag on the floor by your foot. You ghosted your hands over the menu, avoiding his intense stare.

Hyunjin tilted his head. "You say that like you didn’t always end up taking half of mine!"

"I liked seeing you get all worked up over it. You always took everything so seriously." You giggled, airy and light. "This restaurant was only my favourite because you introduced it to me you know."

He paused and you glanced up, drawn to his silence. His silky onyx hair framed his face in a way which seemed effortlessly deliberate. His lips, naturally full and slightly pouted, parted as if he were about to speak but thought better of it. Your eyes roamed down his body, the tailored suit he wore was jet black, its sharp lapels accentuating his shoulders. The crisp white shirt beneath, unbuttoned at the top, hinting at a casual defiance of formality. Definitely on purpose.

Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his jaw before settling on the small slit in his left eyebrow. Subtle yet striking—a detail that added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. It was new.

He noticed your stare, and for a fleeting moment, his lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Well. You were always the carefree one, always able to shrug things off. I admired that. Took one day at a time."

"And you," You pointed your finger at him. "Were always trying to fix everything. Always had a plan. I never understood how you did it. I couldn’t keep up." That's why I was left behind... your smile faded. "You always knew what the next step was."

Hyunjin shook his head and stared at the menu. "I didn't. I just pretended like I knew what I was doing."

"And now look at you! Mr. Artist." You rested your chin on interlaced hands.

"Hah." He sighed, "Yeah."

You frowned at his tone—hollow and restrained. It didn’t match the warmth he once carried, the easy laughter that used to light up every room he stepped into. "So what was it really like? Paris!"

"It was great at the start. The classes were fun, I made some really good friends. I think you'd love Jeongin." The corner of his lips tugged upward. "I owned my own studio and was invited to prestigious events. All the flashy bullshit."

"It sounds like fun."

"Yeah until I grew bored. I couldn't place my finger on it. My work became monotonous. Lacking colour and emotion. My recent pieces I scrapped. I seem to have lost my inspiration." he said, his voice low as his eyes locked with yours, steady and unwavering. "So, I guess that's the reason I'm here."

Your brows furrowed. He couldn’t be implying what you thought he was, could he? The air between you thickened with the question hanging in the space, a subtle tension building that made your heart skip. You watched him closely, searching his face for any signs of a joke, any hint that he wasn’t being serious. But there was nothing. Only the quiet intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words sinking in.

"You came back to find new inspiration?" you asked, your voice edged with disbelief.

"I think I realized my very flaw," Hyunjin began, his voice faltering slightly, "My work has always been inspired by the people around me and—" He paused, visibly struggling to find the words. His gaze dropped to the table for a moment, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the motion would give him the courage to continue. His usual confidence, the one you used to admire so much, seemed to be slipping away, replaced by something more vulnerable.

He met your eyes again, his expression softer, almost hesitant. "I’ve spent so much time trying to capture things that weren’t mine to hold. People. Moments. You. All of my art has one common denominator," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He didn’t say it outright, but you didn’t need him to. The unspoken truth laid bare between you, like a canvas waiting for its final stroke.

Your stomach tightened as his gaze lingered on yours, searching for a reaction. You didn’t know what to say, your thoughts tangled between disbelief, anger, and something dangerously close to longing. The realization crept over you slowly, each piece falling into place like a puzzle you weren’t sure you wanted to solve.

"Me," You whispered lowly, your chin trembled and you let out a sharp exhale.

"I didn’t expect to feel… like this, when we sat down again. I thought it’d just be some casual catch-up." Hyunjin let out an airy, nervous laugh. "I didn't plan a monologue or anything so I'm flying by the edge of my seat here."

"Yeah me neither." You hesitated, "I don’t think I ever really stopped thinking about you."

"I get it," he said softly, voice laced with regret. "I tried to bury a lot of things too. Things we never talked about. But now, seeing you again… I realize there's so much I still wish I had said."

"Like what?" you asked, the words escaping before you could stop them.

He hesitated, fingers fidgeting as he stared down at them. "I'm sorry," he finally murmured, his voice cracking slightly. "For leaving the way I did. I never gave you a proper explanation. Telling Felix and Minho, expecting that to be enough? I couldn't even stomach telling you to your face." A bitter laugh escaped him as he glanced away. "How much more of a coward could I have been?"

"Hyune. You don't have to apologise. You were following your dream and I just didn't fit into that space anymore. I understood, I just think... I think I wanted you to fight harder to stay. It's silly."

He reached over the table, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The contact sent a soft shiver through you. His hands were as gentle as you remembered them—warm, soft, and full of the careful tenderness. "It’s not silly," he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity.

You looked up at him, surprised by the firmness in his words, but before you could speak, he cleared his throat. "I—I, uh, brought a present with me," he said, his eyes flickering with something like nervousness.

Surprise painted your features as he pulled out the present, a canvas wrapped in simple brown paper, the size of a painting. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at it. He hesitated for a moment before handing it to you. "I thought... you might like this."

You took the canvas carefully, fingers brushing over the smooth texture of the paper, the edges slightly creased from the wrapping. The soft rustling of paper echoed in your ears as you peeled it away, revealing the canvas piece by piece. Hyunjin watched you intently, his hands resting in his lap.

Your breath caught. It was a painting of you. Your body, bare and exposed, captured in a way that felt so intimate it almost hurt to look at. The brushstrokes were so delicate and shadows seemed to dance around your form, casting a softness that made the image almost too real. The lines of your body were captured with such detail, it was as though he memorized every inch of your form—your bare skin glowing, the faint curve of your waist, the gentle arch of your back.

A rush of heat flooded your face. You didn't know how to feel. Shocked, confused? maybe even angry, but none of it seemed to come together. You expected many things, but this? This wasn’t what you imagined. The intimacy of the piece unsettled you—too much of your body laid bare, too much of your soul exposed.

Your voice was barely a whisper, as if saying the words out loud made the weight of them even heavier. "My scar is there..." Your eyes fixed on the painting, not quite seeing it anymore, but instead tracing the path of the old wound that marred your skin.

The image of your body, so exposed and raw, was both beautiful and jarring. Hyunjin captured your form so delicately, but in that moment, all you could see was the mark, the jagged line, etched into your flesh from years ago. It had been a part of you for so long, hidden beneath layers of clothing and carefully constructed walls, something you rarely allowed anyone to see, let alone be immortalized in oil paints.

Your chest tightened. The scar became a focal point. It was a reminder of pain, of loss, of something you'd never fully healed from. The scar wasn’t just physical; it carried years of emotional weight, an experience you never spoke about. Not even with him.

You felt a coldness settle over you. What had he seen when he painted you like this? Did he see only your beauty, your vulnerability, your essence? Or did he see the scar, too? Did he know what it represented? Did he understand how much it hurt to see it laid bare, stripped of the protection you'd spent years building?

You wanted to tell him how you felt, to explain the confusion, the grief that welled up inside you. But the words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong in the same space as the picture before you. How could you explain his painting awakened something you weren't ready to face, something that had been buried for far too long?

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but you fought them, swallowing the lump in your throat. The warmth of the room seemed to fade, replaced by a suffocating tension. "Thank you, Hyune."

He blinked, caught off guard. "You don't like it?" His voice quietened.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, struggling to keep your composure. "I'm sorry. I think this was a mistake. I don’t think I can do this." You stood abruptly. The weight of the words felt like a confession.

"Y/N!" The desperation in his voice hit you like a punch and he gripped your wrist, his touch almost bruising.

Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you locked gazes with him. In that silent exchange, a thousand unspoken words passed between you. The worry carved into his expression only made it harder to hold yourself together.

His hand, once firm and grounding, loosened its grip, hesitating as if unsure whether to comfort you or give you space. That small gesture, the faltering of his touch spoke volumes.

You left and didn't look back.

[cambion-companion]

hi!! binge read all your raphael stuff and i think it added more worms in my brain!! :D thank you!!!

raphael idea: artist!reader (or tav/durge) that raph commissions to paint a portrait of him. maybe how the sitting would go- would he be monologuing? would he be looking over contracts? would he be sneaking fond (in his own way) glances at the lovely little artist sitting in his foyer putting so much passion and concentration into capturing his devilish visage?

or maybe smth like he can't make it to a sitting one day so he sends haarlep to do it expecting that the artist won't be able to tell the difference. instead, his artist refuses to start working since that's CLEARLY not her patron!! his facial structure is off!! that piece of hair doesn't flow down like that!! and his gaze- clearly not!!! so raph comes back hours (or even days) later to find the little artist still in his house, waiting for his return so that they can resume work <3

I LOVE this!

Thank you for reading my work and for sending this lovely message in! This idea kinda ran away with me but I hope you enjoy this drabble!

“Where is Raphael?”  You squinted at the devil lounging on the gold embroidered cushions.

On first glance, it appeared to be the cambion you’d met yestereve. He had commissioned you to paint a self-portrait for him, showed you the many that already hung from his marble walls. You’d begun your work, sketching the lines and filling them out with practiced dexterity.

Due to time constraints, the devil was a busy man it seemed, you had to cut your painting short, determining to begin again the following day.

Now you sat again, upon the small stool, staring in consternation at the creature who would have you believe it was Raphael.

The fiend stretched, feigning a languid uncaring composure.  In all but those burning eyes, focused so sharply upon your frowning face.

“Whatever do you mean, little succulent?”  It was Raphael’s voice as well, though something was off about the cadence. “You have everything you need right here.”

You shook your head, frustrated, lowering your paintbrush from where it had been poised over the canvas. “No, this isn’t going to work. You aren’t him.”

“My, quite the perceptive thing.”  The devil straightened, looking displeased. “How very annoying.”

“What…who are you?”  You asked, a slight tingle of fear running down your spine.

“I am Haarlep.”  The devil’s long tail swished to curl around his feet.

“That’s an odd name.”

“Isn’t it just.”

Your frown deepened, an annoyed breath hissed through your clenched teeth. “Well, I cannot continue until the real Raphael returns.  When will he be back?”

“The master will not return for quite a while.”  Haarlep rolled his shoulders, looking equally put off. “I do my job quite well. What exactly is the issue?”

You set down your tools and folded your arms, still wary of whatever this creature was. “The way your hair falls, the cadence of your voice…”

“All aspects I am sure you can rectify without too much issue.”  Haarlep interrupted with a petulant gesticulation, but you spoke over him.

“And your eyes.”  Your own eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing on the burning embers within those inky black orbs. “Your eyes are wrong.”

“I’m offended.”  Haarlep deadpanned, then tilted his head with a curious smile. “Explain.”

“I cannot.” You shrugged.

“Then work on painting everything except the face.” Haarlep repositioned himself upon the sofa, his eyes rolling slightly in bemusement.

“For professional reasons, I cannot.”  You didn’t budge. “The master of the house didn’t notify me of this change.”

“The master of the house apologizes.”  Now that voice you recognized, Raphael’s.  Deeper and with more presence than the voice Haarlep used.

Raphael, still in human form, strode into view and offered you a wry smile.  He bowed slightly at the waist, his brown eyes never leaving yours. “I admit to not foreseeing your powers of insight. What a delightful discovery, my dear.”  

He turned and observed Haarlep with mild amusement for a moment. “You’re slipping.”

“Nonsense.”  Haarlep stood from the chaise and flexed his batlike wings. “You know as well as I, some things cannot be replicated.”

“Such as?”  Raphael directed the question to you.

You shifted, your behind slowly numbing from the uncomfortable stool. “Well, the way Haarlep carries himself for one.”  You said carefully speaking the other’s name. “The eyes are also completely different, not in shape or color but the nature they hold within them.”

“Fascinating.” Raphael put his hand to his chin, a slight quirk to his lips. “The eyes.  Windows to the soul.”  He laughed, short and rough.

You didn’t quite understand the joke but smiled politely. “Have you time now?  I can come back later.”

“No.”  Raphael shook his head and placed a firm hand on your shoulder, taking a moment to inspect your canvas. “This is important work. I am at your disposal.”  Raphael’s human form melted away. His hand on your shoulder grew in size and sharp claws bit through your shirt to your skin. Hellfire eyes looked down upon you, familiar, calculating. “For as long as you need me.”

[burn-before-reading]

Love in the Time of Socialism

joost klein x artist!reader

art, mush, and ramblings about life

warnings: depression (ish), burnout, reader character in some vague mental health funk

word count: 2k

a/n: slight prequel to blue is the colour of your eyes but can be read as stand alone. just same artist reader. vaguely romantic but just ramblings and getting feelings out haha. started this when I was in more of a bad mental state (lol) but im fine now so it got kinda tame by the end of it. still not proofreading anything

title from the song Love in the Time of Socialism by Yellow House

Rpf below the cut—

Normally Joost has to call you because its the only way you will actually look at your phone. Its more often that not you find yourself fixated on planning out your next project, and your friends have to force you back into reality. There was that one time no one had heard from you in over a week and thought you were dead, when you were just working. You hadn’t realized how many texts you missed and apologized for scaring your friends half to death. Especially Joost.

So now you leave your ringer on, and now they call.

Tonight, however, Joost calls and you aren’t in your studio. You are in your bed, where you have been for the entire day. and also most of yesterday. There isn’t a reason in your head specifically why this has happened. you MEANT to get up. Theres a list of chores and things to do just sitting on your desk, but you woke up late, so now nothing will get done. At some point it just became too stressful to even get up and look at it. You roll over and stare at the contact picture of him, smiling with some dumb fish eye lens he thought was funny. You debate not picking up at all.

But you can’t ignore him.

“Hi Joost.” your voice came through the phone more hoarse than intended when you answered, you don’t remember the last time you talked to someone. “Whats going on?”

“the others wanted to go out for drinks tonight, you hadn’t responded so I wanted to check you were joining us.” You could imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of his living room while he talked, it was either that or pacing around.

“uhh..” Drinks at a bar was the last thing on your mind. In any other situation you would have loved to be around your friends, but right now you just needed to avoided as much as possible. “Not a good night, tonight. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time.”

Joost felt like something was off, you sounded tired. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be fine I just… shit brain day. bad brain thats all. It happens.” You did your best to summarize how you felt without actually admitting anything, you weren’t sure how to explain anything anyway.

“ Oh Im sorry, would it be good, if I came over? I can keep you company, if thats okay?”

“you don’t have to, I’ll be fine tomorrow. I want you to have fun. ” you insisted, but he pressed on.

“I don’t mind, the group would understand. Have you eaten today?”

“Like… a meal? yes, or well, no. I had a soda..” You glance at the half drunk soda from the night before, now flat. “and uhhh..”

“I’ll pick something up.” You could hear him on the other end gathering things together, keys, wallet, probably his ipad.

