#mens knitted bow ties

[otaaau]

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[onceaday01]

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[suguru-getos]

| Brat in her place | Ayato Kamisato x f!reader |

-> Been a while, I miss Waka 🤭 and I had so much fun writing this little prompt! Warnings: ruined orgasm, edging, he eventually decides to let you cum again tho kekeek.

“If the cunning rabbit burrows thrice, what of the cunning human?” You remember Ayato saying this to you once, when you asked if he has other— cards up his sleeve apart from the Shumatsuban. Being the high lady of the Kamisato clan, the wife of the head has it’s own highs and lows. Ayato was always kind to you, except when he’s not. That’s a rare predicament but you don’t mind it, infact— your behavior sometimes encourages it.

“Ah, Thoma! Your cooking is exquisite as always.” You beamed at the lunch table, having luncheon with Ayato and yourself. Ayato didn’t mind it, you were right of course. “I wonder if I could keep you all to myself.” This sentence, caused the housekeeper to flush hard, while irked Ayato’s reaction too. “Why of course, he is— kept by me.” Ayato corrected you, while you clicked your tongue, knowing you managed to get the territorial man exactly where you wanted him to be.

“Yes, of course Waka.” You nodded, sipping another slurp of the radish mixed veg soup and half-moaning at how your tastebuds danced with the aroma & delicacy. Granted you wouldn’t be this bold if it wasn’t only Ayato and Thoma in the room.

Thoma beamed with a cheerful grin, trying hard to ignore the way Ayato’s body language had changed from a welcoming to a commanding one. Oh boy— he felt as if he was in a Retainer meeting. Not good—“I’m glad you liked it, my lady. If you’d excuse me now, I have something to take care of.” Thoma bowed and left, making sure you don’t get a chance to stop him. If anything— both of the men knew you were in a mood today. A fiesty mood.

“Quite bold of you, to be so thorough with the sounds your little mouth makes when you enjoy something.” Ayato remarked, clicking his tongue and glancing towards you. “You jealous?” You bit back, maybe biting off more than you can chew.

“Me? Jealous? Well—” Ayato sounded almost surprised, a grave chuckle escaping his tight knit brows. “No, darling. I’m not jealous over your antics. I know completely these are nothing but parlor tricks to get my attention.” Ayato shrugged, taking a sip of the radish veggie soup. “No one can please you as good as me after all.” There he was— the spoiled, bratty Yashiro Commissoner in the flesh.

“Maybe I could, make it up to you… remind you how good my touch feels in every little crevice of your dainty little body. Or— maybe I could remind you of your manners, hmm?” Ayato’s fingers tilted your chin up, ensuring your eyes met his. Siren, glazed with flames of lust and dominance.

You gulped, evading eye contact at the statement. You could almost feel dizzy at the intensity with which Ayato was handling this. Fuck— you were clamping around nothing.

One thing led to another, Ayato asked if you’d like to be reminded of something— you agreed & now you were sitting pretty on his lap, legs spread and locked with his own in the way, back pressed snugly against his clothed chest and his heavy breaths sending jolts down your spine. Ayato had worn his gloves back, you know he does that when he’s in a mood to punish you, to put you back in your place. To remind you who you belong to.

He’s been at it for hours, lazily rubbing and strumming at your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves while leaning his hand away as soon as he sees you cumming. You know Ayato is determined because he’s not left for his study since the lunch. You’ve been reduced to a babbling mess. “Yato— Please, please— s’ too much.” You wiggled against him, like a tied up bunny.

“Hmm, I know. It is too much for me to see you brat up so bad.” He hummed, sighing at the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning over the earlobe just right, just enough to rise you to the apex of pleasure while he takes it all down. Leaves you tumbling down to nothing; then rakes it all up again.

“Yato— please- Waka Sama! Please!” You whimpered, feeling the pain in your clit getting used to the rigorous edging. It was then, that your body betrayed you, a mind melting orgasm coursing through every nerve ending as you whimpered, leaning your head back against his chest and rutting your hips for more—

Ayato leaned his hand back, again—

Cruel…

“Ah, going to have to ruin this one. Sorry, my love. You must know better than to ask for permission from your husband, who owns you, who takes care of you, who—” you were sobbing now, irritated at the pleasure seeping through your fingers and whimpering for more.

“Who puts you in your place.” Ayato completed his sentence, kissing your cheek and leaving you be. “Please— please I wanna cum. Yato— I’ll be good, so good for you.” Now you were truly begging, truly submitting to him like he wanted.

“Oh I’m not sure about that, you see— my wife is a force to reckon with. Even I know she can’t simply follow orders—”

“Yato— Please.” You quaked, lips quivering as you glanced up at him like a kicked puppy.

“Fine, I’m not that cruel now. At least, not to my one and only.” Ayato took off his gloves, a sign he’s pleased and this is all over. A sign of intimacy as his fingers raked their way through your over-edged cunt. “But remember— good girls.”

“A-ask for permission.” You gasped out, completing his sentence.

“That’s a good girl.”

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @cloudofbutterflies92 @thesingularityseries for wip wednesday and @cassietrn and @heroofshield for wip last line

[COD taglist opt in/out]

more adventures in COD land, this is from a later chapter of Evening of Score (Rory's MW 2019 canon fic) during the Butchers "Interrogation" scene. Warnings for: mentions/descriptions of torture/violence

She glanced over at Price who stood there like a guard dog, his presence alone acting as a threat as he glared at the terrorist in their midst, his arms crossed, a scowl deepening the lines in his face. They were getting nowhere. Rolling her eyes, Rory stared up at the ceiling before opening the door to wait out in the abandoned warehouse’s main floor for the time when her skills would be required. 

The sound of fists pummeling into flesh echoed through the old warehouse’s decrepit back office. Lights flickered above, casting shadows of the rusted industrial caging around them on the walls. Spiderwebs draped in dust clung to the corners of the room, the musty smell of a water-damaged basement ever pervasive. In the middle of the room the Butcher sat tied to a chair, receiving hit after hit as Yegor attacked him with the grace of a meat tenderizer to an old steak. Grunts and groans tumbled out of both men as the briny scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood permeated the air.

Rory rubbed at the inner corner of her eye with her free hand, the other holding her cigarette to her lips as she leaned against the wall in the corner, sighing out the smoke into the already stuffy room, bored by a tactic that wasn’t going to work against a man like the Butcher, yet it always seemed to be the go to move – punishment, a show of strength – all it ever did was bolster the resolve of the person being interrogated and tire the person who was swinging at them like a punching bag. 

Her cigarette half burned down, Garrick approached her having just returned from a bathroom break. His dark eyes scanned over her before drifting back to the door in the hall.

“Still going at it, eh?” He asked.

“Yep.” Bringing the cigarette to her lips, she took another drag. “One or both will get tired soon enough.”

“You sure about that?”

She tilted her head to the side, not giving too much away. “You could say that, yeah.” Her warm eyes steering back to the younger sergeant. “Sort of built a career on it.”

Rory looked up at him from under her brow with a knowing smile, her stare telling him everything he needed to know. She had been around the block a few times when it came to interrogation proceedings, it was second nature to know when a prisoner was going to bend, bow, or break. “Let’s just say my money isn’t on the Butcher to give in first.”

His brow knit together tightly, jaw clenching, unhappy at the idea that the Butcher wasn’t being given his due. “You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“On interrogations?” He looked at her the same way everyone else always had, yet to meet the real her, blindsided by the slip of the wool.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it,” she replied sarcastically, “Military certainly does.”

He leaned against the wall beside her, pulling out his own cigarette from his pack and lighting it. “So, you’ve… tortured people then?” Garrick spoke the word as if it was something blasphemous, a hushed whisper slipping past his lips regarding the unspeakable.

“Terrorists,” she argued with a sideways glance. “Not just people. Makes me sound like some sort of sick bastard otherwise.”

His gaze wandered over to her, narrowed eyes looking out from under a lifted brow. “There’s a distinction?” 

“Has to be,” she said, rolling the smoking cigarette between her fingers. “You learn to cut that part of yourself off, seeing them as another person. If you don’t, well…” Rory’s words trailed off and she took another drag of her cigarette, but the meaning was clear. “Word of advice for you, Garrick,” her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “You might think that the police and the military have their similarities: a chain of command, following orders, the apparent “good guys”. But Special Forces is a whole other beast. Fewer rules, no watchdogs, more things kept off the record than even the government knows about. And your only moral judge through it all is the person who happens to be in charge. If you’re given the opportunity to step away – take it. The nightmares aren’t worth the trouble, trust me.”

