#putting a little fabric glue on the ends that want to poke out

[detroit-grand-prix]

It's finished.

[pockwashereart]

Flaming Gavle Goat Ornament Tutorial

You Will Need:

Craft felt in light brown or 'straw' color of choice, red, yellow and orange

Red ribbon in 2 widths

Thread- I used red and yellow; brown, orange or white would give different effects

scissors

Needle for hand sewing

pins or quilter's clips

polyfill stuffing or fabric scraps

a poking implement

a lighter or Fray check glue

paper and pencil

patience / approx 2 hours to waste making a meme for the holidays

To start, I drew a rectangle approx 3.25 in wide by 4 in high and sketched out a geometric goat shape. You could go a bit larger, but if you go much smaller it will be difficult to stuff. Remember that the sewing and stuffing will eat up some of your edges.

Cut out your goat template and trace it on your light brown felt. I used chalk, marker may work depending on how neatly you cut.

(I'll add a nice vectored template to this tutorial later, but I'll have to fight with the scanner first. )

Cut 2 of your goat. It doesn't matter if they're not exactly the same, as you can fudge the edges a little when you sew. If your felt has a front and back you can tell apart, you'll need to pick a "right" side of the fabric and mirror one of the goat base pieces.

I cut my ribbon decorations in advance, wrapping it around the stacked bases to check the length - remember you'll be stuffing this later so you may need to add a tiny bit more to accomodate.

Out of the wider ribbon, you'll need one for each leg, one for the tummy and one for the bridle. The thin ribbon will be to hang the ornament with and to wrap the horns- I did not pre-measure the horn wrapping because I wasn't sure how long it would need to be. Finish the cut edges of the ribbon as you like- I used a lighter to heat seal them but fray check or white glue will work. Glue will be more difficult to sew through.

Start sewing the goat bases together. I used red thread and a basic whip stitch, but you could get a couple different effects by using white or brown thread, or by sewing a blanket stitch.

Here's where I made life difficult for myself- stop when you get to the legs and wrap the ribbon in place, tucking the ends in between the layers. This secures them and hides the edges but is fiddly to pin and sew. You can also wait until you have sewn most of the way around and tack or glue the ribbons on top if you're less fussy about the ends showing.

Continue sewing around the legs and body, catching the ribbons in your stitches and repeating for the bridle ribbon. Stop at the base of the horns so you have room to stuff.

I'm working with modern plastic materials, so sadly (or not) this goat isn't terribly flammable, just meltable. If you want to be eco friendly you can stuff him with scrap fabrics. I'm using polyfill.

Use a chopstick, paintbrush handle or empty mechanical pencil to poke your stuffing into place. Smaller lumps of fluff are better and more maneuverable.

For firmer limbs stuff chopped up bits of your felt into the legs and head and follow it up with the polyfill.

My original plan for the removable flame was to do clever things with magnets, so if you want to give that a try this would be the point to toss one in before you close up the body. I was on a roll and didn't remember until I was working on the horns. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Remember you still need to put the tummy ribbon on and curse your clumsy giant fingers!! Getting everything situated and laying nicely may take a couple attempts. Once you've stabbed yourself with the pins a couple times, sew up the inner curve from the base of the horns on the neck to where the horns meet up again on the butt.

Be careful of where your thread tail goes and the direction of your stitches, it's easy to accidentally loop around the whole body or catch the horns.

There should still be a bitty opening at the base of the horns and at the butt (giggle here), if you flattened your stuffing during the last step and need to poke a teensy bit more in.

Tie your length of hanging ribbon into a loop and set aside.

This is another step where my need to hide the edges made life stupid and fiddly. Tuck the edge of a length of the thin ribbon between the layers on the bottom of the horns and wrap it around, and tack in place with a couple stitches. Loop it a couple of times until you get to the point you want to hang the ornament: I chose dead center, you may want him at a jaunty angle.

Fiddle with bendy felt, slippery ribbon and pins until your hanging ribbon's knot is sandwiched between the 2 layers of the horns and continue wrapping with the loose long piece, securing with pins or clips as needed and hopefully not making a big tangled mess of ribbon.

When you get to the end wrap it around a couple times and cut off any extra length, seal your ribbon and pin or clip into place.

Sew along remaining curves of the horn, making sure not to yank the hanging ribbon out of place and to catch the wrapping ribbon as you go. Accept there's no good way to tuck in this !$@!%%^$ slippery 1/8th BS ribbon and tack the butt end down with a few extra stitches.

Alternately, tack the hanging ribbon in place between the layers, sew the edges and then wrap and secure the horn ribbon with stitches or glue at either end. You could also skip sewing the edges of the horns together before wrapping them, but it will be more sturdy and secure with them sewn.

The fun part! fold some paper in half and draw your flames on the fold. Mine were a little over 2 in tall, and they should be a little smaller than the back of your goat at the base in order to fit in place. Cut out your fire and use it as a template for your felt.

The base layer will need to be on cut on the fold but the rest can be separate. Use as many or as few layers and colors as you like, it doesn't have to match exactly on both sides. You'll be folding this up so that you have 2 decorative sides facing out and a plain inside, so you'll be making two mirrored flames while it's still flat: one pointing up and one pointing down. Sew or glue the layers together.

I used a hidden stitch about a third of the way up from the bottom on the inside of the flame to pinch the sides together and pull it up into a V shape. This can be tucked up into the gap between the body and the horns and will hold itself in place pretty well if you have thick felt.

For more security/ shaping you could sew a loop of craft wire or an opened paperclip to the back side of the flame, or as previously mentioned do clever things with magnets.

Hang him on the tree with or without flames and enjoy!

Options for enjoying your handcrafted goat:

Pin the Flame on the Goat: Hide goat ornament on tree and give your participant (s) the flame (s), first to put them together wins.

Art Imitates Goat: Keep the flames to the side until/ if the real goat burns, and then apply to ornament. Celebrate with hot cocoa or warm winter drink of choice.

Voodoo Goat: Real Gavlebocken hasn't burned yet? Summon the flames by setting your ornament on felt fire! Celebrate with hot cocoa or warm winter drink of choice.

[p1nk-b1tes]

where blades have been

[ astarion x fem!oc ]

summary: cirice and astarion get ready for an extravagant soiree, and astarion dresses cirice in a gown that shows off the scar at the center of her chest. they talk about it. warnings: scars, allusions to past trauma, events that caused the scarring words: 1891

the events alluded to in this ficlet are those that occurred in the previous chapter “make me feel it”. I would suggest reading that one if you want the story behind the scars being discussed in this chapter.

click here to read on ao3 or read below:

The antechamber was alive with the soft rustle of expensive fabric and the gentle tug of intricately-spun ribbons. All around Cirice, the quiet murmur of spawn padded about, working in careful tandem to fit their vampiric Mistress into her gown for the Court of Shadows happening in the ballroom just one floor below. Beautiful silk the color of rich oxblood wrapped around her body, draping her tall, slim form with a grace that was elegant yet dark, and so very true to the dangerous allure of the open doors welcoming the wealthy and powerful from all around into the one and only Crimson Palace. 

Astarion stood not far away, watching from the threshold to their bedroom, as the spawn tended to her, watching over the rim of his crystal glass to ensure they did not ruin the garment or upset his partner with their incessant poking and prodding and pulling. His eyes glinted in the low light and were filled with a familiar satisfaction of seeing her adorned in such finery. He’d insisted on this gown – a striking piece that plunged low at the neckline and put a long swath of pale skin on display between the fabric’s dramatic folds. It was beautiful. Meticulously tailored. And obviously custom ordered by the Ascendant himself, if each individual gemstone and detail designed to capture the attention of any pair of eyes that rolled in her direction was any indication. It fit her like a glove and clung to every smooth curve and pointed ridge on her hell-touched silhouette, and there, framed perfectly on either side by the silk, was the scar. 

It ran from the dip between her collarbones and down past her rib cage, separating the two planes of her chest until it ended abruptly at her navel. A pale, straight line that also served as a constant reminder of that night – the one night where she’d been unable to sleep, plagued by demons of the past and the deep, twisting urge to feel. She’d been vulnerable enough to ask him for a taste of fear, and he had indulged in her desires. And between emotional fits of pleasure and pain, he’d scarred her in return.  

The golden candlelight from a hundred little candles catches on its uneven edges, highlighting the thin parts that never quite healed as pretty as the rest. It’s a permanent mark of their shared violence, their unyielding bond, it mars her pale flesh as a constant reminder of her fragile vulnerability. 

Astarion’s gaze glues itself to her chest in that dress, then it drops lower and lingers there. His expression darkens with something intense and almost possessive. His eyes burn like scorching flames upon her skin and she chooses to ignore him. This is not the place nor the time to spit venom at his inability to control himself. 

The Ascendant suddenly chooses to step closer and out of the threshold, gliding through the focused path’s of working spawn to trace the raised line of her scar up close, as if he was seeing it for the first time. Cirice barely moves a muscle, holding herself still as an oak, and continues to allow a lowly spawn to twist the silk ribbons along her back. 

“You chose this dress on purpose,” Cirice murmurs after a while of his ogling, her crimson-painted lips curling downwards into a slight grimace as she looks upon his distracted gaze through the gold-embellished mirror. “Didn’t you?” 

His smile comes slow, wicked, and he floats in closer, his lithe hands coming to rest on either side of her waist as he leans in, his breath warm against her neck. It was a feeling she’d never get used to. “Perhaps,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine and through to the pointed tip of her tail. “How could I resist? It’s not every day you allow me to show off my handiwork.” 

His right hand slid upwards to drag his thumb along the line of raised flesh. It was nearly white save for the thicker half near her navel. 

The tiefling rolled her eyes, though the twisted sort of amusement in her tone was unmistakable as she opened her mouth to speak. “Handiwork,” she echoed, her voice edged with sarcasm as it slipped from her tongue. “Is that what you call it?” 

The rest of Astarion’s fingers brushed over the scar now, his touch featherlight as he traced the length of it with a reverence that contrasted sharply with the usual arrogance in his tone. 

“Well,” he replied smoothly, and his carmine eyes flickered up to meet hers. His lashes were painted with coal, she noticed, to match her own. A nice touch. “I like to think of it as a reminder – one for you and for me, and another one spun entirely for everyone else.” 

“And what is that, Astarion?” 

He looked up at her again and this time held his gaze, his expression dark and dangerous in that way that he tended to look at her with when reminding her of their violent and tangled past. Still, he chooses not to answer her request for clarification. Perhaps it was because he thought she already knew, or maybe it was because the various spawn that had been tending to her gown had since ceased in their ministrations since he’d approached her and were now standing at a distance, staring at their feet to appear as though they were not listening. “Leave us,” he says, and one by one the spawn file out of the antechamber. The sound of the heavy door to their bedroom closing behind the last one does not tear his eyes away from hers. 

For a moment longer, she holds his heavy gaze to allow the tension to linger, the unspoken memories flooding back in flashes as his fingers dance along the scar. The good ones, the bad ones, the horrible ones. They were all there hidden beneath the scarred flesh. It was an intimate thing, this moment, this reminder of their shared violence and the mutual scars that bind them. Cirice’s fingers reach for his hip. Beneath several layers of clothing is the mark that she’d given him months before he’d dragged the blade down her chest. His is longer, deeper, uglier than hers. She never apologized for it. An eye for an eye, as they say. She’d made her mark in his flesh and he’d repaid her in kind, because everything is a balance of power in their eyes. Everything is a fight for control. Neither of them will ever fully yield. 

As he trailed the tips of his fingers down her chest, she felt a warmth begin to build between her ribs – a subtle hum that she both welcomed and resisted in the moment. He tended to do that to her. He made her blood boil, but it boiled in the name of deep, everlasting love. She had long since made peace with the scar, had claimed it and made it a part of herself, but with the gentle weight of Astarion’s hand resting against it, there was a reminder of the darkness living inside of her that had placed it there – a darkness that had always been there, one that she never shed after ridding herself of her father’s hold. She thought she’d learned to live with it. 

“Do you remember that night?” he asked softly, his voice nearly a whisper now in the silence that has suddenly surrounded them. His eyes fixed themselves back to her chest – to the long mark – as if it held all of the secrets of her soul behind it, and Cirice lifted a hand to brush her fingers over his hand where it had since lingered at her collarbone. 

“I do,” she replied, equally as quietly as she suddenly becomes transported to that night. There’s a careful mixture of bitterness and fondness in her voice. “Every time I look down I’m reminded of it. Whenever I’m naked, when you wrap your arm around my middle at night, when I get dressed in the morning… I remember.”

The curve to his lips softens if only slightly, and for a moment that glint in his eyes is almost gentle. “I remember, too. I remember how it hurt – both yours and mine. I’ll never forget, but perhaps I should remind you of why I left it there.” There it is again, that voice, smooth as silk and filled with that same dark desire that always simmers just beneath the surface. 

Cirice’s breath hitches, her lips parting slightly. She wants to scoff, roll her eyes, act unaffected by his choice of words, but something in his eyes, in the gentle brush of his fingers over her chest continues to draw her in, pull her closer into that guarded place of vulnerability that got her there in the first place. She rarely allows herself to feel. Astarion so often begs her to. 

His hand slips down once more. “When I see this…” he begins, his eyes fixated on how her skin feels under the warm pads of his fingers, “it reminds me of how easy it would be for us to tear each other apart.” His eyes flicker up to hers and there’s an unspoken question lingering in his irises. “And yet here we are…” 

Her hand moves to cover his, her grip firm as she holds him there, the faintest evidence of a smile ghosting across her lips. He speaks truth. “Yes,” she whispers, though steady, unwavering. “Here we are.” 

