#like. i practiced my make-up for oz

[navysealt4t]

mannn i wish i could show u guys my make up i did a rlly good job

[sysig]

The brainworms are winning, clearly (Patreon)

[arieslost]

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

[femmeroll]

✦•·················• 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳 •·················•✦

abby anderson x fem reader | wicked au

wicked has taken over my brain completely this week and i had this idea while watching gelphie edits on tiktok! i might make this a series if it does well 🤍

your arrival to shiz was nothing short of magical. the scenery is something out of a storybook, the buildings resemble the palace from your favorite fairytale.

you step off your boat, kissing your dear parents goodbye and stepping into the quad with as much courage as you could muster. it’s overwhelming, truly, being thrust into a new environment.

the illusive madame morrible takes center stage, introducing herself and welcoming us all.

“welcome, students, to shiz university. your roommate assignments are posted at each corner of the quad.”

you walk over to one of the signs, searching for your name. you hope whoever you’re paired with is nice enough. that’s what you had the most trouble with. you heard stories of girls being stuck with awful roommates at shiz. your finger trails the list until you spot your name.

y/n and abigail anderson

abigail. okay. a new best friend, perhaps? you wonder what she’s like. what’s her major? does she play sports? is she more introverted or extroverted?

the room is on the second floor. you carry your pink bags up the stairs, eyes landing on room 201. opening the door brings a bright smile to your face. it’s gorgeous. the dark wood and floral ceiling details make your heart swell. it’s perfect.

the door clicks, and your eyes widen.

at least five foot ten, skin adorned with the cutest freckles you’ve ever seen. her biceps strain the fabric of her shirt. she has a stoic expression on her face, practically unreadable.

“you must be abigail! i’m y/n, it’s great to meet you” you greet her, glossed lips perking up in a sweet smile.

“uh, yeah. that’s me. just abby” she replies awkwardly. she looks around and sees what you’ve already set up. pink desk, pink vanity, pink bedding and a closet already filled to the brim with frilly pink clothing.

she sighs, opening her bags and getting her side of the room ready in silence. she’s the complete opposite of you. no decorations apart from a framed picture of her and a middle aged man, assuming her father. her clothes are plain, a lot of grays and blacks.

“so…” you start, “what’s your major? i’m in sorcery.”

“same” she replies shortly. you find her disinterest with you a bit strange. she doesn’t even look at you as she speaks, focused completely on unpacking.

“are you taking oz history? i have it at eight tomorrow with dr. dillamond.”

“yeah, same” she says. “i’m a morning person, so i should be fine.”

you smile. even if it’s small, her adding to the conversation is worth something. you hope that she’ll warm up to you eventually. you’ve always been friendly, and maybe some of that will rub off on your new roommate.

the first week of school at shiz is decently successful. you make some friends, meet your professors, and your adjusting just fine without your parents. abby, however, is still an issue. she leaves early for your shared class, seemingly so she doesn’t have to walk with you. she eats in the dinning hall by herself, studies in the library alone, and never talks to you without being prompted. she doesn’t even interact with you in spells and sorcery club.

you’re so frustrated. why doesn’t she like you? is she just bad at making friends? you don’t understand.

on sunday evening, while abby is at the library, you get ready for bed. you slip on a silk, pink nightgown and matching pink slippers. you grab a pen and paper, and begin writing.

dearest mumsie and popsicle,

this week has been good, but my roommate is not fond of me. i’m trying to be friendly, but i thinks it’s safe to say that she detests me. i miss you both dearly, i can’t wait for oz day break!

love,

y/n

the door opens, and abby eyes you up. you look so pure in your little nightgown, holding your pink pen. it makes her skin crawl, her face flush, and her head reel. she has a hard time describing her feelings towards you. but she settles on one word.

loathing.

she loathes the fact that you occupy her thoughts. she loathes the fact that she can smell your sweet perfume in any room you were in before her. she loathes how social you are. she loathes how effortlessly pretty you are. with your stupid makeup and stupid pink dresses that barely reach your mid thigh. she loathes how kind your words are. loathes how every word you say sits in her head for hours. it drives her insane.

“hi, abby. how was your studying?”

“it was fine. i’m no good at history.”

you giggle. god, she loathes that adorable giggle too. “aren’t you from the emerald city? i assume it was shoved down your throat.”

“i guess so,” she sighs. “i kinda tuned it out. it being shoved down my throat had the opposite effect.”

“i could help you, you know. i’m good at history.”

abby huffs. why are you so insistent? she doesn’t need help. from you or for anyone. but when you look up at her with those precious eyes, her mouth opens before her brain even works.

“that’d be great.”

you internally cheer. finally, you’re getting somewhere!

“good! we can go to the library tomorrow.”

that next week, you and abby spend every day in the library. while the conversations are mostly about oz history, you learn a little bit more about abby. you learn that she likes to read old books. she plays desertball in her free time. she takes walks off campus often, with no destination. she just enjoys being outside.

around eight pm on friday night, you and abby are still in the library. it’s empty, besides the two of you and the librarian.

“you’re really improving, abs!” you smile, sneaking in a new nickname. “i think you’ll do great on monday’s quiz.”

there you go with those sweet words. the words that make abby’s stomach twist.

“a bunch of us are going down to the ozdust tonight. do you wanna go?”

“i don’t think so,” abby replies. “not really my scene.”

you pack up and start walking back, a bit disappointed.

“if you won’t come, will you at least help me pick a dress?”

“uh…i guess so.”

back in the dorm, you hold up three dresses. one is pink sequin, one is pink with with lace, and one is white with pink flowers.

“i think i should try them on, so you can see what they really look like.”

abby’s mouth goes dry the second you start taking your uniform off, face to face with your pink lace bra and matching panties.

that’s the final thing abby loathes.

how much you turn her on.

she doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but she just can’t help herself. every time she sees you in your tiny dresses, her eyes linger. when you come back from the communal showers with your pink silk robe, her brain short-circuits at the thought of you being completely nude underneath. it drives her insane.

“abby? what do you think of this dress?”

she snaps out of her thoughts, you’ve already put one of the dresses on. you look gorgeous, the dress highlights all your curves, the lace on the sleeves is absolutely stunning.

“u-um…it looks nice. really nice.”

you giggle. “i guess i’ll go with this one, then.”

abby sits on her bed while you get ready, curling your hair and applying your makeup. she feels sick. you’re so nice, you look so pretty, and now she has the imagine of you in nothing but a bra and panties burned into her brain. and you’re going out in that tight dress and abby feels like her head is gonna explode.

“i’ll be back before midnight. bye abby!”

she waves goodbye and collapses onto her pillow the second you leave.

she tries to calm down. she goes to the gym, she takes a freezing cold shower, she studies for her remedial sorcery class, but no amount of distractions will get rid of the picture of you in her head. she loathes this feeling. maybe she loathes how you make her feel, not you yourself.

she’s trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes she sees you. and then her imagination starts to go against her will.

“abby, will you take my dress off?”

“abby, you’re so muscular and strong.”

“abby, please kiss me.”

“abby, you make me feel so good-”

her thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open. there you are, hair slightly frizzy but still as perfect as ever.

“hey abs? why are you still up?”

“couldn’t sleep. did you…have fun?” she asks

you pout. “not really. my friends left me to go hang out with a group of boys.”

“why didn’t you go with them?”

“they were all paired off. plus, i’m not really interested in flirting with boys.”

abby’s eyes widen.

“will you unzip my dress for me? i’m so sleepy.”

oh, this is horrible. abby feels like she’s gonna faint as she unzips your dress. this is exactly how her stupid fantasy started. the stupid fantasy where she gets to taste every inch of your sweet body.

“thanks, abs. you’re so sweet” you say. you change into your nightgown and turn back to face abby.

“i hope you’ll come out with me next time. it’d be much more fun with you.”

“yeah…maybe.”

you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, getting a pink, shiny mark on her face. “goodnight, abs.”

you crawl into bed, falling asleep immediately. abby is stilling standing there, jaw dropped.

she didn’t loathe that. not one bit.

i hope yall enjoyed! this is my first actual long fic. let me know if you want a part two 🤍🤍🤍

[struwberrii]