Kyle shifted uncomfortably on his feet, trading the weight back and forth as his face contorted after exhaling a lungful of smoke. “I take it you’ve seen some shit,” he said softly.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she scoffed, a smirk curling her lips. “I’ve taken part in enough missions to know that there are things that you will see, hear and do in this line of work that will never leave you. They become a part of your personality, and every soldier has their way of coping with it. For me, it’s too many fags, slapping a smile on my face, and burying myself in work. For others, they close themselves off, make themselves hard. And others still, well… they hide away.” She glanced over at Kyle offering him a gentle smile. “I just don’t want you to reach that point, is all – not if you don’t have to.”

“I appreciate that, Sergeant,” he said with a nod, swallowing thickly as her words settled on him like an anvil on the chest.

Tagging: @imagoddamnonionmason @writeforfandoms @alypink @carlosoliveiraa @strangefable

@finding-comfort-in-rain @theelderhazelnut @tommyarashikage @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather

@la-grosse-patate @harmonyowl @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042 @voidika

@kyberinfinitygems @direwombat @statichvm @clicheantagonist @aceghosts

@inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @justasmolbard @confidentandgood

[vhagars-dementia]

For the title game - 'this knot thus knit' with sihtric, perhaps?

Sihtric is eloping with me in character.ai 😂

This Knot Thus Knit

The string of your bow stings your fingertips. An arrow pointed at a band of men you've encountered in the woods they were outnumbered by your men. The man called Uthred introduces himself to your leader, he says he means no harm. He rambles on about the king, but you get distracted with one of his men, who had the audacity to wink at you. Did he really just wink at you? Lower your weapons! These men are our friends! Your leader commands.

The next time you meet Sihtric, he winked at you again. This time you were both tending to the horses, trying to tightly knot the leather to a tree. He presented himself to help, all of a sudden occupying your personal space. You felt dizzy with how close he is, hands over yours when he makes a secure and intricate tie with the leather bindings. You didn't hear a single word he said and somehow he knew. So he winked at you.

This time the wink comes from you. Your small camp had been caught off guard and before you could get out of your bedroll, you were dragged to the middle of camp along with the rest of your men, mouth tied and thrown into the cart, to be taken as hostage.

Your hands were bound tightly in rough rope and you couldn't losen it no matter how you struggle. You wake up in a foreign camp, with men who spoke a different tongue. You survey your surroundings to find none of your people were hurt. You remained lying on the ground, pretending to be asleep when one of them walked by. In the distance, just at the edge of the enemy camp, a rustling is heard. You strain your eyes to search for its source and you spot Sihtric, nocking an arrow on his bow. He's here to rescue you. He smiles when he sees you were okay. He gives you a signal to remain quiet. You wink back and let him do the rescuing.

[sabraeal]

To My Esteemed Enemy

[Read on AO3]

My third holiday gift this year, and this time it’s for a different fandom, and a new-to-me pairing! Kazasen originally tied with Alan/Katerina (Hamefura) for second place, and then tied for first with Jiro/Nanami (Kamisama Kiss) in the run off. It was a close race for concept with this one, but eventually the epistolary fic won out...and then I had to resign myself to this being a VERY long fic with shorter chapters 🤣

To the Esteemed Elders of Kazama, with All the Blessings That Humble Yase Can Convey--

It is with both heart both heavy and steeled that brush is committed to paper, so that those of the clan Kazama who act with great wisdom may be warned of the misconduct of the demon who calls himself their head and speaks with the authority of their ancestors. In the pursuit of taking an uninterested and unwilling female demon in Yase’s domain, Kazama Chikage has violated demonkind’s greatest taboo: he has meddled in man’s affairs.

While in service to Satsuma, Kazama Chikage committed acts both violent and base, engaging with human men in combat for reasons personal and pertaining to his unwanted attention toward the female demon. Were this only a single instance, Yase would be willing to turn its gaze aside, but his attempts have grown so numerous and vicious that they risk drawing attention to the places our shadows fill in this world.

Kazama is a noble and storied clan, one of the original blood, and Yase is prepared to be lenient in this matter. So long as the demon known as Chikage is kept within the confines of the village and commits no more infractions upon the code, Yase will not bring the council’s attention onto his actions. However, should these terms be violated, know that his offenses are terrible and numerous, enough that disbandment might not only be considered, but surely recommended.

As a show of good faith, Yase asks that Kazama report on the behavior and location of the demon known as Chikage, and--

“Is this why I’m here?” The page shrinks as he speaks, the collar of his too-big tunic nearly swallowing him whole. “To listen to the whimpers of lesser clans?”

“Yase is not simply putting their hands on their swords, Chikage-sama.” Masanori spits out the honorific like the shell from a seed, an unpleasant dressing necessary to reach the meat of the matter. “If you do not cease your meddling, they will see us disbanded, scattered to the four winds just as they did to-- to--”

Hatsushimo. Five hundred years and these cowards still can’t speak the name.

Humor peels his lips from his teeth, but there’s smile behind them. “They can try. Kazama will not be so easy a carcass to pick clean.”

The elders shift on their fattened cushions, old bones speaking just as much as their glances. “Although the strength of Kazama is undeniable, truth makes for more pleasant music than threats.”

When Kazusane speaks, it is measured, more like poetry than conversation. His most beloved tutor in boyhood, and his most dreaded one in adolescence. Now, he’s only a bore. “The alliance will favor the words of Yase, for they are known for their honesty and their shrewdness.”

“And you are only known for your crudeness and impulsivity,” Masanori adds, his wrinkled face knitted as if one of his esteemed colleagues passed foul wind in the hall. All Chikage smells is old man and death.

“And Kazama is known for tolerating no insult. For paying back what is owed.” He snorts, leaning a cheek on his fist. “I don’t remember any of you complaining when the elders of other clans would bow before you. When even warriors would tremble as long as you trailed in my wake.”

“And now they will laugh.” Sadahira’s age weighs heavily on him, making his words slow, ponderous. He’d been old when Chikage’s father had been a boy, and now every wind threatens to scatter him to dust. “How else could they act when they hear that Kazama’s proud prince has been brought low, traipsing after some...female demon?”

His teeth creak as he grins, wishing he could wear them all to points. “Isn’t that what you have all been asking me to do? Find some acceptable wife and beget my heir upon her?”

“There are any number of suitable candidates you have already turned away, rude enough that we are lucky their fathers and brothers do not knock down our doors.” Masanori wears his jealousy the same way a his anger: poorly. Red splotches bloom unevenly up his neck, leaving the man as piebald as the mongrels that roamed the outskirts of the village. “And now you find some whore with water for blood, and we are supposed to--”

“The girl is the last of the Yukimura.” Rage might make some men sloppy, but for Chikage it is the furnace that hones him to a thin edge, that burns away the impurities that make other men brittle. “You may sit pretty, dressed up in your silks and picked clean of fleas, but her blood runs so pure it makes the rest of you look like the filthy curs you are. If you think I’ll let a mate of the original bloodlines slip through my fingers just because Yasehime--”

“That is not what we wish to speak of.” Amagiri’s edge might be blunted with his politeness, but they cut through his words with ease. He bows over his knees, a ridiculous pose for a man as big as him. “Forgive us, elders, but we did not come to talk to you about Yukimura Chizuru.”

As a boy, he dreaded Kazusane’s disapproval. Even the faintest frown would send him back to study, hoping to earn his praise, but now-- now he wishes he could care less, his stomach still twisting as the man’s bushy brows draw tight over his nose.

“Amagiri-dono, you do this child a service by speaking for him. However, he has been called here to answer for the blade his actions have hung above us. The one he risks dropping even now.” Kazusane’s eyes are not the pure crimson of a true Kazama, but they burn as they press upon him, his anger hardly banked. “For what other reason would Chikage-sama dare leave this village, save to seek out this girl?”

“The fakes.” Even now the word hisses from his lips, leaving a foul taste behind. And yet, there is no reaction from the elders.

Sadahira turns his trembling head toward where Amagiri sits, the picture of obedience. “What does he mean?”

“The rasetsu,” he explains with a calm Chikage could never summon for such abominations. “While allied with the bafuku, Yukimura Kodo engaged in experimentation with demon blood, creating from their ranks creatures that defy the natural order. Not men, and not demon, craving the life that their bodies lack.”

“They are an insult to demonkind,” Chikage snaps. “They cannot be suffered to live.”

A murmur of distaste washes through the room, but still, Sadahira shakes his head. “It is unfortunate that mortal men have devised of such unnatural creatures, but it is hardly our business what they choose to do with these...rasetsu.”

A short-sighted answer, typical of a man who would not live to see its consequence. “It was a demon who made these, even his blood was watered down to barely more than piss.”

“And it would be the duty of his clan to see to it that the danger was handled,” Sadahira informs him, unbothered. “There is no reason for Kazama to overextend itself to see to Yukimura’s problems.”

Chikage stares, uncomprehending. “There is no more Yukimura.”

Masanori smiles wide, like a wolf about to feast. “I thought you said this girl of yours was the last?”

