#pinstripe curtains

[katoakenshield]

Home Office in Melbourne Home office library - small eclectic freestanding desk carpeted and pink floor home office library idea with green walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[monstrifex-art]

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

[softshuji]

"Sweetheart, can you come here a second?" Hanma's voice beckons you from the bathroom where you stand on your toes to lean over the mirror, your sleeping gown tumbling from one shoulder and your skin prickling with the cold draught that slips through the open window.

You round the corner and find him fiddling in the mirror with the pinstripe tie, jacket discarded on the armrest of the sofa, dress shoes turned over on the carpet by the door.

'Yeah?' you say, one hand suspended in your hair where you're trying to set a roller behind your headband. And failing.

'You busy with something?'

'No, just sorting my hair. Why? You need something?'

'gimme a hand with this?' and he flips the tie up away from the collar of his open dress shirt, where the wider end lands on his shoulder.

You raise an eyebrow even as you pin the roller and walk over, acquiescing still. 'I swear you know how to tie a tie, don't you?'

He scoffs, a faint pfft sound with a hand on his chest in mock indignation, before grinning at you through the mirror. 'What do you take me for? Of course I do.' And then, after a pause. 'I like when you do it though.'

You roll your eyes, albeit playfully, hoisting your slipping gown back over the spaghetti strap of your top as you make to stand in front of him, your back to the mirror and entirely dwarfed by the size of him against your chest.

'I swear you just want an excuse for me touch you', you say, both hands now coming up to adjust the long and short side of the tie, a faint click of your tongue he knows you don't mean. And that you know you don't mean either.

'There a problem with that?' and you avoid the glint in his eye that spells mischief, doubled by how his now free hands come to rest languidly against your hips, rocking them back and forth against his, a slight sway to silent music in your otherwise messy living room. A glance at the clock tells you it's early still, and the sun hasn't quite climbed over the horizon, leaving a shell pink swathe of colour just beyond your curtains.

'Didn't say that did I, baby?' you say, knuckles brushing against the fabric of his shirt as you cross the triangular side over the other. A loop twice around and you bite your lip in concentration.

He likes how you look when you're pretending not to notice, when you're deep in thought. It's a pride he talks about often, a love that hurts and swells and aches, drains and fills him all at once, the kind he could drown in if he sated himself long enough. He can see the top of your head, the roundness of its curvature and the shine of your glossy hair - a light that moves every time you turn your head and his chest aches with a tenderness that's bone deep.

You're beautiful, even more so now, when you're not thinking about it , when you're not particularly trying, and even when you are, he thinks there mightn't be enough words for him to do it justice. He's never been one for fancy declarations after all.

You pat his chest when you finish, look up at him with moisturizer on your cheeks that hasn't quite absorbed yet. 'All done,' you say. 'You big baby, I can't believe you called me here to do your tie.'

And he smiles in that way that has a flutter beating in your stomach, the warm syrupy smile that's wide and big and beautiful. 'It wasn't just for that.' and he leans down, two hands still on your hips to ghost his lips against yours, hot breath tinged with a faint menthol and mint before he brushes them, ever so so tentatively, gently, and presses himself to you.

You soften, and then pull back immediately, a frown lining your brows. 'Come on,' you say. 'You can't seriously be wanting some right now?'

And he pauses, the smile bleeding into a look of abject concern, a flash of worry in his chest. 'What? Why not?'

'I look horrendous.'

He pauses, hands stilling from where they've gripped your hips. 'Huh? What do you mean?'

'I do.' and you say it with earnestness, a genuineness that aches, like you believe it. 'My hair isn't cooperating and I don't look well so you can't seriously be attracted to this.' and you gesture down at the entirety of yourself, the spaghetti strap cami exposed by your sleeping gown with the belt undone, rollers sliding out of your hair, and a toothpaste stain down your chest he wants to put his mouth on.

'I don't see why not pretty girl. I think you look sexy.' and as if to enunciate his point, he grinds his hips further against yours, hands slipping under your sleeping gown to find the hem of your shorts.

'You absolutely do not, and if you do, you're a sick freak.'

And he laughs, so spontaneously, bright and warm and inundated with a flicker of sleep. 'Then I'm a sick freak huh? Since I think you're sexy all the time.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' he says, breathless now against your neck, hiking your thigh around his waist before he backs you against the sofa. 'So pretty, nothing you say can tell me otherwise. So you'd better stop arguing with me.'

Your back hits the soft down of the sofa and your sleeping gown falls entirely off your left shoulder. 'Or what?'

He glances at his watch just as he moves to undo his belt with the other hand. 'Or you'll be punished and I've got time to teach you a lesson Sweetheart.'

And he leans down just as the sun climbs finally over the slat in the curtains, a shell pink splashing over the wall, and the two of you together.

Reblogs appreciated

[passionateseadruid]

Snake king's bride 6

The Date(s) part 2 House of Asmodeus

Lemme know what you think is going on with Darlings One day away from Lucifer. Like I’m sure you guys have the gist of it but I want to hear your theories. Also Shout out to Nikki (from the comments section) for recommending to me to watch the greatest and the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

You get out of bed and get ready for the day ahead. A few days ago you'd heard about a celebrity bashing an imp. She said he was running a shitty failure of a freelance business that was going to go bankrupt in a year.

You looked up the place and found out where they were. You and Nina drove out of Pentagram City in a nice white convertible. 

"Thank you for doing this Nina."

"Mhm."

"...I can tell you don't like me. Would you mind telling me why?"

"Oh look we're here!" She changed the subject.

You two walked into the building and looked at the directory. You both rode up to the fifth floor, briefcase full of money.

"Hello? Hello…"

"Who the fuck are you?" A Hell hound asked.

////////////////////////////////////////

You were cut off from the memory of that day when Lucifer squeezed your hand. He pulled a cloak over you and used his Illusions to make it seem like you were a succubus. "Don’t worry, darling. Nobody's gonna know." He handed you a key-ring. 

"They're gonna know."

"How would they know?" He transformed into a snake and slithered up and around your neck.

You made your way through the Elevator Lobby and toward the giant elevator. "Departing of Lust, in five minutes~" You winced at the tone of the announcer.

"Do they always announce it like that?" You looked down at Lucifer and he nodded.

////////////////////////////////////////

You guys made your way to the back alleyways of the Lust Ring and stopped behind a circus tent shaped building. Like Lucifer had instructed you only hours before you pulled out the key-ring and looked for the key with a big O on it. You opened the door and Lucifer slithered down you and snuck his way down the halls all the way up to a balcony. 

You followed behind silently until you came to the balcony and hid behind the door leading out there, just barely poking your head in.

A taller figure, maybe 8 feet tall with a top hat adding an extra foot and a half, looked back at you. He had lots of fluff around his head and a pinstripe suit. "Who the fuck are you?" He demanded as his fluff turned to flames.

Lucifer transformed back into his regular form. "Woah, woah, woah. Ozzie it's me and my wife."

"...Lucifer? What are you doing here? And what do you mean wife?" This 'Ozzie' guy asked.  

"Oh right." Lucifer pulled the illusion off of you. "Ozzie and his fling, meet my bride. Wifey, this is Asmodeus. Prince of the lust ring, the embodiment of lust, and the creator and founder of the Ars Goetia. He's also a king in the Ars Goetia."

"Oh... really, um... how- how interesting." You stutter. 

"Heh. I know it's a lot, the hair, the bod." The man in the jester outfit chuckled. "Oz?" He looked at the taller man.

The taller man in question closed the doors that lead out to the balcony and the door to the hallway. "Lucifer... what have you done?" Asmodeus asked nervously. 

"Oz it's gonna be fine." Lucifer assured with a smile. The two of them went off to the left side of the room.

You looked around the small lounge balcony. The big window doors lead to an actual balcony with gold rails that looked out over a nightclub. The curtains in the room were velvety violet fabric with rose gold trim. On the left side of the lounge there was a glass fireplace with blue flames and two indigo chairs with gold trim around them sat in front of the fireplace. On the right side was a matching couch.

You went over to the couch and before you could sit. "Wait! I wouldn't sit there if I were you." The jester stopped you "Oz and I get kinda frisky in here we haven't had the couch cleaned yet."

"...okay." You grimaced. "Wait... I know you."

"Yeah I get that a lot."

"No like I've met you before, you're the imp from the Halloween party. You went as beetlejuice."

"Yeah..." He smiled strained. "Oz had the idea. He went as Lydia. According to him I sound exactly like the guy. I personally don't hear it."

"Really? You totally sound like the Broadway actor to me." 

"Him I hear even less of." He rolled his eyes and you giggle. "Can I ask you a question?" He asked.

"Shoot." You smiled. 

"What the fuck are you wearing?" He asked gesturing to your outfit. A simple black romper with an off the shoulder sweetheart neckline. 

"It's better than what that jackass wanted me to wear. It was basically just lingerie. Like it was a burgundy sleeveless dress that had a night knit mesh turtleneck, with a boob window, mesh slits on the waist and what was basically just a loincloth for the skirt."

"Wait, wait, wait. The head honcho gave that dress.. to you..?" The jester looked baffled.

"Uh, yes? Why?" You asked confused.

"We gave him that dress seven years ago to try and help him reconcile with Lilith." He looked at Lucifer.

"And once again he's comparing me to Lilith. Why even take me if he's still in love with her?" You rolled your eyes.

"You don't seem to like him all that much." He looked back at you confused.

"I don't. How can I? He kidnapped me."

"WHAT?!" The jester's outburst caught the attention of the two sins. "Uh Ozzie, we're gonna go get some fresh air she's feeling unwell."

"Okay. be careful fro- Fizz." Asmodeus said.

You and Fizz exited the lounge and you put your hood back up. You two walked down the halls of backstage. Indigo, violet, bright pinks, and gold lines the walls in beautiful Victorian-esque wallpaper

"Okay what do you mean he kidnapped you? And why is Ozzie so scared about you being here?"

"Wow, I guess I was wrong. The people in his inner circle don't even know. Okay don't go spreading this around like it's an STD. Long story short I was sacrificed in this exchange for my old coworkers little sister. I have no idea why but he's mentioned this ring."

"I think Ozzie's told me something about that ring." Fizz rubbed his chin in though.

"Really? What's he told you?" You asked.

"He said that Lucifer asked him for a favor a few centuries ago and he obliged. I don't exactly know what it was but I'm sure we can infer it had something to do with lust right? What I don't get is why the ring? And why does he want to marry you? When he made that deal he was happily in love with Lilith." He looked away getting lost in thought. 

"He still is." You rolled your eyes. 

"Jealous?" He teased.

"No. I hate him, remember. He threatened my entire family." You said nonchalantly.

