#off gel

[treasure4nail]

Get salon-quality nail extensions with Cre8tion Soft Gel Tips in Medium Coffin style. Made of soft gel for easy soaking. Includes 602pcs per box.

[puppppppppy]

Alex and my farmer Cosmo (he/him)

[mayasaura]

one problem with a theatrical adaption of tlt is htn, where the reveal that Gideon lives on works because of the change of second person to first.

the only way i can think of it working is that the actor playing gideon works backstage, like the lights system (but is hidden from the audience aside from subtle hints)

the biggest hint is when when wake breaches pal's river bubble she 'breaks' the lighting system and the stage goes dark. harrow is ushered into the wings by pal so she doesn't see anything, but the lights flick back on just before the curtains drop for a scene change, and pal looks directly up at the light box in surprise and smiles. if the audience is quick to turn around they can see a flash of a black robe.

Oh boy my friend, have you come to the right place!!

So, fun fact about ninja. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this. The image of a ninja covered head to toe in black, with a hood and mask, comes from Kabuki theatre. It was originally a stagehand uniform. Like stagehands in modern theatre, stagehands in Kabuki would wear all black to signify that they were not really there, and whatever effect they were causing (carrying a prop, creating a breeze, ect.) was to be taken as happening on its own. Basic stagehand stuff, a lot of productions in many styles around the world do it, especially if they don't have fancy rigging systems.

Someone (I don't remember who now, or in what play) had the idea to dress the ninja in a production up as a stagehand. In the convention of the theatre, this made them invisible. The audience was already so used to ignoring stagehands, they didn't know any more than the characters that the ninja was present, despite the actor being clearly visible on stage. Which meant when the ninja struck, it was as if out of nowhere. I can only imagine the uproar in the theatre the first time it happened. It worked so well as to become commonplace, and the rest is history. The popular image of a ninja is still a kabuki stagehand.

So, back to the stage play of Harrow the Ninth. I think you've hit almost exactly on how to incorporate the Gideon twist into a theatrical production. But not as a lighting tech. Gideon is a stage hand. Maybe there would be more than one stagehand, maybe she would be the only one, but she would operate in full view of the audience, literally setting the scenes. I think it works best if she's the only one, but if the production needs more, she should subtly stand out in some way. As the play went on, we would notice that this one stage hand... increasingly interacts with Harrow, though Harrow never acknowledges it. At first it might look like she's playing Harrow's necromancy, because that would be the main special effect she would need to help with. When Harrow is unconscious at the end of a scene, it's always the same stagehand carrying her out. But we all know she's not really there. Until Palamedes acknowledges her. Turns to look right at her, and speaks to her. I can see the scene clearly. He would look at her, stunned, until Gideon finally took off her mask. The line "Kill us twice, shame on God," would be addressed to Gideon, and then he would turn back to Harrow, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her to go. Gideon, always out of Harrow's line of sight, would guide Harrow away while Harrow looked back at Palamedes.

[jarchaeology]

Avalon Club: West Hollywood, CA - September 19, 1996 - photographer: Hutchins / Michelson

📽the slide collection series 📽

✨currently the earliest identified paparazzi photo of jensen ackles ✨

jensen moved to LA on 9/1/96, 18 days before this picture was taken outside a club in west hollywood. previously, the earliest pap photo to surface was taken on 11/2/96 at an MTV rock the vote event. prior to starting this research blog, the earliest publicity photo the fandom had was from a movie premiere on 3/28/97.

[cowb0yluvrr]

he was such a dreamy cutie in these scenes!

[caterpillarinacave]

Using the computer as a babysitter for Jed and Octavius is all fun and games until they figure out how to use Larry’s credit card

[mistermalaprop]

Introducing: Gel-Strike, that Jetbyte sparkling!

here's the big baby.... the rascal... the li'l jerk that can't stop being spoilt by his daddies...