Hii! I love your headcanons and I’ve been listening to your haikyuu playlists daily<3 i was wondering if you’re able to do kuroo headcanons cause that would be great(^_^) take care

kuroo headcannons ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much!! and thank you for the request!! here are some of my silly headcannons for this dork kuroo tetsurou ヽ(^◇^*)/ (also here’s the link to the kuroo playlist i made)

his love language for EVERYONE is teasing them, especially using his height to his advantage to pick on shorter people

doesn’t really study all that much but has crazy good grades

always walks you to class and surprises you during breaks with snacks

constantly picking on you (guys it just means he likes you)

helps you study but not without making fun of you for being ‘dumb’ first

unironically uses reddit and is constantly reading aita stories

i feel like mentally he’s a middle aged white dad

his favorite show is rick and morty or south park

his mom still packs his lunch (he would pack it but he always forgets)

not secretive about anything, like the entire nekoma team knows his phone password

has very creative insults in arguments

type of guy to eat like instant ramen at 8 am and not have a stomach ache

has a weird amount of sponge bob clothes

doesnt have a skincare routine, doesn’t even use face wash when he washes his face but has perfect skin

honestly he’s kind of a dork

can never tell when girls are flirting with him (girls always think he’s flirting first bc of how he talks)

super good at imessage 8ball

loves grabbing fast food and just eating with you or his friends in the parking lot

plays scrabble on his ipad during class

listens to rock and metal bands

sarcastic af

the worlds louded snorer, sleepovers with him are crazy

at the gym a lot and always asking you to come, sometimes he forces kenma to come too (trust he’s on those work out bikes with his switch in his hands)

gets so nervous when trying to compliment you so he’s just like stuttering and fumbling his words

keeps up with basically every sport

very touchy, always has an arm around you

super confident in your relationship, like he trusts you 110%

loves brushing/playing with you hair, probably knows how to braid hair too

always packs snacks, water and medicine just for you

if anyone else asks him if he has those things on him he says no 😭

looks so good in sweat pants

he met your mom one time and she’s always asking about him now (she loved him and wants you guys to be together)

likes the weirdest foods, like he eats the craziest food combos

literally drinks out of a 64 oz yeti water bottle and refills it hourly

probably really likes deathnote and is always watching those hour long video analysis about the characters and the story

brings a speaker to practice and forced the nekoma team to make a practice playlist with him

tries every new video game with kenma

probably loves hot topic and spencer’s

has a garfield mug

[nerdygirlramblings]

really want to write more about Oz, but the omegaverse worms keep entering my brain

cw: attempted accents

previous

Price clocked your reactions this afternoon. He isn't stupid. He knows that being a woman, and an omega in particular, puts a target on your back. The prejudice against both your primary and secondary genders means you need to be so much better than your peers, and you are. You are outstanding in your field. Extraordinary. He's not surprised some other task force hasn't snatched you up before now.

Thankfully, he got you to agree to dinner with the team, so he has help in convincing you to join them as a teammate. And once you're on the team, they can work on convincing you to join the pack.

Two hours after you left his office, and with your parents' words ringing in your ears, you're in the mess, waiting alone at a table in the back. You're usually in the mess alone but try not to linger long. An unclaimed omega alone around so many alphas is practically asking for trouble. Just as you start worrying about Captain Price and the others, he walks in flanked by the largest man you've ever seen in your entire life, his face hidden by a mask with a painted skull on it. Price is big, but the man next to him is taller and almost twice as wide.

Price is looking around the room, but the masked man leans towards Price and points in your direction. When he sees you, Price breaks into a grin and starts heading your way. As he and the large man in the mask approach, you're able to see two smaller - in comparison - men behind them, moving with a purpose that lets you know this is the full 141. Besides Price and the mountain, there's a stocky white man with a mohawk and a beautiful, lithe black man.

When they all stand in front of you, you can smell Price's autumnal scent along with another alpha whose scent is layered in something sharp, like ginger, onion, and garlic. It's a smell you associate with Mum's cooking, but you know many find it off-putting. There's a scent of saplings or fresh snapped greenery mixed with the mellow smell of a warm day: a spring scent coated in beta. The last is another beta, but this scent is crisp and brine, the ocean made flesh. You wonder whose scent is whose.

Price steps forward, offering you his wrist, his scent, again. As you take it and bring it closer to your face, he smiles and says, "Glad ya came." You dip your head in a slight nod and drop his hand, and he takes the seat across from you. He introduces the rest of the pack task force in turn, each man politely offering their wrist before sitting down. You recognize the informal scenting ritual common when joining new groups. You did the same with your squad when you first came to base.

Leftenant Simon "Ghost" Riley is the other alpha. He is sat next to Price. Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish smells like the ocean, and Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is spring. With your permission, the sergeants are sat on either side of you.

"I wan'ed ya ta be able to put faces to the 141 before ya made yer decision," Price tells you. "This way if ya wan'ed ta see what are trainin' looks like or ask about anything, ya'd know who ta ask." Then he surprises you when he suggests you go with the sergeants, the betas, to grab trays for everyone.

"Gaz and Soap know wha' we like," he says, pointing between him and Ghost. "They can get ours while we hold the fort." He must read the confusion on your face, but he only smiles in response. This was not the behavior of an alpha trying to prove his worth to an omega. This was a Captain letting you converse with members of the task force equal to you in rank without superior officers around.

As you make your way to the food, you see Soap eyeing you. You look back a few times, clearly puzzled and a little off balance, until Gaz finally elbows him and says, "Either spit it out, mate, or stop gawkin'."

Soap grins almost manically. "Aye seen ye running th'other morn. Yoor form neyver waivered. Was a sight," he sighs. You remember someone complementing your form after a run about a week back.

"Oh, tha' was you? You were quick!"

"Nae as quick as yoo, lass. I saw yoo pass the barracks foor times. An' aye could tell yoo'd been runnin' a fair bit befoor aye saw ye. Aye cannae run tha' consistently." He doesn't miss the way you blush as his compliment.

You stand in line behind Soap with Gaz at your back. They aren't alphas, but it's hard to miss how their presence calms you, and that's without them projecting their scents for you. Simply knowing you aren't here alone, that people are here who have your back, is enough.

next

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[alottiegoingon]

glinda has a crush.

glinda upland x fem!reader

summary: glinda upland is smitten, and she’s making sure the whole world (especially you) knows it, whether you catch on or not. warnings: fluff overload, afab reader, lesbian glinda, glinda being dramatic, harmless meddling, lots of pink, not proofread, nsfw at the very end, MDNI.

glinda is not subtle. when glinda has a crush, the whole of oz could probably figure it out before you do. she’s extra giggly around you, tossing her hair and flashing her most radiant smile whenever you’re in sight.

she has been fighting people that call her "glinda" for her whole life. "it's gah-linda. with a gah". but you could call her belinda and she'd be like "okay, guess that's my name now hehe :D".

lots of "toss toss". when you're around, she performs this move even more flamboyantly, ensuring you notice her. she even practice it in front of a mirror to perfect it all in hopes of impressing you.

her love language is... extravagant. expect surprise deliveries of glittery pink bouquets, handwritten notes sealed with her signature wax stamp, new clothes, and occasionally, enchanted trinkets she insists you “simply must have.”

“oh, wow, that outfit is so scandalocious! no one wears pink like you do!” glinda’s endless flattery toes the line between sweet and over-the-top.

despite her bubbly demeanor, glinda gets a little possessive... she might interrupt your conversations with others by swooping in, linking arms with you, and whisking you away under the guise of “urgent matters.”

elphaba is so done. she immediately catches on to glinda’s feelings and rolls her eyes at every lovestruck sigh or poorly veiled attempt to get your attention. “just tell her already,” she mutters, but glinda insists she’s being subtle.

not even fiyero can get away. he becomes glinda’s reluctant confidant. she quizzes him endlessly. “do you think she noticed my new hairpin? was it obvious when i accidentally brushed her hand?”

glinda occasionally ropes her more impressionable classmates into “spontaneous” group activities that just happen to involve you. picnic by the emerald city fountain? surprise study group? all glinda’s doing.

when you don’t pick up on her hints, glinda cranks up the theatrics. she might “accidentally” trip so you can catch her, dramatically swoon when you compliment her, or claim she needs your advice about “a dear friend who’s in love with someone amazing…”

subtlety? what subtlety? if all else fails, she starts making outrageous claims, like how the stars in the night sky don’t shine as brightly as your eyes. by this point, even munchkins are side-eyeing her obviousness.

very possessive. very jealous. careful, she bites. if she sees you talking to someone she doesn’t quite trust, glinda will immediately try to steal your attention. whether it’s showing up next to you with a loud “oh, darling, there you are!” or tugging you away by the waist with a soft, dramatic "i need you for just a second...", her jealousy is obvious, but she tries to play it off with a sweet, innocent demeanor. It's almost too cute to notice, but not quite.

when she finally confesses, you can expect a dramatic monologue.

glinda’s confession is a whirlwind of dramatic proclamations and heartfelt vulnerability. “dearest, i simply cannot go another day without telling you… you are the brightest star in my sky, the melody in my heart, and the only person who can make me feel like this!”

when you admit you feel the same, glinda’s jaw actually drops even if she had spent weeks trying to make you notice her. she recovers quickly, though, already planning millions of dates.

expect her to immediately start gushing to everyone who’ll listen. “attention, everyone! she said yes! isn’t she just perfect?” meanwhile, you’re trying to hide your face from the attention.

in a relationship, when you catch her being a little too clingy or dramatic after seeing someone else talk to you, glinda will act innocent, flashing you her most dazzling smile while saying, "me? jealous? oh, princess, no. i’m simply making sure you know you’re mine.” she’ll lean in for a kiss as if nothing's wrong, but you can tell she's putting on an act.

if she feels like she’s losing your attention for too long, she might retreat into a little meltdown, just to get you to reassure her. she’ll dramatically sigh and pout, plopping herself next to you on the couch or across the room. “ugh, why do they even talk to you like that? you’re too good for them!” her jealousy is always a bit over the top, but the underlying sentiment is clear: she wants all your love, and she wants it now.

expect your individuality to be gone when you become her girlfriend. you could be in a party and someone offered you pizza and glinda would wrap her arm around your waist, pull you close and say "oh, we would love it, don't we, my dear?"

personal space? there's no such a thing when glinda is your girlfriend, please! physical touch is a must. kissing, hugging, biting your cheeks or ears affectionately (or more), holding hands anywhere and any time, rubbing your back or your knee when sitting next to each other, you name it.