"HE DID WHAT?!" Fizz exclaimed. "And you still want to marry him."

"No." You said defensively. "I never did. Honestly I'm surprised I'm still alive, after all the shit I've said to him."

"Oh really like what?" He taunted. 

"Well. We went shopping together and there were these Bitches that were being so rude to a girl who's now my friend and he's like, "Oh that's just how things are." and I said "Dude that's racist." -" You were cut off by his shocked noises.

"You actually said that to him?" 

"Uh yeah? It's true. Oh also there was this time he made me pancakes and he's like "I made them with something special." and I replied deadass with "Semen or period blood.""

He crouched over holding his stomach in laughter. "You did not!"

"Yeah I did." You smiled.

"I've never met someone who's either that bold or that stupid. Someone who's a bit of a mix and almost as cocky I guess but wow." 

"You should get out more. Pretty much everyone is like this where I come from."

"you say anything else to him?"

"I asked if he used a love potion and he said, "The bird brain four floors down would kill me."" 

"Yep that's Ozzie for you." Fizz smiled.

"He's a bird?"

"Mhm, a rooster." Fizz explained

"That's so funny! He's just one big cock." You giggled.

"Fitting isn't it." He looked away with a dreamy look on his face

"Absolutely!" Before you knew it you two had mad a circle and ended up back at the lounge. 

"Hey do you have a hellphone?" Fizz stopped you. 

"Yeah why?"

"I wanna ask Oz about the ring when him and I have a private moment. Could I get your number to text you what I find out?"

"Sure! But you should probably use a nickname. If Lucifer find's a guys name in my phone he'd probably go on a jealous rampage."

"Right. What to put."

"Something so i'll remember that it's you. Probably not BJ because that also stands for Blow Job."

"Hehe, yeah. ...hm what else... could Beetlejuice work."

"I-... I guess so... I don't see why it couldn't other than it being a bit long, I hope it fits."

"That's two things she said." He stuck his little tongue out and you giggled.

"Two things Lilith's never said." You giggled. Fizz joined. 

"Darling! I'm glad you're feeling better!" Lucifer said as you two opened the door to the lounge. "Great news! Asmodeus has agreed to be my best man for the wedding!"

"Great..." you forced a smile for the rest of the night; except during the interludes between shows where you and fizz sat on the floor playing card games and him showing you tricks. Those times your smile was the biggest and realest it's been since falling into this situation.

[felicitywilds]

The Magiciatron

A couple of posts came across my dash recently in quick succession about Crowley and Aziraphale’s costuming, and boy howdy did they get me Thinking™. The details of those posts are not super relevant, but they did inspire this one and were quite insightful, so I’d recommend giving them a read anyway, as well as the several other posts I have linked throughout where ideas were taken. Please do give those a read/reblog as well!

And then take a look at this post I saw:

“You’re not trying to trick me, are you?”

Now kindly consider the fact that Crowley is beside Muriel’s left shoulder (like an angel) and the Metatron is on Aziraphale’s right (like a demon). And notice, like I did, that the lapels on his coat are some of the lowest we’ve seen. Which, for an angel-who-isn’t-Aziraphale, and you know, the literal fucking voice of God, is pretty fucking weird. But I digress.

Because what’s important here is that you’re reminded, like I was, how weird it is that the Metatron is wearing so much black.

Surely the most important angel we’ve ever met-- who up to this point, has only ever been depicted as a brilliantly glowing white head, and is (stage blocking-wise, literally) above inhabiting the typical corporations that other angels have, even while in heaven-- surely he would be sporting the cleanest, purest, whitest clothes imaginable, right?

But... he isn’t. He’s not wearing grey or beige like any of the other angels, or even white like Muriel’s constable uniform, he’s wearing black. That’s weird! Angels don’t wear black! Oh... well except when they’re magicians, of course:

(X, X)

But even in his magician costumes, Aziraphale retains many elements of his angelic nature: the upward-pointed lapels; the white cuffs poking out of his sleeves; the floppy bow ties; the single-button or open jacket revealing the soft gold and velvet vests. This is merely a flashy costume! Don’t worry folks, he’s still the same, good old angel underneath!

The Metatron, on the other hand, does not have any of these angelic indicators. Underneath his magician’s coat-- which is big and loose, falls closed in front of him in a way that obscures his suit, and has extremely downward-pointing lapels-- he wears a dark tie, and a very normal-looking, white, pinstripe shirt. No angelic tartan to be seen, either. It’s a very understated, business-minded look compared to Aziraphale’s flashy stage getups. Also worth noting imo is that in many scenes, the Metatron has his hands in his pockets, which obscures his form even more.

Now this might be indicative of something more, some larger scheme we haven’t deduced yet, but by itself it’s a brilliant move by the costuming department, adding yet another perfectly conniving layer to the Metatron’s manipulations:

Dress him in the magician’s coat and send him on stage, where his tricks are hidden in plain sight...

Engage the audience to participate in a dramatic reveal...

Reassure his volunteer that his props are completely normal by offering them up for inspection...

Have the assistant do all the flashy presentation for him...

So that while the audience is distracted, they fail to notice...

... that a swap has been made...

And then the curtain falls. Show over. Audience fooled. Job well done.

The End.

[prncssie]

ONE ⎯⎯ ★ m. list

you’d think when you’re all moved out of your childhood home and sitting on the cool wooden flooring of your own apartment, you’d feel all grown up. granted, you are grown up. however, there’s just something so different, so special and sacred, about enjoying a glass of cheap red wine and listening to the soft sounds of frank ocean, pinkpantheress, and other various artists humming from your red beats pill. this space is entirely yours. it’s your space, filled with the scent of toasted vanilla beans and marshmallows roasting over a fire.

it’s as neat and cluttered as you want it, polaroids of your old life plastered against the walls, floors freshly mopped, dishes cleaned and put away. the air practically buzzes with opportunity, with optimism and hope for the future. you can see it now, your name credited at the end of the newest blockbuster, only after successfully landing a lead role and hitting it off with your co-actors. you can taste it, your dream come true. sweet like syrup, dancing across your tongue with a honeyed sapor. it’s everything you could have asked for and here, in this new city, it’s just within reach. of course, first, you’d have to land a role.

still, that isn’t exactly you’re biggest focus right now. in just a couple hours, you’ll be starting your new job at the local diner. it isn’t something you’re nervous about perse, but there’s nothing particularly enjoyable about a fresh start. your new uniform hangs in your makeshift closet. the stone gray curtains are pulled back to reveal the crisp edges of the baby pink retro-style dress. it’s a cute, little thing. pinstripes from top to bottom, a flare skirt lined with soft tulle, a quaint white apron to match. you’d think it’s something you’d get out of the sexy costume section of spirit halloween. yet, it’s something you’ll be putting on for almost seven days out the week. it’s position in your closet symbolizes something to you. a glowing emblem of promise. it may not be the best item you own, or even the most practical but it means the most and that’s something that matters.

a single corner of your mouth twitches upwards. your brown eyes find themselves wandering towards the simplistic blinking clock on your desk. it’s 12:30. it’s late enough, you think, for you to crawl beneath the thousand count thread sheets stretched across your bed. you toss your head back, downing the rest of the savory wine in a couple of gulps. you practice your newfound freedom by leaving the glass right there on the coffee table and make your way towards your bed. your muscles strain and tremble after minutes of sitting in the same position for far too long. they sing their praises once you reach your plush mattress and bury yourself beneath the sheets. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

“oh my gosh, hello!” the sing-songy voice spouts from a gorgeous dark haired girl, tinted a shade of red resembling a plum. she looks sweet, sharp eyes, a cute round nose. she smells sweet, like a ripe apple spiced with cinnamon on a nice autumn day. she grins at you with glossed pink lips while shoving a notepad within her apron pocket. “you must be the new girl. welcome to bop and bite, darlin’. my name is cherry. braxton told me we’d be gettin’ a new hire today.”

her infectious glee is enough to bring a pleased look to the surface of your face. there’s a bit of a southern twang that weaves through her words. it makes you tilt your head in curiosity but you don’t ask. instead, you run your hands along the skirt of your pressed uniform and grin back. “oh, i’m ⭐︎. it’s so nice to meet you. are you going to be training me?”

“oh, no. mrs. glen’s gone’ be trainin’ you. she’s super sweet. a real sugar pie. there’s this whole seniority thing and she has really good scores so,” cherry turns away from you, facing her distorted  reflection in the mint green countertops. they’re shiny enough to strain your eyes, reflecting the bright yellow lighting directly into your face. she bends over the open space and, what you’d soon learn as classic cherry fashion, rakes her fingers through her hair with a black elastic held tight within her teeth. “don’t worry, honey. you’ll be in great hands.”

you watch her tie her hair back, looking over the countertops at the empty booths and unoccupied bar stools. perhaps you’ve gotten far too dressed up compared to everyone else but really, can you be blamed for that? you half-assed makeup routine usually consisted of a light layer of a light layer of concealer,  a smooth line of eyeliner on the lower lids, blush, highlight, all the works. you just thought, since it is your first day, why not leave a good impression with a sugared face and an even sugared smile. there’s a second, just one, where you wonder if you went a little overboard, but those thoughts are dissolved the moment cherry looks up at you, placing a soft hand on your forearm.

“you know, you’re as pretty as a peach. you’ll make some real good tips workin’ here, i think. they love a real doll face.” she squeezes your arm before turning and leaving you to your own devices.

you stand there for a moment, glancing around the colorful room. that’s the thing with new places. it’s fun, it’s cool, it’s a change of pace and exciting, but it ends there. you don’t have roots, not yet at least. it causes more breaks in your productivity then you’d like. it’s occupied with nothing but silence and conversation where you can. like any other person, you fill that silence by pulling your phone out of your pocket. the plastic case is cool against your hand and you tap the tempered glass to display your lock screen. it blurs and shifts upon the sight of your face and you’re welcome, unfortunately, by a text message. not one you’re looking forward to.

mom: When are you coming back home? This is a waste of time and you know it

you roll your eyes the moment the words register in your brain. it doesn’t come as a shock to you, not really. if you were going to be honest with yourself, you knew it was going to come soon. the arguments about your decision, their displeasure at your desire to pursue an acting career, them insisting you couldn’t afford to live on their own. of course, they’re right. you can’t. that’s why you’re pulling doubles at bop and bite in hopes of having enough for rent and spare time to make it to casting calls, even if it’s for another mundane background character.

you click your tongue against the tip of your mouth, deciding it’s better off not to respond back than informing her that you are, still, very serious about your commitment. even if it meant you had to live in a somewhat cramped studio apartment until you could afford something better — which will probably be never. at least, not any time in the future that you can see. your thumb swipes against the glass, clearing the message from your screen and hopefully, your brain.

you drop your phone back into your apron pocket by the time the presumed mrs. glen makes her appearance. she looks sweet, as cherry said. a smile, salt and pepper hair, seasoned wrinkles. she wears her uniform all the same, thin frilly socks and little heeled mary ones clicking against the hard floor tiles. her thin gold bracelets dangle as she keys herself in to the register. her hair is pulled tight, flipped ponytail swinging as she saunters.

mrs. glen glances at you, eyes scanning along your frame. you pique her interest. you and you’re . . . smallness. your small personality, the small amount of space you take up. perhaps it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place but you don’t stand as bold as someone who would need to work here. “you move here from somewhere? ⭐︎, right? you have that newcomer thing about you.”

you are a bit more jittery than you realize or even care to admit. it’s embarrassing how you stumble to turn towards her, hands interlaced in front of your body and palms facing up. “oh, yes ma’am. i moved here from a small town. i actually just settled and everything yesterday.” your curls, tied back neatly in two, spring and bounce in place. you’ve taken great care to wash, detangle, moisturize, and stretch them to have the prettiest impression you possibly could.