At that, even Amagiri stirs. “But she’s just one girl!”

“Then she should hope that these men she has thrown in with can measure up to half a demon.” Masanori’s mouth curves, the way it always did when he thought a lesson would land the way it ought. “Do not concern yourself with man’s problems. Stay in the village, write this Yase-hime her letters, and pray that she forgets your transgressions.”

“But these fakes will--”

“Our ancestors did not stop men from forging swords just because they could cut themselves on them.” Sadahira speaks with steel in his words, and no little fear. “Let them learn the way children learn best, and worry more about what you can do to keep your people safe.”

“Tch.” Yasehime’s even characters stretch across the paper, as pedantic as the girl herself. Kazama crumples it in his palm, tossing it to the floor along with his kimono. “Cowards. To think they would tell me to grovel at the feet of Yase. As if I were some piss-blood demon, not one of the most storied lines in all of--”

“You would do well to take counsel from the elders.” Amagiri stoops to scoop up the fabric, straightening it out with a sigh. “It is their duty to think of what would be best interest for the clan, not just--”

“They are thinking like flies on a dead pig’s backside.” His juban slips from his shoulders, crumpling in a silken pile behind him. “Their tiny minds cannot comprehend more than this moment’s feast, not whether the whole hog is rotting away beneath us.”

The man’s breath is as stiff as his spine when he bends, grunting from the strain of not bowing and scraping for those old relics. “That may be so. But they are not wrong. We no longer answer to just them, but Sen-hime--”

A hiss catches between his teeth. “I grow weary of Yase-hime and her threats. Is she the one who led Kazama in the years since my father died? No. And we have prospered. Meanwhile Yase still lives on their knees, beholden to an emperor who is barely old enough to shave himself.”

Amagiri may make his faces, but when Chikage holds out his hand, he does not wait long for the clothes to fill them. These Western fabrics are not so fine as his own, scratching his hands as he pulls them over his head, but it is what is necessary now to walk among Kyoto’s streets, to hear what these people will say.

“Yase is not a clan of warriors,” Amagiri grunts, finally. “Their power does not come from numbers, or blades, but from secrets. And if you are not careful, Sen-hime will use those secrets to take your own out from beneath you.”

He scoffs, skinning these strange Western hakama up his legs. “I do not fear weak words, and certainly not from a female.”

The big man silences him with a shake of his head. “You do not know what it is to lose your people and leave the home of your ancestors, living on the kindness-- and sufferance-- of others.” That dark gaze pins him as thoroughly as his grip. “Amagiri lost only its land, and even now we carry that pain with us. I cannot imagine it would be any less than agony to be separated as a people too, forced to scatter with the wind.”

Chikage tears away with a grimace. That gaze is too much sorrow to bear, even borrowed.

“Tch,” he clucks, hastily buttoning up these strange clothes. “That is too much power for one woman. To think you said she might make a suitable companion.”

Amagiri holds out his coat. “That opinion has not changed.”

Chikage whips his head over his shoulder. “Even after all this? She’s threatened to disband Kazama over a trifle.”

He doesn’t deserve the weary look he receives. “That she wields so much power only proves that she is your equal. Her bloodline is unchanged--”

“And so is her personality.” He smooths his hands over the coat, if only to keep from gathering them to fists. “Women who know their own mind are tiresome. We would not suit.”

Amagiri is silent for a long while, long enough that it seems this topic of conversation might be over. An illusion Chikage is allowed to believe until his hands busy themselves with tying his blade to his hip. “More unfitting matches have been made in my time.”

Chikage’s mouth thins. “We have other work to be doing. Something much more pleasurable than being harangued by that harpy. Let’s go.”

The big man stiffens. “The elders said--”

“The elders advised me to beg Yase’s forgiveness.” He grins, sliding open the shogi. “And I will do it gladly once we have culled these fakes from Kodo’s ranks.”

[daantaat]

random thoughts/theories on apple tv bad sisters (based on the opening credits and the first two eps.) spoilers below the cut and also tw for some mentions of domestic abuse and manipulative behavior

original show

when i watched the first episode of bad sisters, i didn’t know that the show was based on the 2012 flemish/belgian series clan! it makes me wonder how much is different compared to that but i know with a lot of adaptations there are slight changes to fit the setting/culture/language/location/etc.

i haven’t watched the original series besides the trailer and bad sisters looks to be very similar (obviously lol. and the wikipedia page for clan looks very detailed in terms of episode summaries so i wouldn’t recommend reading that wiki page if you want to avoid spoilers and go into bad sisters without knowing too much).

apparently the creator of the original series (malin-sarah gozin) is an executive producer on bad sisters so that’s cool :D

opening credits

i like the opening credits! reminds me of elementary with the rube goldberg contraption. not sure what the original series’ opening credits look like, but the goldberg contraption visual with the pj harvey cover of leonard cohen’s who by fire accompanying it is a great combination as well, kind of setting the scene and asking the questions: who killed john paul and how did they do it/how did he meet his end?

a basic rundown of the opening sequence and most of its items:

1. taxidermy badger whose left eye pops out and puts everything in motion, hitting another taxidermy eye.

there could be something said about badger symbolism, like bravery, protection, aggression.

2. the taxidermy eye rolls along archery arrows leading the eye to knock over blocks wrapped in maps of dublin/etc, which then knocks over a statue of a praying religious figure

3. the momentum of the falling figure triggers a lampshade rigged with knives to start spinning, causing an apple to tip over, and that momentum then causes an axe connected to the apple to fall and cut a red string

not to be killing eve “apple, eve” internet search but one can read into the symbolism here lol

severed “red string of fate” between grace and john paul?

also i can’t tell if the red string is a string of yarn, because in the trailer i think grace is knitting something with red yarn

4. a miniature boat similar to the one john paul has (named “true grace”) rolls along a track and is framed by a ring buoy (there’s also a captain’s hat in the background)

5. the boat hits a petroleum spirit can of lighter fluid (at the very bottom it looks like it says “TYRANN C FIRE” which idk what to read into that or if it's just actually part of the prop lol) and it spills out its (non-liquid) contents of what looks to be a blue bead-like substance onto a mill wheel to spin a tied-up figure holding a bursting bottle of champagne

it is said john paul doesn’t drink but we do see him drink champagne with grace, thus leading to him not letting grace drive to the forty foot to meet the rest of the sisters. and he had a blood alcohol level way above 1% so...

6. as the figure spins, the red string tightens and pulls the trigger of a fake/prank gun with a “bang” flag

7. then a cog(?) tied to some blue and green fabric (bow tie? neck tie? there are also men’s ties in the background) topples over a tower of monopoly money with john paul’s face on them and the delicate teacup sitting at the top of the tower

teacup could represent grace but i also could just be reading too much into it lol

8. the falling teacup is rigged to and lifts a paper titled “life insurance plan,” and a watermelon sitting atop the paper rolls into a book causing a domino effect of falling books: mushrooms of the world (so i’m assuming poison... hello phantom thread), insurance law & you, one shot left, the complete guide to wild mushrooms, time to wine, best places to wild swim

other books that were in the stack that held the apple and the axe: modern home doctor, the human body (could relate to ursula, who is a nurse, or to thomas/matt who try to start the process of exhuming the body for an autopsy in episode 2)

9. the last book in the domino sequence (best places to wild swim) is tied to a box of matches, the inner box falls but ignites a line of matches which in turn burns a picture of john paul

there’s not a 100% clear shot of it, but it looks like there’s an illustration of a badger on the match box, so the whole sequence starts and ends with a badger

based on the bad sisters trailer i think a lot of the items seen in the opening credits are things that are used in the sisters’ attempts to kill john paul, so we just have to figure out what exactly did the deed... the claffin brothers recoil at the photo of john paul’s body but when he’s in his casket his face looks fine and done up because of the make up so hmmmmmm

general thoughts/characters

eva: sharon playing another iconic eldest sister and being a cool aunt... yeah! also the bits of eva’s backstory make me sad and i know we’ll get even more context as the series goes on but :((((((( the conversation eva and john paul had at blanaid’s confirmation was so unbelievable like... sharon's performance in that scene was so good, like the rage and hurt in eva's eyes... :(

eva name meaning: life or giver of life... which... D: (although it is revealed she is unable to have children, she also raised her younger sisters and obviously cares for her nieces and nephews)

ursula: eva birthistle... hello... also hello beth and edie imagine me and you reunion even though they didn’t have any scenes together in the movie <3 episode 3 looks to be about ursula a little more so i’m interested to see what happens since john paul had witnessed her with her lover (who also attended john paul’s funeral and whom ursula’s husband saw there as well)

ursula name meaning: little female bear. i have to say i don’t know what to take from this lol

grace: anne-marie duff... oh... i feel so bad for grace and blanaid :((( the abuse/manipulative behavior from john paul that grace endures behind closed doors and even in public (blanaid’s confirmation) is so heartbreaking and the fact that blanaid has witnessed his behavior (him writing it off as “worry[ing] too much”) and has adjusted the way she acts because she knows john paul doesn’t like certain things (blanaid stopping her dance when john paul comes home because— in his view— it’s a dancing style that makes it seem like she’s “asking for it”)... :( it’s so upsetting.