Their scars lay between them, permanently etched into their skin as a reminder of both of the nights where they dared the other to do their worst. The violence they endured, the power they constantly fought for, it would continue to be there, too. Always simmering beneath the surface ready to explode. But in the quiet intimacy of the moment, they were more than just marks upon flesh. They were testaments to their survival, their persistence to endure and stay on the very top. They were brought together and forged in blood in darkness. That truth will never leave them. 

Astarion’s hand lingers a moment longer, his fingers caressing her flesh with a reverence he would never dare to admit out loud. Cirice holds him close. She always needs him close in some way, even if sometimes the feeling of his skin makes her want to spill his blood. 

Then, with a final, lingering touch, the Ascendant steps back, his usual smirk returning to his pretty lips as he adjusts the collar of his own elegant attire. 

“Now then,” he says, his tone light, though the intensity in his gaze hadn’t faded as he offered the tiefling the crutch of his arm. “Our guests are waiting and we have much to do, my love. Shall we make an entrance?” 

She smiled and stepped down from the small platform where the spawn had dressed her, curling her arm around Astarion’s. “Lead the way, my lord.” 

And as they left the room, the scar lay exposed to the air and to anyone who dared to look in her direction, a silent reminder that despite the elegance and mask of civility that they wore like armor, the darkness inside them both would always be there, waiting, just below the surface.

[crush-zombie-drawan-sfw]

ITEMS PART FIVE! Including maybe the most labor-intensive part of this project-- the lantern!

I know I have better pictures of this somewhere, but the lantern I wanted to try to make. Well, not try-- I would do it because I'm bad at giving up.

Two challenges I encountered were 1- how to hide the wires going from under the light to the batteries, and 2- where to store the batteries. The batteries are pretty big, and they wouldn't just fit in the bottom or the top of the lantern. The whole thing, finished, is about 1.5 inches high.

I got a bulb and wiring from my older sister (2, actually, not pictured is the one I absolutely destroyed) with the plan that I'd have the wires go down through the bottom of the lantern, then up into the top through the supporting pieces.

Two of the bordering pieces would have to be hollowed to fit the wires and then covered up. I dunno how many times I super glued this thing back together, drilled holes, cut up new pieces because I drilled too many holes in them, etc.

To hang it from something poking out of the rafter(s) I needed something hollow that also could support the weight of the lantern, so I ended up cutting up a plastic lollipop stick, which worked!

The wires were hidden, and then I had to figure out how to hide the battery casing, so I made a little box to sit on the rafter above the lantern pole, and drilled a hole through it to feed the wires through.

Like so. And with everything in place I covered the lantern in the usual stuff; black construction paper, black wash, Mod Podge, and then painted highlights:

I put a little clay around the light to vaguely look like a candle? Ehgh lol

Then I secured the rafters to the roof of the workshop by drilling holes in the walls and the wood itself, shoving in thick wire and then dumping super glue in there, and then filling cracks with epoxy putty.

(Gen-chan judging me while I work on the battery case box)

Here's how the batteries fit inside. It's another shred up tealight, and I decided to give it a false lid to make it look like it's full of stuff

Little chunks of painted wood, wrapped up fabric and embroidery thread, some dyed moss and a piece of blue glass I picked up on the side of the road while I was hobbling home with my groceries on my back.

Complete wiring, which involved a little cutting and soldering of the copper wires.

Rafters and lantern complete ✨ And it lights up nicely:

Other items that hang out up there are some of the books I made, an unfinished hilt, wood, a tiny barrel and a black bone (prefab), because CURSES (blackened bones are common loot in FFXII)

My shitty attempt at an animal pelt (cream felt and paint)...

And this empty burlap sack that's just fabric and twine sewed together and then dunked in watered down paint.

Not much left to go now!

[sweetmonsooncos]

Styling a Jolyne Kujo wig

Following on from the debut of my handmade Jolyne cosplay (thank you all so much for the love btw, it's made me very emotional and soppy 🥹), I wanted to dive into some of the other aspects of the cosplay and today I'll be sharing how I styled her wig!

So to start with, I'll talk a little about the bases I used. All of my wig products came from Coscraft which is an absolute GOLDMINE of a website for any UK cosplayers! If I need to do a wig styling project, I always to go them and they also sell fabric, EVA foam and haberdashery stuff too which is very useful! I purchased the below for this particular project:

Lily Wig in Royal Blue

Skin Top Section in Lime Green

2 x Straight Wefts in Royal Blue & Lime Green

First thing I did was tackle her hair buns - I used foam clay to make the main base and I moulded a hole in the bottom to use as as anchor to secure to the base wig. I then painted them dark blue to blend with the hair better, then I took some Royal Blue wefts and wrapped them around the buns, securing them down with hot glue. I used hairspray to secure down some flyaways and any particular tough bits that stuck out I used some hair gel. Considering this was my first go at making buns, I don't think I did too badly on this!

Next, I moved onto installing the skin section to act as a new fringe. I followed this tutorial from Coscraft and managed to install it very nicely! After I had parted it, I cut the fringe down and used some shearing scissors to make the blue hair underneath the green parting less thick - as when I first tried it on, it was far too much hair and the blue was poking through a lot.

Finally, I curled the ends of the green fringe to sit better and then I got to doing the braids after glueing the buns down on top of the wig! I put a bit of cardboard on the bottom of the buns to give them something to anchor down on and used hot glue to secure them in place. I then took some of my Lime Green wefts and created braids, wrapping them around the buns and then glueing those in place. Lastly, I did the main braid at the back (although I may re-do this as it's a little bit too small) and then secured it with hot glue at the back.

And this is the final result of the wig build!!!! I'm super proud of this and extremely pleased with how it came out. It's also a really lightweight wig too and very easy to wear which will be great for future cons. I'm planning to share other aspects of cosplay building very soon so make sure you stay tuned for those 💙💚💙

[spockandawe]

Now, all the BONES

So, the first and most logical step was to get the big book as close as possible to its final dimensions before I made my next move. I prefer to work on all the things at once, but something would have one hundred percent gone wrong here. I had the text on my computer, but I couldn't commit to margins and sizes until I knew how big the physical books needed to be. I'm pretty sure I took this photo because that was when I was finally able to get those measurements, haha

Then I was able to subtract the square for my boards (I hoped) and get dimensions for my text blocks that I would have to print and cut to very precisely. NERVEWRACKING. The guillotine.... I love her, but she is a vicious, unforgiving thing. But it worked! And here, I'm pretty sure I was checking how I liked the small books with the cover fabric before I FULLY fully committed. You can see the back of those endpapers here! The front is like that, but shiny.

Then, the books were made. The dimensions looked about right, and it was time for Box. I have the Hollander's book that talks about making and covering a divided tray, so I felt confident! An unjustified amount of confident. But that's just my usual operating mode when it comes to crafts.

First issue: I didn't want those little books to get stuck in their little pit traps. I thought about doing a little curved divot at the top edge. But precisely cutting board this thick can be dicey, and I was also realizing that I would have just over a finger's width of space to work inside those spaces once the walls were all up. So I made a VERY good call and took a slice out of the wall all the way from top to bottom on the front and back of the little books. Nice and easy to pinch and extract!

Meanwhile, the rest of the tray was just a nice normal clamshell. I considered putting a wall on the back, but first, it's harder to delicately extract an eight hundred page brick with two fingers, and second, that spine turned out pretty and deserves to be seen. So I glued that all up, and then test fitted my books. You'll note that I hadn't titled the little books yet! I was pretty sure they would get spine titles, but was also waiting to see what would work best with the box. In the end, the holes were perfect for a bonus additional bit of titling.

Then it was time to COVER. The truly nervewracking part began. I decided to cover the front with a continuous piece, even though I'm not sure it's totally visible with the size of the pattern vs my gaps, then cut down the middle of each piece and turned it in. You can see how much space I had to work with getting down into those wells, haha. And they were MARGINALLY deeper than my fingers were long, so I did the bottom bits with careful poking from bone folders and a cheap dull letter opener I use for tiny spaces

I didn't take any pictures of me covering the rest of the interior because it was MUCH more nervewracking than expected, and I was increasingly afraid I would mess up something unrecoverable and have to start over. The last step, after the walls were done, was to cover the floors. Again, silk moire with one side covered in glue, carefully lowered down a pit already lined with fancy paper... twice. And then the main floor, which was easy, so I saved it for last, haha. But it worked!!

The rest was nice and easy! I built my other tray just fine. Three unbroken walls felt like a leisurely walk in the part by this time. And then I made the outer case for the trays. The very final step was to title it with foil, as seen in the first post up above!

But I do also have one bonus shot for you, an initial photo from the inside of that main tray, where the little book holes are visible. This box truly stretched my mind in new ways, and I had SUCH an incredible time figuring it out! It looks much fancier in midday light rather than at midnight, and on a clean table rather than my active work zone. But this is a project where I think the progress photos are so cool and fun, and I just had to share them with you all :D

Here's a big project I've been sitting on! All That You Love Will Be Carried Away, by our very own @ceruleancynic! And a box, naturally, building boxes for books continues to bring me immense joy.

What we have here is not just the main fic, or the main series, but also All That You Love (The High Hope Remix) alt pov short fic by byzantienne, and, a detail that I was really excited to include: the initial comment exchange between these two fantastic authors of m the first fic in the series. Did I title that second little book 'all that you meet cute will be carried away' as a silly placeholder? Did I then get super attached and refuse to change it? Uh-

Hell yeah, I refuse to be dignified about any of my favorite hobbies!

But the real secret delight here was that I've been looking for the right opportunity to get weird with boxes. Peller boxes, hinged slipcases, yes, fine, but those are like the box version of my sixfold book adventure. I'm still shooting for some parallel to my fourteenfold book, I'm looking for a way to go completely off the rails. I have some ideas, but it's hard, finding a good large chonk and a small number of equally sized texts, which made a unified and complete set, AND which excited me to work with. That might sound unnecessarily picky, but I swear, there was a good reason for it!

Oh baby. Oh baby.

This worked out so perfectly. I wanted a large book at the center of things. And I wanted two small books oriented in a different direction, placed end to end, at its edge. And I got it! I didn't want to commit too early, and it would have been heartbreaking to fail, but once the big book was together, and the preliminary typesets for the two little books were almost identical? I just HAD to try.

Tumblr is already silencing me and refusing to let me attach as many images as I want, so for this post, let's talk about the main book a little! Cute little quarto bricks are my new FAVORITE favorite thing, as I'm sure you can guess from my archives, and this one was a dream to put together.

It had to be a three-quarter leather binding, naturally. And I was sitting on some gorgeous iridescent maroon paper for endpapers (no photos in this set, it refuses to photograph well, as is the way of pretty iridescent things). I spent some time agonizing over my other material, and whether to use two different marbled patterns, but I went with it in the end. The vibes were distinct enough but the palettes overlapped enough that I really enjoyed the effect. And with the northcott art of marbling fabrics (my beloved) I was able to use lines of symmetry to get some nice fussy cuts for the big book and the little ones. All of the books have leather endbands, matching the spine. And the big book has the big thick faux raised bands I tried out with my last svsss! I don't have enough pictures to show off all the book interiors, but I used this cover plate for the series and main fics within it.

And then, like I showed you above, I put it all together. Marbled paper and silk moire for covering the box, a lot of very tense wrangling of glued-up paper in very small spaces, and, at one point, carefully lowering glue-covered pieces of moire bookcloth down these little pits (walls already covered) using that tab in the front like the world's awkwardest elevator shaft. But the EFFECT!

I'm very, very pleased with myself, and delighted to have delivered this book to its new home. I've been absolutely VIBRATING with a desire to share, so! I can't be contained by tumblr's image limit. Hold on for two seconds (approx.) and I'm going to reblog this post with some wip pictures and more detail about how I worked this thing out and assembled this box and modified my initial design on the fly

[littlest-dark-age]

Crawl on me, sink into me, die for me

Headcannons for perv!dark!eddie

tagging my bby who helped me brainstorm a fuck ton of this @omenhel

listen to while reading : rot away by jesse jo stark

tw for scent kink, possessive eddie, cry baby eddie, slight manipulation, mentions of periods and sanitary products, slight stalking mention, holding his dick while he pees, somno, pillow humping, slight cnc, anal, face sitting, wet dreams, cockwarming, mentions of a fleshlight, if I missed any please let me know

He would try to subtlely sniff you whenever the two of you would hug. Tucking his face into your neck and playing off his deep breath as a sigh of happiness from the affection. Thinks you smell so much better without any type of spray or deodorant on. Thinks your natural smell is much more pleasing, and loves it.

Constantly stealing little trinkets from your room/house. Used lip balm, partially ate bag of snacks, the lotion you use after you shower, underwear etc. He has a little unmarked box in his closet with everything collected. Plans to set up a display in the corner of his closet. Arranges "pictures" of the two of you for it, they're just clippings of different pictures of the two of you separate that he put together and created false scenarios for.

Eddie gets worked up whenever he sees what he thinks is you flirting with other people. Tears well up, lips poked out in a pout as he practically steams while you talk to them. When you're done, he looks at you with his big brown eyes and asks if you would rather go date them instead of some freak trailer trash. Not believeing you when you tell him that nobody could ever possibly replace him until you give him a kiss and he still clings to you for the rest of the day. Not wanting to let you up even to go the the bathroom, holding onto your clothes as he follows you around like a sad little puppy. Asks if he can come inside the bathroom with you and hold your hand during.