NSFW (MDNI)!!!

a very soft top!!!

glinda throws herself into everything with gusto, and intimacy is no exception. she treats every moment as though it’s a grand performance, designed to leave you utterly breathless.

glinda loves to talk during intimate moments. she’s shamelessly loud, peppering the air with compliments, exclamations of delight, and plenty of your name. it’s never quiet with her, not that you’d want it to be.

she talks you through it and she isn't shy about it. she likes giving orders and watching you fall apart when following religiously every word she says.

she’ll tease you mercilessly, grinning as she whispers things like, “oh, darling, you’ll have to beg if you want more. i couldn't quite hear you.”

while glinda radiates self-assurance, there’s also an adorable side of her that craves reassurance and exploration. “do you like it when i do this?” she’ll ask, watching your every reaction like her life depends on it.

if you wear glasses, she would love to keep it during sex. "let's put that back in," she says, while gracefully on top of you.

during your first time, she'd be so gentle and attentive to how you'd react to every touch of hers. you feel like passing out when she runs her fingers through your soaked folds so patiently just to see your face contorting in pleasure.

"oh, there it is," she says softly, with that adorable smile feigning innocence, when you trembled at the pad of her thumb touching your clit.

sometimes, when you are in your shared dorm after class, tired and sitting on your bed, you decide to read a book. it takes glinda nothing more than 5 seconds to get bored and impatient and climb onto the bed, crawling to you to spread your legs open and sit in between them. you'd complain and say you were reading and she'd go like "of course. keep doing that, darling, i'm not stopping you," before having her face buried in your pretty pussy.

glinda loves trailing her lips along your neck, often leaving faint marks she calls “little declarations of my adoration.” the hollow of your collarbone is her second favorite spot, especially if you’re wearing something that exposes it. you can't blame her, she likes showing you off!

she finds kissing your thighs endlessly fascinating, claiming it’s the “perfect way to worship you.” expect slow, lingering kisses here, especially when she’s feeling extra romantic (or very horny).

there’s something incredibly intimate about the way she kisses your fingertips and palms, sometimes intertwining your fingers with hers as she gazes at you like you’re the only person in existence.

tell her how beautiful she is, how good she’s making you feel, or how much you want her, and she’ll melt into a puddle of happiness. her confidence skyrockets when you’re vocal about your admiration.

glinda adores the little things. running her hands over every curve of your body, memorizing your favorite spots, and taking her time to make sure you feel completely adored.

post-intimacy, glinda becomes the clingiest cuddle bug ever. she insists on holding you close, peppering you with soft kisses, and telling you (loudly) just how much she adores you. if you let go of her to go get some water, she'll get very upset. do you even love her? do you hate her now? how dare you to abandon her for... 10 seconds?

[mariacallous]

I’m not even sure whether I can taste pure Old Bay anymore, because the condiment is infused with so many memories of home. I grew up sprinkling it on everything—blue crabs, sure, but also watermelon, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese—and I can shuffle through decades of pictures from family reunions, county fairs, church picnics, and back porches where the iconic yellow, red, and blue tins keep popping up like someone’s second cousin, not quite front and center yet always in the frame.

If you’re new to Old Bay, get a tin and shake the contents liberally on popcorn or potato chips—a starter dish, from which you can and should expand. You’ll soon find that you can add the condiment to almost anything. One of my favorite dishes that uses Old Bay as an essential ingredient comes via an old family friend. Keith Davis is a Jack-of-all-trades: a fantastic general contractor, but also a church usher, a builder of wheelchair ramps, a Santa Claus when seasonally necessary, and, lately, a food-truck entrepreneur, grilling burgers and deep-frying funnel cakes for every community event and private party in the area. He goes by Mr. Keith; his food truck is known as Fat Boy’s Fixins, named in honor of the man who taught him to grill and whose Santa suit he inherited.

Of all the things Davis serves up, he might be best known for his crab soup, which he makes in ten-gallon batches and lets the local Ruritan Club sell by the pint every fall at the Waterfowl Festival, when somewhere between fourteen thousand and twenty thousand people descend on the Eastern Shore to see the work of hundreds of decoy carvers and local artists, listen to waterfowl-calling contests, and watch demonstrations of dock dogs, raptors, and fly-fishing. Davis is there every year, gossiping with his fellow-volunteers, talking with out-of-towners, and tossing hunks of crab meat into stew pots. Normally you’d have to shell out eight dollars for even just a cup, but here, exclusively for newsletter readers, free of charge, is the best crab soup you’ll ever taste, a shockingly easy, practically pre-made recipe for trying out America’s greatest condiment: Old Bay.

Mr. Keith’s Crab Soup

1 lb. crab meat (claw meat best) 64-Oz. bottle of Spicy V8 14.5 Oz. chicken broth 32 Oz. water 1 lb. mixed vegetables 1 Tbsp. Montreal Steak seasoning 1 Tbsp. Old Bay

Mix the V8, chicken broth, and water in a pot. Start heating the mixture, then add the vegetables, then the crab meat, and finally the spices. Cook on medium heat until the vegetables start to soften, stirring occasionally “so it doesn’t stick and burn on the bottom of the pot.”

[rafesbabygirlx]

Happy Halloween 🎃

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Rafe x Maybank Reader

Summary: time jump from the original story. Vivienne is now 4 fully understanding the importance of Trick or Treating now. You and Rafe bring her around the neighborhood and couldn’t be more proud to watch her go around and get candy.

A/N: Drabble based on my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

Warnings: allusions to sex (nothing graphic, Rafe is just a flirt) pure fluff between reader and Rafe, JJ the funnest uncle there ever was.

Vivienne bounces on her bed as you lay out her costume. Ever since Sarah and Kie introduced her to The Wizard of Oz, she’s been enchanted by witches, insisting on being one for Halloween. Unfortunately, she’s allergic to most costume paints, even the high-end ones you tried. So she’s no Wicked Witch of the West tonight, but she is the cutest pumpkin witch you’ve ever seen.

The last time she was this obsessed with something, it was sea turtles when she was just one, and everything around her became ocean-themed. Now that witches are her new passion, all the decor and toys have shifted, and Rafe has been more than happy to make that happen.

After dressing her up, you hand over her broom. Before you can fully take in how adorable she looks, she’s already “flying” out of her room, calling for Rafe. “Daddy! Look! Where are you? Look, Daddy!”

With her on a mission, you take a quick moment to head to your room and change. You slip into a simple black corset dress with sheer lace sleeves and a thigh-high slit, topping it off with a tall black witch hat. Flat black boots complete the look for a night of walking.

Downstairs, you hear Rafe and Vivienne playing. “Are you trying to wear her out already? She hasn’t even gotten a single piece of candy yet,” you tease, smiling as you spot them on the floor, with Vivienne practicing her magic spells on him.

Rafe looks up without taking his eyes off you. “V, can you believe how beautiful Mommy looks?” She looks over, beaming. “Mommy’s very ‘butiful!’” Rafe stands, walking over to get a closer look at you, his hand brushing along your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“And where’s your costume?” you ask, grinning. He grabs a matching witch hat from the couch and settles it on his head. True to his style, he’s gone with a simple black button-down and slacks, letting the hat be the finishing touch. Despite the simplicity, he looks perfect.

“V, ready to get so much candy?” you say, turning to her. She jumps onto the bench near the door, holding her broom in one hand and her candy bucket in the other. “YESSSSS!” Rafe laughs, scooping her up as you head outside.

Vivienne walks between the two of you, her tiny hands in yours as she eagerly asks to be picked up and “flown” like a witch. You’re almost to the street when JJ sneaks up from behind, letting out an exaggerated evil laugh as he tickles your sides. You jump, letting out a shriek. “JJ, what the fuck?!”

“Happy Halloween, sis, and Happy Halloween to the prettiest witch in all the land,” he says, grinning as he bows before Vivienne in his butler costume. “Uncle J! You listened!” she shouts, running to him. He picks her up, spinning her around until she’s giggling.

At the first house, Rafe kneels beside Vivienne. “You remember what to say?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“Yes, Daddy, I know!”

“Smart girl. Now go get us the best candy to share.” She bolts toward the door, pulling JJ along, waiting behind a few kids in line. With her in safe hands, you and Rafe hang back, enjoying a quiet moment.

He leans into you, his arms around your waist, his hand brushing gentle circles across your ass. “You might be the sexiest witch I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in your ear, “and you’re keeping this on way past trick-or-treating.”

“Rafe, every kid from Figure Eight is around us, control yourself,” you say, trying to sound stern but failing, laughter spilling out as you bury your face in his neck, sneaking a few kisses.

Vivienne runs back, her face lit up, proudly showing you her haul���three full-size candy bars and a small stuffed black cat. It’s like they knew exactly what she’d love. They must’ve know a witches best friend is a black cat.

For the next hour, you explore the neighborhood, Vivienne’s candy bucket growing heavier until Rafe finally calls it. “Alright, how about we head back? You did so well, but Daddy’s arm is starting to hurt from carrying this bucket!”

Vivienne looks up, her big blue eyes meeting his. “But I’m not ready!” she pouts.

Rafe kneels, a habit that always melts your heart, making it clear how much he respects and loves her. It’s a subtle but perfect gesture. “How about one more house on the way home? Then we’ll sit on the floor, and you can show me everything you got. And you can smack Uncle J’s hand every time he tries to steal some.”

She lights up, giggling at the thought. Anytime Rafe mentions them spending time together, her face beams.

“And if Mommy’s up for it,” he adds, “maybe she can make some popcorn, and we can watch The Wizard of Oz with half a candy bar before bed.” He leans close, whispering, “And you can even sleep in your witch costume, so you can dream about flying on your broomstick.” She gasps at the suggestion.