I didn't really have a plan bc this is the first fan child i've ever sat down and made-- if y'all have any questions, comments, and/or scenarios & prompts for Gel-Strike and his parents, then my ask box is open :] i spent way too long thinking of this child--

oh yeah and this is Gel-Strike as his itty-bitty baby form, the one above is his youth-look. he looks cute but poor fuckin' sky-byte and his sharkussy-

me whenever i think of all other potential jetbyte babies vs Gel-Strike:

[corviiids]

akeshu girlies postcanon is like ren is embracing how fun it is to dress up girly and is more likely to get dolled up before she goes out because it's fun. (she still dresses like a muppet to go get groceries or whatever in big boxy t-shirts and doesn't brush her hair.) meanwhile akc is living her best masc life but still has a fourteen step skincare routine and ren uses combination face+body lotion and a bar of handsoap from the drugstore. 3 in one shampoo body wash conditioner vs akc's high end shampoo + scalp cleanser + conditioner + night time hair mist which costs her ¥11000 a month at minimum. and ren's hair is healthier and she doesn't need pimple patches. the entire bathroom cabinet in their apartment belongs to akc and ren's "products" (please read as derisively as possible) are banished to one precarious corner of the bathtub

[treasure4nail]

Unleash your creativity with the Cre8tion All the Gel Top Hits Black Friday 2023 deal. Enjoy exclusive savings on gel essentials and gift yourself or a loved one the joy of perfect nails. Limited-time offer, don't miss out!

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Re-read the script for ‘Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian’, and it inspired me to make a silly little scene with my favorite niece and uncle as a warmup.

Please DO NOT TAG AS SHIP ART!!

[mobiledoll]

my house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you

[hehkshew]

Sweater Weather... Or Not (H/azbin H/otel) A/ngel D/ust x A/lastor [1700 Words]

A/ngel and A/lastor are finally doing something long overdo and cleaning out their closet. When A/ngel finds an article of clothing he wasn't seen in years he's beyond excited. A/lastor doesn't share that sentiment. Or, there's a possibility A/ngel could be allergic.

@snzysceneslut definitely didn't give me a shit ton of motivation to write a new fic of the two LOL

Cleaning day, the most dreaded day in Hell.

This wasn’t an official day they’d picked, not by far. But their wardrobe was getting rather… Over the top, that would be the right way to word it.

How had they come to that conclusion? Fat nuggets nearly getting trampled by the mountain of heels that fell, nearly smothering the poor thing.

“Alright, half of this shit needs to go.” Angel sighed as he picked up his beloved pig, and that’s how it was settled. Which was how they got here.

The Crackle of the radio humming in the background, playing a familiar distant tune as Angel and Alastor got to work. They’d been sharing a room for a while now, mostly anyway.

Angel’s room that the Radio Demon occasionally found himself sneaking into to sleep, not that this was something he’d admit.

But now it was a little more than nightly visits, Angel’s wardrobe had also been decorated by various belongings, coats he’d never owned, a nauseating amount of red which was too much even for him.

Both stood in it as they tried to organise through the Hell it contained. Already designated boxes alay, ones to throw, keep and donate.

Donation wasn’t really a thing in Hell, it was more like go around and see who wants free shit, and if not? Leave a box out and somebody would be sure to steal it.

They were making decent progress! Though there was quite a bit of… Distractions.

Specifically Angel getting excited everytime he found something even a few months old, claiming how he’d not seen it in, ‘forever’. Moving onto the next thing after a gentle prompting by Alastor, before immediately finding something new as the cycle repeated.

It wasn’t just clothes in there though. Strange things he didn’t remember too well, most of it was Alastors stuff to be fair. An alarming amount of Radio’s, even for the broadcasting Demon.

“Alright, ya’ can’t ask me to throw out any more shit if you’re not going to do anything about these.” Angel huffed, arms full of the miniature pieces of technology.

“They’re vintage, Dear.” He hummed delightfully.