Bribes steve and robin to let him see what movies you've been renting, and for them to keep them back the next time they're free so he can rent them. Using the movies as another excuse to talk to you about anything he can.

Eddie would die if you ever asked to borrow his jackets because you got cold. The sight of you in them making his heart just about beat out of his chest, and later whenever you give it back, the idea of his scent on you has his eyes rolling back.

But on the other hand, he would absolutely steal your clothes as a way to be "closer" to you. Doesn't matter if they're too small and end up crop tops or if they're bigger and end up leaving him drowning in the fabric. He constantly is running his hands over the material, thinking about how many times you've worn it and the fact that you'll probably wear it once he gives it back. Not realizing the fact that he wore it and will be wrapping yourself with it, with him.

If he ever does a favor for you, the only thing he'll ever ask for in return is a kiss. Seeming so happy and smug when he asks for it, knowing you won't say no because what's the harm in a little kiss? None, as far as you're concerned. But it only fuels him and sends him deeper into the dark thoughts in his mind.

Eddie's such a cry baby when it comes to you. He whines whenever you get up from the two of you cuddling, pouting and trying to pull you back by your clothes. Practically has a tantrum like a kid who's favorite toy has been taken when he sees someone else interested in you. Which most of the time, is someone simply trying to make a friendly conversation with you. But Eddie thinks every body in the town of hawkins is trying to take the one good thing in his life away from him and he simply won't stand for it

Thought he went to died and accidentally went to heaven the first time the two of you shared a bed. Sticking to you like glue, no matter how much you might move in your sleep, he would follow and find out a comfortable way to wrap himself around your odd positions. Essentially turning into an octopus with the way he's able to cling onto you.

He can't stand the idea of you getting hurt and him not being able to help. Starts to stash first aid kits and whatever you might need for an injury every where. He doesn't want you going to anybody else besides him whenever you need something, especially when you're in pain or need help.

Will "visit" your work place every few hours to check up on you and make sure you're still there. Hates the thought of not knowing where you are and being able to get in touch with you. It worries him, even though the logical part of his brain knows you're probably simply just busy

(If you menstruate) Eddie would absolutely change out your tampon for you. On his knees, not caring if he gets anything on his hands. Looking up at you to make sure its comfortsble and okay. He'd make sure your pad is right where you need it, checking in with you that its positioned right. Always makes sure your cups are clean and that they sit right. His free hands softly stroking your leg waiting for you to make sure he did it good enough.

If you ever joked about holding him while he went to the bathroom, he would instantly agree. He doesn't see anything odd or weird about it. Gently instructing you on how to shake and everything needed. Now he brings you to the bathroom with him constantly, telling you that he has a special job he needs help with. He considers it, simply couple bonding.

He knows he shouldn't be so obsessed with you, shouldn't want to follow you like a lost puppy. But he can't help himself. Every moment, he realized, is spent thinking about you. If you'd like it if he wore a different shirt, if you needed help, if someone was trying to damage your image of him....

Eddie wouldn't know what to do if you started thinking the same way hawkins does. Thinking that he's a devil worshiper when the only thing he's ever worshiped is you. He would bow at your feet if it would make you happy, would let you take your anger out on him as long as it served you. He can't believe someone like you would let someone like him ever touch you. But he will never take it for granted. Thanking you for every caress of his hair, of every kiss, of every word uttered to him.

Nsfw

About cums in his pants the first time you even so much as lay your legs across his lap, much less sitting in it. He bites back a groan every time you shift ever so slightly, and thinks it's you teasing him about how hard he gets for you.

Has used your hand to jerk off when you're at his and staying the night, while kissing you as you slept.

Constantly sprays your scent on a pillow that's your replacement for whenever you have to leave. Clings to it and even humps it sometimes. About cries when he cums on it because then it won't smell like you when he washes it.

Eddie often sneaks into your bedroom, after a while of dating he convinced you too start to leave your window unlocked in case he ever wanted to surprise you. He "surprises" you a couple of times a week while you're asleep. Carefully climbing in, making sure to keep his steps light as possible. He stands by the window for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath, before slinking over to you and crawling under the covers. Running his hands up and down your soft legs, his eyes practically roll back as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. Pressing sloppy kisses up to your cunt where he doesn't even bother taking off your underwear and flattening his tongue. Lapping at you while he humps your soft sheets, his hands on your hips to keep you pressed against his face in case you move in your sleep.

Always has his hands under your shirt, sometimes just softly stroking your warm skin. Other times, his hands start to drift up to your chest. Feeling you up with the excuse of his hands being cold, while he pinches and plays with your nipples. Ignoring your whining about him being mean and that he shouldn't be doing it.

Eddie tries to convince you to do anal. Surprising you by pushing his thumb into your tight hole when you're on your hands and knees, slipping his tongue in while he gives you sloppy head. Anything he can do to convince you that he would make it feel good for you and that its not dirty.

The amount of wet dreams he has about you is embarrassing, especially because they're not intense or hard core. Most of the time it's you letting him explore your body and get to know every single inch of it. Or even, him sucking on your chest while you brush his hair out of his face for him.

Cried the first time the two of you had sex, which was his first time. Was nervous about telling you but felt it would be the best option. Stutters out the fact that he's still a virgin and expects you to laugh at him. Shock washes over him when you still climb into his lap, telling him that it's okay and that you'll take good care of him. Gets so loud while you ride him that at first you stick your fingers in his mouth but he's still too loud. You reach over and grab your disgarded panties and shove them into his loud mouth. Eddie clenches his eyes shut at the feeling of the already wet fabric in order to try to not instantly cum but it doesn't help. Loud moans muffled from the fabric and frantic bucking of his hips let you know he's about to cum in you.

Steals your body products all the time. Uses things like your lotion and body wash(if he's in the shower) to jerk off with. Just grins whenever you complain about running out of product. He's tempted to replace the difference in your lotion with his cum..

Will beg on his knees to get you to sit on his face. Head shoved into your lower stomach, grip tight on your shirt while he begs for it over and over. Showing you how desperate he is for your thighs to smother him, how he wouldn't want you to stop even if he was choking. He tells you he needs it like he need the very air he breathes.

"Oh god. Hah, fuck baby. You feel so good. Gonna squeeze me to death. Just like that, fuck yes, love you. Love you so much. No one else can make me feel this way. I'd do whatever you want as long as you let me stay like this! Hah"

Loves and lives for cockwarming, it always makes him feel closer to you. Being able to just be in you while the two of you snuggle or take a nap. He thinks its a good way for the two of you get closer, as if that's what your relationship lacked.

So loud. Just, so loud. He rambles during sex so much. You might get the cops called on you because he sounds like he's being murdered rather than having you ride him. Usually also crying from how overwhelmed he gets, but will pout and look up at you all bleary eyes if you stop. Sniffling and asking if something's wrong, if you'd rather be on bottom. Instantly starts trying to flip you over while his cheeks are still wet with tears becauee he thinks that's what you're asking for.

Went beet red when you found his fleshlight, tucked away in a drawer when you were looking for clothed. He tried to stutter out that it wasn't his but the two of you knew the truth. The tips of his ears turnjng bright red when you tease him and ask him if he uses it when you're not there, if he says your name and pretends its you he's fucking. The only response he can muster up is a shaky nod, hoping you don't notice how hard just talking about it got him. Cries and whines when you make him fuck it instead of you, telling him to show you exactly how he does it. Practically sobbing that he wanted to cum in you while thrusting into the plastic toy.

[puff-the-cereal-box]

[Image ID: screenshots taken in dark mode of the following tags: #yes! screws and nuts and bolts and repairability are the vibe! #though there a bit more nuance to how and why we choose fastenings (not to get away from the point im just gonna nerd out a bit) #first point: your smartphone does have screws! theres a lot! #they're tiny and finicky and if you put the wrong one back you destroy your entire hard drive and brick your phone! #not fantastic when you want to repair but it is possible (think screen/camera/battery/etc. taking it apart further gets more complicated) #this ties into intention being an important part of the design bc what's the style of screw head? what lengths? what kind of end point? #how far up does the threading go? can they stick out or do they need to be flat to the surface? what is the surface? #...............sorry got distracted thinking about screws and design lmao anyways #second point: there are several reasons why something might use an adhesive as opposed/in addition to screws:

#2a) sturdiness! screws are great fasteners esp when it comes to things like wood BUT they are functionally A Single Point #the issue with this is that means that the forces acting on the two connected pieces are all being placed on That Screw #and the issue with this is that it can lead to things like warping or even breaking in the material

#and sometimes this is a good thing (ex i recently took up a layer of flooring held in by screws and we were able to bend + rip off pieces #when the screws were too buried to find with a screw gun) and sometimes it is a bad thing (ex we were ripping out the floor to begin with b #it had cracked and bent away from the sub floor where it wasn't connected) #so when you're looking at a piece where long term it is not intended to ever separate even when being replaced like joining two pieces of w #using glue in between can be a better/sturdier choice bc it applies the forces across the entire surface where the two are connected #rather than just the points where the screw comes through

#2b) material! the fastening method you use is very dependent on the kind of materials you're putting together #wood for example is generally fantastic to use screws with but sometimes its something like balsa where the force of tightening the screw #could cause problems with denting/cracking/splitting the wood bc its so thin and fragile #metal to wood is another good moment for screws + bolts (tho you have to do some prep to the metal first and drill screw holes) #metal to metal using bolts as fasteners is good but it takes upkeep esp if the metal pieces move a lot bc they can spin themselves loose #and depending on what it is that can be disasterous

#welding is another option that has a number of benefits (its watertight if its good!) and is sturdy but is even less removable than glue #for things like fabric staples and tacks are good options but glue has many instances where it is useful #just in small portions like fray checking edges or larger tasks like stiffening a shape or laying completely flat (like wall paper!) #for paper. well. to stick together? glue or adhesive. to bind together? sew or have brads/rivets but those should prob get a bit of adhesiv #to have a studier attachment point so it doesn't rip out being used often #this has gotten so long I'M lost on what my point was oops also i hit the tag limit hang on

#ok tags pt 2 here we go: Glass #You Can't Screw Through Glass Without Immense Difficulty. it Shatters. #this is where the method used by modern tech happens: taking an double sided adhesive shaped like the glass/frame and pressing it in place #this allows for a couple of things: 1) its pretty consistently smooth and flat around the entire piece and nothing pokes through allowing #for max space behind the glass 2) it takes up very little space with a strong adhesive allowing for the thin bezel (frame) around the scree #thats the 'look' for modern equipment and 3) it takes a very small amount of material (ie money) compared to alt methods #(side note: i consider these 3 alongside the sleek+seamless modern aesthetic to be the most likely reasons for this tech trend ESPECIALLY 3 #im gonna cover the downsides a bit but the difficulty in repairing is more likely to be a side effect thats beneficial enough to not bother #engineering out as opposed to the driving force behind this transition but thats a little more opinion than the rest of these tags lol)

#anyways downside to this method: like op said its not particularly replaceable (i would argue 'permanently breaking the bond' is a bit #extreme bc you can reglue things if they didn't break individually. putting things together with glue is actually super easy #that's why its such a common fastener. its the Taking Things Apart that generally presents the difficulty) #but replacing Most adhesives is generally just putting new versions of it in the same spot rather than reusing so the lifespan is shorter #BUT! There are alternatives! #the simplest is to build a frame around the glass and then fasten That material into place (like how most windows are done) #however bc of the way the glass has to be held in a track/lip and room left for fasteners its bulkier and takes more materials than adhesiv #another way is to line the glass with metal (this does take adhesive however) and then essentially weld them together (like stained glass) #and (no longer about glass) somethings are made on a scale that Just Can't be fastened using standard methods like screws like a lot of th #drives and cards and etc that are found inside the computer have pieces that are unrealistic for nonadhesive fasteners

#third point: (this is mostly terminology things) not all adhesives are a glue! many many many of them are but things like tape/cement/ #tar/silicone/epoxy are also adhesives and they all have different applications and traits in terms of removeablity and reuseability #also you group clamps in with glue against the mechanical fasteners but. #clamps are Very Much a mechanical fastening that can be reused extremely often. their purpose is kinda just straight up to be #clamped in place > taken off > repeat for however many years until they wear out #i think what you're thinking of is 'Crimps' which are Very Intentionally meant to be Not Removeable Under Duress #and this has very important applications in terms of like suspending things in the air using cabling (knots weaken the metal) or attaching #wires into connectors for outlets and etc that you don't want coming loose/breaking connection/shorting out/connecting in the wrong place

#fourth point: Did You Know Tumblr Has A Thirty Tag Limit? I Didn't. Guess How I Found Out. #addenedum: the phones i have taken apart are like 5yo so its entirely possible the new ones Don't have the external screws but it is likely

End ID]

oh thanks! i'm into design and also overthinking things lol. i find the concept of trying to balance renewability versus usability versus ease of access to be a really interesting problem when designing because like, yeah screws and things are reuseable, but they're not infinitely so, so at what point does the material cost of the screws outweigh some option that won't need replacing as often. And even in terms of repairability, where yes everything Should be repairable, but certain things that are intended (and do!) make an item Need Repair Less also have the effect of making those repairs more difficult.

Anyways that's a bit further into the pedantic since you can argue yourself in circles for the rest of all time but eventually you will just have to Attach The Damn Thing. In any case, go forth and fill your futures with a wide variety of properly selected sustainable fastenings!

Something that I think should be an important part of solarpunk aesthetics is screws.

Look at your smartphone. No screws. You've got to have specialized tools to get inside your phone to repair something. There are certain pieces of tech that are glued in place and glue can't be undone without permanently breaking the bond.