“mm, i can tell,” it’s meant to be nothing, words just tossed out into the air but mrs. glen misses the slight twitch of your eyebrow, “anyway, you’ll be following me around today as my shadow. once you get the hang of it, you’ll be taking drink orders and making them. it’s a slow process. customers are picky; they want a particular service. we open in five minutes so stay close. yes?” this time, she faces you. her eyes, dark like sweetened chocolate chips, hold you where you are.

she’s stern, you can tell by the way she just stares at you, expectantly. cherry said she’s “a real sugar pie” but in this moment, you feel more like she’s firmer than a pine knot. “yes ma’am. i’ll be right beside you.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Trust: Bill Bevilaqua x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

References to current and upcoming Dwight Manfredi fics

Bill is in a bad mood. You can tell from the moment you step inside his office. The curtains are drawn across the floor to ceiling windows, creating shadows around the mahogany desk situated in the end of the room. It matches the glossy wood panelling fixed to the walls. It’s a hangover from his father’s reign as the head of the Bevilaqua Family. It’s meant to radiate power and wealth, instead it feels stifling.

The light from his desk lamp causes the gold fixings to gleam in the warm light as Bill sits in the sturdy leather chair, studying something on his tablet. He looks tired tonight, stressed. It’s been going on for a few weeks now, ever since he discovered that his ex-wife Dahlia was marrying Dwight Manfredi. It’s not jealousy, you know what looks like on a man, it’s far more complicated than that.

“She was forced to marry me.” He’d explained to you the last time you were here. “She didn’t choose me…”

But she did choose Manfredi and you know that that must sting. There’s a fragility to Bill underneath the reputation he cultivates. He’s known for this ruthlessness, his efficiency and prowess. However you see the vulnerability underneath all of that, the depreciation of self-worth. There isn’t a single person in his life that actually cares about Bill beyond his power and he knows it.

“When was the last time you actually stood up from that chair?” You ask him as you linger in the doorway, clad in your caramel double breasted overcoat.

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours as he sets the tablet down on the desk and rubs a rough palm over his weary features.

“Far too long if you’re here for our meeting.” He says raising to his feet, there’s a subtle clench to his jaw as he straightens and you know he hasn’t taken his painkillers today, which means he hasn’t eaten.

He’d been thrown from a horse a few years and it had fucked up his back. On nights like tonight when the temperature drops, the agony can be excruciating.

“Can we take this into the kitchen?” You ask him, tilting your head towards the rest of the house. “I could do with a cup of tea.”

He gestures for you to go ahead before following you out of the office and closing the door softly behind him. The click of your Jimmy Choo heels echo on the hardwood floor as you lead the way. The ranch is quiet at this time of night, the staff have all gone home and it’s just Bill rattling around the empty space. He prefers the solitude, he tells you but you understand the reality of that statement, it’s the only time he can actually relax, that he doesn’t have to be the head of the Bevilaqua family, he can just be Bill.

“Let me take your coat.” He says, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, squeezing lightly before he helps you out of it.

You’re wearing pinstriped, high waisted trousers and a navy blue, translucent blouse that delves close to your bra line. Most men’s eyes usually dip to your cleavage but Bill’s stays firmly on your face as he folds the coat over his muscular forearm.

“You know where everything is.” He says inclining his head towards the countertops. “Help yourself while I hang this up.”

He disappears from the room as you turn on the kettle. By the time he returns he’s surprised to find two cups of decaffeinated Earl Grey steeping on the breakfast bar, alongside his painkillers and a turkey salad sandwich you’ve thrown together from items you’ve foraged from his fridge.

“Sit.” You say, gesturing at the stool across from you. “Eat.”

“It’s not your job to look after me.” He reminds you as he takes up residence in the offered seat.

“No it’s yours and you’re making a piss poor show of it.” You say taking a sip from your teacup and he fixes you with a glare as he eats his sandwich.

Your actual job is running the most exclusive escort service in Kansas City. You pair well educated, beautiful women and men with elite clients who require an partner to attend high end events. Sex is optional and at the discretion of the escort if they enjoy the company of the client.

You pay the Bevilaqua Family a weekly dividend for protection after Bobby D’Amico, the man you used to hook for tried to take over your business. You only deal with Bill because you broke his cousin Joey’s fingers when he tried to take the payment in ‘services’. You don’t tolerate anyone touching your staff unwillingly and you’d made that very clear when you were called to task for your actions. An agreement was made that you’d turn up at his ranch every Monday evening with an envelope full of cash to any such transgressions in the future.

The silence stretches between the two of you until Bill tilts his head towards the painkillers and the empty plate.

“How did you know?”

“My arm hurts like a bitch when we have a cold spell.” You tell him, watching as he opens the medication bottle. “You were stiff when you got up and you tense your jaw when you’re in pain.”

His gaze strays down to your left forearm, the one with the dimples in from the pins that hold it together. The marks are invisible underneath the sleeve of your shirt but he knows that they’re there. You showed them to him when explained the problem with Bobby D’Amico.

“I don’t like taking them unless I have to.” He says finally as he tips two tablets into his hand before setting them on the saucer alongside his tea. “They make me tired.”

“Then I best get going then so you can pop a couple and tuck yourself into bed.” You say as you reach into your Hermes purse and remove the expensive cream envelope. You set it on the table between the two of you and Bill frowns as he studies it.

“It’s heavier than usual.” He states.

“There’s a lot of events this week. The ballet and the opera are in town and nobody wants to go alone.” You inform him as you close your purse again.

“You could have just paid me the same amount and I wouldn’t have been any the wiser.” He says mildly, his palm coming to rest on the envelope.

“You know I don’t work like that.” You say as you gesture between the two of you. “This relationship works because there’s trust and I would never do anything to break that Bill.”

He knows that, you’ve proven to be nothing but loyal in the few years you’ve worked together. It’s the reason he lets his guard down around you, allows you to boss him around a little. You’re right, he is shitty about taking care of himself, he’s too busy taking care of everyone else.

You raise to your feet and Bill tries to follow suit, hissing through his teeth at the pain that ricochets through his spine. You place a gentle hand on his arm indicating for him to stay seated.

“Bill.” You says kindly. “Be a good boy, take your pills and go to bed. I can see myself out.”

A flush creeps  across his features at the use of ‘good boy’ before you press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. Your perfume floods his senses, the dark, sensual undertone of amber,  the rich, almost floral scent of patchouli. He closes his eyes for a moment and he wonders what it must feel like to be loved by a woman like you, to have your entire attention.

He swallows hard when you pull away, stifling the desire to ask you to stay.

“Good night Bill.” You say and he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall before the front door shuts quietly behind you.

That claustrophobic silence rushes back to greet him and he sighs as he picks up the envelope and begins to count the cash. It’s only when he gets to the bottom that he finds the tickets, two of them for an exclusive whiskey tasting event in a couple of days’ time. There’s a note tucked around them, written in your tidy handwriting.

If you want to get out of the ranch for an evening…

His thumb traces over the words before he withdraws his phone from his back pocket. He takes a picture of the tickets, scrolling down to your name and typing out a message.

Only if you accompany me Julia.

He sets his phone down alongside his teacup before he puts the tablets in his mouth and washes them down with the last of the Earl Grey. His attention shifts to his phone as it chimes with your response.

Well Bill, I do enjoy a good single malt.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[top-shelf-tender-moved]

@themosthatedbeing

Husk knew the front door was open to him, but since when had he found any satisfaction in doing things the easy way? No risk, no reward, as they said. Besides, if he'd been announced, he would have had to wait for Lucifer, gone through a whole rigmarole of etiquette, and who knew how long it would take to get to the good part?

No, Husk was an efficient man and a thrill seeker - sneaking into Lucifer's room was the only course for him to take.

The Overlord had always wrestled the frustration he experienced after losing a significant amount of height in the afterlife, but in times like this, his size served him well. He moved with the practiced agility of a crook, dodging the guards and sticking to the shadows. Husk hid at the base of the tallest tower, observing the pattern in security rotation until he had committed it to memory.

With a well-timed takeoff, Husk soared upward when he was sure to have no witnesses, landing on a large balcony and pausing to straighten his appearance. For ease of movement, Husk had left his swallow-tail suit jacket back in his office, leaving his with a rolled up white dress shirt, his pinstripe slacks, and a matching orange tie and vest combo.

Peering through the curtains that blew gently in the open doorway, Husk caught a glimpse of his king. He wanted to have some fun with this surprise, so he leaned his palms back on the railing and simply watched.

[labselkie]

first skyliv post after a while,, still in a purple mood but these two r so so sweet and strange and they always have my heart

btw once they got back to liv’s room they kissed YURI BLAST💥

Top floor of Fisk Tower, September 15th, 2018.

The late evening sky’s deep indigo was sharply contrasted by the floor’s golden lights. It was all for Alchemax’s annual fundraising gala, one Fisk insisted on holding for him to embezzle as much extra money as possible. So, just as usual, the head scientist was dragged along. Thank goodness she could bring a plus one.

Lucielle watched herself in the silvery doors of the elevator, her back against the wall as she gently fidgeted with a row of lace on her long dress. The few rows ruffled around her waist, just under a thick ribbon bow, a detailed addition to her flowing powder blue gown. Olivia stood right in the middle, fingers tapping rhythmically on the opposite forearm. Her own dress was striking, deep pine green silk that draped over her frame like curtains, but hugged just perfectly around her hips and back. A few pieces of silver jewelry accented both their outfits: Lucielle with her favorite octopus ring and some pearls, and Olivia with a simple bracelet and familiar locket.