“.. thank you. I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

-

Joost knocked on your door about an hour later. In that time you were able to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to change and make yourself somewhat presentable in front of a guest, and to the kitchen to make coffee despite it being 8pm.

You opened it to see Joost with a sheepish smile as he extends his arms out for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi Joost.” you take the step to hug him, feeling his body heat contrast with the cold nighttime. “I’m glad you’re here.” the two of you head inside to your living room where he empties his bag of take out to reveal a couple different thai dishes and egg rolls. It was hard to not admit you weren’t at least a little bit hungry.

The two of you ate in mostly silence, making small talk about different projects you two have going on, or the fact that the two of you were in between projects. He done with touring for the time being and in the process of working on a new album. You loosely avoiding talking about any current work plans but mentioned one or two paintings you finished for a private gallery commission last month.

“ Just some paintings of animals and nature-ish symbolism. Honestly my heart wasn’t really in that one, but it payed the rent so.” you shrug and shove noodles into your mouth.

“Well now you have the time to work on your own stuff, right?” he commented, leaning back into your couch and looking down at you sitting on the floor instead of any of your own furniture. “Draw whatever your heart desires.”

“I mean I guess.. Im just glad to be done with the oil paints for now. I swear i think I was gonna die in my studio from all the chemicals. I dunno, I finished that whole project last month, I haven’t really been very productive since then.” you trail off and Joost gets a concerned expression on his face.

He sinks down from his spot of the couch to join you in the floor. The fluffy rug brushing against his legs as he adjusts his new sitting position.

“Its okay to take a break, you know.”

“I know I know, I just get frustrated. I never seem to have my energy directed towards the right thing. Whenever I have all those big projects from other contractors, I can brainstorm and think of all these interesting ideas I wanna work on, but I can’t because then I would get behind on the art Im being paid to do.”

“mhm.” he nods, to indicate he’s following along.

“ And then whenever Im done with those projects, I just get… tired. and my focus is gone. and Everything just feels…” you gesture the last bit with your hands, scrambling your fingers, to imply your thoughts. You aren’t looking at him, but you can still see him nodding in your peripherals. Joost always seemed to understand your thinking and explanations to things, even if you thought they were messy.

“Do you want to try painting right now?” he asks. you just shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know what I would paint.”

“You can paint our dinner, or, or yourself, or your plants maybe?” he suggested and stands up. “Can I paint too?”

“Oh we’re actually doing this?” Not that you didn’t want to, but this self doubt had creeped into your mind again. That failing to produce something decent would prove that you’ve lost all your talent, your skill.

“yea we can have a little painting party!” he chimed, but he hesitated walking over to your studio to grab stuff, still giving you the space to reject his idea.

you looked away and started nervously tapping your fork against the table.

tap tap tap tap

“…sure. We can use my watercolors, Ive been wanting to use them more often anyway.”

the coffee table became a little more cluttered as you set up the paints for the two of you. Joost using an old set 24 pans and you using a newer set of watercolor tubes you were gifted last year and never opened. You watched as Joost immediately dipped his brush in water and started activating the blue paints, spreading it onto his paper in big random strokes.

“what are you painting?”

“not sure yet, maybe im painting you.” he looks up and smirks. you scrunch your nose up.

“why are you using so much blue. am I a smurf?” you joke and he just shrugs and points to your own paper.

“Just mess around, can’t be any worse than what im doing.”

tap tap tap tap tap tap

you fidget with your own brush for a few seconds lo get before grabbing a big mop brush and wetting your paper with clean water. Taking your smaller brush again, you pour out a small amount of yellow and mix it up with some more water. You hesitate for a moment longer before letting the brush lightly touch the surface, creating a burst of colour on the paper as the colour seeps onto the page. You make a few more random marks before switching to another warm colour and repeating the process, now watching the colours bleeds and mix into each other. You look at Joost paper and see that he is actually now trying to paint you, the blue fortunately was able to be mostly contained to the background.

“Do you ever think about what you would do if you weren’t a musician?” you ask.

“I dunno I think after this I could have a pretty successful art career.” he teases but sees in your face the question is more serious. “I don’t know. I started off with youtube, but if I wasn’t doing that… its hard to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t follow this path.”

“I always have this feeling deep down, that I made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. I was thinking about going to school for psychology, I also wanted to work with animals at one point, be a vet. I enjoy art, don’t get me wrong, but I just worry that in making it my job Ive just drained all the passion I had for it.”

You let the paper dry before staining the page with lines of dark burgundy, creating hands and a human heart. he hums as he listens, not adding anything, but simply letting you vent. beginning to piece together your mood from earlier. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now, which is what Ive been waiting for, to work on my own stuff, yknow? I haven’t had the time ive wanted to make something for myself for a while. But now I just feel, I feel like ive been frozen.”

“things seem to be okay right now. I like what youve made. ” you look down and see the scribbles youve made with your paint. hands clasped over a broken heart. you shrug and smile softly, signing the bottom.

“Just a scribble, you can have it if you want.” You hand the paper over to him. “thank you for coming by, its… its nice being around you. Helps a bit.”

Joost takes the paper and studies it for a second. “I really like it, maybe I should come by more often.”

“If you bring the food we can have art nights whenever you want.” he holds up his paper. The blue bleeding into your skintone and hair since he didn’t wait for anything to properly dry. “I might stick to my ipad though, I don’t know why you like this paint.” he scrunches his nose at it. you laugh and it makes him smile.

You notice for the first time how bright his eyes look when he smiles, but you brush the thought away.

-

“Feeling a bit better?” he asks as he lingers by the door on his way out.

“a bit. like I said It was just a mood, I was gonna be fine tomorrow most likely… I still appreciate you coming over.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to call or text okay? Im always here to talk if you need. or just to listen.”

“definitely. Ive been meaning to uh, talk to someone about all this stuff anyway, you’re not a professional but ill keep it in mind.”

he grins and goes in for one last hug. you feel him slightly squeeze you and linger a little longer than usual before letting go. With one last glance he waves and head off. You see him pull out a cigarette for the walk back. It takes you a second to close the door. standing there watching him walk off until he turns a corner and disappears. Closing the door you sigh and go the clean up your living room.

You notice he left the portrait he drew of you. signed at the bottom with a smiley face next to his name.

It gets hung up in your studio above your desk.

[visceral-reject]

WRITE A STORY WITH ERIC DRAVEN PLSSSSSSS

Of course, though I am going through a bit of writer’s and artist’s block, so i deeply apologize for the quality.

A/N: Angst w/comfort, reader is depressive, something quick might expand on this later though. Eric is…eric.

Hands a bit too cold to be considered normal traced the plain of your stomach, the skin warm beneath his calloused palm. Eric was many things, a murderer, spiteful, any name under the sun one could think of, but in the current moment he was envious. Envious of you, sleeping beneath the many blankets of his bed, practically a nest for the both of you now. He was envious of your warmth, your liveliness, your mortality. There may have been a time when he’d daydream of what his life could have been like in his older years, hair graying and fading and worn band tee shirts. But those days would never catch up to him, but you still remained. Fuck if you didn’t stay glued to his side. He remembers seeing you after he was brought back, the black tears staining your cheeks as you tried to look through him, trying to rationalize the sight before you.