But screws!

You can take apart a broken old radio, repair what's broken, and, if you were careful in taking it apart, you can put it back together and have a fully functioning radio and all you need is a common screwdriver!

It's hard to build screws and other mechanical fasteners because it requires more planning than clamps and glues, but isn't that what solarpunk is all about‽ It's about care and sustainability and and a radio or a computer built carefully with repair in mind is a sustainable computer that stays out of landfills and in use.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

His children

(How did Davarax end up with his troubled children?)

“Davarax. A word.”

Slightly surprised, Davarax glances over as Mardsk walks towards him. The guy is one of the Teachers, one who rarely spoke to the Fighting Corps. Sure, Davarax had been a Teacher once too but that was years ago and most just consider him a Fighter now.

“What can I help you with, ner vod?” Davarax asks, curious.

Mardsk comes to a halt in front of him, seems to struggle for words and gives a big sigh before he just jumps into it. “Paz Vizla.”

Davarax frowns. The heir to the Vizla clan, he's seen the young boy around and knows he will one day be a valuable member of the Fighting Corps, judging by his size and love for battle. “What about him?”

“He's a problem.” Mardsk blurts out. “The boy is a bully. He keeps picking on my Spring Class, beats them up and terrifies them.”

Davarax' frown deepens and he crosses his arms thoughtfully. “Wait. Your Spring Class? Aren't they, what, three or four years older than him?”

“Yeah, so?” Mardsk replies with a slight edge to his voice. “The boy is a bully nonetheless. He's disruptive and constantly challenging my authority, thinking he's above the rules because he's a Vizla.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Davarax does not like where this is going.

“You train him.” Mardsk plows on. “You have experience with difficult kids and you know she would approve of us keeping the Vizla clan quiet.”

Not liking Mardsk using his connection to her one bit, Davarax still doesn't reject the request right away. He's always had a weakness for the outcasts. “Let me talk to him...”

And true to his word, later that day, Davarax hunts down the kid. He finds him sitting in one of the study rooms, reading on one of the datapads there.

Paz Vizla is big, Davarax has no trouble seeing how he can take on and defeat children years older than himself, but there is nothing menacing about the young boy right now. He is devouring the information on the datapad, which a quick peek reveals to be Mandalorian history. Interesting.

“Hey.” Davarax gets his attention. “You know who I am?”

Paz looks up at him, slightly curious but completely self-assured. “Yeah. You're Davarax. You're-”

Davarax nods. “That's me. Pleased to meet you, Paz Vizla.”

Now Paz frowns and he sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?” There is a challenge in his words as well as in the insolent stare. He is his father's son, alright.

“I wanted to meet you.” Davarax sits on the desk next to him. “Because they want me to train you.”

“Figures.” Paz scoffs with obvious contempt. “Mardsk is a coward.”

Amused, Davarax tilts his head and scans the kid's body language. It's a wonderful mess of arrogance and insecurity. He's angry, but also clearly hurt by Mardsk's action. Not completely corrupted by his father, then. Good. “He just knows when he's out of his league. That's not a bad thing, ad'ika. It can save your life outside the Covert.” Davarax sees the youngster wobbling between the lingering hurt and the inferred compliment. “So, would you be okay with that? Me training you?”

Paz looks at him, scans him in return and leans back in his chair. “Why would you want to do that? You're on the Fighting Corps. You don't do teacher stuff anymore.”

Davarax shrugs. “I might make an exception for you.”

“For me? Why? Because I'm a Vizla?” Paz drawls, suspicious.

“No.” Davarax says. “Because I think you have a lot of potential and you will do great things for the Covert. I also think that maybe you need someone who understands you a little better to help that happen.”

Paz shifts uneasily on his chair, his gaze flickers and ruins his pretend arrogance. He swallows and makes himself meet Davarax' gaze. “And that's you?”

“That's me.”

“And who is to say you won't just hand me off to some other teacher?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I won't do that.” His words are calm and secure, no doubt whatsoever.

Paz considers it, then turns back to the datapad and shrugs. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”

And just like that, Davarax had the first of what would be known as the Fearsome Four.

It takes a long time for him to gain Paz' trust and respect, but with a calm and steady approach, not responding to Paz' tantrums but rather making him use his words; the boy's energy is eventually channeled where it is meant to go.

It doesn't mean Paz stops getting into fights, not by a long shot, but now he at least goes after the ones capable of defending themselves and guilty of some kind of offense, and not just some random victim that crosses Paz' path.

Then comes the morning when Davarax hears a knock on the door to his quarters, opens it and finds another teacher standing there with a tight grip on a tiny, skinny boy's neck.

The boy stares sullenly at the floor, curly hair poking up at all angles, the neckline of his shirt pulled a little to the side and showing a prominent collarbone due to his skinniness. His tiny hands are clenched into tight fists. That is how Davarax meets Barthor.

Unlike Paz, Barthor doesn't show much emotion at being 'handed off' to a new teacher, but those eyes speak volumes. He is furious and filled with spite. Being small and skinny in a society that values strength and fighting abilities can't be easy, but he's been getting back at them in inventive and sometimes fire hazardous ways. Davarax could smell the stench of singed hair through his air filter when the teacher had appeared on his doorstep with the little culprit.

Barthor had pulled one stunt after another,a proper troublemaker, but what Davarax admires is the fact that they were never able to prove it was him. Not once. That speaks of intelligence. So he agrees to train him as well.

Where Paz uses anger and brute strength to intimidate, Barthor immediately tries to sneak his way into Davarax' brain and heart, mapping Davarax' mind to manipulate him while trying to act small and helpless to appeal to his protective instinct. Sneaky little thing. He's going to go far in life.

It turns out that once Barthor realizes that Davarax doesn't fall for his tricks, but treats him with respect and actually talks to him and not over him, the little one thaws and becomes his shadow.

It's kind of cute, really.

Paz isn't pleased at first, but decides the runt isn't a threat or a challenge so he ends up mostly ignoring Barthor, who keeps a wary distance in return. They focus on Davarax, not each other.

“Please...” A third teacher pleads some time later. He holds out his arm and pulls up the fabric and shows the painful mark there. “She bit me! I pulled her off a kid she was pummeling and she bit me. She held on for so long I considered prying her jaws open with a stick!” The man lowers his arm and shakes his head. “You gotta help me, Dav. Please!”

Now this one Davarax asks for some time to consider. He has heard a lot about Raga Saxon, have seen her in action, and she might be the one child he's not entirely sure he can help. He has no idea how to deal with that kind of volatile temper. There is fearless and then there is reckless.

Somehow Paz finds out that Raga's teacher has asked to move her to Davarax and the boy instantly starts to hassle him to say yes.

“She's awesome. She really is! You gotta see her fight.” Paz pleads, walking next to Davarax.

“I have seen that very thing. That is what worries me.” Davarax mutters. “There is no discipline to her. She's basically feral, Paz.”

“I know!” Paz' grin is the brightest Davarax has even seen on the boy. “As I said, she's awesome. You got to let her join us. I'll look after her, I promise. You won't even notice she's there. Please?”

Paz rarely asks for anything so Davarax promises him he'll think about it. And the next day, he stays hidden and watches Raga. He sees the energy crackling under her skin, the wild hair and her complete lack of fear. It's the kind of personality that can ruin a mission and get other Mandalorians killed, but then he sees her with Paz and observes, to his surprise, the other side to her. She 'is' capable of team work, she can be still and patient, and for some weird reason it seems like Paz is the one who brings that out in her.

Fine. She deserves a chance as well. She's a tough little fighter, like a Mandalorian should be. They just need to work on her mean streak.

Bringing Raga in changes the dynamics as she instantly goes after Barthor, like a predator sensing prey. Davarax hopes that Paz will put an end to it, but no such luck. The bigger boy just chews on his snacks and watches with lazy amusement. Davarax is on the verge of interfering when Barthor strikes back.

Raga's shrieks of fury echoes through the hallways, Barthor runs for his life, while Paz chews his snacks with lazy amusement, and Davarax struggles not to laugh. Yeah, Barthor is going to be fine. He doesn't need help.

It is almost a year later when he opens a hatch and finds a frightened boy staring up at him. His name is Din.

Davarax reaches out a hand, Din takes it.

When the request comes if Davarax can train Din too, there is a lack of teachers and Din is severely affected by the trauma he's been through, Davarax doesn't hesitate. He found the boy, he feels responsible for him.

And against all odds, Din is the glue that makes them all stick together.

Paz' protective instinct is triggered hard, Raga senses Paz' approval and actually behaves for long enough to realize she likes Din, and Barthor is so happy to no longer be the lone one against the other two that he reaches out a hand in friendship as well. And Din finds safety from his nightmares in their presence.

It shouldn't work. Not at all. But it does.

He even finds them, more than once, sleeping in a pile together.

And as they learn, as they grow, they keep amazing him and there's not a single day that goes by where he doesn't feel proud of them. They are difficult, yes, complicated, definitely, but they are good students and will do good things for the Covert, he knows this.

The others start referring to them as the Fearsome Four, but Davarax calls them his children and he knows in his heart that he will love them until the day he dies.

[howtolongfurb]

How to Long Furb

For whatever reason, furbies have taken over the internet. It’s beautiful and terrifying and I desperately want one. Original 1998 furbies are hard to acquire but that doesn’t mean you can’t make one of your own. Imagine the potential for neck pillows with long furbies! I’m going to walk you through step-by-step how I acquired the supplies and compiled these monstrosities. Note, this is not by any means a comprehensive guide, just my personal experience. I am an ameteur. There is a huge community of furby fans online with tips and tricks on executing a variety of furby modifications. Read more below!

I will start off by saying there were many points throughout this whole process where I got frustrated and set the project aside for weeks at a time. I initially started hand-sewing long furbs but was disappointed with the poor craftsmanship. That’s when I impulse bought a cheap Singer over the 2020 holidays and retaught myself how to use the machine. The point I want to make here is to persevere. Every furby is beautiful! Crooked faceplates and chunky bellies just give a furby more personality. They say practice makes perfect, right? So let’s get started. The main components of a furby are:

1) The faceplate: unless you can get your hands on an original furby, finding a faceplate for your project can be tricky. There are a variety of people online selling furby faceplates. You can also 3D print faceplates using files from thingiverse. I’ve even seen faceplates pressed in resin. My favorite faceplate is from MrDsPrintedCreations on Etsy. The iris of the eyes are recessed so you can easily insert glass eye chips. The first thing I do with my faceplate is glue a piece of fabric behind it so it’s easier to sew into the head. I paint my faceplate with acrylic craft paint and top it off with a clear gloss coat. 2) The spine: for a poseable long furb, there needs to be a flexible inner piece. I thought thin wire from Menards would do the job, but once it’s in the plush it doesn’t hold it’s shape. I found plastic doll armature works well as a spine. It even creaks when bent for that extra spritz of cursed, spooky energy! You can also use a flexible coolant hose as a spine. I’ve ordered doll armature online from CR’s Crafts: the 1/8th and 1/4th size works well. The 1/2th inch armature is hard to stuff around. 3) Fabric! Fur and belly piece: In order to make furbs, I knew I first needed a sewing pattern. Tumblr user Cavity Sam created a template based on the 1998 furby and I used this to make my first furb with my new machine and scrap fabric lying around. My friend Gunnar 3D printed a rudimentary faceplate to use. After using Cavity Sam’s sewing template, I modified the pattern to use for long furbs specifically. You can download that sewing pattern here.

You’ll need the following supplies per one 3-foot long furby:

quarter of a yard faux fur fabric (9 inches x 44 inches)

patterned fabric for belly, ears, feet (~3 inches x 44 inches)

sewing machine (thread, needle, scissors, pins)

faceplate, 14mm eye chips, eyelashes

E600 glue, scrap fabric

paint (acrylic or nail polish), paintbrushes, clear top coat

spine (plastic doll armature)

cotton stuffing (I cut open cheap pillows from Walmart)

Step one: Use the sewing pattern to cut fabric pieces for the head and body. When cutting on fur, make sure to trace the pattern on the flat backside of the fabric with the fur flattened in the right direction. For example, the hair on the Y-mane piece (back of the head) should be pointed downwards. I made notes on the paper pattern pieces where you can eyeball more or less space. The mane piece should have more rounded corners, for example. I made my furbies 3 feet long, so the front belly piece was 2 inches wide by 3 feet long. The back fur was 6.5 inches wide by 3 feet long.

Step two, feet and ears: Depending on how small you cut your fabric, it can be really hard to combine two separate pieces. For the feet I folded a piece of fabric in half and sewed the C-shapes before cutting them out. Using tweezers made it much easier to turn them back right-side-out. After cutting the ear pieces (making sure the hair on the fur was pointed in the right direction, inside out) I pinned them together before sewing. Turn back right-side-out. 

Step three, head: Line the pattern pieces up so the Y-mane is in the middle. Sew the sides of the head to the mane first. Once that is one solid piece, fold it in half to sew the top curve of the head. I have pinned these pieces to ensure they don’t slip when going through the machine. Slow and steady wins the race; make sure to turn the fabric as you’re curving the top of the head. Finally you can sew the piece under the ear together, leaving a gap for the ear to go in.

Step four, ears: Everything up to this point has been done on the machine. I haven’t figured out a way to attach the ears with the machine, so this step was done by hand. With the ear facing right side out, pin the ear to the inside-out head. Make sure the patterned part of the ear is facing outwards (where the faceplate goes). By hand, sew the ear to the hole in the head. After the ear is secured, turn the head right side out and voila!