“And you’re sure you’re alright with me hanging around you?” The selkie asked, yearning for reassurance. Her right hand rose to her shoulder, gentle fingers brushing through the short fur there.

Olivia turned her head slightly, a faint smile visible as small curl fell out of her tighter updo. She had on smallest bit of makeup that Lucy had insisted on helping with, even if the glint of her glasses from that angle hid it.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

The elevator slowed, and the chatter of people outside became more apparent.

“I’m not sure,” Lucy shrugged, stepping forward to the doctor’s side. “You’ve been to a dozen of these, haven’t you?”

When the doors slide open, Olivia gently takes Lucy’s left arm in her hand, looking out to the crowded ballroom before letting a

smile slip into her face. “Only half of a dozen,” She whispers, “Just enough to know when to come fashionably late.”

A deep voice booms from the furthest wall where a short stage and podium are sat. It was Fisk himself, a hulking man that Lucielle wanted nothing more than to ignore. He was announcing their arrival, the crowd turning in tandem before slowly clapping, somehow in the most stuck-up and rich way possible. Lucielle’s arm, hooked around Olivia’s elbow, pulls hers a little closer. She’s been to fancy gatherings before, attended parties and balls, but this felt like a lot. She figured out why Olivia liked to hold her hand or arm so often, it was grounding, it was nice being able to hold on.

Olivia steps in, wearing that stupid smug smile better than her own fancy dress. She gives a few waves with her free hand and gently tugged Lucy along like a dog on a leash.

This was going to be a long night.

•

Most of that night consisted of science talk. Lucielle scurried off for a good bit to eat and explore, but she came right back to chime into Olivia’s conversation, a conversation she had no clue was with an investor. She should’ve figured that out easily, but she just got excited.

“Your Mutant detector… Is that little thing still for sale?” A strange man asked as he adjusted his grip on a glass of wine. He wore a green pinstripe suit, and his hair was slightly ruffled, more outwardly villainous than even the Kingpin.

“It is, actually,” Olivia answered with a smile, “I’d be thrilled to work with you regarding its progress.”

That’s when Lucy poked in, her nose twitching as she approached Olivia’s side from the crowd. “The detector..?” She chimes in, peeking around Liv’s shoulder. The doctor perks up, quickly turning her head with her brows furrowed as she tries to hold back a small laugh. Osborn looked more disgusted than anything, just confused at Lucy’s presence.

“Mr. Osborn,” Olivia looked back, bringing her hand to Lucy’s shoulder. “This is my assistant, Lucielle, she helped very closely with the device.”

His eyes narrowed, like a contest’s judge scrutinizing an entry. Lucy gives a small smile and wave, the motion causing Olivia’s composure to slip as she snickers.

“I’m… Glad you could find some help,” Norman adds, looking back to the doctor. It just seemed like he was frustrated with Lucielle’s behavior. Thankfully, he gives a courteous smile before continuing, “The young lady aside, Oscorp has an upcoming meeting for our technology department, we’d be very grateful if you could attend.”

Lucielle could pinpoint the moment Olivia lit up. It wasn’t just the money she looked forward to, if that were the case she’d just be focused on Fisk. Rather, she yearned for the development of her work, to build off of a bit of advice and compile all the knowledge she could. The doctor grinned, who knew if she planned to claim the upgrades from Oscorp as her own, too.

“That’d be wonderful!” She adds, her hand on Lucy’s shoulder tightening. “Mr. Osborn your input would be invaluable.”

“Perfect,” He replied, before turning to the elevator that just reopened. Someone he was waiting for must’ve arrived, as he steps to the side. “I look forward to working with you.”

Just like that, the man disappeared into the crowd, leaving Olivia and her little lady standing at an empty tall table. The doctor’s gaze flits around a bit, a common motion that comes with her excitement, as if she wants to take everything in at once.

“Yes!” She exclaims under her breath, her stance loosening when Lucy turns to nab two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress. Her forearms fall to the white tablecloth and she leans her head forward, still chuckling. She only looks back up when Lucy hands over a glass. “That- That was the one thing I hoped for tonight.”

Lucielle smiles back when Olivia takes a sip, holding her own glass in both hands to keep them occupied. They mirror each other’s movements; first Lucy puts her arms on the table as well, then she leans a bit closer, and Olivia follows.

The doctor takes another drink as her friend continues, “I used to think you hated Oscorp.”

“Hate them? Maybe if they were competent competitors I would,” She chuckled, putting her now empty glass down. “But they’ve got something helpful: money, sweetie.”

Lucielle straightens and holds her hand over her mouth as she laughs.

•

“Thank goodness we live here, huh?” Olivia kept her voice down as she gently took Lucy’s arm back in her own. They stayed late, far later than either expected. Many of the guests were still there, but everything had wound down. Other than Olivia’s few collaborators and colleagues and Lucielle’s short chat with a friend and Dr. Ohnn, they did everything they needed. So, they did the only thing they knew to: slip out unnoticed.

“Mhm,” Lucy nods, sticking close to the doctor. She was quiet for a majority of the gala, but she was more than happy just sticking around Olivia like arm candy. She takes a quick step ahead, weaving through people and trying to help Olivia slip through as well.

“Hey, I’ve got some wine at my place,” Olivia adds suddenly, “You didn’t look like you cared for the champagne here.”

Lucielle snickers when they reach the hall to the elevators, and she looks back. “Mmh, no I’m alright.” She shrugs and clicks the button to go down. “Save that for a bigger occasion!”

Olivia took a moment to adjust the collar of her dress, but she didn’t seem disengaged for even a moment. “This is a big occasion,” The elevator door slides open in the middle of the sentence, and she ushers Lucy in as she finishes. She lets the elevator begin its descent before continuing, surprising Lucielle in the process, “I don’t usually get to share my successes.. If the deal goes through, I’d want to celebrate that with you.”

[oldsargasso]

pit babe movie stream of consciousness

staying up very very late to watch a movie recut of a show I've already seen several times…what a time to be alive.

Dean cleaning the helmet for sooo long kills me every time

forgot Babe blatantly hitting on Charlie immediarely like okay buddy. the first thing I notice about a stalker is how hot they are as well.

anybody else incredibly distracted by babe's tits in that tight white shirt

what DO they call you babe btw

my soul would genuinely leave my body trying to watch this in a cinema full of other people. I'm here clutching my chest and making squeaky noises how do people watch things normally

I'm genuinely insane over this like!!! the way charlie is kissing him the way babe is touching charlie's face. they were gone IMMEDIATELY. worth the price of admission for this extended scene tbh

forgot how insanely delightful everyone's faces are in the bar scene where Babe brings Charlie along for the first time

I love winner so muchhhhhh

the car winner uses for the drag racing is hot tbh the tyres??

the EYE CONTACT the SONG they are IN LOVE five minutes after meeting each other it's honestly wild

god this scene with the rosy dawn light coming in I CAN.NOT. it's so gorgeous. GIVE US THE LONGER SCENE YOU WOACRDS (<- not fixing this typo I love it)

dean's in his crime hoodie

I never noticed jeff's litle smile in thisd scene before! he knows he can do it!!

insaaaane watching this scene knowing charlie already knows all of it.

the little "well, I also want something from you" exchange is sooooo.

it doesn't have quite the same emotional weight coming so soon but goddd their first kiss still has me clutching at my heart. SO SOFT AND ALSO TENDER!!!!

babe's delicate soft curtains are p[erfect

tony's bonsai time is so deserving of being included regardless of plot-relevance of the conversation happenning

the fact that in this cut we see Kenta first in babe's flashback holding him to get hurt and then now as Tony's proper assistant sure is something

Alan the strongest man alive I would give Dean everything he wanted the moment he asked nicely HE DESERVES IT

"you're a promising young racer" so he HAS been racing already just not anything major

everyone's squeaky shoes on the garage floor is killing meeeee I've never noticed that before

PETE!!! is his suit not fitted correctly

bitchy way my beloved. the peanut gallery just like :D the whole time lmao

godddd the fact that charlie is the only one jeff lets close for so long 😭😭😭

"meditate" is that what the kids call it these days

I never noticed dean all in black for this race

I adore how the only time Kim looks pleased is right before they finish and he knows he beat babe for real

Winner is soooo delightful how can anyone hate him. so pathetic. so terrible.

babe being so overcome by charlie's steady belief in him…if anyoen needs me I'll be on the floor.

tony's pinstripe suit IMPECCABLE

charlie must be the fastest runner around

oh thank god they left the kim confronting winner scene in IT'S PERFECT (second only to the cigarette scene but alas)

jeff, way and dean all in x hunter gear during this scene when they're all on different sides itches my brain like crazy

charlie walking in and blocking dean out….chef's kiss

the way Way is trying to be like "wow Charlie's LYING to you" and babe's just like "they're brothers yay"

they left in the sponge bath scene kill me babe's little smile DEATH

just realised what's missing where's l;actasoy

"I don't care" he said, caring deeply

babe gives up soooo easy truly the babygirl of all time

honestly understandable from dean in the long run I too would try and murder someone who waltzed in and took the job I was gunning for just because they were sleeping with someone. and then babe's just like "sorry dean you're just not good enough" like! murder. acceptable tbh.

they need to put little nametags hovering over the cars in this scene for idiots like me who can't understand anything because all cars look the same

way in his sunnies god he's SOOOO pretty and soooo unimpressed by everything that is happening in front of him

the subtitle's translating phi as brother like. hm.

this scene under the stars is the prettiest scene ever. the headlights, the fog… gorgeous. THEY ARE IN LOVE BTW

COWARDS GIVE US THE MAMA/PAPA ROLEPLAY BEGINNINGS

way hates everything so much I love it

honestly insane of babe to light his cigarette off way's like NO WONDER way's in love with him

god this scene is exruciating. babe knowing and ignoring so they can stay best friends. way just hoping the whole time.

way's breakdown in the car deservedly included SO PRETTY

honestly wild that kim and babe are like half a room away and tony and co don't notice. there's a SHEER CURTAIN in between and then babe yells at charlie lmao

charlie giving babe the glass of water is such a great note in this scene

the fact that this is the first time they're mentioning babe's sense disapearing is hilarious tbh this movie cut is really for people who watched the show

locker room scene in the flashback my beloved

they dropped the child plotline but still kept the enigma mention in lmao AND THE "can mama not break up with papa" incredible

this is my favourite scene I think the HUG "you have to make up for it for the rest of your life" that's marriage actually

bloodied kim on his knees LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👀👀👀

HOW is tony's security so bad. jeff is RIGHT THERE

Pete buying all the kids to save them 🥺 the only rich man who should be allowed to live

who's phone IS jeff using. I say kenta's

Pete immediately punching babe back is my favourite thing actually

Pete's casual "btw I am the most powerful guy around" and we don't even know he can read minds yet