You sat upon the brick wall of what was once a shared apartment, bottles and cans thrown haphazardly around the creaking floors. You, a husk of the person you used to be, in the middle of the mess, eyeliner running down your cheeks and eyes hollow, eyes once so full of life and contentment, now dull, sharp even. If his heart could, it would break at the sight of you. He stalked you from his shadows, not yet ready to face you. Oh how he longed to hold you, to remind you he’d take care of you like he promised so long ago, to simply feel your skin against his would be enough. But Eric remained still, continuing to watch you gulp down more cheap vodka like it was water. Erin grimaced, he didn’t like the sight before him. He saw himself lingering within your behavior, saw his influences in your mannerisms. You, none the wiser to his position before you, didn’t even jump when his footfalls fell upon your ears. Maybe you were to drunk, or maybe it’s because you were to far gone to care.

“ Look dickhead, I don’t know what the fuck it is you want but I-“ your cold remark was cut short, far to short with a familiar laugh, a laugh you hadn’t heard in over a year, actually thats a lie. It was the same laugh that had been haunting your nightmares for so, so fucking long.

“ Such harsh words from such a pretty girl, you kiss your mother with that mouth pretty? “ Eric drawled, nearing you. You, bottle just an inch from your agape mouth. There he was, face painted a sickly white and black smeared haphazardly across his eyes and lips. It was like time stopped, only the two of you existing at once. Eyes welling with tears, you stayed silent. What could you do? You were there when they put him into the cold hard ground, there to pick up Sarah when her mother couldn’t give less than a fuck about her. You. Eric, now squatting before you, searched your face, for any sign of emotion, emotion he didn’t find. You wanted to scream, to hit yourself and down the rest of the bottle, telling yourself you were dreaming, but you couldn’t. His cologne had long since faded from everything that was left behind, but here now you could taste it. Mouth gaping akin to that of a fish out of water, the bottle fell, clattering onto the floor as your hand reached to his face. Just a touch. Just something to tell yourself this was real, that he was real. With a trembling finger, you pushed the wet stray hairs from his painted face, moving to trace his jaw. He was real this time, a tangible thing before you blessing your teary eyes with a pained smile.

That was a long while ago, he’d yet to find a real reason to pass on yet, though the Crow had quit trying to urge him now. The night was young, though the city lights didn’t make it seem that way, still, you napped, curled underneath the blankets. Eric let out an audible sign, cold fingers mindlessly tracing shapes onto your skin. He’d give anything, anything at all, just to fully feel the true extent of your warmth again, the warmth he felt when he was alive, not just a walking corpse. Eric longed to be the softer man he once was for you, but he knew as well as you did, that man was gone. But for now, he’d be content with this, relearning and healing alongside you.

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

A modern Feysand au where Rhys just took over his father's company and is trying to make it his own. So, he's creating new job titles, firing people who only work there because of nepotism, and in his free time, he likes buying paintings from CursebreakerArt.com to decorate and liven the building up.

Feyre is a struggling artist who is only able to afford rent because some random guy keeps ordering from her shop and she's not complaining, but he's bought so many, and who needs that many paintings?

One day, after mailing the latest orders out, Feyre decides to walk around the city and eventually notices the help wanted flyers for Velaris Co. everywhere she looks. She's curious. She's heard of this company before, and apparently, the ceo is an absolute prick, but the pay and benefits are supposed to be fantastic. So, she takes a flyer, and after a few days of no new orders, schedules an interview.

Rhys goes through the list of the days scheduled interviews. Normally, a ceo would be too busy to conduct interviews on their own, but he wants to show he's different from his father, and he wants to know every employee as a friend, not just someone who works for him. He scans through the list, and one name suddenly catches his attention. Feyre Archeron. He knows that name. He's seen that name elegantly signed on almost every painting on this floor and has seen it scribbled on a little thank you note that comes with each order. Feyre Archeron, creator of CursebreakerArt.com, is interviewing at his company that afternoon.

Feyre walks into the interview room slowly, suddenly self-conscious about her paint stained sweater and leggings. This place was really nice and really professional. She was way in over her head to even think of trying this! She should have washed the paint out from under her nails! She should have worn a pencil skirt and blouse!

Feyre's thoughts are cut short when Rhys enters the room and then suddenly stops. Then, their just staring at each other in silence. Feyre thinks Rhys is not only the handsomest man she's ever seen but that he must also be appalled by her appearance and it was definitely a mistake to come here.

Rhys, on the other hand, was 100% prepared to gush about how much he loves her work, that is, until the moment he actually saw her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had not been ready for that at all.

Feyre gets up, starting to apologize for wasting his time, saying she'll see herself out, but Rhys stops her with only two words. "You're perfect."

Feyre blushes fiercely, then Rhys clears his throat and begins talking to cover up what he just said.

"For the job. You're perfect for the job. You see, a lot of my employees have young children who spend the day in our care center or go there after school. I was hoping to hire some new employees, people who are passionate about something like art, cooking, or music to come in to spend time with the children during the day and teach them."

"I see... and you think I'm perfect for that job from just one look at me? Without even looking at my portfolio?"

"Ms. Archeron, off all the interviews I've conducted today, you have been the only one to dress appropriately for children and not an office. You're covered in paint, so you're clearly passionate, and I already have most of your portfolio hanging in my office or in the hallways."

[wekiaam]

2D NEWSIES: What I would change

I just realised I've been making fake concept art for a nonexistent animated Newsies adaptation for four years now. Over time, I've been getting so many ideas for this adaptation if it ever became real, I thought I would share them with you guys! This includes story changes, cut and additional songs and ideas for characters and style. I would love to know your thoughts on these!

When I started making concept art for "2dsies" as I came to be called, I intended for it to be based on the Broadway version and the Broadway version only. However, stories on stage differ a lot from stories told on screen, it just doesn't work the same way. I do still prefer the storyline of Broadway Newsies, but I think the best version would be a combination of the best parts of all different versions, plus some necessary changes. I would want Newsies to be a love letter to every production we've had, to everyone who made happen and every theatre kid who's been geeking out over it since 1992, while also being its own standalone movie that can be enjoyed by anybody. I am in no way an adequate screenwriter, these are just a few suggestions I have for a better story!

Story

Like I said, the story will be based mainly on the Broadway storyline, meaning we still have Artist Jack, Katherine, and most elements from the show that aren't in the movie. It will, however, be quite different from the show and the movie, and maybe add some more of the real events from the newsboy strike. There are still some details and scenes I would like to add and some I would remove completely.

- I like the history lesson opening from the movie, it gives people just enough background information on the real historical events the story is based on. I don't know if it should be Racetrack or Jack narrating, though.

- In Santa Fe (prologue), Crutchie mentions he's afraid the other boys will find out about his bad leg, even though they all literally know him as Crutchie, and it seems to be the first time Jack tells him about his dream of going to Santa Fe, even though they've clearly been best friends for a long time. It feels off, UNLESS they only just met, which is why I love @raggedy-albert 's theory so much. I would have the scene start off with them as kids, and have them grow up throughout the song.

- I want to add a scene in the beginning of Katherine at the New York Sun to establish her character and motivations, and possibly a little foreshadowing. Just an idea for a scene; she goes to the editor to let him read her story covering the trolley strike, but he reminds her of "her place" and that she's lucky enough to be in the position she's in and that she should go review a vaudeville or something. This would not only give her a similar motivation to the newsies, but also, if we're gonna bring the women's rights movement into the story let's do it right!

- Of course I'd also like to add more romantic interactions between Jack and Katherine, to make their relationship more believable. However, I don't think they should be a couple immediately after the finale, I was more thinking of an open ending to their relationship where Jack takes his first step to staying in New York by finally asking her out.