Step five, body: Lining up these pieces is important and a little tricky. You’ll want some excess belly fabric on the top to merge with the bottom of the beak on the faceplate. See the diagram; rotate everything 180 degrees to begin sewing. The fur hair needs to be pointed upwards and the belly fabric pattern is facing down on top of that. After sewing the belly fabric to the fur, fold it over to sew the other side. The fur should be on the inside of the sausage/ body piece. Once you’re finished sewing, the finished piece needs to be turned fur side out.

Step six: Faceplate break time! This step can be done at any point in the process, up until you hand sew the faceplate into the head. To start, glue a piece of fabric behind the faceplate. The faceplate itself should just be the eyes and the beak, making it easier to sew into the head of the furb. You don’t need that extra plastic around the bottom of the beak (or at least I haven’t figured out how to sew that in convincingly). I used grey scrap fabric and E6000 glue to adhere the faceplate. Then you need to paint the faceplates. In earlier furbs I used acrylic paint topped with clear DecoArt gloss varnish on top. You can also use colored nail polish with a clear coat on top. In the pictured furbs I tried sealing the faceplates with mod podge but it dried tacky/ uneven. Optional: you can accessorize your furb with jewelry!

Step seven, inserting the faceplate: You need to sew this part into the head by hand as well. Start from the top center (head inside out, faceplate facing into head) and work your way down the right. Make sure to use a thicker needle and poke the needle through as close as you can get to the faceplate to ensure the fabric fur is flush to the face. The needle may be stubborn (poking through the hardened glue) so use a thimble or bottle cap to help push the needle. When you get to the bottom corner of the eye, the fabric may not line up perfectly. Use excess fabric to sew a seam, effectively acting like a cheek. This part takes a little finessing. Finish attaching the fur fabric one third of the way down the beak. This is where the belly piece will connect to. The final step (later) will be to put the eye + glass chip in. 

Step eight, attaching the head to body: I was able to use the machine for this part. Turning the head inside out, pin the head to the outside of the back fur. The head and back should line up so a gap is left for connecting the patterned belly to the bottom of the beak (that step comes later). After the head is connected to the back, I do a second pass to make sure there isn’t any gap in the seam. When turned right side out, you’ll see that excess patterned belly spills out the top. Keep the furb inside out to connect under the beak. 

Step nine, connecting the belly to the beak: On the excess patterned fabric sticking out the top of the body, trace the shape of the “M” to cut out. See the highlighted yellow portion in the picture, as well as the printed sewing pattern piece. The piece directly below the beak needs to be done by hand. If you can manage it, you can sew a diagonal line with your machine before trimming the patterned belly. I found it easiest to start from the right and work my way to the left. The acute angle under the cheek will need finessing, but with small and tight enough stitches the end result is good. Turn the furb inside out to see your long sausage of a creation!

Step ten, spine insertion and stuffing: Now THIS is where I may have messed up (i.e. got frustrated multiple times) and need feedback from the furby community. The furby is essentially complete, it just needs the butt and feet attached to seal it off. Because of this long sausage of a furb, it was hard to push stuffing all the way up into the head/ ears, even using a yard stick. Maybe if I printed my original sewing pattern at 115% or 130% size, the completed project wouldn’t have been so narrow. (The ears are a perfect size now that I think about it, so maybe just the head pieces need to be bigger.) This resizing would make for a larger in diameter, plushier furby too. I thought I could insert the spine after stuffing, but the opposite is true. Insert your wire or doll armature after the ears and head are stuffed but before you begin stuffing below the beak. Alternatively, you can fasten the top of the spine behind the faceplate before stuffing. I taped a cup to the end of a yard stick and that helped push handfuls of stuffing into the furb at a time. Leave 2 to 4 inches of the bottom unstuffed so it’s easier to sew on the bottom circle. We will leave a small gap for the rest to be stuffed before totally sealing it off. 

Step eleven, connecting the feet and bottom: Stuff the feet and seal them off with a couple stitches. Don’t stuff the feet completely full, the top seam should lay flat. Place the two feet on the bottom of the belly, pointing upwards. Sew the feet onto the belly in a straight line. Now comes the part that takes more finessing, the bottom. When you line up the bottom circle, make sure the hairs of the fabric are pointed backwards. If you can manage it with the machine, sew the bottom circle to the bottom of your furby where the feet connect to the belly, about a third of the way around the full circle. The fur of the circle should be facing down, touching the belly of the furb. Once you’ve attached the circle to the feet, you can fold the circle back to see the butt starting to take shape! You can give it another pass on the machine, sewing the opposite side/ flip the furby so you can see the backside of the belly. Leave enough room to stuff the rest of the cotton and close the gap by hand sewing. Now that your furby is essentially complete, you can add the finishing touches! I always leave the eye chips for last so I don’t scratch them in the process of turning my furb inside out. You can print or paint the eye designs to place behind the glass chip. Use clear glue like superglue or E600 for the best results. Gluing eyelashes on with superglue is an optional last step.

Aaaaaaand the furbies are done! Again, I’m an ameteur sewer who’s learning as I go. I’m always open to suggestions and feedback; if there’s a way to revise this process to make more efficient and better quality furbs, I’d love to know. Thanks yall and enjoy making these cursed friends!

[thefloorisbalaclava]

you make loving fun

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

warnings: none

a/n: the title comes from a fleetwood mac song. not surprising at all lol.

Frankie never really understood why you liked grocery shopping so much, but he loved how excited you would get. You always had a list but ended up getting much more than you needed.

“You never know,” you’d tell him. And he went along with it because he loved you and you were almost always right.

“We should get brownies. I’ve been craving brownies,” you said as he pulled into the parking lot of the store.

“With walnuts?” he asked, and you nodded excitedly. “All right, baby. Let’s do this.” He always made it sound like you were going on some kind of mission.

The first thing you did was grab a cart, but Frankie decided to be playful today. He eyed you and you eyed him and before you knew it, you both were running towards the cart return trying to see who would grab one first.

“Ha! It was me, Frankie! I got here first!” You began pushing the cart towards the store and he ran up behind you, wrapping his arms around you before placing his hands on top of yours, helping you push. “Are we gonna walk like this the whole time?”

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“It looks like we’re stuck together like some weird alien or something.”

“Stuck to you like glue, baby.” He kissed your cheek. “Besides, I still don’t think I’m as stuck to you as those jeans are,” he said before tapping your bottom and moving to walk beside you.

“They’re not that tight.” You looked down and pulled on the extra fabric at your thighs. “See…there’s some room.”

“Hm…not much. And I’m not talking about there so much as I’m talking about here.” He poked your butt and you gasped then giggled as you walked into the store.

“Hands to yourself or I’ll get security.” You pointed at the sleeping man sitting at a table by the door and Frankie burst into laughter.

“Oh, I’m terrified. Please don’t.” He put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Come on.” You head down the aisle and, of course, what you need is on the top shelf. You’re sure Frankie can see you struggling and when you look at him to ask for help, he’s standing there, arms crossed, smiling. “Frankie…”

“I just love watching you stretch like that.” He walked over and sneakily squeezed your butt before reaching what you needed easily.

“Okay, you creep,” you teased.

“Oh, I’m a creep now, huh?” He grinned and held you close.

“Yup.” You tapped his bottom this time.

“Nothing there, remember?” He chuckled.

“It’s enough for me, my love.”

“You have enough for the both of us and those people over there.” He nodded towards another couple down the aisle.

“Shut up, Frankie,” you laughed. He took your hand and kissed it as you pushed the cart again. “It’s hard doing this with one hand.”

“Let me do it then.” So, he took over, still holding your hand as if letting it go would hurt him.

“How come everything I need tonight is on the top shelf?” you asked as you struggled a bit. Frankie was busy trying to figure out which Pop Tarts he wanted. “Uh…mi amor…”

He looked up and immediately put the boxes down to help you. “Shit…sorry, babe.”

“It’s okay. The s'mores ones are better,” you said pointing at the box.

“You’re right.” He put them in the cart.

*

After getting everything you needed and more, you waited in line with Frankie standing directly behind you, giving your cheek little kisses whenever he could. You giggled and the cashier looked at you and smiled.

“Y’all are so cute,” she said.

“Nah, she’s the cute one,” Frankie said. “I just got lucky.” Another kiss to your cheek.

It was your turn to pay for the groceries but as you went for your wallet, Frankie cut in front of you and handed the cashier some cash.

“Frankie!”

“You can pay me back.” He looked at you and winked. He put the bags in the cart and you both said goodnight to the cashier and walked out. “Come on.”

“What?”

He tapped the lower bar of the cart with his foot. “Stand there and hold on.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come on.” He was serious.

“You better not let me fall,” you warned as you stood on the lower bar and he put his hands on the cart on either side of you. He began pushing slowly but soon you two were flying through the parking lot, laughing, and whooping. When he finally stopped at the car, you both were out of breath from yelling and laughing so much.

“I think I see why you enjoy grocery shopping so much now,” he said.

“You make it fun for me. Everything is more fun with you,” you told him.

“Really?” he asked as he put the bags in the car.

“Yup.”

He closed the trunk then wrapped his arms around you, kissing you deeply.

“Are we really making out in the parking lot of a grocery store?” you asked.

“Romantic, huh?”

You played with the super soft hair at the nape of his neck. “The most romantic.” You kissed him again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[magickaltoadstool]

Human Hair in Witchcraft

Most of us have it, sometimes not enough, sometimes too much or where we don’t want it 😂

It comes in a multitude of natural colours and textures and can be a huge part of a persons identity, culture or even religion.

Hair in the craft can be a very potent ingredient for personalisation of a spell, any hair can be used but hair from the head tends to be the most commonly used today next to pubic hair which has associations with carnal magick.

The general associations of hair is strength, psychic protection, virility as well as the connection to the person it directly came from.

Due to its nature and the fact it doesn’t decay and breakdown as quickly as the rest of the human body and is easy to legally obtain and keep, this material is an excellent material for those who wish to work with their ancestors.

Fun Fact - Those accused of being witches often had their heads shaved as it was believed that this would render them powerless.

To aid in getting a confession the bodies of accused witches were shaved bare to avoid the concealment of the devils mark.

Ways of Utilising Hair…

**Braiding**

One for those with long hair or even partners/children with long hair.

It doesn’t have to be elaborate, but a simple braid on its own done with focus and intent can work wonders.

Strengthen or further focus your will using coloured ribbons, flowers, threads or beads with relevant correspondences for the desired effect.

**Knot Work**

As with ribbons and cords, long hair can be knotted easily and lends itself to this way or working.

You can use a single strand or more if you wish. These could be from multiple people especially if you are working something that may involve binding or tying them together. We all know it’s almost impossible to unknot hair when it’s pulled tight.

Knotting will also fall into creating witch ladders.

**Felting**

Ah yes; this may gross a few of you out but this is what made me think of sharing this information with you all.

If you have long hair and a lot of it you will be familiar with the brush full of hair that greats you after a good grooming session.

There are methods (and they are easy) of using human hair for felting. It’s not soft and cuddly but if you are willing to put in the time and effort it is possible to create a felted effigy of someone.

Due to the amount of hair required this one is better suited to those with long hair and looking to work on spells aimed at their own well being. I’m personally planning a little felted poppet to represent myself that I can later embellish with small drilled gems in places I require healing or help.

**Sigils**

Long strands or hair can be used carefully as fine thread and really lends itself to a creative witch who wishes to personalise something with an embroidered or cross-stitched sigil, symbol, name or word. This could be done on fabric, cushion or even on a poppet.

**Stuffing**

Using hair to stuff a poppet or cushion.

This will work for both long and medium length hair. It would also work for short hair but a double layer of fabric may be required to avoid hairs poking out too much.

This can be used alongside other ingredients that you may want to have inside such as herbs or a few crystals.

**Cuttings/Loops/Curls/Locks**

It was very common in the Victorian era for women to collect locks of hair from their loved ones and have them in books or if they wanted to keep them close, in lockets.

Locks of hair can still be kept this way and used for personalisation but it’s also a lovely way of keeping a piece of a loved one for ancestral workings.

The ends of the loop can be kept together using general wax or as I prefer; sealing wax. The persons initial can also be pressed or carved into the wax and be kept as a trinket of sorts that can be used for focus and calling on them if they have passed.

**Art Pictures/Embroidery/Cross-stitch**

Get creative with the glue, resin or wax and use shorter hair clippings mixed with a medium.

Alternatively there are a huge number of art forms that can be created with long hair and I would strongly recommend searching online for ‘Victorian Hair Art’.

Create works of art using Hair from your family members and use it to focus spells that you want to blanket your family unit (protection).

**Bottles/Jars**

Just shove it in 👍🏻

**Hair Care**

Remember that this stuff is on you 24/7 and washing it in specially created shampoos, floral rinses or even a natural hair spritz means you will carry your intent with you all day.

Setting intent whilst bushing you’re hair is also an option. As brushing also generated energy (static) it’s also a nice way of charging and storing energy.

I personally love washing my hair when I’ve had a really bad day and enjoy feeling all the heaviness and turmoil wash away down the drain. I find it really helps me focus myself as well as relax.

**Matting**

Matting hair from someone to bring on bad luck. This can be achieved easily by rubbing long hair between the palms of your hands.

**All words and images are my own, please make sure that credit is in place if you reblog or share it**

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Two Snakes and a Rat

Alrighty! Y’all asked so here’s my QuickFang story!

For those who don’t know the QuickFang AU is an au in which Vore exists. Davey is a mob boss known as QuickFang who is feared by all of Manhattan. This takes place some time into the plot and doesn’t touch on past plot points but they’re there I swear! I can expand if y’all want later. Anyway, here we go!!