seeing grace with her sisters shows how much john paul is affecting her. like just dancing with eva and blanaid or singing along to a song at the lizzo concert when it’s just her and blanaid... it’s such a contrast to when john paul is there gaslighting her and being controlling (and even when he calls them as they’ve just entered the concert, the tone absolutely shifts because you just know how the conversation will go). and the scene where grace asks the sisters in episode 1 to just let her be happy... ahh :(

also idk what to think of this but i’m pretty sure john paul gave her an emerald necklace for christmas and according to the bad sisters wikipedia page, the show was originally titled emerald. hmm

grace name meaning: goodness and generosity

bibi: sarah greene... HELLO bibi. spare hand in marriage? the first sister who actually considered carrying out a plan... perhaps i’m reading too much into it but the whole thing with the taxidermy badger eye popping out at the beginning of the opening sequence and the fact that in episode 2 eva says “i know what he did. if anyone deserves to hate him—” to which bibi replies “this isn’t revenge”... makes me think john paul had something to do with her right eye, though i’m not sure when she got that injury based off the pictures we see of the sisters in the opening sequence

bibi name meaning (though it could be a nickname for something else): lady of the house, life

becka: eve hewson reminds me SO much of aisling bea in terms of physical appearance, and even becka reminds me of aine (this way up), with them being the youngest sister and starting their own businesses lol. i’m not sure what to make of her crying at the funeral (which bibi reads as pretend crying) and eva telling her that everything bad that could have happened has [already] happened... hmm. also not sure about her wearing that bright pink sweater/being the only one to not wear black in the promo imagery (i know she was wearing the sweater on her way to the funeral and took it off when she got there), like at the very least it could just be a manifestation of her personality and being the youngest sister who shared the least amount of years of knowing grace (the other sisters telling her that grace was different before john paul “[sucked] the life out of her”). anyway she and matt are kinda cute. interesting to know that she hasn’t met thomas yet and none of the sisters know she’s talking to matt

becka name meaning (might be a shortened version of rebecka): to bind/tie

matt: daryl mccormack! i like how he’s handling the “case” in general and how he views it/approaches things compared to his half-brother, though it’s understandable why he is still working with thomas to try to save the family business. since he has his own dreams of being a bass player, we’ll see how things go...

matt/matthew name meaning: gift of god

thomas: brian gleeson... i know thomas has his motivations for the family business and taking care of his wife but omg. stealing eva’s trash for “evidence” and tricking a widow into signing a permission form to exhume her dead husband’s body is not the way to go. though i guess he has to go to certain lengths for his family just as the garvey sisters aimed to protect grace and each other

thomas name meaning: twin

john-paul: claes bang is doing a good job of portraying “the prick” john paul. he can be “charming” when he’s with grace and blanaid but when he switches modes it’s like... oh no :( the amount of times i had to raise my hand to my face in shock whenever that man on screen... truly despicable character

john paul name meaning: humble and gracious

other thoughts... not sure what to think about the neighbor who keeps asking about the boat and said goodbye to grace at the funeral... hmm

big tangent here but i think i saw a headline that mentioned big little lies and i definitely see similarities, like the monterey five and the five garvey sisters, and a death in each story. the main differences being we know who dies at the beginning of bad sisters, while we don’t know who dies in big little lies until the end, and the abuse celeste was subject to was mainly behind closed doors and none of the other monterey five knew until trivia night, meanwhile the garvey sisters know john paul is a prick early on.

anyway yeah i know claffin & sons is/are the new “antagonist(s)” (seeing that john paul is dead at the start of the story) since they’re trying to prove the garvey sisters’ fraud to void the insurance claim but hmm, we have two sibling groups (garvey sisters and claffin brothers) who both want to protect their families in some respect. and we have becka and matt in a kind of romeo and juliet situation? i guess? idk but if we get a tragic ending... :( but it’s a dark comedy though so idk

all that being said i’m looking forward to the rest of bad sisters (i do wonder how the story will unfold in 8 more episodes/10 total. it seems like a lot to work with) and i’m very interested in watching the original series to compare!

[honeyed-obscenities]

Dust and Gauzy Ribbon (House of Wax Soulmate AU)

Some might remember me from a stint of writing horror fanfic more than a year ago now. Originally this was an idea I'd tossed around with another horror writer, aggravatetheaxe, and recently found inspiration to write on my own. We never got very far conceptually outside of the MC being a ballet dancer and it being a soulmate au with a no-color-until-you-see-them flavor, so I would consider this to be more my own work at this point. Anyhow, I haven't edited this very much and I'm not sure I'll continue it but here we go.

Synopsis and Warnings: Dante is a ballet dancer on his way to a show, but the troupe gets lost in the back roads of Louisiana. Where Ambrose looks like salvation, they'll find nothing so pleasant.

House of Wax Soulmate AU (Greyscape to color upon meeting soulmate), OC insert, the usual death and such, drugging, vomit, minor implications of kidnapping. 18+ only, please (fair warning there's a large amount of exposition and the brothers aren't referenced by name at this juncture, but hopefully I did well enough making it clear who is who)

Continued below the cut

We got dressed on the bus. A troupe of dancers separated by sheets the makeup artists held up so the men wouldn't see the women and vice versa, getting into their dresses and tights and tutus and fussed over by the costuming team. Patrice put me in a bodice of lace and stretchy knit, the gauzy bows she tied over my shoulders trailing on my back and making me think something was crawling on me, and a skirt longer in the back than it was in the front.

“Legs are a ballet dancer's best quality,” she chimed pleasantly when I asked her why they cut the skirts so high in the front.

“Makes up for the state of their feet,” grumbled Malek, the fussier of our costuming duo.

Our costumes were all in dusty hues- or so I was told- to accentuate the somber tone of pieces we were dancing to. Patrice, having already found her soulmate, told me mine was primarily a lilac color, with the ties a dark ballet slipper pink. The colors meant little to many of us, but in my case I would never comment as much. My first teacher told us that the colors we wore were nearly as important as the steps we danced. “You will dance and dress as though your soulmate will first see you here,” she told the class. “For everyone in love, you will be beautiful. For everyone yet to find love, you will be stunning. But for the one you're meant to spend your life with, you will be unforgettable.” I don't expect I'll ever find my soulmate at a performance, but there's such a looming 'What if?' that it's almost a larger source of anxiety on the day of a performance than the actual dancing.

We were already late, or we never would have considered getting dressed on the way. Our makeup could be done in stages. Not everyone would be going on at the beginning of the show, thankfully. The most necessary of warm-ups would have to push the start time back a bit, if we were unlucky, but until then we made do by stretching against seats, still in our boots with our coats keeping us warm over the costumes. I kept my pointe shoes tied together and hanging around my neck so I wouldn't lose them in the chaos of the costuming and shuffle off the bus. Directors hated that I did that, but it was only the back-stage crew and other dancers there that night and I could do whatever I pleased.

“Dante.” I looked up from massaging the arch of my left foot. “Do you know what time the sun sets?” I quirked an eyebrow but picked up my phone. No signal.

“'Sets at night,” I offered. “Why?”

“It seems a bit dark, doesn't it?”

I glanced out the window. It was completely dark, actually. “It's the middle of winter. Besides, we're late but it's only five.”

“I thought the show was in a different time zone.”

Patrice looked up from fussing with a hem on another dancer's dress. “Is it really?”

“Remember? We were warned we'd have to leave earlier to account for the time change.”

“Does it go forward or backward, though?”

“Oh, God, man, I don't know.” The conversation continued on without me and my lacking knowledge of time, but I was already tuned in. Most people were just helping each other stretch and checking each others costumes for oddities. But at the front of the bus, the talk between Malek and our driver was getting heated. I pulled on my boot and stood, squeezing myself past those in the aisle and making my way carefully to the front. It was weirdly nostalgic to walk the narrow path of a bus in motion, even stranger to be doing so dressed in a way I never could on any other bus. Not peacefully, anyway.

“What's happening?” I asked Malek quietly, hoping to reset their conversation to a normal volume and intensity.

Malek huffed and hesitated to answer. “We're just a little lost.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again quickly, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Okay... Do we have a map to follow?”

Malek growled “Not unless you somehow have a signal.”

“I thought it was just down the highway until we got to the town?”

“It was. But-”

“You said you're late, so I took a shortcut!” the driver cut in. “Get off my dick and we'll get there fine.”

“You're lost, jackass! It's dark already- If we miss this show you can forget getting paid because we certainly aren't.”