- Maybe add the actual scene where Jack and Davey visit Brooklyn instead of having them tell the other newsies what Spot said right before Seize the Day. Show don't tell, you know?

- A scene where Jack visits Crutchie at the refuge, similar to the one in the movie, but with the sadness Jack describes it with in the show. Again, show, don't tell. Show me how Jack visits the place of his nightmares again only to find his best friend in a worse state than ever and being unable to save him.

- Katherine punches Jack after the rally. Give it to me.

- Additional scene after Jack and Katherine's song after the rally where Jack formally apologizes to the newsies. Because in the show it just cuts from "omg he's a sellout *spits on the floor*" to "yay captain Jack is back" and it just doesn't sit right with me.

Songs

- There should be an entirely new Pulitzer song. The Bottom Line is good but by far the most skippable song on the cast recording, and The News Is Getting Better (the off broadway cut song) is a little Better but not quite the evil capitalist song we need.

- Swap Something to Believe In for When I See You Again. It's such a sweet song and I think it suits Jack and Katherine a lot better. It's much more "Neither of us know what tomorrow brings but when I'm with you I know we can change things for the better, even if it's scary but for now let's be here together and forget the world for a bit" instead of "I love you but I'm still gonna chase my cowboy dreams"

- Cut Letter From The Refuge, since my idea was to have this be a scene instead.

- Some lyric changes!

In Santa Fe: "Crutchie's callin' me, he's fine, just too damn slow"

In Once And For All: add this lyric from the movie, "Better to die than to crawl".

In Seize the Day: "Friends of the friendless seize the day, raise up the torch and light the way", not in the song but in the reprise where all the working children of the city gather before the finale.

Additional: "Still it seems like the dream of a boy, not a man", from The Truth About The Moon, a cut song from the movie that was supposed to be sung by Sarah. I don't know where I would put this lyric, but it could be said or sung by Jack as he realises what he's really looking for is not actually Santa Fe.

Characters:

- I want to add more girls to the background newsies, first of all.

- Sarah still won't do anything for the plot, but Davey and Les could mention that they have a sister. She's still canon to me.

- Speaking of Les, let's make him more likeable and also more helpful.

- Snyder has two scary dogs with him at all times.

- Just and idea, maybe Denton could still be a character if we replace Darcy with him, or maybe combine the two. Have him be Katherine's chaperone and friend formally, but also her reporter bestie. They could be a fun journalist duo!

Style

- The movie will still include the iconic choreography, which means it couldn't be fully 2D, but rather a mix between hand drawn and CGI.

-I would love for the backgrounds in the movie to be similar to impressionist and romantic art styles from the 19th century, to really sell how it's a story told from Jack's perspective. Especially his dream-like imaginations of Santa Fe would be brilliant in this style.

- I want to include a lot of weather foreshadowing. Rain right before Seize The Day and the sun breaking through when Davey starts singing. Mist surrounding Snyder and sudden darkness whenever he's near. A beautiful sunset when Jack and Katherine are alone on the rooftop. And of course, partly cloudy, clear by evening. It's such a cool way of visual storytelling when you have a plot that has no magic involved, like in most Disney movies.

- The real people characters' designs (Pulitzer, Hearst, Roosevelt) can be based on political cartoon caricature versions of themselves.

And lastly, quotes from the movie I liked that could be inspiring for the animated movie:

-"When I created the World..." "🙄" and "Where was I?" "You created the World, chief?"

- "No, we'll be just a bunch of angry kids with no money"

-"What, you couldn't stay away?" "Well I guess I can't be something I ain't." "A scab?" "No, smart."

Many of these ideas are still in development. Some might work, some may not, but I will be basing any future work I'll post on here on these ideas. I would love to see you guys  discuss and add on to these!

[hyperfixingfr]

STOP SUPPORTING KNDBRAINROT!!! (NOW GOING BY PENCILHOLDERSILLY)

Some of you guys are still engaging with their content and liking it + following them - please stop! The only way they'll truly care about their actions is if they aren't gaining support!

They've been harassing artists in the fandom, block evading many artists and even stalking some onto social medias they never talked about having. Kndbrainrot had even done this to me, messaging me on Tik Tok despite me never giving it out!

In this same conversation, they admitted to me that them requesting an EEnE artist drawing Ed kissing Sarah (a pair of siblings) was 100% done with incest intents. (Shoutout to amazingspace-22 for not giving them incest content :)))

I've tried for HOURS at this point to get them to apologize/own up to drawing Kuki on a body pillow extremely sexualized. They refused to, and when they finally DID "apologize", it was riddled with guilt tripping and blame dodging.

They don't really CARE about apologizing for doing this. At some point they even told me they WANTED to draw this and still would want to.

They only care about harassing artists into giving them art. They only want to be forgiven so they can get unblocked and ask more people for free art. One time, they commented this under my commissions post that I made to try and get temporary fix for my extreme and unbearable pain. This is extremely insensitive and outright SNARKY. They've also had a reported instance of demanded kommandonuovidiavoli draw something despite her very clearly only accepting certain kinds of requests at certain times.

They also called gay people sinful. I tried to question them on this like I have the other stuff they've done because I understand they're young and easily influenced by indoctrinating materials, but they kept fighting me back and refusing what I was saying with things like "oh but it's okay because I'm Christian and support the community" (while still claiming LGBTQ+ people are going to hell... Lovely/sarc)

Also shows a case of them dodging blame because they don't even address my first question.

To finish it off... Compilation of them dodging blame and giving horrible excuses for why they won't apologize.

I'm done talking about them. For the love of god, please block them and cut off support from them. They're feeding off your support and it's sad to see people still don't care. We can't let a young child think this behavior comes without consequences, because they seem to think they can get away with it. Don't let them get away with it.

[flagbridge]

I Saw the Phantom Proshot at the NYPL

Happy 36th birthday to Phantom's first preview on Broadway! I was going to save this post for the actual 36th, but I figure all of us need some more Phantom Broadway "original" content since the official Insta accounts are reminding us today that Phantom is no longer (though it should be) on Broadway. I'm going to post about what I saw, and I'll follow up on January 26 with all my answers!

Some time ago, @or-what-you-will and I went to the NYPL's Theater on Film and Tape Archive, and viewed the archival pro shot of the Original Broadway Cast of Phantom of the Opera, filmed live on May 25, 1988. There is only one copy, and its purpose is artistic preservation (not commercial distribution--the library owns it). It was kept under lock and key during the show's run. All information about how to access the archive is on the website. I can't really tell you anything more besides what's out there because it will become identifying. You get set up in a room with monitors and can pause and rewind, although you can't touch the media.

This was not my first TOFT proshot, but it was the best-filmed. Some, there's a single camera just parked, or there's some generation loss because of when the tape was transferred to digital. This had absolutely vivid colors, a multi-camera shot, and brilliant and clear soundboard audio. I heard lyrics I have never heard (especially during Notes when everyone is singing over one another), the sound balancing was so good. It was as transformative as seeing it live.

These are all the notes we took while there (apologize if they can seem disjointed) More below the cut.

ACT 1 NOTES: 

-Multicam shot

-amazing audio (soundboard), vivid colors

-Raoul/Barton is crying in his voice during the auction

-there’s a “voice” that sounds like a woman singing with the overture (maybe a theramin?) We jumped in shock at this. We've never heard this before, not even on soundboard.