“Yes! Let’s go now!” she squeals, leaping into his arms. He grins at you, your eyes a little misty from the beautiful sight of your two people, he reaches over to take your hand as he holds her close.

After stopping at one last house, you all make your way home. Inside, Rafe makes a move to take off his witch hat, but Vivienne quickly protests. “No, Daddy! The hat stays on all night!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, putting it back on as you head to the kitchen. You pop some popcorn and set up a small tray with water and bowls, adding some festive cobwebs and plastic spiders for the Halloween spirit.

Back in the living room, you find JJ and Rafe sorting through candy with Vivienne. Over the years, they’ve learned to tolerate each other for your sake, something that makes you deeply grateful. You set the tray on the coffee table and pull up The Wizard of Oz—it’s practically impossible to miss, being first in the watch history for the past 4 months.

As they pack up the candy, JJ attempts to sneak a Kit Kat into his pocket. Vivienne catches him instantly. “Hey, Uncle J!”

He throws his hands up, pleading dramatically. “Please, your greatness, may your loyal—and very fun—servant uncle have a candy bar to take home? Pretty please?”

“She’s three, JJ,” Rafe says, laughing.

“She’s also serious about her business.” JJ grins. Vivienne considers, then nods. “Sure, Uncle JJ. But I want you to take me to see Aunt Kie tomorrow.”

JJ shakes her hand with mock formality. “Deal, kiddo.” Settling into the fluffy lounge couch to your right.

V snuggles between you and Rafe, popcorn in hand, while you turn off the lamps and start the movie. Rafe’s arm wraps around you, and you both spend the movie stealing glances at each other, the connection between you still feeling as special as it did at the beginning. “I love you,” Rafe mouths to you across the couch.

“I love you more,” you mouth back, smiling.

The two of you are still locked in each other’s gaze when you’re snapped back into reality when you hear JJ snoring. You don’t think either of you watched a second of the movie.

JJ’s curled up in the chair, and Vivienne is fast asleep, sprawled out between you. Rafe gently lifts her, carrying her over to the chair with JJ, who instinctively pulls her close in his sleep.

“You’re not bringing her to her room?” you whisper, surprised.

“Nah, JJ’s got her. I’m taking you upstairs to see what magical spells you can work on me.” You squeal, covering your mouth as Rafe swoops you over his shoulder.

He carries you to your room, closing the door behind him. It’s the perfect ending to Halloween night.

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Episode 7: "Top Hat" Breakdown

There’s a constant referencing of stunted childhood about Mr. Cobblepot – a baby grown enormous, grotesque and as needy as he ever was. The Hugh Hefner of crime. But the Penguin’s sublimated the desire for the tit for a desire for cash, power and empire. And this is why he’s Gotham’s greatest – and most outlandish – gangboss - TheMindlessOnes

The Penguin is the greatest Batman villain for the simple reason that he's the meanest. What the Penguin has that no one else has is a simple abundance of pure, unadulterated spite. In Batman's world there's madness, obsession, will and strength - but ultimately it all comes back to crime, pure and simple. The Penguin's motivations are pure because he simply resents the whole damn world and will not rest until he gets his. The Penguin is a criminal, nothing more and nothing less, with avarice in his heart and hatred in his eye. - Tegan O'Neil

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 8)

VLADIMIR CVETKO: We wanted Francis to never allow Oz to use his disability as a crutch, and to always have him be strong and move past it and use it to his benefit. But it is isolating. Like, it is. And so he'll never be the same as his brothers. And so there's an inherent jealousy of just his situation that's there - The Penguin Podcast Episode 7

RYDER ALLEN: He loves his brothers, but he loves his mom way more.

COLIN FARRELL: I think he probably all his life feels a little bit broken, and so he's constantly, constantly, looking for his mother's approval and her love. I think he's seen very up close and personal how his mother has toiled to provide for him and his brothers, and wants to give her a better life - Inside Episode 7

Massive props to all the actors here but especially to Ryder Allen, who is absolutely incredible as young Oz. It would be so, so easy to let this take on Colin Farrell's Penguin slip into pantomine but he makes it work brilliantly without feeling at all like an impression. He is so believable he even makes the adult version more believable. Like, that is the same guy, give or take decades of grime and grit and scars, but that's still the same little turd, just before he was truly practiced in hiding his simmering resentment, but already fast learning.

"My big strong bull of a boy", words that in Episode 01 embody such a dark aspect to their relationship began all the way here with Francis simply encouraging her sad little kid with a bum leg. I said as much in prior entries that it's Francis who lights the fire under him, that she is the force that pushed him from mere self-preservation into city-conquering ambition for her sake, and we see the most innocent form of that motivation here. Just a disabled kid whose mom loved him and wanted him to love himself more.

So the previous episodes had already given us small glimpses of what Jack and Benny were like when they were still alive - that Jack was presumably the older sibling and a baseball player and the de-facto "man of the house", given how readily Francis accepted the idea that he had gone downtown on his own to get the power back, and that Benny was presumably younger and more innocent or sweet, given she mistakes Victor for Benny and asks him to dance with her. The opening scene very much confirms and expands on these traits and already raises up Ozzie having a resentment for them, and where does that come from. That cocktail of self-preservation and insecurity and spite and overcompensating that defines him.

Because it's not even just that his mom loves them and he wants her to love just him, it's not pure greed, it also comes back to how little he thinks of himself, and how he's hyper aware of every advantage others have over him - He can't be the upstanding man Jack is, and he can't be the pure innocent source of joy that Benny is. He can't be trusted to talk to Rex like Jack, and he can't successfully drag her away from work to have fun like Benny. He can't go out and be relied on to take care of his mom like good and strong old Jack, and he can't run around the house like sweet and happy little Benny, can't join the three of them when they play and instead has to sit there and stew in rejection over all this love and affection he can't have.

I didn't think we'd get a glimpse of Rex, but the one we get is so fucking perfect. What we see so far shows he was basically just a piece of shit gangster, a cartoonishly evil Greaser extra with nothing special about him, he was just a guy Oz projected hardcore into because he got stuff done for Ma (and he wasn't even great for his mom, he underpaid her! Same shit Victor complained about with his own dad). Oswald stares at his money and his cigar and his attitude and already wants to be chummy with the guy while Rex doesn't even look at him, he talks to Jack only, and Francis doesn't want Oswald to be involved with him. But even so, he's the closest Ozzie has to an older male role model he looks up to.

And so it doesn't matter that Rex Calabrese's car wasn't actually made of gold,, because Oswald will grow up to tell his next little brother, the next Benny, about the gold cadillac of the man who blessed his block. It doesn't matter that Alberto Falcone was 100% right about Rex Calabrese being just a small-time asshole, because Oz elevated him into a post-mortem myth.

Really, he's doing the same thing Sofia does and that Bruce did, elevating paternal figures into personal saints and guiding lights on their great life missions, with Bruce shattered when he learned about Thomas' mistakes and how said failings shaped everything currently wrong with the city, and Sofia describing her abused scared but loving mother as "a force too great for the Falcones to handle")

I think, way more than the murder, this is the part that most speaks to me about this guy being fated to become The Penguin, that on some level beyond explanation this is just what he was going to be, that he can already think of nothing else but wanting to be this guy. Dude came out of the womb wanting to be a criminal.

Crucially important to where this is going is the fact that there was real love between these brothers. They play flashlight tag instead of regular tag so that Ozzie can be included. Jack is constantly trying to protect him, always shielding him from Rex, warning him that he's a bad guy, taking the two in the tunnels to protect them from the rain, telling them that Ma deserves way better than what Mr.Calabrese plays them. Benny wants to play zombies with Ozzie, wants them to go to the arcade and play Double Dragon forever, puts him up first at tag. And even if all Ozzie wants is to stay and help Ma, even if all his brothers do is get in the way of the only thing he wants, he also wants to play with them, he wants for Benny to think that Rex's car is cool, he is proud to tell Jack that he knows about Rex being a gangster, he wants them to like the things he likes and he wants to be involved when they play.

Just as important is the extent to which Oz was genuinely hurt by what they did at the tunnel - that to him, they pretended to include him in a fair game that was actively unfair, they broke the rules by leaving the area and then broke them further by hiding somewhere he couldn't physically get to and cheating at what they agreed to and laughed all the while, and that's why Ozzie angrily closes the door on them at first, to punish them for doing this to him.

Everything they do here, even Oz's decision to lock the door on them, is childish, because they're just kids playing around. Jack and Benny even apologize and say they'll start over, but then, what will become the pattern of his entire life begins. Naturally, we hear a rendition of his theme when this happens.