Way bluescreening as Babe reveals Pete's an enigma. nut is SUCH a good actor

'Charlie ❤️' leave me here to die actually

it's the way Way is so CALM about it it's skin-crawling

at all times I am wondering why Tony values babe's powers over Way's. he can MIND CONTROL PEOPLE

it's midnight and there's still an hour to go. I could pause and continue tomorrow but no. we are committed.

way getting slapped and bent over the table is just for me actually 👀

Winner's smug face!!! that's my boy

jeff's lucky he established himself as very stoic because his reaction is like "oh well. I guess he died. 🫤"

wait I]m not emotionally capable of watching babe go trhough this

honestly pit babe having such a raw real depiction of grief is. I'm constantly thinking about it.

not enough Kenta in this cut but thankfully they left in him getting slapped until there's blood in his mouth. best scene.

way getting tossed around 👀 I am watching very respectfully

aww we didn't get the kim getting not rescued scene. this movie cut isn't great for north and sonic enjoyers (everyone)

pete's sweaters look so soft

babe appealing to kenta using their shared history my HEART

kenta! on! his! knees! kenta begging…. I will never be normal about this

imagine giving winner responsibilities 💀

pete dressing down by wearing a hoodie zipped alllll the way up

they really went "eh people will get the gist" when cutting these scenes lol. dean just straight up disappeared.

alan just leaving the kids behind I cannot get over that like WHAT are you doing

actually this would've been amazing in the show too if this was the first we saw of charlie after he died. this reunion lives in my mind forever the way babe's voice goes all wavery as he says charlie's name "when you weren't here, I wasn't happy at all" GOD. charlie starting to understand that he is important to babe because of WHO he is

they gave pete a chair but not way lol

I know its not the point but jeff's pants are like. perfect.

I hope winner is exactly the same in season 2 he's perfect 😌

I know that scene's not in this cut but what's the point of pete being so good with a bow and arrow if he can't also use a gun just as well. like one's a little more practical these days

KNIFE🔪 TIME 🔪 it's the best. that single tear… kill me as well actually

the fact that none of them even tried to crawl over to way while tony was monologuing they didn't even TRY

I forgive every flaw when babe cries so well and way is so pretty even dying

(god I'm so hungry but it's like 1am)

charlie kissing babe's stomach and babe calling him "dad" that's because babe's pregnant actually 🤠

LOCKERROOM SCENE AS THE POST CREDITS SCENE genius. give them an oscar right now.

final verdict: no regrets definitely worth ~$20 and staying up late for no reason

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Hannah was never much of a sports fan. She’d always preferred books and art over the chaos of a crowded stadium or the physical demands of gym class. But there was something oddly comforting about vintage sports gear. The dusty old baseball glove her grandfather once wore, the worn leather bat she’d found in her parents’ attic—these relics spoke of a different time, a time when things were simpler, and perhaps, in some way, more magical.

That’s what drew her to the resale store in the first place. It was a small, out-of-the-way shop that specialized in the unusual and the forgotten. Shelves lined with old vinyl records, antique furniture, and, tucked away in the back corner, a rack of vintage clothing. It was here, hidden between an old letterman jacket and a tattered football jersey, that she found it: a dusty old baseball uniform.

The uniform was nothing special at first glance—a pair of grey pants, a slightly yellowed white shirt with blue pinstripes, and a cap with a faded “L” emblazoned on the front. But something about it caught Hannah’s eye. Maybe it was the feel of the fabric, heavy and worn, or the faint scent of sweat and tobacco that lingered in the fibers. Whatever it was, she felt compelled to try it on.

Hannah made her way to the back of the store, pushing aside a velvet curtain that led to the dressing room. The space was cramped, with a single mirror leaning against the wall and a small bench to sit on. The light was dim, casting long shadows that seemed to flicker and dance as she closed the curtain behind her.

She slipped off her sneakers and jeans, carefully folding them before placing them on the bench. The baseball pants felt strange against her skin—rough and heavy, like they were meant for someone much larger. The shirt hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves extending well past her fingertips. But it was the cap that sealed the deal. As soon as she placed it on her head, a wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to sit down.

Hannah took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the feeling only intensified. Her hands began to tingle, and she looked down to see her fingers thickening, the nails growing blunt and rough. Panic set in as she watched her hands swell, the skin darkening as hair sprouted along her knuckles and the back of her hands.

She stood up quickly, but the movement sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. She gripped the edge of the bench for support, but her legs were already changing, the muscles bulging and tightening beneath the fabric of the pants. Her feet lengthened, toes curling as they stretched, bursting out of her socks.

Her breathing quickened, and she staggered over to the mirror. The face that stared back at her was no longer her own. Her jaw was broadening, her cheeks filling out as a dark shadow of stubble erupted across her skin. Her eyes, once wide and blue, darkened to a deep brown, the shape of them narrowing as they settled into a more angular form.

Hannah’s hairline receded as her forehead expanded, her features hardening into those of a man in his late twenties. A strong, Roman nose and high cheekbones added to the distinctly Latino look that was forming before her eyes. She reached up to touch her face, but the sight of her hands—thick and calloused, with hair sprouting up her forearms—sent a jolt of fear through her. She turned away from the mirror, but the transformation was happening too quickly for her to escape it.

Her shoulders broadened, the seams of the shirt straining against the growing muscles. Her chest flattened, but it wasn’t a reduction—rather, it was the building of muscle, the creation of a strong, athletic physique that now filled out the uniform with ease. She could feel her waist thickening, her hips narrowing as her body reshaped itself into a distinctly masculine form.

Thick, dark hair began to sprout across her chest and arms, curling slightly as it grew. The skin on her torso tanned to a warm brown, and she could feel the texture of her stomach changing, the smooth skin giving way to a trail of hair that led down past the waistband of the pants. Her thighs thickened, powerful muscles bulging beneath the fabric, and she became aware of a new weight between her legs, a clear signal of her transformation.

But it wasn’t just her body that was changing. As her bones lengthened and her muscles grew, memories began to flood her mind. They were alien at first—strange images of a life she had never lived. She saw herself standing on a baseball diamond, the sun beating down as she adjusted her cap, spit on the ground, and took her position at second base. The crowd cheered as the pitcher wound up, and she felt the familiar thrill of anticipation.

No, not her. His. These were his memories.

She tried to hold onto herself, tried to remember her own life, but the details were slipping away, like sand through her fingers. Her name, her face, the things she loved—all of it was fading, being replaced by something new, something stronger.

Hannah—no, Danny, that was his name—Danny Rivera. He was a baseball player, a good one too. He’d played in college, then spent a few years in the minor leagues before making it to the majors. He remembered the first time he stepped onto that big league field, the way his heart pounded in his chest as he looked around at the sea of fans. He’d been so proud, so full of life.

And he was gay, too. That wasn’t something he had always been comfortable with, but it was who he was. He remembered the first time he came out to his team, the fear of rejection, of losing everything he’d worked so hard for. But they’d accepted him, welcomed him even, and he’d never felt more at home than he did in that locker room, surrounded by his teammates.

The last vestiges of Hannah’s thoughts were fading now, her identity melting away into the man she was becoming. She no longer felt out of place in the uniform; it was like a second skin, familiar and comforting. The cap sat perfectly on his head, and as he adjusted it, he caught sight of himself in the mirror once more.

Danny grinned at his reflection, a cocky, confident smile that showed off the dimple in his right cheek. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, feeling the strength in his fingers, the power in his body. He was back—back where he belonged, in his prime, ready to take on the world.

The curtain rustled as he stepped out of the dressing room, a new man in every sense of the word. The store clerk barely glanced at him as he walked by, simply nodding in acknowledgment as Danny made his way to the door. He didn’t have any money on him, but he figured that didn’t matter. The uniform was his, always had been. Besides, he had a game to get to.

As he stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Danny took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp, fresh air. The memories of who he had been, of the life he had lived as Hannah, were gone now, replaced by the certainty of his identity as Danny Rivera. He felt strong, confident, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With a final glance back at the store, he turned and walked down the street, his stride long and purposeful. There was no doubt in his mind that this was where he was meant to be. This was who he was meant to be. And as far as he was concerned, that was the only thing that mattered.

[rikas-things]

Diabolik Alcoholik part 8

|||Summary: Yui isn't sure she believes these boys that she's tasked with staying with are true vampires, but when Ayato (with the suggestions of Laito) states that he wants Yui to suffer punishment, she's put in a conundrum! What will she do? And what will happen next?

Happen to stumble across the series and need context? Click the link below to get a list of all available chapters! 🩷

Happy reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)~~~~~~~~~

Why won't I move? What's wrong with me?

Yui's mind flooded with these thoughts as the twins' hands zoomed closer to her like of vision, and black, hazy blotches crept around her sight until everything faded to black.

When she woke up, she found herself flung into the wall of darkness.

After her ears and back ache from pain, she willed herself to move and adjust herself.

The room was dark, with the only light afforded to her was the dim light from the hallway, showcasing how late it was.

She could make out the shapes of Ayato and Laito standing over her too.

Once Yui got her bearings, she sprung on her back and pointed at them.

"You...where are we? Where did you creeps spirit me away to?!"

She couldn't see their faces, but the annoyance in Ayato's huff was more than evident.

"Hey slowness, this is your room."

She blinked as she squinted her eyes, examining every nook and cranny of the place.

As if on command, the curtains skirted backwards to let in the moonlight and she was able to properly take in some of the room's features:

The walls had pinstriped patterns and held some of the posters of boy bands she had back in her home as well as her favorite flower stickers.

The bed was large and had an elaborate floral pattern on the sheets, with some of her pillows shaped like the flowers on her hairpin.

The desk also shared the same floral pattern and design and there were even tulip shaped pens in the pen holder as well.

When she turned to the large sliding window, she saw it had a balcony.

The idea of a large room with a fancy balcony was always Yui's dream.

Her own room, one that wasn't constantly cluttered with furniture or music equipment that she could just be herself in, where no one could take her pens or kick her out or treat her like she was an eye sore...

The attention to detail would have normally made her thrilled, but knowing that these people were supposedly folks she never knew until now made her shiver.

Bile grew in the back of the throat and she grimaced at the flowery room.

"My..." her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Ah, good," Ayato's satisfied pur interrupted her train of thought, "you're getting the picture now."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, seeing the malice in his large lime-green eyes.

They looked like they were almost glowing- figuratively and literally - with excitement at her discomfort.

"Pretty isn't it?!" Laito said merrily. "Reiji did the decorating!"