Also this is shippy and Jack decides to be....Jack so uh yeah. Have fun!

Vore under the cut :3

——————

“Those fucking idiots.” The words were growled, slowly gaining volume and morphing into a yell as the door slammed against the wall. This was the last straw for him. “First the stunt pulled at the most recent brawl, then those imbeciles getting arrested and almost giving away our location, and then them letting a spy in! Why I ought to put a bullet through their heads the moment they’re shoved through that door.”

“S-sir!” A female voice called, the young woman in question running after the man as he entered the room. At least she wasn’t tripping over a skirt in the suit she had been gifted after having accepted her job as one of the man’s own spies.

“That’s- nevermind.” The man growled, anger barely showing for the first time in hours as he walked to the back of the room. One of the cabinets opened, revealing a multitude of dishes, silverware, and glasses. He grabbed the nearest wine glass and sighed. This. All of this. It was all at risk. All because of those bafoons.

“Ah! Right! Sorry, Boss-Sir.” The young lady corrected as a few more goons as well as a second man with a silver broach that separated him from the rest walked in. She made her way to the side. Standing against the wooden wall, a strand of her bronze hair that pulled itself out of the tight bun it was styled in blowing softly in the breezes made my the movement of the others in the room. Four goons, varying in height and muscle, stood at her sides in the same position as she. Hands together behind their back, standing up straight, with the straightest expression they could manage.

“I’d watch Yer words there, pretty lady.” The man with the silver broach hummed as he closed the door. “The boss doesn’t have the clearest mind while like dis. I’d say keep yer mouth shut.”

“Oh give me a break, Wits,” her boss, the man with the golden broach, growled as he filled his glass with the bitter red liquid from the wine keg he kept on the table behind his desk.

“I’s just sayin’, Mr. QuickFang!” The silver broached man said, hands up in a nonchalant surrender as he paced closer to the desk. “Yer mind, see- it does this thing when You’s is mad. It’s like you’s a bull and all you see is-

The brunette- legal name Marcell, mob name Scarlet- squeaked as her boss whipped around, pointing a blade directly at the throat of his right hand man. Dear god-

“Watch. Your. Mouth. Wits.” QuickFang growled, grip on the blade tightening to the point where his hand began to shake.

“Hey, is that not how I got my name? What about you, Mouth~?” Wits cooed in return, a cocky smile sitting on his face with eyes to match behind his mask.

“I- you fucking ass.” QuickFang grumbled, arm jerking to the side and the knife going flying. A dull thud sounds as the blade sticks itself right in the wall mere centimeters above Marcell’s head, drawing another squeak from her as she stares up at the knife. Oh sweet Jesus.

“I thought you loved that part of me though, baby~” Wits cooed, cupping QuickFang’s cheek in his hand for a second. The mob boss’s eye twitched, a growl forming in his throat.

“I do. You fucking know I do. Right now though I want to tear your vocal chords out with nothing more than a dull, rusty old spoon,” spat the man, slamming a hand on his desk as he took a sip from his wine glass. “Damnit. Where are they?! They were supposed to be here-“ he pulled up his sleeve, checking his watch, “-two minutes ago!”

Just as his sentence finished the door clicked open and in were shoved three men, each with their hands tied behind their backs and their mouths filled with fabric gags. Wits moved around the desk, leaning against the bookcase behind his boss now. His boss in question setting his wine glass down in favor of pulling yet another blade out of his pocket.

“Well well well. Look what we’ve got here~” he cooed, a sick smile spreading to his face. “Two traitors and a pathetic excuse of a spy.” He slammed the blade down into his desk, the metal cutting into the wood enough to make it stick upright.

The three on their knees stared up with wide eyes as the man known as QuickFang circled around his desk to stand over them, glimmering blade in hand. This- oh no. No no no. This is bad.

“Now, give me one damn reason why I shouldn’t gut you three like fish and roast you over an open flame for the next dinner party I host.”

The three on the ground shivered, eyes shaking as they stared up. They couldn’t speak. Oh god they couldn’t speak. They couldn’t give him a reason. He was gonna-

The man in the middle froze, feeling the cold tip of the metal blade press into the nape of his neck. Not enough to cut, but enough to remind him it was there. No. No. Nonono.

“You’re lucky I care about my carpet and floor. Blood is awfully hard to clean, you know,” QuickFang growled, removing the blade favoring to twirl it in his hands as he paced around them yet again. “Though I must do something. Letting you three go would be a death sentence to me and my group here and that’s the last thing I want. One of us has to go though to keep our little secret safe.”

There was a mumble of something under one of the three tied up’s breath. Something that sounded an awful lot like an insult. Something that relit the white hot rage in QuickFang’s core.

“Ah so you have a death wish!” He snapped, whipping around and pressing the blade into the man furthest to the left’s neck, Slicing a thin line. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to leave a little trail of blood dripping down. The crazed look in his eyes was something that would burn into those who saw it’s brains. “Those always make things more fun~! How do we start, hmm?”

Before he could do anything else, Wits rushed in behind his boss, arms wrapping around his waist and face burrowing into the crook of his neck. He breathed softly, feeling the tension in his lover melt away. Taking deep breaths, he cooed, “Good….good boy…..”

“Mmggh….baby….not here..” the taller groaned as he melted in the embrace, “...not now. You gotta- mmgh….wait….”

“Shhhh. I know. My mind is on something else though, darling~” the second in command cooed, gently placing a kiss to his boss/lover’s jawbone. He shot a glare to the five against the wall, a growl in his tone when he spoke. “Out. Now.”

And out they all went, Marcell closing the door behind her.

“What’s with the boss and Wits?” She asked, rushing up beside one of the older goons. Surely he knew.

“Those two have been inseparable since the day Wits joined. He stuck to the boss like glue and became his right hand man soon after.” The goon explained, voice rough. “He was captured once. Taken hostage and put in danger at one of the fights in the square. I’ve never seen the boss so mad. The only time he calmed down was when that boy was back in his arms and spoke to him once more. In short, the boss would end the world for that boy. Don’t cross either.”

“Ah. I see…” Marcell hummed, walking off to the spy’s quarters. Surely there was something for her to do there.

QuickFang groaned softly, lidded eyes looking to his partner. “Jackie….what are you planning?”

“Shhh...you’ll ruin the surprise if ya keep askin’ questions, Dave.” Wits, more commonly known as Jack, cooed, letting go of the boy in his arms. “Now be a good boy and go sit in that throne o’ yer’s, kay? Let Wits handle this~”

Davey groaned, stumbling his way to his chair and falling limp into it. “You’re a man of mystery, Jack Kelly. I’ll never understand how you do it.”

“Do what?” Jack asked, poking another one of the three men on the floor. Well, two now- oh! Only one.

“Make me melt like that. I don’t- mmgh- get it.”

“Heheh oh. That. Well Dave,” Jack cooed, smiling as the third man seemingly disappeared as he tucked them between his arm and his chest. “Telling you would ruin the fun~! Now, from how your belly felt my little baby is hungry. Is that the case? Does my little darling want a nice squirmy meal to fill his tummy~?”

Davey’s eyes locked on the three men in Jack’s hold. Oh. Oh boy. A squirmy meal did sound very very nice. But...he wanted to tease a bit. Just a bit. He looked to Jack with pleading eyes, cocking his head just a little. “Please?”

“Hehehe awe. Look at that~” Jack cooed, setting the three on the desk. Next to them he set the knife, blade glimmering in the light. With a grin he stepped back, hands up again in surrender. “The floor is yours, baby~”

Slowly but surely that same evil grin pulled itself across Davey’s face. Oh yes~ He was quick to grab hold of the knife’s handle again, twirling it for a second before stabbing the blade down in front of the three tinies. His weak state was wiped from his mind, being replaced with the confident, sinister mob boss who had a grip on all of Manhattan known as QuickFang. “And once again the games begin~”

The three tinies on the table felt a shiver shoot up their spines as the knife came slamming down in front of them, narrowly missing one of their feet. Sweet Jesus. What was he getting at?!

A low evil laugh rang in the boy’s throat, the knife being pulled from the table to be placed under one of the tinies chins and tilting it up to face the evil, icy blue eyes of the boy.

“Now now. Why the long face~? I thought you three liked to play risky~” he cooed, twirling the knife in his hand. QuickFang’s eyes burned holes in the three on the table. Oh how stupid they had been to have pulled this stunt. “I’m not gonna….pull anything~”

At his own words, Davey promptly grabbed one of the tinies by their bound hands. He brought them to eye level, stomach growling as he stared them down. A sound that struck fear in the hearts of the other two.

“Now you must know that by now I’m positively starving and in desperate need of a good meal.” The calm tone in the boy’s voice was enough to rattle the three tinies to the core. How could one be so calm while talking about something so….so…..terrible?! A Yelp, muffled by the gag, sounded from the poor tiny who was being dangled by his arms as the warm, squishy muscle of the boy’s tongue dragged itself up him. It repeated. Again, and again, and again until-

*clack*

Those on the desk still froze as their friend was closed in behind the pearly white gates of Davey’s teeth. They watched with drowning horror as the caught spy was pushed around, sucked on, and even nibbled at by the man. It was torture to see. Seemingly impossible to bear. Until things got worse-

Ulp~

Way. Worse.

They’re forced to watch as the spy slips further and further down the young man’s gullet, squeezing and slipping past the wet, soft, squishing muscles. To watch as the squirmy lump that was the man side down down down until it was out of sight. Oh but the gurgle from the boss’s stomach let them know where he was.

“Ahh~! Much better. One right where he belongs~” QuickFang hummed with a sigh. Oh to have something squirming fill his belly. The taste of vanilla sat on his tongue as he licked over his lips, a glob of thick warm drool dripping onto his desk. His gaze snapped to the two on the table once more, his grin turning sinister yet again. “And how lucky I have two more~”

The two goons on the table tried to wiggle away in hopes of escape. In hopes of living another day because they knew the moment they entered their boss’s gut they weren’t leaving. Ever. This was terrifying as is, even more so when they were seconds too late and were grabbed up in a tight fist back to back.

“Ah Ah Ah! Now where do you think you’re going~?” The man with the golden broach cooed, grinning at the two like some crazed lunatic. His teeth parted to reveal a soaking pink, plush tongue and shimmering fangs along with the dark, unforgiving tunnel of his throat. As if things couldn’t get worse, the slimy muscle of his tongue pulled itself up their tiny bodies as they squirmed in the leather glove’s grip.

“Mmmm….oh my. Tell me, why do people lacking the most brains taste the best~?” His signature grin spread on his lips, a thick layer of saliva coating his teeth as he licked them over. A low rumbling growl sounded from his gut, the tiny inside squeaking. “Oh who am I kidding. Look at me. Talking to my meal. Heheh. Oh I must be losing it. Well, down the hatch before I get worse!”

The jaw of the predator opened up like a gate, throat twitching at the end of their path. Their end. The thought made them shiver as they landed roughly on the slick surface of Davey’s tongue. Their shoulders dug into the taste buds as they skidded back. Back further and further until-

Glp-

Glk-

Glrk~

Down they go.

“Ahhh~ Oh...oh that’s good~” Davey sighed, a pleased tone to all he said as he fell back into his chair. Now that was good. His hand came to rest over his stomach as the two remaining snacks slipped in, causing a small bump to form under his shirts. A light blush dusted his face, a shudder coursing through every cell of his existence as the small bodies continued to writhe about in the dark, deathly confines of his gut.

“Awww heheh. Good job, baby~” Jack cooed, walking up behind the boss in the chair. He grinned, gently cupping the boy’s face to turn him to face him. “Awe. Dat’s the face of a full, happy lil Pred, now ain’t it~?” He slowly drew his hand back, drinking in the sight of the mob boss following it as if begging for more contact. A warm chuckle bubbled from his throat as he reached for the glass, holding the rim to Davey’s lips. He hummed small instructions to drink, giving praise once the action is done. With a smirk on his face he turned to leave, a hand grabbing his and stopping his movement.

“Oh? What’s that, Dave?” Jack asked, cocking his head. The most he got in response was a groan. “Dave. Words. Or you don’t get what you want~!”

“Mmmghhh…..Cuddles…..now….” the boy groaned, pulling at Jack’s hand weakly. A smile spread onto his face as Jack came to sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around the boy, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Heh someone’s snuggly~” The boy’s voice was smooth, calming to the boy who’s lap he sat in. A gentle kiss found it’s way between their lips and they relaxed in the room. Before long soft snoring sounded from the boy with the golden broach, pulling a small laugh from his right hand man. “Sleep well, Dave. Yer belly’s got a job to do. I’ll run this joint for ya while ya sleep. I’ll see ya when you wake up~”

[paint-lady]

Faux Stained Glass

I posted a while back and a portion of yall mentioned you wanted to see some of my work, so here’s one of my best pieces...Faux Stained Glass. This was for my university’s production of Into the Woods. 

Looks like hundreds of individual pieces right? Yeah. Its actually 8 pieces of plexiglass. The process was one of the smoothest I had ever done, and I am really proud of my management skills as the charge artist for this production. This took a crew of 4 dedicated painters, and anywhere for 4-6 shifts of students completing hours for their courses. In total man hours, this took a week to complete.

So how did we do it? Well I got the draftings and renderings and looked at the designer and said, “so this is a translucency right?” A translucency is a process of stretching fabric with starch instead of white paint or sizing mixture (glue and water), which allows light to pass through the piece. Translucencies are challenging because you have to get the painting right on the first try- any layers inhibit the light passing through. Additionally, the watery consistency of the paint required has a tendency to bleed onto other areas. Regardless, I sat down and started formulating plans to make this and the designer looked me in the eye and said, 

“No. It’s on plexi-glass.”