KEVIN BRAY: I don't think that Oz had an intention of taking his brothers out in that moment. We've all known that child as a child. We've known the child that just strikes too hard or hits somebody with something and never thought the consequences would cut them open and they'd have to go get stitches. And he didn't have the impulse control, you know, to think this through. - The Penguin Podcast Episode 7

LAUREN LEFRANC: In his mind, they go down the ladder into a deeper part of the tunnel because they know it's hard for him to get down there. That's not true, but that's what he thinks, because he personalizes things. And this is reflective of what we see from Oz in 101 with Alberto. Alberto demeans him, and Oz impulsively shoots him. As the water begins to rise and he knows the rain is coming down and he has every opportunity to stop it, he lets that impulsive act become permanent. It's not that he actively kills his brothers. It's that he actively does nothing to stop it. - Inside Episode 7

Penguin with the Iceberg Lounge built atop the 44 Below where the fucked up shit he's covering up happens / Penguin with the Underground Railroad built atop the foundation of his original moiders he's covering up

Thinking about a description that stuck with me from the podcast, that Francis sent him like a stealth bomber into the world. So stealthy that he even bombed her life and she didn't notice

"They're your boys, and they're freezing" For the entire show this has haunted Francis again and again, even right in front of Oz

I kinda expected, given the Pain and Prejudice mention, that Oswald was going to be indirectly or directly responsible for killing his brothers, and that this was going to have a vastly better idea for that concept, and that it did. I've seen lots of people describe this as the show asserting he was ontologically evil from birth and that's, well that's just dumb, and that would be too easy, that attributes foresight and planning to Oz's decision that simply wasn't there, and wildly misunderstands much of the point of the show. Oswald is not beyond reason or empathy or humanity or feeling, precisely the opposite - he is all too painfully human, all too painfully real, in the atrocities he does and the ones he does nothing to stop.

He just is fearless, and I think it has to do with his empathy. You’re going to go, “God, I hate this guy, but I see where that comes from and that does not make it okay.” There’s a sense of tragedy within all of that. -Matt Reeves

Oswald's decision to lock his brothers in a fit of cruel and stupid spite after they insulted him (even if by accident) mirrors his decision to shoot Alberto after he's insulted and his decision to rat out Sofia after being insulted. Oswald walking home and deciding to do nothing while telling a different story, because it ultimately benefits him to do so, mirrors his decade of silence over Sofia's imprisonment and his complicity in Carmine Falcone's murders while telling Eve a different story. It is, indeed, the worst thing Oz has done yet, but nothing about it is fundamentally different than the patterns by which he's acted since Episode 1.

It wasn't that his brothers were mean, not intentionally anyway, or even Oswald was always planning to kill them, he very clearly wasn't. But A: They did something that really hurt and upset and offended him, and so were the first to find out what happens when you do that to Oz. And B: They were the first people to be in the way of something Oz wanted, the only thing he ever really wanted which is his mother's love, and so it's good they had to go. Not a premedidated crime, not even something he actively wanted, but it was a happy acident turned chance, and he wound up taking it and doubling down on it.

It's evil and fucked up to the degree I think works best for Penguin being evil and fucked up: Not sadistic and over-the-top cruel, not the Joker or any of that fetishistically elaborate revenge bullshit he's had since Joker's Asylum, but as someone who profoundly does not care about what he has to do or who gets crushed along the way for him to get what he needs. Does not go out of his way to murder for the sake of it, but will not blink at whatever body count happens to get him what he wants, more indifferent than actively malicious and that doesn't actually make it a lot better.

I believe Oz to this day still loves his brothers. I believe he means it when he says "I lost em too", it's just he doesn't think about the contradiction involved.

As someone who never liked the hypothermia/forced into always going out with an umbrella origin (always thought the latter one was real forced and dumb as far as justifications for the umbrella-theme went), it's cool they actually did incorporate that classic Penguin origin element so strongly here. In the broadest strokes possible, they managed to work in "Penguin's mother lost her family due to hypothermia and so her smothering concerns for Oswald pushed him into situations where he was frequently belittled and mistreated until he became more and more insecure and spiteful and twisted"

That's the cornerstone around which everything is built, the rest of his life. And it certainly is the foundation, or the springboard upon which he is launched into the world, that decision that he makes as a child in that moment, and the reasons why he does it – so that he can have the isolation of his mother's love directed solely towards him." I think he washes his hands of it totally, and has convinced himself that it didn't happen the way it did. It's that grave. But it's in there somewhere – the darkness. - Colin Farrell

Something I should bring up is also the Portuguese title given to this episode: instead of translating Top Hat (which would be Cartola), they called it Manda-Chuva. Manda-chuva is a conjoined slang term for boss, big shot, head honcho, that kind of thing, but it translates more literally to "Rain sender/commander" (Manda = order/sender, Chuva = rain). Like you're the guy who makes it rain in the village, you command the rain and everything else. Fucking excellently horrible name choice here, like it better than the original title.

To quote @book--wyrm

the juxtaposition of the tapdancing and the raindrops and the slamming and the shooting and then the hum of the TV and the buzz of the streetlights (get back home when those go on) and the rushing of the water into the grillthat shot of the jar outside the window, all filled up with water, two toys floating in themthe highest point in his life. when his mom is still happy and whole and he doesnt' have to share her untainted love and he doesnt' have to think about the consequences of what he's done while his brothers are drowning in a sewer under the city

him literally turning away from the camera after the shot of his brothers screaming underwater, turning away from who he might have been—the steady, honest man, and the bright, innocent child as they drown horrifically, to stare at a glitzed and glamoured version of who he will eventually become

Oswald's first crime, the first time he learns he can get what he wants by skipping the line. That he actually can have everything if he just does things a certain way. It's the first time he won, the first time he managed to take out his enemies/competitors and won what he wanted for it, pushing his brothers out of the nest so he could hog mama all to himself.

Nobody has to know, nothing that could be done, they hurt me first, it didn't happen like that, I deserve this, I'm making her happy, I can take care of her.

"The city took them."

All he was doing was punishing them for playing a mean hurtful prank on him. And then he went home. And then at some point realized they were not going to come back, but he kept going. Isn't it warm here, with Ma? Isn't it everything he ever wanted? Look at the tv, the man with the top hat dancing away the night. Isn't it cool when he shoots down everyone in the back? Isn't it cool, this larger-than-life thing he will map his life around, showing him how much it rules to be like this? His very own Mask of Zorro, in Fred Astaire shooting his back-up dancers, The Gentleman Criminal taking form as he commits the most horrific despicable betrayal of his life. The fantasy he will spent the rest of his life grasping for and projecting on pieces of shit like Rex Calabrese and Carmine Falcone in the hopes of one day taking their place, while he at every turn works to destroy and undermine it.

It sprung from a very base animal selfishness, resulting from a perfectly understandable childish impulse, carried to unimaginably horrific proportions set to define the rest of his life. Ozzie Cobb never wanted to murder his brothers, but he got away with it, because The Penguin can get away with anything.

Oswald commits his first spiteful horrific childish self-serving murder, on the same day a sharp-dressed backstabbing criminal in a top hat dances before him and his adoring mother. He's seeing his future, the reward he gets for his first crime, and he likes it very much.

LAUREN LEFRANC: Without it sounding cheesy, love matters to him, and that doing right by whatever the (mafia) family traditionally would do isn't the most important to him. And that there's a brazenness to it, that he can do what he wants, and he can be with who he wants, and he'll make his family a mixed family. And that there's strength in that as well. That makes him a different man than we may have seen in different iterations of Salvatore Maroni -The Penguin Podcast Episode 7

"Fuck your guilt, just bring me an army" - That singlemindedness that makes Oz such a piece of shit, while also making him someone that you can follow and even look up to, a guy who can plausibly sell himself as Da Good Boss. He doesn't give Victor shit for what happened to his Ma, won't hear excuses and he doesn't care for them, we gotta get this done now. Like at the grave scene in Ep3, he doesn't want Victor's apologies, he wants him to get his shit together if he's gonna stick around (by what he thinks is entirely Victor's choice). He has no time for guilt or second-guessing or a conscience, not his nor anyone else's.

"Gentleman" is a term that's only been brought up once in some episodes and in the most bitterly ironic tones possible, here turned against Oswald by Sal berating him for having betrayed his gentleman's promise and thus now he'll get the same deal, which helped put something in perspective: Sal Maroni is right, he is a gentleman. In fact, if anyone in the entire show, if anyone in Gotham, could be described as a "gentleman criminal" the way Oz so desperately aspires to be, it would be Salvatore. And not only does he fail partially because of that, but Oz has nothing but contempt for him, only sees him as a sentimental preening idiot (exactly the way Carmine did) and not only that, he will spend the remainder of the episode dragging him down to his level and causing him to die for it.

I love that Oz tries twice to turn Sal against Sofia and it never works, not even a little. Zero pretense that she's not in control and Sal is fine with it, he just wants Oz dead more than anything else.

Definitely a good time to bring up that, the first time the name Oswald Cobblepot was ever introduced was in the Batman Sunday Classics newspaper strip, issue #119 in 1946, in a story about The Penguin's aunt who raised him, Miranda Cobblepot, coming to visit him after ten years, and him begging Batman to not reveal to her that he's a crook and hold off on arresting him until she's out of town. It's the first time we were also shown anything about Oswald's background and a maternal figure in his life, here seen as comically overbearing as well as completely oblivious to his criminal life, helping fight off mobsters and leaving while telling him to help his good friend Batman take these hoodlums to jail.

Miranda never really showed up again outside of this strip, but some of these ideas eventually carried over to mainline depictions of Penguin's mom, namely his dutifulness towards her and her control over him and her total obliviousness to his criminal deeds, which has always defined her. I bring this up because, while we've obviously seen before that Francis is his confidant and knows and encourages her son's brutality, dancing in giddyness when she hears about the Falcones being killed by him, it's a brutal contrast to her telling Sofia here that yes, she knows full well about the worst thing he had done up until the opening of this episode, she knows he burned alive a mother hugging her son, and she couldn't be prouder. Even now, she is the ultimate force in Oswald's life, the only authority he answers to and his guiding motivation, even as we learn now she was his greatest victim.