"You're kidding!" Ayato guffawed at the news, the malice edging back from his eyes, if only a little, "you mean stuffy ass Reiji is into girly stuff like that?!"

"Well, when I say Reiji did it, I really meant he just told Jenkins and them to do it," Laito admitted sheepishly.

"No shit," Ayato rolled his eyes playfully, keeping the smirk on his face.

He then turned towards Yui and the two of them circled around her like vultures.

"Hey, Laito, let's quit dicking around. I'm sure she's anticipating our fangs!"

They chuckled at her squirming, her brows raised and her breathing haggard as her legs and arms twisted uncomfortably behind her.

As they eyed her, Laito cocked his head, keeping his smirk.

"How did you want to punish her?" He asked without looking away from Yui.

Ayato turned and smiled sweetly at his brother, his eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Wanna have a contest for who bites her the most?"

Laito shared his child-like glee.

"M'kay! Fine by me!"

With no time to spare, they quickly cornered her, with Yui's back against the wall.

"W-wait!" She began to plead, "let's t-talk about this!"

Of course her pleas fell on deaf ears, their advances not stopping, their hands outreached and inches away from her.

She stood up as they grew close enough, their fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

A pathetic whimper escaped her lips as she felt the tears fall, the thought of their biting causing her to stir more.

As one last ditch effort to get them to stop, she screamed, her voice breaking as one of them grabbed her throat.

"GET BACK!!"

******

Time was irrelevant for them, but it felt like hours had passed since Laito and Ayato had played the drinking game with Yui, and it was only a matter of time before they could tally up to see who won.

Laito, despite being satisfied with the work he had done, was ready to see what became of his efforts.

Both he and Ayato had blotches of Yui's blood all over their clothes, hands, and mouths, and her lingering smell improved both of their moods.

Laito himself felt like he could level a mountain, which he didn't remember feeling so refreshed after drinking a human's blood before.

Where did this taste come from?

And why did it feel so familiar?

Eh, he never liked dwelling on the unnecessary details, and was ready to examine her already, though Ayato seemed to have other plans.

"Hey, Big Bro, you ready yet?"

Ayato huffed as he turned towards his brother.

"Ugh, dammit, Laito, shut up, you made me mess up my count!"

Laito pretended to be hurt by his words.

"You're so mean. But you aren't cheating by sneaking in bites, are you?"

"Like I'd need to do that against you?"

He restarted his count, mumbling the numbers until he was done counting her back.

"305, 306....400!" Ayato grew smug.

"See, I told you I'd win! I got the most bites off her back compared to your measly 209!"

"Hey! You can't count like that! What about the rest of her body?!" Laito said accusingly.

"Why bother with the rest? I already won, idiot!"

"You dirty cheat! I bet I beat you! I bet you snuck bites while I wasn't looking!"

Ayato glared at Laito.

"What you say?!"

As they argued, Yui just laid on the carpet floor, her body involuntarily shivering.

She looked like a thimble with the amount of holes covering her arms, legs, back and face, with most of her expression obscured by her bloody hair.

What was left of her shirt were tatters, as it served to show even more egregious bites near her chest.

Some were red and irritated, while others were still bleeding and stained her rags of clothing.

She struggled to move, but got up nonetheless, which caught Laito's attention and caused him to stop arguing.

His deep green eyes grew wide at her before a big smile formed on his face and he flailed his arms like a cartoon character.

"Wait, Big Bro! Look at her! Quick!" He said as he pointed.

Ayato harrumphed.

"Don't try to derail the conversation, you jerk!"

"No but look, Ayato! You might like it!"

Curious, he turned towards her as he wiped a bit of blood off of his face.

Yui's face, despite all the bitemarks and blood on her body and clothes had a... pleasurable expression.

Tears were streamed from her eyes but her eyes were dazed as a wide Cheshire grin was plastered across her face as she hugged herself.

She giggled darkly as if she was ecstatic and went into a mad cackle, not seeming to notice the boys.

Despite her expression inspiring amusement in Laito, it all but brought disgust to Ayato as he reeled back, looking like he wanted to throw up.

"Ewwww! She's drooling on herself and shit!"

"I know! Isn't she breathtaking?" Laito asked proudly.

"Laito quit smiling like that! That's gross!!"

"Huh? Why you being so mean all of a sudden?"

"Ugh, whatever."

He smirked at Yui, who was still a giggling, drooling mess.

"I figured punishing you in your room would be the best bet, seeming as it's considered a safe space. You don't deserve to feel safe. You don't deserve to feel comfortable. This is payment for defying me! Understand?"

She stopped giggling and looked at him in bewilderment, as if Ayato was speaking a foreign language.

He shrugged and prepared to return to Laito for the tally results when he felt a familiar presence enter the room.

He whirled around and when he looked, right between him and his meal, Ayato was eye to eye with his middle brother, Kanato, who wasn't holding his teddy this time.

He held Yui close to him before flipping his twins off and disappearing as quickly as he came.

Ayato and Laito just stood there for a moment, stunned at what took place before them.

Laito immediately started panicking.

"What the hell was that?!" He said as he paced around the room. "You saw it too, didn't you?! That runt took our prey right?!"

Ayato folded his arms, eyeing his brother.

"Calm down. That little rat just scurried away is all. Once we get him alone, we'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget."

Laito gave a dark smile.

"Yes. Kanato will rue the day he interfered with our plans!"

Barging in unannounced, Reiji came into the room.

"There you are, it's almost time to-"

He did a double take by cleaning his glasses.

"Are you serious?! Not only are your clothes dirty, but there's parts ripped! What do you think you're doing looking like pigs in a mud pen?!"

He grabbed their ears and forced them out of the room chewing them out for messing up their school uniforms, yelling over their protests to not pull their ears off.

[reallyhardy]

Bestie, please break down those costumes.Plssss.I am soooooo jealous of U🫀❤️♥️

of course!

the 2018 regent's park open air theatre little shop of horrors production is pretty standout visually because (while they didn't change the script by updating it) they did move away from the typical 1960s historical fashion for the characters and instead played with modern outfits and a blend of textures. the whole show had a strong colour scheme of black and white, neon green, pink, and blue. costumes & scenic design was by tom scutt.

we'll start with seymour, as played by the lovely marc antolin. his outfit is all blue, down to his glasses. (why are the curtains blue? you could say for his boyishness, or that he's kind of a melancholy character, or that white guys always wear blue, take your pick haha)

the main bit is a boiler suit made of different patchworked denim in various contrasting stripes and tied around his waist. his short sleeve button up continues the patchwork vibe with the painted brushstroke-esque check pattern. he also wears a shacket at certain points, and while hard to see in the above image it also had a thin pinstriped pattern. seymour is all about pattern mixing. a fun detail to note is that audrey ii's main colour is obviously green: in the centre bottom photo you can see he wore green band-aids on his fingers :')

also: while in these above photocall pictures that were used in promotion here had him in yellow socks, it's important to note that, at least when i saw it, his socks were pink. who's main colour is pink? it's audrey.

actually, her first outfit is also mostly blue. seymour and audrey have the most similar colour scheme so that gives them a strong visual link. so her first outfit is very much giving sexy: she's got a frilly top that we can see her bra through. we have a nod to vintage fashion with her cigarette pants. also while these photos show her wearing fluffy slide slippers, when i saw it she was wearing the little clear plastic kitten heels shown in the design sketch - we can tell this is her 'im trying to look sexually appealing to my boyfriend' look. she's showing it all off.

but notably, her hair is this adorable bubblegum pink shade, so i thought it was extra cute that seymour had socks to match. just a little hint of who he's thinking about.

anyway, during act 2, when audrey & seymour's relationship is blossoming further, audrey debuts a different look entirely:

(concept sketch shown along with a photo of understudy rosalind james.) in dramatic constrast to her 'sexy-for-orin' look, now she's in dungarees and a cute sweater, and she's swapped the heels out for sneakers. also, she's got on a pair of pink glasses, suggesting that contact lenses were part of her sexy look. this look is all about comfort: because she's happy and in love with seymour, who makes her feel more comfortable than orin did, and this outfit looks nicely like the 'partner' look to seymour's outfit.

this is getting long, so the rest is going under a readmore. click through!

so this is her 'sominex' outfit, the look she wears when she encounters audrey ii just before she dies. the clear raincoat is honestly just fun. i think if i recall right the stage directions in the script do call for her to be wearing a yellow rain-slicker, but pink is this audrey's colour, so she's rocking this. the glasses are still on too.

underneath, she's wearing this fun floaty half-blue half-pink nightie with matching 'mismatched' pompom slippers. she is giving everything in this look honestly. the meeting of the pink-and-blue, because she's wearing both her own and seymour's main colours (she'd still love him, even if he'd never found the plant, and all she wanted was to be with seymour 😭)

i'll do orin next:

absolutely obsessed with matt willis as the dentist. as a busted fan in my childhood, i went to see this production specifically for him :') so he's got a much more dishevelled punk look he's very ghoulish with his white foundation and heavy black eyeliner. also love the detail of him having a blacked-out tooth too, really emphasises how he's probably not the best of dentists. his dentist gear including bloody apron is in a very medical neon blue-green, and i love how utterly sci-fi horror the gas mask harness is. LOVE the ripped off sleeves on his white coat. he also had this amazing leather jacket with tooth design on and the ensemble had matching outfits:

get a load of the teeth print leggings on the backup dancer on the middle left, absolutely obsessed. love the 1980s punky vibe for the 'dentist' number. this production makes great use of matt willis' own tattoos: after seymour kills orin, he came back on stage with some dismembered orin bits, and the creative team had gone to the effort of painting matt willis' tattoos onto the fake arms that seymour fed to the plant :')

okay let's move on and look at mr mushnik, played by forbes masson:

small guy, huge voice, absolute standout. they've gone for 'little greasy man' as the vibe here, complete with a drawn-on pencil moustache. his outfit, much like the ensemble, doesn't have a lot of colour, just a fairly normal grey suit with a work jacket. the most notable thing about his look is that while he starts out in a purple bow tie, once the shop starts seeing success, he wears a bow tie in audrey ii's neon green. like seymour's band-aids, audrey ii's colour (and therefore her influence/impact) shows up in the costumes of a lot of the other characters.

let's do audrey ii next then, as played by vicky vox:

so this production makes use of both the usual 'audrey ii is a puppet' situation plus then having the drag queen performer on stage to interact with the other characters as like, the plant personified. absolute LOVED it. let's start with the puppet:

we've got the baby form and slightly bigger form i think here, it's a fun alien looking plant, love the spherical head with human teeth. for the plant to 'grow', a bigger version of this plant head is placed inside of a 'mouth' that can open and close sort of like an aperture:

and upon opening it, drag queen audrey ii steps out. she kind of comes in and out of it, and mostly just interacts with seymour.