“Hey,” I pressed my knuckles against Malek's arm solidly. “You wanna keep it down? They're already stressed about being late. I don't want everyone freaking out about being lost. Especially not like this. Middle of winter in the dark with no phone signal? Come on.”

Malek gritted his teeth but exhaled and glanced back to everyone else. “Alright, alright. Look, man, do you have any idea where we are?”

“As soon as I find a crossroads, we're in the clear,” the driver assured. “We're a little off course because of a road closure. You know how it is this time of year.”

“So we'll be fine! Besides, look at that.” I pointed out a billboard.

Malek squinted, forgetting his nearsightedness and the glasses perched in his hair. “Ambrose. What of it?”

“If we really need to, we can stop and ask for directions. As long as we keep everyone on the bus, it won't take five minutes.”

“That billboard looked kind of old. It better not be a ghost town dead end,” Malek fretted with an undertone of threat to the driver.

“Everything's old here,” I shrugged. “It's the back roads. Look. You see the lights? We'll be okay.”

˅˄˅

There was an indication of life. Lights, streets full of cars, the sounds of the theater escaping through the doors. And us. We hadn't seen the dip in the road- a wet ditch, really- before we ran right through it. Ballerinas tossed a foot in the air and all the accoutrement scattered across the seats and floor. 'Less than five minutes' I'd said, but there was no way that was going to happen. Malek and the driver held a shouting match over whether or not it was worth the time to check the bus for damage. Sense won out, as it always had against Malek's disdain, and not even his yelling could keep battered and bruised ballerinas in their seats while there was an opportunity to stretch their legs in the fresh air.

And yet, despite our clamor, no one came outside to greet us or even wonder what a bus full of people like us was doing here and blocking the road. The theater advertised its showing of 'What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?'. An arguably rude choice. Ever since film makers had regular access to color film, anything filmed purposefully in black and white had a mark on its name. Most found it mocking, as if they were saying not enough people watching would have found their soulmate for them to bother with showing color. The stance was bleak, but in the time where color would be more costly I could have understood the feeling. At least a little.

A tap on my shoulder made me jump and I turned to Patrice. “Malek is going with the driver to the gas station down that way to ask for directions. I want to keep an eye on the other dancers- Do you think you could go to the store over there and get us some snacks or drinks? Nothing heavy, okay?” She pressed a bill into my hand and nodded toward the small store.

I sighed. It was a step up from babysitting. “Yeah, sure. Should I ask about the time, too?” I grinned.

She smiled and pushed my shoulder. “Get me something sweet, too, okay?”

I crossed the street and passed between two cars and onto the sidewalk, looking into the theater as I approached the corner store. The greeter was wooden, staring dead-eyed out into the lobby like he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge us. Dickhead.

I was still looking into the theater as I pushed the door and found it wouldn't give. I paused, looking to make sure it was a pull and not a push and wiggled the handle. Locked. Glancing up, I was right when I read the sign as saying it was open 24 hours. Looking in, it was dim with no human presence. In a town so small, staying open 24 hours a day must have been more difficult than elsewhere. At least, I thought, the theater was certainly open. And most of those have concessions. A price gouge, maybe, but close enough.

Looking both ways reflexively, I crossed the street and saw Malek and our driver chatting with someone I couldn't see past the doorway of the gas station. At least they were making progress, it seemed. I pushed open the door of the movies and inhaled. What struck me first was the scent. It had been a while since I'd gone to the movies but I remembered the smell of popcorn being a heavy aspect. The popcorn smell was there, I was sure, but it was somehow wrong. Stale? Not warm, certainly. It didn't matter much. Popcorn wasn't the light sort of snack Patrice had in mind.

I approached the concessions counter and glanced halfway toward the ticket seller in his kiosk. “You know, the polite thing to do when you see people stopped with a busload of people like that is to see...” I trailed off as I focused on the concessions runner. “...If they need help.” I looked back at the ticket kiosk. Neither of these men were real, both covered in cobwebs with stock expressions and unnatural poses. I reached out to poke the concessions dummy in the cheek and rubbed the weird dust residue that stuck on my skin between my fingers. “Wax?” The billboard had advertised a house of wax, but this... This seemed like an odd gimmick for a museum.

A sharp, echoing crack wormed its way through the gaps in the doors. I crouched on instinct, glancing around for a shooter. The screams of a crowd of men and women came as a backing chorus to the second gunshot.

I'm not an idiot. I don't go looking for trouble by any stretch of the imagination. And I'm even less keen to search it out given that I'm a visibly non-white male and I was currently dressed in a bodice and skirt in what used to be a Confederate state. But if I didn't try to do something, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.

With luck, the majority of people have never seen a ballerina fall. It often spells something grim for our careers- or at least something unsightly for those who have to see it- because the God's honest truth is that ballerinas do not fall with grace. I exited the theater in time to see a girl's chest to explode in blood and torn lace before she fell like a sack of rocks to the dirt. Blood is black when you can't see in color- Almost worse because when you're told blood is red for so long you can half convince yourself that it's not real. And watching my fellow dancers fallen and falling through the street, dressed in dainty outfits and screaming in a town that looked like a set piece, I wanted to believe this was a performance. A grim, one night only showcase that would sicken the audience, never to be performed again.

“Dante!” My skin prickled with the sound of Patrice's screaming. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Come on, uh-” I looked in the direction she'd come from, seeing a large form rounding the bus. Not one of us. “Fuck, we have to hide. Here.” I urged her to retreat with me into the theater and behind the ticket booth. “What happened? I was only gone a couple minutes.”

“I don't know! It- He...” Her eyes glossed over with tears and her expression wavered. “I-I think he killed Malek. I heard the driver yell and he was standing weird and then he fell and I-”

“Pat, breathe,” I cut her off. Half because she was panicking in earnest and half because I felt like if I heard anything more I'd throw up. “God, what...” How are we going to get out of here alive? I didn't ask the question out loud. I startled and looked her over. “He didn't get you, did he!? You're okay?”

She nodded, still crying but trying to keep her breathing from being too chaotic. “I think he's got a uh a shotgun? W-We might be okay if we can get far enough away, right?”

“Maybe,” I breathed, wanting to look through the ticket booth to see what was happening, shots and screams still vying for my attention, but I was too scared about what I might see or the possibility of being seen. “I... I don't know how many of us got away. Do you... Do you want to look for anyone he- that we can?”

To my surprise she shook her head definitively. “Are you crazy? The longer we spend here, the more chances he has to find us.” She thought for a moment. “Do you know if the driver took the keys with him? You were up there with him and Malek, right?”

“I don't know uh...” I thought hard. They were yelling at each other, everyone was pressing at my back to ask what was happening, but the driver opened the door and left before Malek could stop him... “No, I think the keys are on the bus! Can you drive?”

“I've never driven a bus, but I don't think it matters. If we can get back across that ditch, that will be enough, right?”

“They never looked it over, I don't think. What if something's busted?”

“Then we run!” She searched my face to make sure I understood. And in her eyes I could see what she meant, really. This wasn't a situation we'd all be able to escape alive- It was far too late to think like that. If we could get away, we had to take the chance and not stop for anything or anyone. As I nodded her eyes darted up and widened enormously. She gripped my shoulders, forcing me to the floor, and shouted. But a heat and sound burst at my back and drowned out her words- and everything else, to leave only a ringing before her grip slackened.

I opened my mouth. I don't know what I wanted to say, if I wanted to say anything at all. All that came out was a choked sound as I saw a black puddle drip and grow in the space between her knees and mine and a warm, wet sensation on my forehead. My stomach squeezed and writhed when I lifted my head and saw a growing black spot on Patrice's chest seeping through her shirt and the edge of her coat. Her hands were still on my shoulders, twitching like she was trying to regain control of them. “Nnn-no,” I managed, my tongue slow and feeling like it would choke me. “No, no, P-Patty, oh fuck, oh god, I-”

A metallic click and slide stopped me completely, numbing me from head to toe in fear. A shotgun shell clattered empty to the ground and rolled into my knee. I could hear the smooth slide of bullets being loaded and the clack of the gun being cocked behind my head was harsh and deafening even with the shot from only moments ago dampening sound. My skin felt cold enough to make me shiver in place and it felt like goosebumps covered every inch of me. I was too scared to even cry and every breath burned me from my mouth to the inside of my lungs.

Patrice wheezed and coughed lightly and I flinched, becoming lightheaded as though reality had slowed in my stupor and caught up with me. I finally moved, bringing a hand up toward the still growing patch of black on her chest. “Patty, a-are you-”

“Move,” she muttered. She didn't give me the option to answer, fingers finding purchase on my shoulder and pushing me as she spoke again. “Run, Dante. Go.” With a shove I didn't think she could manage she pushed me aside and kicked upward.