Francis burns with such eternal undying spite and hatred, the force that turned her boy from simple self-loathing self-preservation into city-conquering ambition, and she burns so strongly she trounces The Hangman in a verbal boxing match and cracks the façade that will be later shattered in the episode. Francis is tragic and sympathetic and loving only because she is interrupted with bouts of crushing despair and guilt and delude love brought on by her illness literally forcing these feelings on her, because otherwise she would be as good as, if not better, han her son at this. At steamrolling everything and everyone fueled by hatred, and hers still burns strongly at everything and everyone, except the person who most ruined her life.

Dr.Rush subtly but very clearly suggesting having Gia killed, lmao. I think it's good to have just one total pathosless bastard in the proceedings, when every other character has so much tragedy and history and whatnot. He has 100% wholly sublimated his guilt over the Arkham atrocities he was a part of into a drive to help his victim Sofia no matter what, and not actually improve as a person or rectify the problems he was a part of, thus becoming someone who can justify any atrocity because he's doing it in the name of someone else he must avenge and do right by.

A thing that @davidmann95 brought up for last episode that became extremely relevant for this one

this ep also illuminated Oz's true power for me: he understands more than anyone else the power of This Fuckin' Guy, and thus builds all his rhetorical swerves and master plans around painting someone else as that

he can't make people stop hating him, but he can make anyone the person you hate slightly more

His power is hate and spite, as is true of the Penguin, as he gets from his Ma. The one that fuels him, and the one he can stoke on others. Every reason they gave on that meeting as to why he's the most hated crook in town was twisted into an additional reason why they should hate the people he's up against more. Here, Oz tries to turn Sal against Sofia, and it doesn't work, so he buys a distraction by reinforcing his status as That Fucking Guy. Sal has him dead to rights in every sense, and Oz stokes up so much hatred that the guy actually fucking dies from it.

Hey Vic, don't you hate that your parents died over nothing? Don't you hate that the Falcones get everything and you get nothing? Hey Sofia, don't you hate how these old bastards treat you? Don't you hate how our friend Alberto got killed? Hey Crown Point, don't you hate how you've been abandoned? Don't you wish there was someone helping you get back at the bastards that left you to rot? Hey Gangs of Gotham, don't you hate those bastards up town wiping you out even more than you hate me and each other? Hey Sal Maroni, don't you hate ME? Let me remind you of why you fucking hate me so badly your heart's gonna explode.

Brought this gentleman Salvatore down to his level so hard that he made classic Sal Maroni, the seething vengeful bastard who will burn your face off if it's the last thing he does, into existence.

CLANCY BROWN: Oz is an American. He wants to win, and he wants to win on his terms, and he wants everybody to know it. That's why he throws the body out, you know. He throws the body out, for crying out loud. That couldn't have been easy. He throws the body out where everyone can see it.

LAUREN LEFRANC: No one is seeing this happen, so that then you sense Oz's delusion, right? He's talking to a dead man, and then he shoots him anyway, because he wanted to shoot him because he wanted to. And so, he got what he wanted, and he made it happen, even though it's not actually the way he imagined it. And then, what Clancy's saying, he throws the body out and then takes credit, like, "I killed him. I did it." And from that point on, in Oz's mind, he killed Sal Maroni. There is no other alternative. No one else is going to know that Sal died on his own. This is part of Oz's constructed narrative. - The Penguin Podcast Episode 7

I love how Clancy Brown put it, that Sal was all heart and passion and rage and so eventually it just had to go out. Perfect death. He is not the guy who can burn himself forever in the name of vengeance, he is not Oz and Sofia, he is not a Batman villain - he's the guy who dies to make way for them, and here, he dies denying Oz the satisfaction of taking him out. C'mahn man, twice already the big bad bosses of Gotham die before he gets to actually kill them, first Carmine and now this. Popping punk scrub bitch Alberto just wasn't that satisfying, and Sofia's just making everything too weird. With the Falcones gone, this was the guy he wanted to genuinely brag about killing to his mom, and now it's just gonna be another lie and delusion that Oz spins into reality.

Also further contextualizes why Oz is gonna be the guy who picks fights with Mr Vengeance. All he wants is to prove himself, but all his biggest opponents so far died on him before he could get satisfaction. He's happy to profit from the ring and from taking credit for killing Sal, and he may even rewrite his memory so as to delusionally believe he actually killed Sal, but the truth of that moment was personally wildly unsatisfying. He needs to be the big shot who clawed his way up there, he needs to be alone at the top, and he needs to push everyone out of the nest, like he did his brothers.

The station coin he pulls out of the car attached to his lie that the city took his brothers, and the ring he pulls out of the same car with the lie that he killed Sal Maroni

Just once in his life, he wants to say "I got you, I FUCKING GOT YOU!" to a big bastard who thinks they're better than him and died by his hand, and to actually mean it and have it stick, no asterisks attached.

Rules that even before we can fully understand how deep in Batman Villain territory she is, Sofia is dressing up in wild hair and black furs and heavy eye to visit Gia. It is still visibly her covering up and dressing more conservatively than her past outfits, but she is so inseparable from her trademarks at this point that she goes to a children's mental hospital looking like she's hunting down the Baudelaire orphans for their inheritance money.

Sofia fully replicating the same attitude that was weaponized against her to cover up her mother's murder, and then when she sees the scars and realizes the degree to which she's created another Sofia, pivots instead to embracing her while telling her as openly as possible that yeah, I killed your mom and dad, you should be happy I did, they were scum, please be happy I murdered your family, you're free now like me. She won't accept becoming the same monster that they were to her, so instead she opts to become a different one.

As much as Eve was wrong about Sofia being the Hangman, she was right that she thinks in black and white: her worldview is based around compartmentalizing everyone between Victims and Victimizers. She very much placed Eve in the latter category at first and everything she was doing in that conversation at first, prodding her about performing for men, about her relationship with Oz, about her shallow lies to men, about being good at saying what people want to hear, seeing her as an extension of Oz, everything was to confirm and strengthen her already existing bias and intent to kill her, until The Hangman came and in part she realized that killing Eve would firmly make her a Victimizer.

Everyone she has killed up until this point? Victimizer. Alberto, who was very much complicit and aware of the fucked up shit Carmine did? Victim, because maybe he couldn't have known, he fought to keep her alive and get her out, she loved him, and he was killed by a Victimizer. The Crown Point followers of Oz she'll bomb later in the episode? Victimizers. Julian Rush? Victimizer, but he knows his place. Sal Maroni? Victimizer turned Victim. Oswald? Victim turned Victimizer a decade ago. Francis shook her up, but she can still justify doing horrific things to a mentally ill woman because she raised the monster who did all of this to her and is proud to have done so, ergo, Victimizer. But in Gia, her comic book view of morality shatters, because she's confronted with a Victim who is so because Sofia was her Victimizer and this is not fixable.

And to her detriment, Sofia has enough of a conscience to be aware that she created another Sofia, and so she speedruns self-awareness and reverts to the old Sofia, which causes her to start dying on the spot under the weight of everything that has happened to her and she's become. And so it falls to Dr.Rush to actually do what he should have always done for her and save her, as well as put her back on tracks to do the most fucked up thing she has ever done, steering her back into the mindset she needs to survive this.

She wants two wildly contradictory things, she wants to be free from it all and she wants her eternal revenge on her nemesis and she will forsake the former in pursuit of the latter. Her most sincere desire is freedom and peace away from this fucked up world her dad created for her, but she will never make it if she stops, and the only way she will make it is if she buries the part of her father's legacy that is still actively around and ruining her life. All she wants is to be free and she never will be until she kills him, until she kills everything he embodies in her life, and in her quest to kill him, she will most likely throw it all away.

As @book--wyrm put it, "Oswald is pursuing his dreams, and Sofia is running away from a nightmare". Sofia dreams of Arkham, of the yellow wallpaper, of Magpie chanting Haaangman inside endless dark metal walls. She dreams of her mother's corpse, of being hanged and murdered in her place, of Alberto's murder, and everything that causes her to scratch and tear at herself until she wakes up. Oswald? He dreams of Fred Astaire tap dancing and shooting his back-up dancers, and to even think of anything else is unthinkable. Nothing else matters.

But in spite of struggling with a conscience and an understanding of morality that Oz fundamentally lacks, I also like that Sofia is more imaginative in her cruelty than he is. She is sadistic to a careful, measured, elaborate extent Oz hasn't really learned to be yet. Even the burning of Nadia and Taj, as horrible and sadistic and premeditated as it is, was still rooted in self-preservation and a failsafe in case they backed out on the deal and petty revenge for stealing his shit and ruining his deal. But Sofia took the time to have Dr.Rush hypnotize Francis so they could learn the most thematically appropriate location to torture and kill the two and then engineered an outcome just to psychologically torture him before blowing him up, knowing he'd find a way to survive even that and setting this up just to flush him out of hiding.

For those keeping score at home, in this episode, Sofia Gigante attacked his sidekick with a crowbar, sicced her goons to beat him up and steal his shit, kidnapped his mom and had her sidekick, the Arkham doctor who begged to be her Harley Quinn, do hypnotic mental torture on her, baited Oz into a trap within a trap within a fake surrender and with an accompanying speech about how the old game is gone and she is playing new ones, bombed his Batcave and his loyal army, banked on him surviving that so she could send someone to pick him off as he escaped, and is now taking him and his mom to a showdown at a deeply and thematically important place for them, which is also a fucking theater by the way. I've been raving about her being the real Batman Villain of the show since Episode 03 but at this point, she is more Joker than the actual Joker in this saga. She's fully thrown herself into happily and merrily pulling a grand horrible caper on him and his entire life and everything he cares about with little practical consideration to her own criminal empire but extensive thought given into the panache and thematic meaning of what she's doing, it's amazing.