this outfit is absolutely fabulous, and i especially love the 'HERE IT IS' pointing down to her booty on the back of the jacket.

then a notable progression for audrey ii's appearance is the changing wigs. we can see that her first wig shown here below is the direct partner of audrey's, (after all, the plant was named after her) and is styled the same way.

when i saw the show, both audreys were wearing different wigs that i thought weren't really as pretty as the ones from the photocall, these wigs are on the left of the above image. i'll call these the round wigs.

the most important thing to note though is that when audrey ii first appears, she has that strong visual link to original audrey. and this is played up in the way that audrey ii interacts with seymour during 'feed me' - audrey ii acts quite flirtatious with seymour and he seems receptive to it and has to visibly shake himself out of it. then in the second act, audrey ii switches wigs to the style in the above middle. during suppertime, there was more of audrey ii trying to be flirtatious with seymour, but at this point he is much more disgusted by it: audrey ii's wig no longer resembles original audrey’s, and by now seymour hates her guts.

the final look for audrey ii via photocall features what seems to be the original wig but with the curls blown out, styled to be more messy and windswept, but by the end of the run during the finale audrey ii just wore the round wig, with the added venus flytrap headpiece and feathered cape.

apologies for the terrible screencaps: the fabric the cape was made of featured green rocky horror-esque lips showing teeth. it was mega. the wig also featured some long pink extensions at the back.

let's go back a bit to some other characters who have been wearing audrey ii's green consistently, and that's the urchins:

they wear these punky, i would say more 1990s streetwear inspired costumes throughout the whole show, and don't change until the end. the two gals on the left wear pieces that tie in strongly to the set, which is a crumbling grayscale newspaper-inspired city/drive-in theatre set proclaiming 'GOD BLESS AMERICA' across the top.

we can see the girl on the far left has a grayscale US flag top, while the middle girl has grey cityscape patterned sweatpants. then all three of them are wearing the bright neon of audrey ii, reminded us and the audience who's story they're telling. out of the 3, my definite fave look is the girl on the right, with the green jacket and shiny 'FEED ME' print leggings. i need those leggings. but yes what we can notice is that 2/3 urchins' outfits align strongly not only with audrey ii's green but with the same grayscale/cityscape patterns that the ensemble wear during skid row & other scenes:

anyway i like that the ensemble's look speaks to like... the set coming alive to tell the story. it's cool. this comes back during act 2 when the ensemble put on gloves that resemble audrey ii's vines and push around shopping trolleys with bits of building set inside:

not so easy to see that they were wearing the gloves, but basically they had long fingers that looked like smaller versions of these vines.

and with all this green let's get to the finale, where everyone has a different look. we've already seen audrey ii, here's the urchins.

lovely and shiny looks, this time they're all wearing the same thing. these are their sort of... idk i guess this is circus vibes tbh? welcome to this absolute circus: the finale definitely DOES have a circus vibe, making clowns of the cast, particularly seymour. here's a look at everyone with audrey ii lording over everything at the top:

the enesmble have VERY fun alien plant costumes on, with a big focus on toothy mouths and floppy tongues (we've seen audrey ii's cape with its green lips so it's all on the same oral fixation) let's take a closer look at seymour's outfit, which is definitely giving clown, considering he was the great fool of the story.

so it's this great big fluffy clown suit over his blue shirt that now his this shiny blood appliqued on, love it, with the green on the limbs ending at the shirt with the plant lips and teeth at his shoulders/waist, implying that his limbs have been eaten by the plant. this is great to see in action!

now let's take a look at the rest which i'm gonna have to show via very low quality screencaps because seymour's was the only photo tom scutt posted. here's audrey, orin & mushnik's 'plant looks', these guys are more like... audrey ii's put them in drag.

audrey's achieved her somewhere that's green fantasy, in a great swirly dress with full skirt and ruffly sleeves, still in her blue and pink colour scheme, in her same sneakers and pink glases. she's also got white lace gloves on. audrey ii said 'okay girl you can have this as a treat'. hers is the least alien-plant because it's like... audrey's fantasy look, and i love that.

orin's in a gold sequin mini-dress, but still his same combat boots. it reminds me of a brad pitt photoshoot from rolling stone 1999. look it up and i think you'll agree and i'd hazard a guess that it was a direct inspiration for this look.

mushnik's got on the long vine-finger gloves that the ensemble has during the meek shall inherit, and then a spectacular sequined set: blazer, bow tie, and the actor forbes masson said it's specifically supposed to be a kilt, because he is scottish and i think chose this as part of his look. he's also got light up gold sneakers, obsessed, and in the close up you get a look at his gold & green cats eye glasses and green lipstick.

okay i think! i've covered all of the main looks, or at least everything that i could find reasonably clear images of. iirc seymour did have a leather jacket for the scene where he's trying to make himself more like orin because he thinks audrey will like that, but i couldn't find any photos.

thanks for reading! i know this was a long post but i absolutely adoooore the visuals of this production and its a damn shame that it doesn't have a recording 😭😭😭

[saqvobase]

Mesmerizer Live-Action Music Video Plan

So I guess you could say that I've been mesmerized by 32ki's Mesmerizer.

I've been infected with an idea so I must write it down before I forget or get bored of it.

I've been kicking around the idea of making a live-action version of the music video. I want it to use as many practical effects as possible and as little CGI as possible, ideally accompanied by a musical cover of the song by the actors.

Part 1: Costumes

Hatsune Miku

Luckily there are plenty of Miku wigs cosplay that can be bought.

I couldn't find an exact equivalent for the dress, but it seems like a fusion between a retro diner dress and a maid outfit. I think there's a golf visor on her head? We don't see the back of the character, but I'm pretty sure there's a big white bow. All that might need to be custom made.

The cuffs can be ordered on their own.

I didn't think that they made bow ties this big, but the color, angle and size all fit. (This goes on the visor)

For the socks, the best equivalent I found was something called 'slouch socks'

Shoes. Red with a white sole and yellow laces, and four wheels. Roller skates would be dangerous on a set. I'm tempted to just nail some painted wooden cylinders to the bottom of some Converse and treat it like platform boots.

Kasane Teto

Luckily there are plenty of Kasane Teto cosplay wigs that can be bought.

Luckily Teto's outfit is much simpler. White collar shirt under a blue pinstripe shirt with a dark gray tie and the same gold brushed nametag.

These pants are so bright, I can't believe they make them in this color. Matching red suspenders were easy to find

I found this pair of yellow cotton gloves, I think it is more likely to be this than rubber. They can be rolled up at the wrist to be more like the ones in the video. I just need to find a pair that is a more saturated yellow.

The hat is red, short, circular with a flat top, switch a small black brim. I couldn't find anything like it, perhaps another custom job.

The smily face pin on the other hand, is a dime a dozen.

Ribbed gray socks

and black loafers.

Miscellaneous

For the name tag, I found these cheap brushed gold plastic pins. It could be cool to etch their names on it.

For the starry-eyed parts, I found these contact lenses. The reviews say that you can still see through them pretty well so that's good. I couldn't find any that were 4 pointed stars.

For the mesmerized parts, I found some contact lenses that totally black out the eye, they are over $100 for a set though.

Part 2: Set

The non-moving backgrounds such as the stripes or water drops can be done traditionally.

The clouds and hills are another story though.

My idea of how to do is is a series of belts with the image on them controlled by a spinning rotor. The song will be recorded in studio, so the sound of the rotors wont affect the video.

Part 3: Effects

In-Camera Effects

A colored frame like this can be placed between the camera and the set. This frame can be moved back and forth as needed.

for the parts when the frames cross, the frame can be folded like this. At the point of crossing cut the footage. Swap the backgrounds, and resume filming.

The center spinner could be threaded through a hole in this frame, with a small gear system for perpendicular rotational transfer.

Special Effects

The confetti can be spread from above, either by a machine or a helper. The curtain of confetti should be after the colored frame, but before the set so that the actors don't get covered.

Conclusion

Finally, the brainworm has left my brain, and transferred to a written medium. I have no idea how much any of this would cost, but I estimate it is below $10,000.

If you have any questions or suggestions let me know!!!!!

[direwombat]

Crime boss au for sybeli 👀

ahhhhh thank you gen this was such a fun little exploration of the quasi formed "mobster syb" au i have floating in my brain. eli strikes me as too much of a hermit to be an effective mob boss, but in an au where syb gets involved in organized crime to pay off her daddy's gambling debts...well...i think she'd be able to run hope county from the shadows :)

also lmao whoops this ended up being almost 2k (but then again, as i always say...anything under 5k is "short" for me).

[SEND ME A PAIRNG + AN AU SETTING]

The great part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, Eli finds, is that there usually isn’t a soul around for miles. 

The bad part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, is that when an uninvited soul does come knocking, there isn’t anyone around to help.

He’d been disarmed of his rifle so swiftly that he didn’t even notice the other man circling behind him to throw a burlap sack over his head. His hands were forced behind his back, the zip ties quickly snapped into place around them, and he’d been shoved into the backseat of a vehicle. 

Blind as he is, he has no idea where they’re going, and he knew better than to ask. The kind of people who kidnap a man from his home aren’t the kind to answer his questions. He sits silently, shifting his weight uncomfortably, desperately trying to keep his hands from going numb under his weight. His jaw is clenched and his ears strain for any familiar sounds that might give him a clue of where they’re taking him. 

The purring of the engine. Soft chatter, some of it in a language he doesn’t understand but thinks might be French. The crunching of gravel as they trundle along the dirt roads of the Whitetails. 

And then traffic. 

Traffic. Other cars around them. Civilization. Town. 

They have to be heading towards Falls End. He hasn’t been sitting long enough for it to be anywhere else. 

He guesses it’s about twenty minutes later that the vehicle pulls to a stop and the driver cuts the engine. The second he’s pulled from his seat, Eli is hit with the stench of beer, stale cigarettes, and deep fried food, and while muffled, the distinct sound of classic rock blares from a jukebox nearby. A heavy hand shoves between his shoulder blades and he stumbles forward. Every step he takes is hesitant, fearful he’ll walk himself straight into a goddamn wall.

But his handlers guide him with gruff instructions. “Keep going straight,” and, “face right,” and “stop.” A door creaks open and the overwhelming sounds and smells only get stronger as he’s ushered inside what he assumes is likely the Spread Eagle. The sack is pulled from his head, hair lifting in a staticy mess. 