“Well yeah, we died in the 1900’s, everything's vintage. That ain’t exactly a shocker, babe.” Rolling his eyes as he placed them carefully back where they once were.

“Ugh, I swear this thing’s a black hole.” Angel muttered, yanking out another pile of clothes, not paying half mind as he flickered through it. Throwing a pair of Heel’s over his shoulder, whacking Alastor in the back.

“Watch it.” “Bite me.” He smirked.

As he moved to throw the clothes into the trash, he froze as his hands brushed across something familiar.

“What’s this?” He murmured, tugging out the faded pale pink sweater. It was old– Really old, rhinestones carefully placed across the chest. Slightly frayed cuffs and a faint stain against its hem. But Angel’s eyes lit up like fireworks as he held the piece, the memory of it washing over him in waves, an excited gasp.

Alastor looking up from his own organizing, humming as his curiosity piqued. “What in Hell’s name have you unearthed now?”

“This!” Angel exclaimed with excitement, holding out the pale-pink sweater as if it were a trophy. “I used to fucking love this thing! I haven’t seen it in years, What the fuck is it doin’ all the way burried down here?”

Alastor approached, adjusting his monocle for dramatic effect as he tilted his head. “Hmm, judging by the state of it, I’d wager it was buried for a good reason. But pray tell, what’s so special compared to the thousands of over pink sweaters you have stored away in here?”

Angel huffed as if Alastor were stupid, pressing the sweater against his chest as he grinned. “I used to wear this thing all the time when I first got here! It’s so cozy! And cmon, babe. Look at it, It’s adorable!” He spun around as he held it, slipping it over his head with ease. 

It hung loosely on his frame, the faded pink contrasting perfectly against his fur. He smoothed the fabric over his torso, beaming with excitement. “How do I look?”

Alastor paused, his smile softening into something more genuine. “Ridiculous. But also… Rather endearing.”

“Ha! I knew it,” Angel said, striking a pose. Earning an eye roll from Alastor as they both returned to the task at hand, yet again having successfully both get distracted.

For the next half an hour, they fell into an easy rhythm. Angel sorted through the lower shelves of clutter while Alastor reorganised it, making more space for new junk that was bound to fill the small room within a month. 

They had a system, one which worked without issue.

At first, anyway.

But as the minutes ticked by, Angel began to sniffle, it was subtle to begin with. A small scrunch of the nose, rubbing at his face.

“Hh-hHH’kshh!”

“Bless you,” Alastor said absentmindedly, not even looking up from his task.

“Guh, Thanks,” Angel mumbled, rubbing at his nose with another sharp sniff. He assumed it was the dust– After all, they hadn’t cleaned this thing in fuck knows how long.

A bit of dust? Eh, something that came with the territory.

But then the sneezing started to come in fits.

It wasn’t fast at first, but now?

“hih’HH- Hh’TSSHHhh! ihHHT’KSHHH!” Angel doubled over, his body wracked breathless as he’d sneezed for the sixth time in the past minute. Clothes he’d once been holding now helplessly abandoned on the carpet.

“Goodness.” Alastor exclaimed, putting a hand on Angel’s back, “Are you quite alright?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Angel managed between sneezed, breath hitching again almost immediately. “It’s just- hhHHih’kshhh! Hhih’KSshew!!” Gasping. “Fuck, it’s gotta just be the dust, probably.”

Alastor frowned unconvinced, a rare flicker of concern crossing his face. “That seems a bit extreme, even for you.”

But Angel only waved him off, watery eyes and pink nose betraying him. “It’s nothin’, just allergies… Or somethin’”

Alastors eyes trailed over him, watching as Angel rubbed his palm against his nose with a wince, faltering as his gaze drifted down to the sweater. A distant memory, almost as if he could recall something.

“Darling?” Already knowing the answer. “Is there any possibility you could be allergic to that?”

Angel froze, pausing mid-sniffle, blinking down at him, “Say, what?”