“FUCK!” The cry was strained and I looked back to see the man falling into a kneel, supporting himself with the butt of his shotgun and gripping between his legs. He snarled audibly and looked up.

Blue. I know that's what it was now, but in the moment all I saw was something I couldn't identify. A color in an expanse of black and white that I'd never seen before. His eyes betrayed his demeanor and expression with their vivid and oddly soft color despite being shrouded in shadow by a dingy baseball cap. Even without knowing color for all it is, that much I could feel from its hue. As our gazes stayed locked, his skin began to flesh out with color, filling in like a stain spreading on fabric from his face to his hair and down to his shirt and the rest of him. The longer he looked at me, the more his face relaxed and as it did the full weight of what was happening hit me in all its awful gravity. I broke eye contact and looked back to Patrice and cried out.

Red. Red red RED. I could feel my skin tingling with panic as I scrambled closer to her, pressing my fingers against her chest and pulling them away just as quickly. It felt too real. Too urgent. I wasn't wearing a coat and the blood bubbled from the wound too quick to think I could possibly stop it with pressure alone. I couldn't think clearly. I'd never seen something become so vivid and alarming with something as simple as knowing it had color.

“Dante,” she exhaled, and I could hear the wetness of her breathing. I was a wordless walking corpse, opening my mouth and letting out nothing but meaningless sounds as I moved my hands uselessly to try and find anything I could do to help. “Run.”

A command, it seemed, was what I needed to stop me from acting like I could do anything to help her now. I looked her in the eye and my breath hitched. Her eyes were blue, too.

I didn't look back at the man that had killed Patrice until I was already at the door, when the sensation of the door handle's metal brought me to the realization that I didn't remember getting up and moving. He was looking at me, his fingers tight around the shotgun and his mouth set in a line. I shuddered and forced myself to look away, running out the door and training my eyes to the ground. I wasn't going to risk stepping on anyone. I couldn't handle that.

I looked around and slowed my walk the more I took in. Color. I made a point not to look too long at anyone's body but I could see the blue of some of the costumes with... dark patches on parts of the fabric. Dire or not, I couldn't stop looking at all the new colors until my eyes fell on the bus.

I knew for a fact that our bus was meant to be yellow. I mentioned to Patrice how I hadn't been on a genuine school bus since I graduated high school, asking her if it was yellow like most school buses, as well. I wasn't used to seeing color yet, but I was certain this couldn't be yellow as it looked exactly the way it had the last I'd seen it. I glanced down, grabbing my skirt and lifting it toward a light source. There was no way that could be purple, or purple was just like gray and no one had ever informed me as much. I couldn't consider color blindness of any kind a possibility. We're taught how see the signs of color blindness, and the first two colors I saw were red and blue which negated every type as an option.

Finding my soulmate was already the most horrifying and disastrous experience I could have had- The idea that something was wrong with how I saw colors too was just another brick added to the weight that grew in my chest since I met his eyes. Just thinking the word 'soulmate' made my stomach lurch as I stumbled toward the bus. Part of me tried to reason that it didn't always mean a romantic comparability but rather a friendly one but considering I'd met him just after he shot one of my best friends it was almost more sickening to imagine I could be compatible with him in even the most basic of senses.

I got onto the bus, holding my breath in the hopes I would hear someone else inside. “Is anyone here?” I choked out, my mouth dry. I swallowed hard. “It's Dante...” No reply. I took a breath, knowing it wasn't the strongest possibility before I'd spoken but having still held out hope. I reached for the bus' ignition, feeling around and finding no key ring or lone key. I crouched, squinting in the light that peeked in through the windows and saw the ignition empty. “No... No, no FUCK!” I felt around with my hands on the floor, slapping the seat and shoving my fingers into every slot and holder I could find but there was nothing in any of them. I pressed my forearms against the seat and let my head fall into the cradle of my arms, knelt at the driver's seat like I was praying, and breathed in and out. I couldn't panic, not until I could be certain I was safe.

I exhaled tightly and stopped breathing to listen for anything outside. I couldn't hear footsteps in the dirt, nor any more gunshots and screams. The silence was foreboding, but it gave me the confidence to look out the front window to ensure no one was ahead on the street. My options were to check the driver's pockets for the keys or to run. I was reluctant to act on the former as I couldn't be sure where he was, alive or not, and going back and forth would have me passing where I'd left the killer not once but twice. A risky enough maneuver without considering that I had no way of knowing if the bus would get me far enough away to consider safe. Likely, my best option would be to pick a direction and run.

I exited the bus slowly, looking both ways and considering my options. I didn't see him in the street, and being a larger figure than any of us from the bus he would have been hard to miss. I'd have been too easy to find on the roads, never mind that I had no idea where I was. It had the probability of being a bad idea, but I felt as though my best option was through the woods on the other side of town. I hadn't seen any cars on the road, anyway, and couldn't be sure how far I was from somewhere occupied by anyone but this killer. In a situation like this, I had no guarantees no matter which direction I chose.

If I was going to run, I had to dedicate myself to the action. I took a deep inhale and started, measuring my footsteps to the gaps between bodies and keeping my eyes trained on the path ahead. Between my focus and the sounds of my heartbeat and breathing I didn't notice anything, the wind knocked out of me by an arm clothes-lining my midsection and lifting me off the ground. I let out a strangled cry, inhaling sharply and kicking my feet to try and find the ground again.

“Hey, hey, just- Shit- I ain't gonna hurt ya.” His voice was deep and directly next to my ear, close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. His arm around my stomach, tight enough to crush me, the warm sensation of his breath, just knowing who he was meant to be to me- My mouth filled with saliva fast and I gasped open mouthed as my tongue coated with an acrid breath that preceded a rush of vomit. “Oh Jesus...” I coughed and spit, thrashing hard until my elbow connected with bone. It hurt us both but surprised him enough that I could squirm out of his grasp. I stumbled but stayed upright and started running again, wheezing and coughing through the bile burn in my throat.

I couldn't run for long like that, skidding into tall grass and the brush beside a building a ways from the station and theater and staying close to the ground to look and see if he'd followed. I couldn't see or hear him, but I tried to keep my coughing stifled as I spit out what I could of the taste in my mouth and swallowed to try and soothe the pain. Once my breathing had leveled and the feeling of nausea wasn't so present, I lifted myself up off the grass. I scoffed lightly, realizing what he'd said. 'Wouldn't hurt me'. As though I could believe that. It was amazing that he expected I would. What a joke.

I set my hand on the outer wall of the building, pausing and pulling it back. Pressing the tips of my fingers on the wall I dragged my fingernails through the texture and felt it crumble and build up under the pressure. The building was wax. This was the house of wax from the billboard. I shivered hard, unsure why, rubbing the built up wax out from under my nails. I settled my palm on the building again, trying to ignore the creeping feeling it gave me, and followed along it to move further into the brush.

My boot caught on the rise in front of me, too high to step over and save myself the trip before I fell forward and onto a rattling set of doors. My heart caught in my chest as it bounced under my weight before settling in a dip. A cellar, most likely. “Fuck that,” I hissed, getting my feet under me and stepping carefully forward off the rise. The doors rattled behind me and my heart all but stopped and I paused, stupidly, to assure myself it was the doors adjusting with the absence of my weight. The door to my back swung directly into my spine, knocking me to the ground and keeping me paralyzed in pain. I twitched and felt a bolt of pain strike parallel to my ribs. Bad bad bad, very bad, come on move. Heavy boot steps pressed on old wood and I exhaled, hoping he just wouldn't notice me.

A hand gripped my upper arm, hauling me upward despite my cry of pain. 'Not going to hurt you'- I would've thought he could at least try on that front. I did my best to breathe through the pain and not sound too pathetic as I was dragged through the cellar doors and down. Luckily my spine stopped being in agony the moment before he threw me to the ground. It was dead hot and stuffy, dark and lit by something inconsistent and wavering. I braced myself on the floor and began to sit up but his hand closed around the back of my neck and held me in place. I had forgotten how big people's hands could be, his thumb and fingers pressing into both sides of my carotid. I yelped at the piercing feeling at my throat.

I breathed heavily as he let me go, blood resuming normal flow in a nauseating rush. Turning over and looking up, I felt lightheaded but I couldn't be sure if that was because I'd just been injected with something horrid or because of the realization that this was not, in fact, the same man. Just as large, clearly just as much of a threat to my life. His large hands held a syringe, the bag at his hip showing a number of tools I couldn't identify at first glance as well as the handles of what I had to assume were knives, the handles themselves shaped like like halves of a dragon. I trained my eyes up with some difficulty, finding the look of him past waist-height to not be any more comforting. Long black hair and a blank face that I realized to be a mask as he shifted. In the dark I looked into the holes where his eyes were meant to be and the backdrop around him began to shift from gray to color. The room filled with a gentle shifting light and the ceiling fleshed out with flickering shades and shadow like watercolor strokes of a lighter and sweeter red- orange and yellow, filling in some of the gaps I'd found earlier.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” The words were slurred but I managed to get them out. My breath started to stick in my chest as he startled, tossing aside the syringe and crouching to lift me up. I tried to protest the touch but whatever he'd injected me we was working and kept my tongue from moving fast enough to talk. My head lolled to the side and I could see my legs, a hole in the knee of my tights and a the skin scraped and bloody, and my skirt caught on the edges of his fingers tucked under my legs. So that's purple. I couldn't see it for all it's glory, everything tainted by the strange lighting, but it felt strangely nice to finally know what Patrice had intended for me. Lace and color combined, it looked so sad against the dark of my skin. Exactly what we'd wanted.