“Glass?”

“Glass.”

“How is the paint supposed to stick? It’ll just peel off!” 

“Figure it out.”

So I got to work. I began testing how to make the paint translucent yet thick enough to bind onto the glass. The process involved “roughing up” the surface of the glass with sandpaper- this would give the paint something to “grip” and hopefully allow it to last longer through the show. 

I eventually came to the conclusion that the paint needed to be mostly white glue, which when dried yellowed a touch. This helped “age” the glass. And then I could add dyes and liquid pigment to create the colors I needed. 

For at home recipes it is a 2 to 1 ratio. For every 2 cups of glue you needed 1 cup of water. And then add your dye (drops!!). At home, you can use food dye or vivid acrylics, since I assume it isn’t normal to have 165$ worth of liquid pigments on hand (self drag). If you use paint, you will need more than drops for the color to show and you might want to switch to clear glue- as it might get too opaque or crack. However much pigment you add, whether spoonfuls or drops, you start by adding the same amount of sealer. This helped create a “shine” to the paint that my designer wanted. Once I had it all figured out, I put it in bottles. You’ll see why in a sec.

Once the paint mixture was finalized and tested to the designer’s liking, I was simultaneously figuring out how to make this process as simple as possible for a bunch of first year students to work on. A lot of the students were actors looking to fulfill their one semester requirement of a tech class. And stagecraft is an easy twice a week lecture and 2 hours of studio a week. So a lot of them haven’t taken an art class in a while. 

So I made it a giant paint by number. 

I spent about two days redrafting the piece in scale and printed it on the plotter (which has a max width of 2′6″) and lined it up. We laid the plexi on top and traced the lines with black caulk (easily available at your local hardware store). We let the caulk dry overnight. 

In reality, the caulk doesnt need overnight to dry. It really needs like... 4 hrs to be workable. However, if for whatever reason it is not set properly, the color will bleed underneath it- and we don’t want that!

Before we can color, we have to make sure the surface we are working on is perfectly level. I came by with my yardstick level and checked before they started and made slight adjustments by propping parts of the glass up. 

If the surface is not level, the paint will run and pool unevenly, ruining the illusion of stained glass.

Then came coloring. I printed out a big Key and labeled all the paints with numbers. I taught them how to flood as if we were making pancake or cookie art (most of them had seen those on instagram). You start on the outside, outlining, and work your way in. The paint should ooze a bit, so one student was given a variety of toothpicks, brushes, (i discouraged using fingers but some still did) to “smooth” the flood. It is very important that the colors don’t bleed or overflow the black caulk leading. 

Some of the glass had “gradations” in their coloring. I had my skilled painters handle those. It was all about how the paint swirled together and was agitated (poked with a stick) as it was drying. 

The trees were the most difficult and I ended up supervising those. 

Once the piece is done, it is left to dry overnight. And this is where it needs to not be touched. At all. Dont look at it, dont touch it, dont breathe on it, dont think about it. I ended up taking over a far corner of the tiny shop. I pulled the welding guards (no one was welding anymore, it was all assembly for the carp crew at this stage) to block any debri and shield off the area. 

You should monitor the piece as it dries, check every couple of hours to make sure nothing is pooling in strange ways, nothing got stuck to the surface, and nobody moved it. I had keys to places and abused that power, and would wake up in the middle of the night to check on them. Don’t tell my professors. 

This image above is a partially dry one. 

Once everything was dry and moveable, I handed them to my Technical Director and said they are ready for install. And after a nail biter of watching them precariously dangle in the air to their new home...they were in!

And the show went up! I felt so relieved when I finally got to see the glass lit up, I made sure I got gifts for my fellow students and went a little wild at the tech party on opening night. 

Feel free to ask questions about this process! Asks are open! If yall want an at home tutorial, I can make that happen in the new year.

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

I was so inspired by the headcanon made by @letthemsayfuck and expanded upon by @newsies-of-corona about Varian’s season 3 outfit that I had to write a quick one shot about it! It was such a cute idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head, I had to write it down. Hope you enjoy!

New Threads

It had been a couple weeks since Rapunzel had returned to Corona, and things were starting to return to normal after the Saporian attack had been quelled. Well, almost normal. Thanks to the attack, Frederic and Ariana were not currently fit to rule since their memories hadn’t yet been restored, and as a result, Rapunzel was now the acting queen of Corona. The people of the kingdom were grateful to have their beloved princess back, and Rapunzel was happy to be back as well, even if there was a certain empty spot in the castle that was hard to ignore. Coming back to Corona after losing a friend was hard, but even though she’d lost one friend, Rapunzel was happy to have gained back another one. Now that Varian had turned over a new leaf and was back on the right side of history, he and Rapunzel had managed to start laying down the bricks of their rebuilt friendship. He was a lot happier now that his father was free, and he was almost never not by his side, stuck to him like glue. Rapunzel was happy for him. She’d truly felt awful that she had let him down all those months ago after being unable to save his father, and watching Varian go down that dark road, feeling so lost and broken, had been difficult. Rapunzel never, ever broke a promise, so finally being able to keep hers had been a wonderful feeling. But even though Rapunzel still cared greatly for Varian and had forgiven him for his misdeeds, it didn’t mean that the kingdom had. Varian had never exactly been a very popular boy, not very well-liked in his village, and now he was reviled even more. True, Varian had helped save the kingdom from the Saporians, but not everyone in Corona was as quick to forgive as their princess. Varian couldn’t hardly go anywhere alone without having insults and sometimes objects hurled his way, so he hadn’t been around much since Rapunzel came back. As a result, if Rapunzel wanted to see him, she had to go visit Varian in his own home. Today was one of those days. Rapunzel journeyed happily to Old Corona, hoping to see her young friend. As she walked through the village, the people who had come back after being displaced smiled and waved at their beloved princess. She returned their greetings, happy to see her subjects out and about. She climbed the familiar steps of Varian’s home and knocked on the door.

“Oh, Princess!” Quirin greeted, opening the door.

“Hello, Quirin!” Rapunzel smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m doing much better, thanks to you.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m really glad I could help,” said Rapunzel. “Is Varian home?”

“Yes, he’s home,” Quirin replied. “He’s in his lab. You can go on in.”

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, Princess,” said Quirin as he stepped aside to let Rapunzel in. She smiled as she walked past him and went over to Varian’s lab. She stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds of Varian’s tinkering. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering her friend of before. But he was still her friend, and hearing the usual cacophony of his lab helped her remember that. She pushed open the door and went inside. Looking around, she spotted him in the corner working on some new machine she hadn’t seen before.

“Hi, Varian!” she said brightly. He looked up suddenly from his work.

“Oh, Rapunzel! Hi!” he looked at her with a smile on his face.

“What are you working on?” she asked as she peered at his machine in curiosity.

“Oh, this?” he stepped aside to give her a better view. “This is my newest invention. It’s a machine that’s designed to reverse the effects of the Saporian memory wand and restore your parents’ memories, since I, well...” he trailed off, his smile fading. After a moment, he sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Rapunzel.”

“It’s...well, it’s not really okay, but I trust that you’ll figure something out. You’re a smart guy. You can fix this,” she assured him.

“Thanks. For...for trusting me,” said Varian quietly. “I-I know I don’t really deserve your trust, but-“

“Varian,” Rapunzel gently interrupted. He looked up at her. “I know you feel sorry about everything. And the fact that you’re working to help me already shows me that you’re worthy of being trusted.” He gave her a little smile.

“Thanks.” He loosened up a little after previously feeling a bit tense. “So, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d come and check up on you, see how you’re doing,” Rapunzel replied. “Do you need any help with your machine?”

“Actually,” said Varian, his eyes brightening. “If you could pass me my tools when I need them, that’d be great.”

“You got it!” Rapunzel said cheerfully, handing him a screwdriver.

Rapunzel spent the rest of the afternoon in the lab with Varian, helping him out with his machine, watching him work, and listening to him explaining its function with rapt attention. He also talked a lot about the past couple weeks that he’d been reunited with his dad. He spoke excitedly about how happy he was to be back and how much he missed the simple things they used to do together, like having dinner in the evening, but how glad he was to get to do them again. Rapunzel loved listening to Varian talk about the things that he was passionate about, and hearing his sweet laughter again after so long was a pleasant and beautiful sound. Watching him work and hearing him talk, it made Rapunzel feel like nothing had changed. But things had changed, even in very subtle ways, and there were many indicators about just how much time had passed. As Rapunzel watched Varian tinker away on his machine, she noticed that he wasn’t quite so little anymore. Granted, he was still a “little guy”, as Eugene had called him, but Varian had grown. He was taller than he had been the last time she’d seen him all those months ago before she left. It was evident in where he now stood in comparison to Rapunzel and in the way she noticed him absentmindedly tugging on the sleeves of his faded blue shirt every now and then, as if trying to bring them down further on his arms. It could have also been a subconscious desire to cover his hands, since he was now working with his hands exposed because the black gloves he used to wear had melted off while Rapunzel was in her trance. Looking at him, she could tell why he always wore those gloves, since working without them had left behind tiny cuts on his hands from the lack of protection from his alchemy and metalwork. Really, he had simply started to outgrow his outfit. Even though Rapunzel could tell that Varian was a little bit skinnier now as a result of eating nothing but the prison food for months on end, she still noticed that his old blue shirt was starting to be too small. The way Varian shifted his feet around while standing and talking indicated that his shoes were too small as well. And even if his clothes fit him perfectly, the patched sleeve of his shirt and the old, worn fabric were signs enough that he was in need of a new outfit.

Surely he must be uncomfortable she thought as she watched him working. Then, realization struck her and her heart sank as she thought about why Varian was still putting up with clothes that weren’t exactly fit to be worn anymore. Not everyone in the kingdom had forgiven Varian yet. There were still some people who were harboring fresh wounds and weren’t ready to extend him a helping hand yet. He couldn’t even walk around without his dad nearby for fear of being harassed in some way. Even if Varian wanted to go out shopping and buy himself some new clothes, he couldn’t do it without facing persecution from the citizens who were still angry with him. But not everyone was upset. Rapunzel saw in him a good heart and she knew he had changed for real, and when she saw that a friend was in need, well, she couldn’t just sit idly by without trying to help. So when it was time to leave and she told Varian goodbye, she headed straight back to the castle with newfound determination and an idea burning in the back of her mind.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Eugene greeted warmly when she arrived back home. “How was your visit to Old Corona? Is Varian doing okay?”

“It was good,” she replied. “It was really good to see him. He’s doing a lot better. He’s back to inventing and doing alchemy.”

“That’s great to hear,” he said. “I’m glad the little guy is starting to become more like his old self.”

“I am too.” She smiled at the thought. But then she remembered what she’d been so fired up about. “Oh! I have to go see the royal seamstress,” Rapunzel said as she began walking off towards the beauty room where the seamstress worked.

“You planning on getting some new threads?” Eugene called after her.

“Something like that.”

Rapunzel entered the quarters where the seamstress worked, sewing up new clothes for the royal family. She looked around through the curtains of dresses and suits that hung all around.

“Faye?” she called.

There was a ruffling sound and a bundle of fabric was suddenly tossed through the air and a short woman with pins in her mouth poked her head out from behind some more rolls of fabric.

“Oh! Your highness!” said Faye, the seamstress. She took the pins out of her mouth and pushed them into the mini pincushion she wore on her wrist. “How can I help you? Is there something wrong with your dress?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Just as beautiful as ever! But I have a special request for you,” replied the princess. She took out her journal with a new painting on one of the pages and showed it to Faye. “Do you think you could make me something like this?”

Faye studied the picture Rapunzel had made, looking over all the details and specifications.

“Absolutely, Princess! I’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you, Faye!” Rapunzel said cheerfully. “I know it’ll be just great!”

***

A few days later, Rapunzel once again made the trek to Old Corona, this time with a package in her hands. She had a skip in her step as she thought about her little surprise. When she made it to Varian’s house, she entered his lab enthusiastically.

“Hi, Varian!” she announced, her voice bright.

“Oh, Rapunzel! I’m glad to see you,” said Varian. “I wanted to tell you more about my progress with the new machine.”

As he spoke, Rapunzel glanced down and noticed his hands.

“Hey, new gloves!” she observed.

“Oh, yeah,” said Varian, looking down. He was wearing a pair of new alchemy gloves, dark brown this time, with little pressure gauges on them. “Dad bought these for me the other day when he went into town. I had mentioned that it was harder doing my alchemy without gloves, and I guess he was worried that I would burn myself or something. But I’m glad to have them, it feels more normal. Anyway, I’m not quite finished with the machine yet, I’m still working out the kinks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But in the meantime, I’ve been working on some potions that I think could help with restoring your parents’ memories. I’ve just gotta test them.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” Rapunzel said.

“Yeah,” Varian agreed, laughing lightly. “So, what brings you here so soon after your last visit? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he added quickly.

“Do I need a reason to come visit?” Rapunzel teased.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to come say hi! But actually I do have a reason.” She brought the package out from behind her back and held it in front of her so Varian could see it. “I have something for you!”

“For me?” Varian looked down at the package in her hands in surprise. “W-why would you get me something?”

“Can’t I just be nice?”

“Of course, you’re always nice. But, why me?”

“Because I thought you could use it.”

“What is it?” Varian asked.

“You are seriously missing the point of a surprise,” Rapunzel replied. She pushed the package into his hands. “Just open it and see for yourself.”