“The sweater,” Alastor said, pointing a jagged finger in angel’s chest, touching the clothing as if it were some cursed artifact. “I distinctly recall you wearing it during our first winter together. You declared it, ‘bad vibes’ and swore to never wear it again.”

“Aw, come on! That was, like, a hundred years ago! I thought I outgrew that or somethin. –” He broke off, another harsh sneeze shaking his frame.

“Bless you, you’re not wearing the sweater.”

“But—” Angel sniffled, looking down at it with despair. “But I like it! It’s comfy and… Hh.. Cute- And- Ah’nd.. Hh- hHHih’kSsHHEw!” He groaned, rubbing at his nose. “This sucks.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Alastor said, moving his hands to the bottom of the offending item, in position. “Which is exactly why I’m taking it off.”

Angel gasped, bottom set of hands grabbing onto his as Alastor gently let go. “C'mon, Bambi! It’s not that bad… I’ll get used to it?”

“Get used to an allergy?” Alastor huffed, “Absolutely not. I won’t have you making yourself unwell over a piece of clothing, no matter how ‘cute’ it is.”

Angel pouted, his voice turning whiny. “But—” 

“No Buts,” Alastor interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Off with it, Darling.”

Reluctantly, Angel began to pull the sweater over his head, his movements slow and exaggerated like a child being forced to give up their favourite toy. Handing it to Alastor with a sigh of defeat.

“You’re such a buzzkill, y’know that? I freakin’ love this sweater.” 

“And yet, it seems the sentiment is not mutual,” Alastor said dryly, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to his sniffling spouse. “For the sake of your health, I think it’s best we retire it once more.”

Angel sniffled and blew his nose noisily, his pout visible even from behind the cloth. “You suck. Can’t I, like, just wear it sometimes? Maybe it won’t be so bad if I don’t have it on for too long.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “Are you truly willing to endure suffering and misery just for the sake of fashion?”

“Don’t I do that anyway…?”

“Angel.” He frowned.

“Just… You’re not gonna throw it out, right?” He frowned, looking up at him genuinely.

Alastors expression softened, gently brushing the hair out of Angel’s face, “Darling, I understand how much this means to you, but I’d prefer not to see you suffer. You still have plenty of other clothing that’s just as delightful and far less hazardous to your well-being.”

Angel looked down at the sweater in Alastor’s hands, then back up at him, pout deepening as his shoulders slumped. “I guess, but It’s not the same. This one’s special, y’know?”

Alastor’s smile returned, warmer and more genuine. “And That's precisely why we’ll keep it. Perhaps not as daily wear, but as a cherished keepsake. Something to remind you of the fond memories it holds.”

Angel considered it as his fingers brushed against the soft fabric, nodding with a sigh, finally smirking. “Yeah… I guess that works. Doesn’t mean I can’t sneak it on once in a while, though.” 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Alastor huffed with a chuckle, folding it neatly in his arms as he placed it aside. “Now how about I make us some tea while you finish recovering? Cleaning can wait.”

Angel smirked, leaning his head against Alastor’s shoulder. “Tea sounds good. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you off the hook for dinner, Babe.”

Alastor laughed, the sound filling the room like a melody. “Perish the thought, My Dear. I wouldn’t dare.”

As they disappeared into the kitchen, the pink sweater remained on the dresser. Forgotten and unworn.

For now.

[wetslug]

they need to invent a shampoo that removes product residue n gunk but doesnt remove oils. i understand this is scientifically impossible

[mothscotch]

white batter

[angryducktimemachine]

New sketchbook approaching you know what that means. New cover art :3

[slappykraken]

Gonna fuck marry this old god of death real quick brb

Okay so in my fic Narinder gets his hair bleached white by The Lamb but I wanted to redo an old piece because I hated the face so much. So this is him pre fic. Gonna add a background and some details in CSP after I get my scanner working.

(Also if you want to read the fic so far here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53803111/chapters/136178677)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53803111/chapters/136178677