[imanibuhle12]

Elevate Your Style: A Guide to Ties for Men

Ties are a timeless accessory that adds sophistication and flair to any outfit. Whether you’re dressing for a formal event, a business meeting, or a casual gathering, the right tie can elevate your look and make a lasting impression. At Bash, we offer a diverse selection of high-quality ties for men, ranging from classic solids to bold patterns. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the different types of ties, tips on how to choose the perfect one, and creative ways to style them.

Types of Ties for Men

Ties come in various styles, each offering a unique aesthetic and level of formality. Here are some popular types of ties for men:

Neckties: Neckties are the most common type of tie and are characterized by their long, narrow shape. They come in a range of colors, patterns, and fabrics, making them versatile for any occasion.

Bow Ties: Bow ties are a classic choice for formal events and black-tie affairs. They are available in pre-tied and self-tie styles, allowing for different levels of customization and sophistication.

Knit Ties: Knit ties have a textured appearance and are made from knitted fabric. They offer a more casual and relaxed look compared to traditional silk ties, making them perfect for smart-casual outfits.

Slim Ties: Slim ties have a narrower width than standard ties, creating a modern and sleek silhouette. They are ideal for contemporary, fashion-forward looks and pair well with slim-fit suits and dress shirts.

Patterned Ties: Patterned ties come in a variety of designs, including stripes, dots, plaids, and paisleys. They add visual interest to your outfit and can be styled to suit your personal taste and the occasion.

Choosing the Perfect Tie

Selecting the right tie involves considering factors such as fabric, color, pattern, and occasion. Here are some tips to help you choose the perfect tie:

Fabric: Silk ties are the most common and versatile, offering a luxurious sheen and drape. For a more casual look, consider cotton or linen ties. Knit ties are perfect for adding texture to your outfit.

Color: Choose tie colors that complement your skin tone and outfit. Classic colors like navy, burgundy, and charcoal grey are versatile and timeless. Experiment with bold colors and patterns to make a statement.

Pattern: Pay attention to the pattern of the tie and how it coordinates with your shirt and suit. Striped ties are classic and versatile, while paisley and floral patterns add a touch of personality.

Occasion: Consider the formality of the event when choosing your tie. Solid-colored ties are suitable for business meetings and formal occasions, while patterned ties add flair to casual gatherings.

Styling Tips for Ties

Styling a tie involves more than just matching it with your outfit. Here are some tips to help you style your tie with confidence:

Proper Length: Ensure that your tie reaches the top of your belt buckle when worn. Avoid ties that are too short or too long, as they can look disproportionate.

Knot Style: Experiment with different knot styles to add variety to your look. The classic Windsor knot is perfect for formal events, while the simple four-in-hand knot is ideal for everyday wear.

Coordination: Coordinate your tie with your shirt and suit to create a cohesive look. Choose colors and patterns that complement each other without overwhelming the overall outfit.

Accessories: Add accessories like tie bars, pocket squares, and cufflinks to enhance your tie ensemble. Keep them understated and coordinated with the rest of your outfit for a polished look.

Why Choose Bash

At Bash, we offer a curated collection of high-quality ties for men that combine style, elegance, and craftsmanship. Our ties are crafted from premium materials and feature a variety of colors, patterns, and designs to suit every taste and occasion. Explore our ties for men to find the perfect accessory to elevate your style.

In conclusion, ties are a versatile and essential accessory for any man's wardrobe. By understanding the different types of ties, choosing the perfect one, and styling it with confidence, you can enhance your look and make a lasting impression. Visit Bash to explore our collection of high-quality ties and elevate your style today.

[raayaethics]

Breaking Tradition: Contemporary Men's Engagement Fashion Trends

Breaking away from conventional conventions and embracing modern trends has recently been a thrilling trend in engagement kurta for mens. The days of relying solely on traditional suits are being replaced by a myriad of innovative, fashion-forward solutions that enable men to celebrate their upcoming weddings while expressing their originality and personality. We'll look at some of the most popular modern men's engagement fashion trends in this blog post, which are changing how upcoming grooms dress for their important occasions.

1. Coloured blazers and suits:

The days of only wearing suits in black, navy, and grey are long gone. Modern grooms prefer to wear suits and blazers in striking hues like deep burgundy, rich emerald green, or even pastel tones. These vivid options give the engagement appearance a dash of originality and contemporary flair.

2. Textiles with texture

Men's engagement fashion is dominated by texture. Textured fabrics, which range from linen and jacquard to velvet and tweed, provide outfits depth and visual intrigue that help them stand out from the crowd. These materials are ideal for separates and suits, enabling grooms to try out various combinations.

3. Remarkable Footwear

Modern engagement fashion includes accessories in addition to attire. Whether it's a pair of leather brogues, suede loafers or even fashionable trainers that perfectly suit their ensembles, grooms are embracing standout shoes. These daring footwear selections give the outfit character and a dash of excitement.

4. Combining several styles:

The days of taking a rigidly matching strategy are passing. To create distinctive styles, grooms are combining and contrasting various elements. For example, you might do this by wearing a patterned jacket with plain-colored slacks or a dress shirt with more casual bottoms. Combining several styles results in a vibrant and fashionable image.

5. Sleek Minimalism:

Nowadays, when it comes to engagement fashion, less is generally more. With their choice of simple lines, streamlined silhouettes, and subtle accessories, grooms are embracing minimalist elegance. A flawlessly fitted, understated suit may convey a lot without being unduly spectacular.

6. Statement Additions

Shoes are only one type of accessory. To add a unique touch to their clothes, grooms are accessorising with statement pieces like pocket squares, tie pins, lapel pins, and even fashionable timepieces. These extras not only complete the aesthetic but also highlight the groom's meticulous attention to detail.

7. Shirts with open collars

Open collar shirts are becoming more common for a casual, modern look. These shirts provide a chic alternative to the conventional button-up shirt and tie ensemble and can be worn with or without a jacket.

8. Original bow ties

But with a twist, bow ties are returning in engagement fashion. Modern grooms like unique bow tie designs, patterns, and materials to give their ensembles a whimsical yet chic touch.

9. Wearing knits as a layer:

Layering is not just for formal attire. Lightweight cardigans or sweaters are being paired with tailored pants or even chinos by grooms for their engagement attire. This brings cosiness, texture, and a hint of laid-back charm.

10. Clothing Inspired by a Destination:

Grooms are embracing destination-inspired clothes if the engagement party is occurring in a distinctive locale. This could entail combining aspects of the local environment or culture into their attire to create a distinctive and tailored style.

In short, modern men's engagement fashion is all about embracing individualism, inventiveness, and a willingness to defy social standards. Modern grooms have a wide range of alternatives when it comes to showing their love while dressing elegantly and tastefully, from coloured suits and textured fabrics to striking accessories and unique bow ties. Don't be afraid to venture outside the box and adopt these new trends, whether you're a groom-to-be trying to stand out or someone helping a friend plan their engagement dress.

[otaaau]

Elevate Your Wardrobe with Men’s Bow Ties

When it comes to making a fashion statement, it is often the small details that set you apart. The bow tie is a classic accessory that, when added to your outfit, can elevate your wardrobe and make a lasting impression. For more information, click here: https://otaa.medium.com/elevate-your-wardrobe-with-mens-bow-ties-64af161c04e7

[amit122]

5 Top Must-Have Men's Accessories You Can Buy Online

We are all aware that the appropriate accessories can quickly elevate an ensemble to a whole new level, taking it from 0 to 100. Men's accessories, as we all know, are what finish the look and show that you took the time to put together a presentable ensemble and did not just throw on the first things you saw.

We are also aware of how easy a bad accessory choice can destroy a whole outfit.

Many guys feel uneasy wearing jewellery or other accessories. We can assist if you fall into this category but still want to try wearing accessories (which you should). You may utilise our comprehensive list of the top men's accessories you can buy online.

Every man can appropriately wear accessories and look beautiful. Don't be afraid to experiment with different accessories until you are sure of the ones that are best for you.