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. The bar itself is dimly lit and the halls behind it, just past the restrooms and kitchen, are even moreso. A single lightbulb flickers unsteadily overhead and he’s guided once more towards another door. He’d only ever been back here a handful of times -- back when Casey had been kind enough to let him store the game he caught in the restaurant freezers, before he built his own -- and had simply assumed this particular door was to the Fairgrave's office, where they kept their books and receipts. 

But as one man pushes the door open, it isn’t any of the Fairgraves he sees occupying the space. 

Instead, there stands a woman he’s never seen before. A woman with short, dark hair, dressed in a crisp white button up and black pinstripe vest and slacks. Garters wrap around her biceps and her cuffs are rolled up to her elbows -- not that it prevented blood from flecking and spattering onto it. She leans against a heavy mahogany desk in the center of the room, smoking a cigar and filling the room with clouds of smoke. Her hands are bruised and still adorned with brass knuckles while jazz plays quietly from a record player off in the corner. 

The room itself is warm, almost cozy -- styled like an antique library. Dark wood bookshelves line the walls. Heavy curtains, deep red in color, are drawn over the window, blotting out the light, or, more accurately, preventing anyone from seeing what’s transpiring inside. The space is adorned with antique, velvet clawfoot couches and chairs, and at the center stands a heavy mahogany desk. A plush carpet covers the hardwood floors, and laying on that carpet is a man whose face has been reduced to paste. 

Eli’s blood goes cold and he swallows thickly. He feels like he just walked back in time or stepped foot on the set of a film about 1920s gangsters. 

The woman’s gaze flicks over them before settling on one of the men standing behind him. “Clean that up, would’ya?” she says, less of a request and more an order. Then, she looks to Eli and tilts her head towards one of the chairs. “You. Sit.”  He freezes for a moment, deer in headlights, and it isn’t until she shoots him a glare that clearly says Don’t make me repeat myself that he shuffles forward and takes a seat. 

The other two men grip the unconscious body by his arms and legs before dragging him off, leaving a red smear across the hardwood floor. 

The door then shuts with a damning click, and the woman’s attention is solely on him.

“Little birdie tells me you know how to build things where they ain’t supposed to go,” she says, gingerly letting her brass knuckles slide off her hands. She tucks them in her pocket. “That true?” 

He swallows thickly. The bunkers he’s built for himself and a few others are violating zoning laws and he maybe bribed a friend in Falls End to help him get permits regardless. Are the structures technically illegal? Yeah, but it isn’t like he’s hurting anyone with them. “Who’s asking?”

“Someone who’s willin’ to pay you a lot of money for comparatively little work,” she says evenly. 

Alarms, sirens, and all other manner of warnings go off inside Eli’s mind. Getting involved with a woman like this one can only spell bad news for him. It’s never just one job for people like her. “I’m good,” he grits from between clenched teeth. 

Her brows lift in surprise. “Are ya now? ‘Cause that ain’t what I’m hearin’.” She grins. Smugly. Knowingly. Cruelly. “Those alimony and child support checks are a real bitch, ain’t they?”

Eli’s jaw clenches even tighter, the vein at his temple throbbing in anger. Not only does she know about his finances, she also knows about his ex-wife and kid. “What do you want?”

“I want you to do a job, Mr. Palmer.” 

“And if I say no?”

“Don’t see why you would,” she shrugs. “Like I said before, you’ll be handsomely compensated. But, I s’pose if you really ain’t wantin’ to play ball, maybe I let my good friends over at the sheriff’s department know that one of your bunkers is storin’ a helluva lotta oxy. Hell, maybe all of ‘em are.” 

Something in her smile shifts at the threat -- her expression hardens to stone and the teasing glimmer in her eyes fades. She isn’t fucking around. He believes she can and would frame him for drug crimes. But then a question scratches at the back of his mind. Is one of the bunkers he built being used to store drugs? He’s not proud of how his voice shakes. “This is extortion,” he says, as if the moral judgment behind it means anything to her.

She barks a laugh and it's one of pure, and utter amusement. “Of course not Mr. Palmer. This is just blackmail. I’m askin’ ya nicely.” She tilts her head to the side, drinking in the sight of him tied in front of her. She then quirks a brow. “Whether or not it turns into extortion is entirely up to you.” Her gaze then slowly rakes over his body appreciatively and Eli barely suppresses a shudder. “Though I must confess, it’d be a shame to do anything to that face of yours.” She regards him, considering. “How do you feel about your kneecaps?”

“I like’em as they are,” he says hoarsely

She hums and nods. “So you understand what I’m askin’ of ya, then.” 

Fuck him. Either he says no and ends up in the hospital or worse, in prison, or he says yes and ends up in the employ of someone who definitely isn’t on the right side of the law. And while the thought of affiliating himself with someone so casual about violence makes his skin crawl, at least the latter option means that his kid is still taken care of. 

Slowly, he nods. “Think so.” 

“Glad we could come to an agreement,” she smiles, as if she hadn’t coerced and threatened him into it. Setting her cigar down and pulling a butterfly knife from her other pocket, she circles behind him and cuts the zip-tie binding his wrists together. “You’ll get half your payment up front along with detailed instructions of what it is I want you to build. You’ll receive the rest upon completion. Understood?” 

Eli rubs at the chafed skin around his wrists. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She goes to sit at her desk and she takes another puff from her cigar. “Now, you strike me as a smart man, so consider this a courtesy rather than a warnin’: don’t go gettin’ any stupid ideas. You take that down payment and run, and I promise you, y’ain’t gonna make it very far. See, I got a hound who takes his job very seriously and he’s been beggin’ for me to take him huntin’. I’d hate to see you end up between his teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” she says, already moving on to the stack of files piled on her desk. “Someone will contact you within the week.” There’s a beat of silence where Eli remains where he is, unsure if he’s been dismissed and too afraid to assume. She glances up at him after a moment and says, “The hell’re you still doin’ here.” Her jaw juts out to motion to the door. “Get.” 

With a nod, Eli hastily rises and shuffles to the door. He takes one last hesitant glance over his shoulder only to find the woman engrossed in whatever she’s reading. Quietly, he opens the door and shuts it behind him. He half expects the two men from before to throw a bag over his head again and drive him back to his cabin, but the hallway is empty. 

Exhaustion hits him like a ton of bricks and the siren song of booze and greasy bar food calls his name. He shuffles out into the bar, ducking and weaving between drunk patrons and wearily slides onto a barstool. “Whiskey, on the rocks,” he says when Mary May stops by to take his order. She pours him a glass and he spends the next hour or so nursing it before knocking the rest of it back in a single go. 

When he places the cash down on the bartop to pay, Mary May shakes her head. “You’re drinking on the Boss Lady’s tab tonight.” 

He blinks in shock. “That so?” he says slowly. Well, in that case, he might as well order something nice. “What’s her favorite?”

The corners of Mary May’s lips quirk into a smile and she pulls a laminated cocktail menu from underneath the bartop. Placing it down in front of him, there’s a drink called ‘Sazerac de La Roux’. Cognac, absinthe, a sugar cube, and two dashes of Peychaud’s Bitters.  

Eli considers for a moment, and then says, “I’ll take one of those.” 

[thethirdromana]

Romana II's costumes, rated

Most screengrabs from the BBC image gallery, all opinions from me.

As seen in Destiny of the Daleks.

What a costume to open on. I love this. I love that it reminds us that Romana - even this younger-looking, more playful Romana - remains the Doctor's equal, being his costume, but pink. I love the details - the necklace, the white shirt with the pink pinstripes, the weird high-waisted pink trousers that we barely see, and the first of many outstanding pairs of boots. Above all I straightforwardly love how good this looks. Pink is undeniably Lalla Ward's colour. 10/10, setting the bar high.

As seen in City of Death.

So this costume has a very sweet backstory behind it. Lalla Ward hated wearing school uniform, and thought that the little girls watching Doctor Who might feel better about school if they saw a favourite character wearing the same kind of thing as they had to wear. Which is adorable. And then she got heaps of letters from pervy man. Which is... less so. 3/10, for the thought?

As seen in the Creature from the Pit.

I could either get a decent photo or one that showed the whole costume, so I chose the former. You're not missing much in the bottom half, it's a sort of floaty Grecian affair with a wide belt. They seem to have dressed Lalla Ward as Mary Tamm for this one. Her hair looks pretty, though. 5/10.

As seen in Nightmare of Eden.

This is it, this is the worst Romana costume. There's a sort of institutional vibe, like it might have been sewn from prison curtains. Every decorative detail - the massive bow, whatever's going on with the skirt - makes it worse. How did they manage to make Lalla Ward look so drab? And it looks at least a size too big for her, too. 0/10.

As seen in The Horns of Nimon.

This is more like it. It's clearly a fox-hunting outfit, which in the UK has connotations that are... let's just go with problematic. But Romana doesn't hunt any foxes in this episode, as far as I can remember, so I think it's OK for me to like the costume. Which I do. 9/10.

As (not*) seen in Shada.

Yes! Some people have faces that belong in a particular era, and doesn't Lalla Ward have such an Edwardian face? No wonder, then, that this is such a wonderful costume. I want to wear it myself, and then spend a day lounging in a punt with a good book. The only danger is that I would try to eat the trim on the hat. 100/10.

*because it never aired.

As seen in the Leisure Hive.

Apparently the Edwardian look was so good in Shada, they decided to do it again? This time Romana appears to be in an Edwardian boy's sailor suit. As an aside, I love how her costumes switch back and forth between historical men's styling and traditional feminine dresses. This costume is more fun than flattering, but I like it. 7/10.

As seen in Meglos.

This costume is... a lot. I mean, even next to what Lexa's got on, it's a lot. There's actually so much texture on this, I can't fully make out what's going on, and that's before we get to the world's largest sleeves. I think this is one of the few times that it feels like the costume dominates Romana, which is a pity, because I would otherwise be on board with the Henry VIII vibe. 4/10.

As seen in Full Circle.

I wish I had a decent-quality full-length photo of this costume, because it includes a long red skirt that's quite fetching. I enjoy the contrast between the military jacket and the dainty lace shirt. Red is a good colour on Romana II. 8/10.

As seen in State of Decay.

Another one where Romana is essentially in historical male drag, in the kind of outfit you would expect a gentleman to wear in the country. Only she has her hair down and it's all carefully fitted to Lalla Ward's figure, so it barely registers as GNC. I think that's a really fun costuming decision, and also I want this outfit. 10/10.

As seen in Warriors' Gate.

A disappointing costume to end on. I mean, it's perfectly nice. But if I decided that I wanted to dress for the job I want (Time Lady in E-Space) rather than the job I have (middle management) and rocked up to the office in this, I doubt anyone would register it as unusual. Which makes it rather less exciting than most of the other options on this list. 5/10.

Now I just need to see if I can track down an Edwardian lace dress.