-Sarah Brightman comes on stage during the Hannibal rehearsal, moving across the stage with Meg during “Rome not Roma”--so she dances in the front row during the Hannibal ballet

-Hannibal ballet then has 10 dancers and since Christine is in the whole thing, there is slightly different choreo

-there’s a synth under Meg’s “he’s there, the phantom of the opera” 

-Firmin lights a cigarette and Andre (Future Phantom Cris Groenendaal) stops him right before “Think of Me’ which makes the “Defense de Fumer” on the back of the curtain make even more sense

-Think of Me Gala skirt is not as full (but of note, Carlotta’s Elissa costume is much more ornate than we have now or even at the end of Broadway)

-Raoul sings slightly different notes in Think of Me. Steve Barton goes down a few notes on “young and innocent” (it’s not belted) and is clearly wistful. 

-The think of me cadenza is absolutely effortless

-The “Bravi, Bravi” is haunting and perfectly sound balanced!

-Meg can actually sing and the Angel of Music harmonies work

-Raoul (Steve Barton) is nervous before going into the dressing room. He taps his fingers on the banister and takes a deep breath before going in

-He’s also nervous inside the dressing room–you can see him going from seeing an old friend to suddenly having feelings, being attracted to her. When he’s standing behind her he has a slight moment when he nearly touches a lock of her hair. 

-Raoul is wearing a ring on his right hand (signet?)

-Steve Barton says MY Little Lotte

-Christine (Brightman) is excited about meeting the Angel of music and has a wanting and longing in “Enter at LAST master” (in a way that Lily Kerhoas does now and we haven’t had many Christines who do this) 

-The picture is VERY CLEAR and NO WASHOUT when we see Michael Crawford appear in the mirror for Phantom’s entrance. You see everything

-When the door opens for Raoul to the dressing room after they go through the mirror, it opens slowly (vs banging open). It’s the same tempo that Phantom moves to take Christine through the mirror

-1925 Phantom silhouette vibes at the first “sing for me” 

-Not a particularly aggressive cape twirl, but def a twirl. 

-They get VERY close on “turn your face away”, almost kiss (like, Russians, Panaro/Joseph close) 

- he has a nice portcullis sprawl but she does not press against him, there is visible space between them the entire time

-”Caress” and “hear it, feel it” are explicitly seductive, the former in how it’s sung, the latter because he self-caresses on “feel it”

-the “Touch me” in touch me/trust me is half sung/half spoken order, she strokes her hand over the mask and he does not pull away

-He does have a little panic when she faints and he covers her with the cloak. He’s holding her hair when he sings to her there

-At the unmasking, MC holds for a brief moment before covering his face with his hand so the audience gets a peek of the deformity (before “damn you”) 

-Vixen not viper

-Crawls on knees, not stomach. We get…lots of crying and whimpering 

-Christine sees his face a lot during this sequence. MC lowers his hand as soon as he’s on her side of the stage from “secretly dreams of beauty” to “Oh Christine”, when he turns away–but she is looking at him the entire time. MC is angled right by a mirror shard so we can see a bit of the deformity reflected back

-Right before “come we must return”, MC is about to cup her face with both his hands before changing his mind–she starts to reach for him as well. 

-His Mandarin robe is much longer than we have now (ankle length vs calf length) 

-This Giry has witch vibes

-Steve Barton is playing eager puppy Raoul and it shows even though he looks older (Barton was 35 at the time)

-The sound balancing is so good that you can hear lines you don’t normally hear during Notes 1 and Prima Donna–including the Managers thinking that Christine has just been off with Raoul all night. 

-Sarah Brightman does a different pose on the bed as the pageboy during Il Muto. She crosses her legs vs putting her hands on her hips. 

-Firmin yells “the role of Christine Daae” to the proscenium, clearly directed at Phantom

-Barton Raoul’s “There is no Phantom of the Opera” comes off more as “Christine this is just some dude” vs “he doesn’t exist at all.” 

-Raoul loves Christine so much. He strokes her hair gently to comfort her right before “No more talk of darkness”--his eyes are soft and he’s genuinely caring and concerned (vs trying to be a hero) 

-”All I ask is for one love one lifetime”--different lyrics, she does it twice (This is on soundboards from the time)

-Raoul puts his face to Christine’s hands at the proposal. 

-Christine is clearly kissing his cheek right next to his mouth during the kiss (the final lair kiss is a real kiss) 

-Christine’s “I must go” is not as playful as we often see it later. She really is trying to go. 

-Raoul is nervous at “Christine, I love you”--he lowers his head for a moment worried that he said something wrong. He’s excited when she replies “order your fine horses”

-AIAOY Reprise: Michael Crawford is partially slumped over the angel, he’s holding hands with it to the audience’s right, and arm is slumped over on the left. We get a lot of anguished weeping, and little distressed moans as Christine and Raoul sing, there is rocking and head shaking and then covering his ears. It’s a HUGE difference then when he stands up fully for “You will curse” (he does this again during final lair between “unfeeling scrap of clothing” and “pity comes too late) 

-He also roars before standing

-The Phantom laugh/cackle continues well into the chandelier drop into intermission at the light cut out for about 15 seconds. 

Act II

-Carlotta masquerade costume has no mesh in the skirt–it’s much more of a see-through skeleton crinoline, so the feature is the purple tights

-Not surprising since Sarah Brightman is a dancer, but Christine does the proper choreography during Masquerade--she's the center of attention. Barton also does quite a bit of dancing.

-There’s an organ (almost like a circus organ) underlying the finale during masquerade

-Red Death double doesn’t run down the stairs, he stays at the top

-Giry/Raoul exchange after masquerade–both holding the lantern and super closeup

-Reyer is clearly gay–coded. Some voice and hand gestures during Sitzprobe

-Wishing–only one “help me say goodbye” (when did the second one get added?)

-”Far-reaching” gaze, Wandering Child is a duet

-Piangi says “conquest” is assured (at some point, this became “congress”)

-Michael Crawford imitates Piangi until “past the point…”

-Sarah as Christine is listening intently to Phantom’s voice and immediately noticed something is off–she doesn’t figure it out right away but she notices something. She is suspicious the entire time. It's not clear when she knows for certain.

-Christine never flees from him, during the first caresses, he hovers over her body, she turns to kiss him, he turns away, her hand lingers on her back, before she gets up to sing her solo part away from the table

-Michael Crawford’s hands are in in his crotch when Christine’s singing on the other side of the stage (“you have come here”)--he’s moving his palms in his lap the whole time, his hands are shaking, we only get glimpses of him, most of this part it’s focused on her

-There is none of the arm waving circling while their hands are held, she takes his hands, he switches his grip to hold one of hers, and they keep them on him

-She figures it out when she reaches down–she’s holding his hands above him and she pushes her left (our right) hand down and he pulls and she notices something–we can only see to his upper waist but her hand disappears and her expression changes, it’s implied he has an erection

-she doesn’t ever feel the mask, either accidentally or on purpose

-She doesn’t actually ever try to escape. It’s not the current West End or the past blocking–but more accurate in that she is aware of the situation and plays along. She keeps going with the blocking

-they both get up and keep singing, neither drags the other to the centre, they move together and keep singing 

-The last “return”--he sings it at the unhooding, she doesn’t

-”Say you’ll share with me”--he is really pleading and almost crying on “say you want me” 

-The managers don’t come out to try to usher her offstage, she doesn’t signal to them to stay

-When Phantom gives her the ring, she takes it, but doesn’t put it on–she just holds it

-He doesn’t scream at the unmasking, he just looks shocked and sad

-Ratcatcher order is different–it’s after Raoul and Giry’s first lines, that’s the indication that Giry needs to turn around, Giry screams

-Phantom is crying at “flesh” and through “unfeeling scrap of clothing”, he’s also hunched over through this sequence, and then stands to his full height at “Pity comes too late.”