Fun thing to think about, whether Oz would have left Victor to die down there along with everyone else, or really just if he would have bothered to warn him before he bolted to the hole made just for him. We've already seen Oz quickly sell out one of Victor's friends out to die, someone who could have been Victor himself if he had gotten away. We've already seen in the burning of Taj and Nadia how monstrous Oz can be without Victor around. And now here we see how quickly and efficiently Oz can ditch all "the good people of Crown Point", the people who actively put themselves in danger to save him from Sal, to die at a moment's notice.

Credit to @book--wyrm for pointing how the bottom two rungs of the ladder he climbs are broken. The first two bodies he ever climbed over to get what he wants.

And thus we see by their last scene together how Oswald and Francis's present relationship began. The moment he transformed into the amalgamate of everything she lost and needed in her life, when he needed to step and be everything that Jack and Benny and dad and Rex had to be for her, because it's just the two of them now and forever, Kids raised by financially struggling single mothers often very much have to pull double or triple duty and work to compensate for much of what a husband or uncle or support network are supposed to do (speaking from personal experience here), and so from an early age Oswald already had to transform into the character he'd play as an adult.

He has to be the replacement man of the house who leaves her to get shit done for her, and he has to be her sweet boy who tends to her emotional needs, and he has to be her big strong bull of a boy who survived and stuck around and now grounds her in reality so she won't lose herself, and he has to be the provider and caretaker that her husband failed to be, and he has to be her Rex Calabrese who won't take shit from anyone and make sure she gets what she asks for even if it's by illegal underhanded means, and it's too much. Following his first crime and his first victory, we thus get the first moment that Oz began to spin far too many plates to keep his life in one piece and avoid consequences for the shit he put himself and someone else in.

He broke her due to his need for her love, and she broke him due to her need for his love. He turned her selfish and cruel and broken like him, and she turned him into someone who would never, ever grow up and change past this. Oswald's maturity and Francis' hopes died with the two and now, as Oz said to Benny 2 back in Episode 3, "there is just this - survival".

So obviously the climax of the show / Oz's relationship with his mom is gonna happen in a theater club, of course. Of course it's the same place that he swore as a child his eternal mission to do right by her.

Though he lacks the money and the umbrella gadgets and bird armies and supervillain resources, they've managed to firmly establish what the Penguin has in extreme abundance, the superpowers in his soul that allowed him to make his way through the world and win.

Ozzie's failings are human failings, Ozzie's attitudes are human attitudes, everything done in the flashback, even the closing of the door, was fixable. But The Penguin is unmatched at getting away, with an almost preternatural ability to fuck people over to get ahead, to slip from a catastrophe and land right into another one. This is a guy who is, in his own way, every bit the absurd uncanny freak that any other version of Oswald Cobblepot has ever been, and if his lack of evening wear and verbosity makes him distinct from classically-flavored Penguins, everything that matters to the character is and always has been there.

This is a guy who is better than anyone at "the wiley schemes and the quick, last minute escapes, who always has a trap door, an unbrellachute, some other trick up his sleeve to thwart and evade his dark nemesis at the eleventh hour". This is a guy deep in unshakeable childish delusion and devotion to the hustle, who burns a bottomless black hole of ambition in his gut and who was born with cigarette ash for blood and a top hat instead of a heart. He may not have been born evil, but he was born ready. Ready to be the embodiment of Gotham's criminal element, to be a child's idea of a master criminal in much the same way Batman is a child's idea of crimefighter, born ready to do this shit forever and ever.

[gilverrwrites]

Somethin' Sweeter

2022!Penguin/Reader, 1K words Request: LOVE the ozzie fics! Can you write something fluffy & smutty where it's their anniversary and reader prepared his favorite meal for dinner, wearing a cute sexy dress, and after dinner a special dessert 😏 Rating: 18+ I certainly can, honestly cannot get enough of this man, I don't think i'll ever turn down an Ozzie request.

CWs: Sugar baby dynamic vibes, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), petnames: doll, princess, darlin'. F!Reader.

In case nobody has told you recently: I am proud of you.

He’s been grinning at you like the early bird who got the worm all evening, but as he bit into his entrée his demeanour shifted. You perched on the edge of your seat, watching every micro-movement of his face as you await the verdict.  

Preparing for tonight had been gruelling. Tracking down all the right ingredients, multiple practice attempts, conveying to Oz’s people that he was not to be disturbed, not to mention the priming that went into looking good for him. You know he would have loved whatever you’d made, would have fawned over you however you looked, but you wanted tonight to be perfect, and it was all worth it for the blissed-out look on his face right now. 

He takes a second bite, and you can’t stand the anticipation. “Well, what do you think?”

“It's great, Doll.” He smacks his lips as he speaks. “It tastes just like my-“

“Just like you’re Nonna’s. I know!” You feel bad for interrupting, excitement getting the better of you. “It’s her recipe.” 

“How did you manage that?” He asks, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief.

“I made a few calls, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you like it.” 

“Of course I like it, I’d like anything you serve me, but this, this is exceptional. You treat me well, don’tcha?” In earnest, you do your best, but Oz really is the caretaker in your relationship. You might cook on special occasions, make sure he doesn't work too hard, but he keeps you well-kept. No bills to worry about, a luxury roof over your head, a wardrobe full of so many clothes and shoes that you’ll never manage to wear all of them, and a soft bed where he reminds you why, of all the men in Gotham, you always come back to him. 

“I do my best.” Plates scraped clean; you begin to clear the table. “I hope you’ve saved room for dessert. We’re having dark chocolate and coffee panna cotta.”

“Oh.” The plates in your hand nearly slip back onto the table, distracted by the disappointment in his tone, but when you turn to him, he’s looking at you with a sly glint in his deep brown eyes. He rests his palm on the back of your exposed thigh, ever so gently caressing your skin as he ghosted upwards, lifting the skirt of your dress in the process. “It’s not that princess, I just had somethin’ sweeter in mind. If you catch what I’m laying down here?”

“Sweeter?” A giggle escapes your lips as you tilt your head at him. Dishes abandoned you stride over to him, placing yourself on his good leg, holding onto his lapels as you pull yourself closer. The way his gold teeth gleam under the dim lights as he smiles at you sends a chill down your spine. “Like what?”

Oz places both his hands on your waist, strong fingers tactfully rolling up your dress once more until he’s able to admire your panties, soft purple satin with lace trim. There's a small wet patch already forming. With anybody else you might be embarrassed by it, but you know Oz loves the effect he has on you, even when he’s not eyeing you up like a prize. 

“This is nice, but how about you hop up on the table and keep your legs spread open for me?” He punctuates his question, by tapping one hand on the dinner table behind you. You don’t need to be asked twice, as you situate yourself, Oz takes two big gulps of his water. “Cleansing the palate.” 

His hand is steady as he hooks your underwear, far steadier than you feel as you watch the casual way in which he exposes your folds.

“Looks deliciosa.” He sniffs as he leans in closer to your wetness, angling his elbows to spread your thighs further, keeping them in place. 

There’s no test taste, no teasing, his mouth covers you in seconds, engulfing you like a man starved. His tongue immediately begins work, tracing circles around your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly, in endless circles. The tip of his nose digs against your clit, every brush sending a wave of heat through your body. 

It shocks you, making you cry out when he suddenly penetrates you with a thick finger and refocuses his tongue on your swelling clit. Your fingers unwittingly spread out into his dark thinning hair, as you fight the urge to ride his face. Oz likes to eat you out his own way, and you know you’ll be rewarded for sitting still. 

“Ooh-, Oz!” 

He hums between your lips, the resulting vibrations make your toes curl. He slips a second finger inside, continuing to suck at your sweet spot, all the combined sensations have you whining and shaking, orgasm fast approaching with every wave of pleasure. You chance a look down, and the sight of him hazy-eyed and buried in your core has you cumming, fists in the tablecloth, legs in the air as hit your climax. 

The room falls silent, excluding your shared rapid breathing; you coming back down from your high, Oz catching his breath. Oz’s presence always had that calming effect on you, regardless of the situation. It doesn’t, however, stop the whine that escapes your lips when you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive slit. He thumbs your panties, situating them back in place. 

“These are nice, did I buy these for you?” He knows he did. 

“You bought the whole outfit.” You sit up straight, smoothing your dress out before gesturing to yourself up and down. “You have excellent taste.” 

He gives you a once over, for what feels like the hundredth time that night, and despite him having had his face immersed between your legs only moments ago; your face warms with a bashful heat. 

“You’re not wrong, Darlin’. But I can’t help thinking this whole get-up would look better on the floor.” It’s a cheesy line that would make you cringe if it came from the mouth of anyone else. Instead, you’re filled with enthusiasm, excited for the night ahead of you. “Now how’s about you head on to bed an’ get ready for seconds while I clean up?” 

[arieslost]

hi love! hope you’re having a great day. could you write something where the reader is oscar sisters best friend? thanks for reading my message!

anon YES! i loved writing this.

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

best friend’s brother | op81

your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.

that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.

you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.

you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.

silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.

your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.