1. CHAINS

Men's chains are becoming more and more popular every year. A chain necklace is a straightforward accessory that is available in a huge variety of designs and lengths online. If you want something delicate, you may choose one that is shorter and thinner; if you want more volume, choose one that is longer and thicker.

2. Watches

There is no doubt that wristwatches will always be fashionable. A watch is a means of personal expression. The watch you wear on your wrist might reveal a lot about your lifestyle.

Considering that will help you choose the right watch to wear. Some people would rather simply own one watch that is in good shape and that they may wear at any time. Others, who like more options and diversity, possess a number of different timepieces that they may switch between on a regular basis.

Looking at current watch patterns, it's simple to identify two significant trends online. The first and most popular trend involves timepieces with relatively basic and straightforward designs.

3. SUIT ACCESSORIES

Right now, wearing suits and dressing formally is in vogue. To make an impression, you must correctly accessorise your outfit; merely donning a suit is insufficient.

When we refer to suit accessories, we mean all the extras you require to complete your suit look. A fashionable man accessorises his attire with ties, bow ties, pocket squares, cufflinks, tie clips, and lapel pins.

If you're new to wearing suit accessories and want a good selection to start with, get the Classy Men's Accessories. The set comes with a tie, a pocket square, a tie clip, and cufflinks. Simple black is always a good choice!

If you are familiar with and have used suit accessories in the past, try to add some excitement with new hues and materials. Think of donning a knitted tie, bow tie, or a colourful pocket square. Even better, try designing a unique and sophisticated tie.

4. SUNGLASSES

Sunglasses are ageless and functional. Their original purpose was to protect the eyes from the sun's harmful rays. As in the past, sunglasses now provide eye protection.

They are, however, more frequently worn simply as statement items to express one's personal taste. Some people have many pairs so they may choose the ideal set according to the situation, their attire, and their mood.

Whether you use sunglasses or not, you should have a classic pair, such aviators or wayfarers, in a neutral colour. These glasses may be used anyplace, whether it be a casual day, a party, or a funeral.

If the fundamentals are covered, experiment with colour and texture and even add mirror lenses to complete the design.

5. Wallet

It's been said that a guy is defined by his pocketbook. Your clothes will look wonderful if you have a nice wallet.

Wallets come in a variety of styles, including leather ones. All of your identifying documents are stored secure in a wallet. Additionally, it gives your money a suitable home. A stylish wallet enhances your appearance and perspective.

NEATEN UP YOUR ESSENTIALS

Not least of all, ensure all of your accessories are clean and in good condition. The start of a new year has presented the perfect time to evaluate all of your needs and decide which ones need to be replaced.

Do you require new bags, or are your present ones in perfect condition? Do you own belts that never go out of style and look excellent with both jeans and suits? Check out the variety of reasonably priced, high-quality belts from men’s accessories shops if you don't.

Finally, does your wallet meet your demands (have enough space for all of your cards and cash) and is it neat and organised? Consider all the accessories you use often or on a regular basis, and replace everything that is damaged or worn out.

[modelchicau]

What are The Different Types of Men's Ties?

When it comes to men's fashion, the tie is a classic accessory that adds elegance and sophistication to any outfit. With numerous styles to choose from, it's essential to familiarize yourself with the different types of Men's Ties to find the perfect match for your style and the occasion. Here, we have created a list of popular types of men's ties.

Necktie: The necktie is the most common and versatile type of men's tie. It is a long, narrow piece of fabric tied around the neck, typically secured with a knot.

Bow Tie: Bow ties are known for their timeless charm and bring a touch of elegance to formal attire. They consist of a fabric bow that is pre-tied or self-tied around the collar.

Skinny Tie: Skinny ties are popular among younger generations and can add a sleek and stylish touch to formal and casual outfits. These ties are narrower than traditional neckties, typically measuring around 2-3 inches wide.

Knit Tie: Knit tie is made from knitted fabric with a unique look and feel. It is a great choice for adding a touch of sophistication to a relaxed or semi-formal ensemble.

Bolo Tie: The bolo tie is a distinctive type of necktie commonly linked with Western and Southwestern fashion. It has a decorative clasp and a braided cord, often featuring ornate details.

With an array of options, choosing the right type of men's tie is a chance to showcase your style and elevate your outfit. Whether you opt for a classic necktie, a dapper bow tie, a trendy skinny tie, a textured knit tie, or a bold bolo tie, each type brings its charm and can enhance your overall look. If you want to find the ones that best suit your taste, visit Model Chic online.

[neckland]

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[joestylee]

What Should Be In The African American Man’s Closet

What Should Be In The African American Man’s Closet

What should be in the modern African-American man’s closet? What are those items he must possess to have a wardrobe he is proud of? The goal of this article is to not only present a visual guide of clothing essentials, but also to help you understand the foundations of true style so you can look at something and determine if it’s in sync with who you are and your stylistic beliefs. Some may argue that dressing the black man should not be that deep but it is, because clothes are unspoken language. Every time a black man dresses up, he is sending a message about how he views the world and his place in it.

Who am I?

Self-understanding is the bedrock of true style. Self-understanding is knowing your history, your values, your message and your vision. The world makes assumptions about how black men should behave, live or act and, most importantly, look. However, there are many ways to be black as there are many black people. So, binding yourself to what the world believes you should be instead of understanding who you really are will prevent you from finding your power. 

How do I turn self-knowledge to style? 

Style is a matter of inspiration and developing an individual sense of what is elegant and wearable. So, what inspires you? Music, art, food, sports? Find a way to incorporate it into your wardrobe. Who inspires you? Look at these people, study how they put themselves together and how they have crafted a signature style. 

Style is also a matter of understanding the principles of good grooming and marrying it with personal inspiration. Good grooming may still be a vague term for men who just want to know what they need to have in their wardrobe. So simplifying further, style is understanding your body type and picking the right clothing to enhance it. Learn more about dressing for your body type by learning about fit, color and pattern. 

Style begins with a classic Wardrobe

A classic wardrobe stays timeless regardless of the changing fashions and relies heavily on neutrals, solid colors and discrete patterns. But do not confuse a classic wardrobe with invisibleness or blandness. A classic wardrobe is like a foundation, once you get this foundation right, you can start to buy with extras. 

Some people say that good things come in threes and the list of closet essentials have been grouped in threes to create combinations that can produce over 20 different looks.

The 3 Types of Layers – Cable-knit crew neck sweater, sports jacket and trench coat    

The 3 Shoes You Need – Oxford dress shoes for formal occasions, sneakers for everyday casual wear and Chukka boots for everything in between. Allen Edmonds is a brand that makes all 3 types well.

The Formal Trio - A classic tuxedo in black, a navy suit and a charcoal grey suit for black tie and business events. Check Amazon for Calvin Klein work suits in standard colors at very good prices.

The 3 Shirts – The white dress shirt to wear with a tuxedo, a light blue shirt to wear with a navy suit and a lightly striped shirt to wear with a gray suit. Check Suit Supply for classic fabrics and tailoring.

3 Ties -A classic bow tie for wearing a tuxedo, a solid colour plain tie to wear with a navy blue suit and a patterned tie to wear with a charcoal gray suit. 

3 Pairs of Casual Pants - A dark wash jeans which goes with any T-shirt, sweater or blazer, a Chinos trouser for the days you want to ditch the jeans and a wool trouser for a casual sophisticated look. 

3 Cords – A black formal belt for dressing a suit, brown casual belt that is practical and hardwearing and a fabric belt for summer style. Columbia has some sturdy and well-designed pieces.

Accessories Threesome -  A hat, cufflinks and a great watch.

3 African Inspired Attires To Show Some Culture – Joestylee is an African inspired brand that embodies the courage of the modern African American Man to do something different and unexpected. If you live in Africa, there are many street stores and local shops that make traditional and modern African articles of clothing.  If you live outside Africa, then Joestylee is your go-to online store.

With The African American Man’s Closet essentials, you will be able to create the 5 most popular dress styles for men which are casual, smart casual, business casual, business professional and cocktail attire.

[elderflowerecho]

Image description:

1: a fluffy white blanket with a light blue bear stitched on

2: a knitted chimney sweep coming out of a chimney

3: a roll-up pencil case with crayons inside, bearing a Mr Men design (Mr Tickles, Mr Happy and a blue one with bandages)

4: a basket of toys on a charity shop shelf, including several beanie babies and a giraffe

5: a black cat plush with a neck bow with two designs - one side is grey with a spiderweb pattern in white, while the other is pink with a witch hat motif. It sits behind a basket of fabric squares.

6: a disney-themed mug with various characters smiling out of a film reel frame (in this case, Woody and Buzz in one and Simba in another). Next to it on the shelf are glass goblets and the next shelf down are more mugs and glasses.

7: a shelf with various children's stationery and a plastic tub of either ribbons or hair ties. At the centre is a lilac tin with Dora and Boots from Dora the Explorer on it.

End description.