-Phantom makes a big show of raising the portcullis, hands fully raised

-Raoul swats at Erik with one hand (the other is still on the noose) when Phantom grabs Christine on “start a new life” 

-Phantom is probably the “minimum” amount of rough as we see Phantoms be with Christine in this sequence, as in, he’s definitely scary and menacing but he’s not harming her. He does grab her and spin her around on “start a new life with me.” There are a few wrist grabs (which is book accurate). He’s realizing more that his plan is absolutely crumbling. We get some shots of him on the organ looking panicked.

-Phantom makes a low growling noise before “you try my patience”, which is delivered quickly and almost casually. It is not menacing as some later Phantoms do. 

-”Pitiful creature”..MC’s hand is subtly shaking by his side

-The kiss: the 1st one MC stands with “claw hands” at his side, on the second one, the “claw hands” start shaking

-MC hunches over after he burns the noose

-He stands over the monkey, conducting it with one hand, he is mimicking the symbol clashes, he doesn’t touch it or cover its face

-When Christine returns the ring, his hand shakes as he takes it, he’s hunched over again. 

-She does seem conflicted about leaving, but she doesn’t press her hand back around his, she holds out the ring and his hand shakes as she takes it. She doesn’t linger very long. 

-He says a second “I love you” after she’s gone.

-He’s about to say it a third time, he says “I love…” and then see the veil, and grabs it and screams into it, and then turns and sees the boat leaving

-He sobs and keens a lot

-Raoul bends in the boat to caress Christine’s face on “say the word”)--this is halfway across the stage as opposed to during the stage right exit.

-Deliberately cracks voice on the "can" in “you alone can make” 

-MC Cradling the veil like a baby at the very end

SEND ME YOUR QUESTIONS! You can put it in comments, reblogs, AMA or DM's. I will answer all of them on January 26!

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Frances Dee (Becky Sharpe, Little Women)—no propaganda submitted

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Frances Dee:

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is. [editor's note: I've seen all of these movies and I think they're fine, but it's been a minute, so I can't thoroughly tag for trigger warnings or officially "recommend"—as always, go forth with caution when a movie is mentioned in a propaganda submission, and don't take a mention as an official recommendation of this blog.]

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

[lynn-tged-posting]

so i've been working through the tged webnovel (really, really slowly) (but im getting there!) (it's been REALLY fun i love their banter so so much i wish there was more of it in the webtoon)

and i keep thinking back to chapter 43, where lloyd is surveying the wetlands and arcos comes with him

i don't really have much new insight, i just think about their interaction in this chapter a lot, especially since it's one that doesn't show up in the webtoon adaptation

arcos going out of his way to spend time with his son, and making him a lunch that he knows his son loved, all as an unspoken apology

because "how could he", right? how could a father hate his son and only start to love him again when success has been found? that's so haunting to realize; that someone you loved so much, someone you raised and nurtured, someone you knew the favorite foods of and why, could become someone you hate. and then, the son you once raised, the son who became a stranger, went and grew up without you.

did i give up too soon? did i abandon my own son? ... what kind of father does that? ... right?

and so he does what he can to offer repentance. he takes time out of his day to engage with what his son is doing. he shows that he still remembers his son, the boy who would rather eat boiled eggs and tomatoes over any other dish. he offers it all in a basket, carrying the love he feels he should've given to lloyd a long, long time ago.

... and it's not even the original lloyd frontera who receives it.

we don't get to know what suho is thinking in this moment, but i think his silence speaks volumes.

... because "how could he", right? how could this fraud in another man's body accept this silent apology that isn't truly owed to him? this man, this baron, this father, is asking for forgiveness when he had every right to be angry with the original owner of this body. and he doesn't even realize, because how would he possibly know his original fate? only you do.

this wasn't meant for me ... right?

but suho doesn't reject him, either. he doesn't interrupt arcos, he doesn't leave. they sit together and eat boiled eggs with honeyed tomatoes in silence.

it makes me wonder what suho is thinking about, what he's feeling, what he's remembering...

because (and call me crazy, call me speculative) heaven knows the love language of an asian parent.

here's some cut fruit. here's your favorite snack. here's dinner. i've brought it here to you.

you're working so, so hard. i'll support you, i'll be here. don't worry about anything else, just keep growing.

i love you, i love you, i love you, attached to every plate.

"this was your favorite food when you were young. ... i should have given you as many boiled eggs and tomatoes as you wanted."

and again, it's a little bit of speculation from me, but i think that's why suho doesn't say no, why he lets arcos make this apology. it's a piece of what he misses most.

and so they both leave a little bit healed. "the basket was lighter on the way home. and albeit very slightly, their steps became lighter as well." it might not have been between the right souls, but it's a weight lifted nonetheless.

... all this to say that i am absolutely MOURNING that this didn't make it into the adaptation!!!

i understand that with comic adaptations, there are going to be some cuts to ensure pacing and workload stays reasonable, but this would've been absolutely devastatingly emotional (/pos) to witness visually,

because what would lloyd's (suho's) face look like? what expression would he make, can we visually see how he feels? and arcos, what does he see when he looks at his son? fatherly love and solemn regret, painted all over his face, what does that look like to the adapter? to the artist? to us?

and in general too, we lost the characterization and relationship of arcos to suho; i really, really wish it made it in :(

end post

[sweet-star-sketches]

Sketches + Colour from December 9th-11th, 2024 oops! new blorbos unlocked ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

listen December is Dread Month™ for me so I take whatever my brain can get to survive it emotionally, so in this instance it's joining my buddy @eleanorose123 in her current hyperfixation like I have for the past while :D So while she is still my "target audience" so to speak because she loves Yu-Gi-Oh and I like making art for friends, these are for me too :] (like all of my art is, really. I would not spend this much time on it if it wasn't at least partially for me!) I'm more or less a "fandom tourist" at this point; I don't officially go here but a friend does so I'm here visiting to have a good time, and whatever "souvenirs" I get are all the funny scenes and funky little guys that live in my head rent free now! Yippee :D I have more doodles that are actually older than this set, but I want to do a little more with them so I'll post those later :]

I have a lot to say so I'll put the rest under the cut! (apologies in advance for my verbosity but also this is my blog lol)

I have no reasoning behind why my brain arrived at the idea of Kirby crossover art that parodies an iCarly meme but do I really need it??? Naaaaaaaah :] Two of my funny space creatures together <3 I enjoy the idea of Saiou just carrying him around like "yep you're mine now :)" Ponder the orb (and buy him a smoothie) Unironically this is some of the best art I've made all year, like it turned out so absurdly well that I took it to clean lines and colour/shading, and that too came out well! They both have their respective anime colours, but with some additional highlights and coloured line art because my boys deserve it <3333

This is honestly the most fun I've had with art in a while too, though I know fan art tends to do that for an artist! Don't get me wrong, I've loved everything I've put out for my own projects and commissions this year, as I am not predominantly a fan artist despite how many things I love in that regard.