“can’t sleep?”

you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”

“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”

“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”

“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”

“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”

he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”

you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”

“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”

“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”

“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.

“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.

“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”

“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.

“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.

running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”

“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.

immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.

he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.

finally.

it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.

a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.

word count: 957

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

[tswhiisftteedr]

Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

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[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept.  Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3 

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios. 

Well, except for you. 

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate. 

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same. 

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips. 

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop. 

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself. 

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’. 

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant. 

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore. 

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it. 

He’s fucking savoring it. 

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict. 

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’ 

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’. 

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come. 

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest. 

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.  

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears. 

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display. 

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there. 

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”  

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did. 

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling. 

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again. 

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[kahluacoco]

Making Mychael's Horns

My mom likes to celebrate Halloween with a family dinner in costumes. This year I decided to have a Mushroom Oasis inspired outfit. I found a peach mushroom sweater very similar to Mychael's in day three, and his gloves, but I knew what I really wanted to try was to wear his horns! I haven't done a craft project in a while, and I haven't done any cosplay before. This is documenting the process and has some accompanying pictures.

Before the essay starts, (I wrote a lot!) here's the finished product! It was lightweight and fun to make!

Here are the materials I used. Since I made this across multiple days I took some pictures for fun. I didn't expect to make this into a blog post but here we are! Sharing this out in case you want to try and make this. The products I noted here are not to advertise anything, I just tried to find the cheapest materials I could use. I also noted the prices.

Total Cost was ~$22 USD but that includes extra material for other projects. I bought all this at Walmart.

Materials

Acrylic Red Paint (Apple Barrel Matte Flag Red) $0.58

Acrylic Yellow Paint (Apple Barrel Matte Bright Yellow) $0.58

Acrylic White Paint (Apple Barrel Matte Snow White) $0.58

Acrylic Blue Paint (Apple Barrel Matte Too Blue) $0.58

Mod Podge Matte-Mat-Mate $4.94 for 8 fl oz

Foam Brush (optional for blending) ($1.48 for 4)

Some paint brushes (a few sizes for basecoating and details - $2.98 for 3 brushes)

Pencil

Thin wood dowel $0.42 around 1/8 diameter maybe?

1 Foam Block (Medium/Small - Used as a base to hold the horns upright while working/drying) - $1.97 for 2

Blue artificial flower pick $0.50 (I got one on sale at Walmart that had some purple, white and blue flowers with green leaves. Feel welcome to grab a couple picks just in case)

2 Craft Foam Rectangular Blocks (FloraCraft Foam - I used DryFM green blocks that aren’t as porous. They’re usually used for keeping water for flowers. I got rectangles that were a bit larger than 5 in H x 3 in L x 2 in W. $1.07 for each block.)

Soft Fabric Headband (I used Goody Fabric Covered Headbands in neutral colors. You can get one similar to your haircolor $4.48 for 3)

Hot Glue Gun (I owned one already)

Dinner Knife

Gloves and Face Mask

Scissors

Here are the steps. I added in a lot of notes for gotchas/oopsies that I ran into.

Instructions

Carving the horns

With the large foam rectangular blocks, draw out the shape of the horns on the two widest sides gently with a pencil. This will help guide carving.

With the serrated knife cut gently along the areas around the lines to form the rough shape of the horns.

Don’t cut directly along the line. Cut out from the rectangle a rough polygon shape to start that is a bit bigger then the drawn lines. Then slowly start carving closer like carving a fruit and curving the knife. You can cut larger shavings for the rough shape, but try to cut smaller shavings as you get closer to your drawn lines so that you can get more detailed easily. The less you cut, the easier it is to fix. If you cut more, then you aren’t able to add foam back. Take your time cutting. See drawing on process.

Since the foam is soft, you can optionally cut the rough shape and use your fingers to smooth the edges and curves of the horns

Once you’ve completed one horn, you can work on the other. As you carve, compare the two horns and try to make them similar in width, height and length.

Recommendations/Notes

Line your work area with a bag for easier cleanup.

I recommend wearing a face mask and gloves so you don’t breath in the fine dry foam as you’re working with it. It’ll get messy if you cut fast. It’ll cling to your hands and maybe clothes.

Be careful with the knife, I ended up using a small serrated dinner carving knife

Treat the foam gently, it can be easily squished if you grip it too strongly

If you want to buy an extra block to practice carving a 3d shape, it might be helpful

No worries if the two horns aren’t exactly the same. Imagine that a horn is like a thumbprint, no two are alike :)

After all the carving, the horns were roughly 5 in H x 3 in L x 2 in D. Feel welcome to make them smaller or larger.

Strengthening the horns

Gently clean away with your gloved hands as much of the foam dust as you can from the exterior of the horns.

Cut up the wood dowel into a couple of small pieces. This will be used to prop up the horns so they’re upright and allow them to dry. Gently poke through the bottom of the horns with the dowel, and poke the dowel through the base foam block.

Pour some mod podge into a reusable cup and with a medium/large brush coat the first layer on both horns. Paint all over the horns including the bottom.

Wait for it to dry and continue to coat the horns with additional layers until it isn’t porous anymore

Recommendations/Notes

Since the foam is porous and soft, some mod podge or similar material will help fill in the holes and strengthen it

Even though the exterior is strengthened and prepped for painting, the foam can still be squished if too much pressure is on it (squeezing it strongly, hitting it with something, etc). I chose this foam since it was lightweight and would be easier to wear, but that is the main downside.

You can use a blow dryer on low heat to help speed up drying. I think I waited at least 15-20+ minutes in between layers. I would go about and do some other stuff around the house and come back to it.

I coated the horns with about 2-3 layers of mod podge.

Painting the horns

To cover up the green foam, paint a base coat with the darkest red of the horns. You’ll need about 2-3 layers of base coat to cover all the horns in red. Let the horns dry a bit in between coats.

After the base coats are fully dry, prepare the three horn colors to make the gradient. Paint the darker red at the top, the orange around the middle, and the soft yellow near the base and bottom. Feel welcome to blend with a brush or even some gloved fingers! Let the horns dry a bit and apply additional coats as need until you get the desired result.

Once the gradient on the horns is fully dry, make the spots color and plan out where your spots will be before painting them on. Have fun with it! You can try to match the spot positions in the character reference sheet or make your own. You’ll probably need to let it dry a bit and paint a few coats until they are a nice solid color.

For steps 1-2, you can use the blow dryer until fully dry or let this dry overnight. I waited overnight until the next day in between each step.

If you have a spray on mod podge or other sealer, feel free to spray the horns to lock in and protect the paint colors! I didn’t get a chance to do this. This would be the last step.

Recommendations/Notes

Refer to Mychael’s character reference sheet as a color guide. His horns are a gradient of three colors with a fourth lighter color for spots.

You may want to practice mixing colors a bit to get the hang of it before creating larger quantities. For the quantities I made about 1/4 cup or so? I don’t know the exact proportions I used since I eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Here is a rough approximation:

The darker red at the top is like a vermillion. I used mostly red, with a few touches of blue (no more then 10%), a few touches of yellow (no more then 10%).

The orange was a mix of maybe 60% red and 40% yellow.

The softer yellow for the base was yellow with some white and a bit of peach (no more then 15/20% for the white/peach colors).

The spots were made with some of the soft yellow and extra white

The red paint I purchased was the strongest color, so keep that in mind when creating the oranges and yellows. The paint I used is a bit thin so I had to paint multiple coats.

I ended up painting a base coat with the darkest red color a few times to cover up all the green foam.

I mixed each of these in different reusable cups.

You’ll want to paint the gradient all at once to blend it.

You can use a blow dryer on low heat to help speed up drying. I think I waiting at least 15-20+ minutes in between layers when applying multiple coats. Then I waited overnight to let it fully dry.

Creating the headband

Choose a fabric headband that’s closest to your haircolor (or Mychael’s if you’re wearing a wig!)

Mark faintly with a pencil where the horns will be on the headband. I placed the horns a little less then 2 inches apart from the center of the headband. Feel free to adjust to your liking.

With the glue gun, add some glue to the base of the horn and hold down firmly. Be careful for any excess glue that may spill. I added in extra glue and made sure it was pressed firmly on the hairband to secure it.

Repeat with the second horn a few inches away from the other one. Dry it with a blow dryer on the low cool setting if needed

Optional for the flowers

Carefully remove all the fabric flowers from their stems on the flower pick. Remove the plastic base and leave the stamens. Use the scissors to cut some of the back stem if needed.

Apply some glue to the back of the flowers and carefully attach them to the headband around the base of the horns. Feel free to mix around the colors and leaves as you’d like.

Recommendations/Notes

Be careful with the glue gun. If you add too much glue onto the horn, you may burn your fingers when pressing it down onto the headband.

The flowers hide the base of the horns where it’s glued. This is optional if you prefer the horns as they are. I did this since my glue gun work was a bit messy and I thought it would dress up the headband and help blend the horns to my hair. I didn’t wear a wig.

I used 5 blue flower, 3 white flowers, 3 purple flowers, 6 leaves and 5 little fuzzy blue and yellow stems I used some leaves on the sides of the horns and the back. I glued the leaves first, and then some additional flowers on them. I tried to position the flowers at slight angles around the base of the horns in the back and front of the headband.

Here's how they look once they're ready! If you do end up making these, please share! It was so much fun dressing up, maybe next time I can try to go green and make a tail.