But considering I've been largely unable to actually let myself do this kind of art as frequently as I used to (the ever-looming anxiety of not getting enough commission work to live or personal project work done to tell my stories is a strong one) I really needed this, even if it was born out of necessity to survive Dread Month than anything else. That's as good a reason as any, I suppose! Might be an odd thing to reflect on for such silly/lighthearted art such as this, but I think that's the point.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that no artistic endeavour is ever truly wasted, even if you don't know how or when it'll come back to you! I actually got some really good analysis of my own art journey and style during my adventures in exploring the Yu-Gi-Oh art style here, which was as unexpected as the rest of this, honestly!

I'm already an introspective person to begin with, but the end of the year makes me reflect on things even more than usual, so thanks for reading this far! If nothing else, I hope you enjoyed the sillies :]

[bugsmunched]

" Toy and Owner " - Derek Danforth X Male! Reader

Summary: Derek gets off the phone with a particularly annoying employee and his pretty little toy knows just how to ease the pain.

Contents: AMAB! Reader, he/him pronouns used for reader, Oral sex (M receiving), drug usage mention, vaping, degradation, hair pulling, consensual hitting, choking, Derek is mean,spoiled brat Derek, Reader is just seen as an object, Dick piercings, spitting, face fucking,

SMUT UNDER THE CUT! MINORS DNI!!!!!

ASKS ARE OPEN! IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS PLEASE ASK!!

You weren't exactly sure what to call the relationship between you and Derek Danforth. You certainly weren't boyfriends by any means, as he simply saw you as a toy that should do nothing except sit still, look pretty, and pleasure him whenever he sees fit, which is quite frequent. But you weren't friends either, so you couldn't be friends with benefits, or even really fuck buddies. What the two of you were was simply Toy and Owner.

You tapped your fingers against the window of the limousine that the two of you were in together, trying your best to block out his angry words towards one of his many scum-bag employees.

"- maybe you should try and do your fucking job, and then it wouldn't be on the fucking line! If I don't see improvements in a week, you're done. " Derek threatened before he hung up the phone, letting it fall into his lap as he pulled out a vape. Typically the vapes were laced with some sort of drug that would send the sociopathic con artist to another dimension, but since you came along, he found the drug of you far more addicting.

You knew better than to say anything, knowing that the CEO couldn't give less of a shit about your opinion or advice. So instead of saying anything, you simply slipped out of your seat and crawled in front of him, sitting on your knees and looking up at him, placing your head in his lap. His free hand found its way into your hair, tangling itself in the strands.

"slut. " he spat, venom dripping from his words, making it seem like he truly hated you. You didn't really care if he hated you or not, after all, it wasn't your job to be liked by him, it was your job to please him, to make him forget about everything else.

He let go of your hair and shoved your head off of his lap, leaning back against the seat of the limo. He held the vape up to his lips and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling, blowing the cloud directly into your face. " Well? Get to work. I can't wait all night. " He demanded, arrogance filling the air.

Your hands quickly fumbled with his belt, struggling with the stupidly expensive and quite honestly useless accessory. He always wore his pants too tight and never needed a belt, but to him, that stupid belt looked cool since it was expensive, so he wore it. Finally, you got the belt undone, moving onto the button and zipper of his pants.

He sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes at how long it was taking for you to just get his cock out. " You're a pretty useless sex toy, you know that? Can't even get me out of my pants in a timely manner, hurry the fuck up, bitch. " He huffed, smacking your cheek lightly, as a warning. You knew that if you didn't hurry up, he'd get far more impatient.

You rolled your eyes in response, going to pull his dick out when a hand went around your throat. " What the fuck was that? " He growled a little bit, squeezing the sides of your neck. As much of an asshole as he was, he would never hurt you past what you had agreed on. Would he purposely hurt others? Absolutely. But you? You were special. You were his property, and what was the point in damaging your own property?

"Sorry, sir. " You mumbled out an apology that both of you knew you didn't mean. He let go of your throat and huffed, taking another hit of his vape and blowing the cloud into the air.

"Good boy. Now, get to work, I expect to cum before we get to the event. " He demanded, a smug look on his face as you nodded in compliance.

You reached into his pants and pulled out his hard on, subconsciously licking your lips at the sight. No matter how many times you did this, it still mildly surprised you every time just how big he was. Jacobs ladder piercings ran up his length, each piercing designating an inch of length. Without hesitation, you leant forward, wrapping your lips around his tip. He gave a little whimper in response, his hand finding itself tangled messily in your hair once again.

Slowly, you began to push your head down, the ball ends of the piercings hitting the sides of your mouth. You were always careful to take him slowly, as to avoid any discomfort for the both of you. If you went too fast, you could accidentally tug at a piercing, which you learned he did not like. And although he didn't mind seeing you gag and choke on his cock, along with the mass amount of saliva, you didn't enjoy the bruises that showed up in your throat the next day.

After relaxing your throat a bit more, you pushed your head down even further and soon had your nose buried in the neatly trimmed pubes that rested at the base of his cock. Spit bubbled out from the sides of your mouth, running down his balls and pooling on the seat beneath him. He groaned and pushed down on your head, holding you there as he ground his hips upwards, the tip of his dick grinding against your throat causing you to gag even more.

" fuck, perfect little hole for me to fuck...shit I'm just gonna fuck your mouth, alright? Cause I know you hate having to do your job. So all you have to do is sit there and fucking take it. " He hummed softly. Guess you were going to get bruises after all.

He pulled your head up slightly, giving himself some room to begin thrusting up into your mouth, his tip slamming against the back of your throat repeatedly, which caused you to choke, drool falling down your face and onto the floor below you.

"God, you're such a messy slut, aren't you? You always make such a pathetic mess! It's hysterical how pathetic you are, dumb bitch. " He spat as he pulled you off his cock. You panted heavily, tears pricking in your eyes. Just as you managed to catch your breath, he shoved you back down onto his cock and began relentlessly thrusting in and out of your mouth once again.

He was using your mouth like a little fleshlight, and you both loved it. To him, you were nothing but an object for him to use for his pleasure. Once again, simply put, you were a toy and he was your owner.

Tears spilled out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and mixing with your drool on your chin and his cock. He loved seeing you cry because you couldn't take his cock. "pathetic. " He hissed as he pulled you off his cock again, just to spit in your face and force you back down.

After a little while of choking on his cock and nearly drowning in your own spit, the bleach blonde above you started to whimper and his breath began to get shaky, tell tale signs that he was close to cumming.

"fuck, little slut, if you get even a drop of cum on the leather interior of this limo, you'll have it coming. " Derek warned you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and less rhythmic.

As he got closer, he got louder and louder, not caring if the limo driver could hear him. That driver has heard everything that had ever happened in that limo, including the time Derek fucked you till you passed out on his cock.

He whimpered loudly, taking another long hit of his vape, exhaling with a loud moan as cum began to spill down your throat. You gagged a little bit at the suddenness, but managed to swallow each and every drop, not getting a single one on the leather interior.

He pulled you off his dick, whining a little bit at the loss of warmth. " At least someone knows how to do their job around here. " He cupped your face with his hand and pat it gently. " Good job, slut. " He hummed a bit. It was rare that he praised you, and often times when he did, it was because he was so sex drunk that he didn't realize what he was doing.

He stuffed himself back into his pants, rubbing the stubble on his chin, patting his lap. " Get off the floor and get back up here. " He commanded, watching as you scrambled to your feet and then placed yourself back in his lip, leaning against his chest. He held the vape up to your lips, offering it to you. Just as you took a bit, his phone began to ring. Once he picked up, he soon enough began yelling again. Looks like your job wasn't quite done yet.