Varian set the package down on a nearby table and used the sharp edge of one of his tools to open it up. He peered inside and his eyes went wide.

“Wait, Rapunzel, really? This is for me?”

“Of course! I hope you like it. I designed it myself and I had the royal seamstress sew it up based on my pattern. What do you think?” she asked. Varian lifted the carefully folded clothes from the box and held it up to himself.

“I, wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, go on!” Rapunzel said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “Go try them on! Let’s see how it fits.”

Varian picked up the box and left his lab, going up the steps of his house and to his room. A few minutes later, Rapunzel could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and Varian came back into the lab, and Rapunzel smiled at his appearance. Instead of his old blue shirt with the patched sleeve and his pants with frayed edges, he was now wearing a new dark maroon vest with gold buttons going down either side, and underneath that was a beige long-sleeved shirt with a collar. He also had a new pair of pants and a belt, plus a new shorter tan apron that tied at the waist rather than higher up on his chest like his old one. He even had a new pair of boots, with a thicker toe on them to protect his feet better from broken glass or just the usual chronic clumsiness that Varian seemed to suffer from. Rapunzel’s eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Hey, you look great!” she complimented him warmly. She got up and looked him over. “That’s a nice color on you, and it looks like it fits you better than your old shirt. Hmm, except for the sleeves,” she noticed, seeing how the cuffs almost covered his fingers. “But that’s okay, we’ll just get you some sleeve garters to wear and it’ll help with that. How do your boots feel?”

“Rapunzel, I...I can’t accept this,” said Varian softly.

“Why not? Should I have gotten you blue instead? You seem to like blue.”

“No, it’s not that.” He paused briefly. “I just don’t deserve something like this.”

“Varian, why would you say that?”

“Rapunzel, just look at everything I’ve done. I-I stole the sundrop flower, I kidnapped the queen, I tried to hurt you, worse, even. I took over the kingdom, I erased your parents’ memories. Why would you want to be nice to me after everything I did? You saved my life, you saved my dad’s life. That’s more than I could ever ask for. Why would you keep on giving me things? I don’t deserve your gifts,” said Varian sadly, nervously rubbing at the too-long sleeve of his right arm. Rapunzel put her hands on his shoulders so he’d look at her.

“Varian, it’s true, you did a lot of things that hurt me. But I can see that you’re sorry for them, and you’re working to make up for them. I know you have a good heart and that you really are a good person. You had a pretty...rough patch, let’s say. But don’t think for one second that you’re any less valuable as a person because of it. You still deserve to be treated with kindness because I can see that you still want to give kindness to others, and you’re a human being just like everyone else. That means you make mistakes just like everyone else, and it means you deserve to be treated kindly just like everyone else. I know you’re mad at yourself and that takes time to get over, but please don’t think that you’re unworthy of love or friendship because of your past. What you need to focus on is the present. Don’t talk badly about one of my friends,” she said earnestly.

Friends. Varian’s eyes lit up at the word and he gave her a smile. He liked the sound of that. He took a step back and turned around to look at himself in a mirror in his lab. He smiled at his reflection, turning to look at himself from different angles.

“So, what do you think?” Rapunzel asked eagerly.

“I think...it looks good.”

“So you like it?

“Of course I like it.” He ran his hands over the fabric softly. He’d never had such fine clothes before. “And you’re right. This is a nice color,” he laughed lightly. He looked up at Rapunzel.

“Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome, Varian,” she replied with a smile. She gave him a hug and she stuck around to listen to him talking about his further progress with his machine. When it was time to say goodbye, she waved and headed back to the castle. And for the rest of the day whenever Varian caught a glimpse of his reflection, he couldn’t help but smile.

***

Not too long after, Rapunzel decided to raise her kingdom’s spirits by bringing them together for a community project, namely to help rebuild the castle’s throne room after the Saporian attack had damaged it. Several members of the kingdom had volunteered to come, and Rapunzel was both surprised and delighted to see that Varian was one of them. Finally shaking off his fears of traveling to the capital city alone, he showed up at the castle with a backpack full of tools, ready to help.

“Hello, Varian! It’s good to see you out and about,” she said.

“Thanks. It’s good to be out and about. I know I’m a big part of why the throne room is damaged, and I’m sorry about that. But I’m ready to get to work rebuilding,” he replied.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. We can use all the help we can get.”

At that moment, Eugene entered the room and spotted Rapunzel talking to Varian. He looked him over in surprise.

“Varian! I like the new outfit! You’re looking sharp, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Varian replied with a smile. “New outfit, new day, new me.”

And it was true. The new, special clothes looked good on Varian, and not just because the color was nice. It was a different, more mature look and it reflected Varian’s growth, in more ways than one. It was still perfect for alchemy and inventing, he hadn’t lost that part of himself. He was still the same sweet boy he’d always been, but he was changed. He really was a new person, still with all his same quirks, but now he was bigger and stronger, and not just in size. His return to kindness had ushered in a new change, and change looked good.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Mardi Gras/Valentine’s Day (2/14/2021)

Long summary:

Alastor takes Sir Pentious @usedhearts to a Mardi Gras drag show/gay masquerade on Valentine’s Day and somehow neither one of them realizes that this is a date. FEATURING: each of them wondering a hundred times “am I being too romantic?” or “is HE being romantic??”! Disturbing the peace! Extremely over-the-top costumes! Questionable decisions made with New Orleanian cuisine! Fake (???) flirting in French! Spontaneously roleplaying as Greek gods! Puking in a toilet!

Short summary:

I know what you want to know. You know what you want to know.

*presses my lips real close to the microphone to whisper*

Yes. They make out.

Alastor

It’s ball time! Or it will be soon, anyway. Just in time for everyone to finish getting in costume.

Alastor’s, at least, is simple to put on. He’s already all but dressed—everything but the hat, hood, and mask—when he arrives to help Sir Pentious finish getting ready.

Sir Pentious

Telly's room is a downright mess-- things thrown all over the place, dresses of varying styles laid where ever they fell. And Telly himself is slithering around like a serpent possessed. He's got the gown on, and most of the accessories, and Hattie's turned himself into a crown, though said crown is currently laying on the bed.

"Alastor!" He cried when he spotted the Radio Demon. "Perfect timing, I need help with the pearls!"

Alastor

Hold on, Sir Pentious is in a gown, Alastor’s brain short circuits and his stomach does a somersault. With Sir Pentious’s entire neck and shoulders visible and rippling waves of fabric curling around his— “Sorry? Come again?”

Sir Pentious

"The pearls, Alastor! I need to get them on before I can put on Hattie!" He put said pearl strings into Alastor's hands and turned around, lowering himself to make it easier for Alastor to put on him.

Alastor

“Oh—right, right!” He tried to untangle the pearl strings. “This is that pearl hood bit, right?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Once I have that on, I can put on Hattie-- look how handsomely he's transformed, isn't he superb?-- and then Hattie will hold them in place and make sure they don't shift around! After that, I need help with the lashes-- my hands aren't steady enough for it." No mention of the _why_ there, even though normally his hands are steady as a surgeon's.

Alastor

Alastor muttered, “Ooh, I’ve never done lashes.” He glanced over at Sir Pentious’s hat/crown and gave it an approving nod, very regal. He fanned out the net of pearls over his fingers and gently draped them atop Sir Pentious’s head and down his hood. “I might have a shade that can handle that instead, some of them have worn makeup. I wouldn’t want to poke you in the eyes.” He doubted his hands would be any steadier if he was sitting with his face inches from Telly’s, staring deep into his eyes, trying to glue a thin strip of hairs onto the rim of his eyelid.

Sir Pentious

"That's fine, I'd much rather not get poked in the eye." He laughed but the sound was unusually nervous.

Once the pearls were settled, he straightened and slithered to get Hattie, placing him ever so delicately on top of his head-- juuuust right.

"There! That's done." He moved to the vanity in the corner-- a new addition, Alastor could note if he cared to-- and sat.

"Alright, lashes and eye make up." Oh look at that his hands were shaking just reaching for it.

Alastor

Alastor didn’t recognize the vanity; but his trips into Telly’s room in the past had been brief and the room itself had always only been the *second* most interesting thing capturing his attention, so maybe he’d just glanced over it.

Meanwhile, the *most* interesting thing in the room had noticeably shaking hands, and that, in Alastor’s opinion, would not do. He looked for something nearby he could sit on and tugged it up to the vanity next to Sir Pentious. “Don’t wear eye makeup very often?”

Sir Pentious

"Not at all, no. I, uh..." He swallowed thickly, glancing over at Alastor. He took a breath, trying to keep himself calm.

"My death, I told you I was blinded-- Now anything gets in or near my eyes and well...." He holds up his shaking hand.

Alastor

*Ah.* Alastor took Sir Pentious’s shaking hand. “Then why wear it? You’re going to have a mask *and* a spectacular dress on, nobody’s going to be scrutinizing your makeup.”

Sir Pentious

His grip on Alastor is vice tight when his hand is taken, and he takes another breath.

"It completes the outfit...Ties it all together. I _want_ to wear it-- maybe it'll help me stop being so afraid...."

Alastor

Hmm. Alastor ran his thumb over Telly's knuckles as he thought; then leaned over to the wall, tapped his shadow on the shoulder, and murmured, "Go see who's good with eye makeup, would you?" His shadow slid away as Alastor straightened back up.

"I've got an idea. I'll have one one of my people handle the makeup and *I'll* keep you distracted, how does that sound? Whatever you want to hear! Music, jokes, interesting stories, you name it, I'll play it. Just tell me what you'd like most!"

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, his thumb stroking in return. "That sounds like a good idea-- probably best to play something that won't make me move suddenly? So, music would be best, I think. I love your jokes, but I don't think laughing would be good with things close to my eyes."

Alastor

“All right, nothing funny! Tall order, but I’ll see what I can do.”

His shadow came back with another; the second shade had five large eyes. Alastor should hope it would be good with eye makeup. He moved his seat a bit to give the shade room to move in front of them and sit atop the vanity, where it could look down at Sir Pentious’s face. “What kind of music are you in the mood for—musical, classical, swing, happy, melancholy, romantic...?”

Sir Pentious

"Something happy, and from a musical maybe? Perhaps you could do one of the songs from your musical?" Hamilton was now going to be 'your musical' to Telly forever. "I'd like to hear more from it, the one song you played the other day was very catchy."

He turned his face toward the shade and closed his eyes-- he hoped that was the right posture for eye make up.

Alastor

A song from Hamilton—and happy—but not *funny*—and, of course, one he knew the lyrics to—that narrowed down the options quite a bit, pretty much back to the one he’d already performed for Telly. “You know, the one I sang for you last time, I only did about half the song. Let me do the whole thing this time—pardon me for attempting to sing the other characters’ parts, but I’ll do the best I can!” He launched into “What’d I Miss,” from the top this time, the backing instruments playing from nowhere and unseen shades providing the backing vocals. He shifted his singing tone and style slightly for each of the different characters in the song, but it was very clear just from listening which one of them was *his* character. He resisted the urge to dance, even just on his seat, not wanting to give Telly a performance he might feel the need to watch; but, on the other hand, he couldn’t quite fight the urge to tap his fingers atop the vanity as though he was playing the piano part.

Meanwhile, the shade carefully applied Telly’s eyeshadow, then held one lash up to one eyelid to measure the length, trimmed them both, ran glue along them, and very carefully applied them. A professional at work. It was just finishing when Alastor finished the song, and he blinked at it in surprise. “Oh, that fast?”

It shrugged, yeah. Lashes took a couple of minutes tops and it wasn’t exactly going to be doing fancy blended looks that were going to be hidden by a mask’s eyeholes.

Sir Pentious

He smiled as Alastor launched into the song, the tip of his tail swinging like a metronome to the beat. He didn't even feel the shade's fingers-- a huge plus to curbing his anxiety-- and soon enough the song was ending and he opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times, getting used to the feeling of the feathery lashes.

Telly turned to smile at Alastor, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you. How does it look?"

Alastor

Alastor turned to look at Telly, and made direct eye contact. It was like the eyelashes were pulling him in. “Oh, that—really frames your eyes nicely.” AHEM. “And they’re both straight.” He quickly looked away. “I’d better get mine done too. Don’t want my natural skin standing out under the mask.”

The shade gave him an expectant look, and he waved it off impatiently. “Get out of here, I can do my own.” He waited until it had slid off the vanity and then leaned toward the mirror, taking a black eyeshadow palette he’d gotten from Angel out from god-knows-where.

Sir Pentious

Telly scooted over to give Alastor more room to use the mirror. And then turned to look at himself and gave a little gasp.

"Oh, these do look nice." He leaned in and blinked his eyes, watching the lashes. His eyes were drawn to watch Alastor instead, focused rather intently on it. He wanted to see how he did it.

Alastor

He did it haphazardly. He took off a glove to apply it with a finger, and was applying it more like stage makeup—a large, bold, solid covering, both atop his upper lid and beneath his lower. “I’m not really trying to look pretty,” he explained. “I just want to black out anything that’s going to be visible from the eye hole. My complexion does *not* flatter my costume.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "I see. You just use your finger? Isn't that what they have those little brushes for?" He tilted his head.

Alastor

“I find just using a finger makes it easier to control when I’m trying to get on a thick layer! I use one of those,” he made a pinchy gesture with his thumb and forefinger, “you know, little sponge-tip things when I need more control—but I’m not too worried about the details, here!” Obviously. He looked like a goth who looked like a raccoon.

Sir Pentious

"I see. And yes, I know what you mean! The little sticks that come with the eyeshadows." He nodded eagerly-- and then he remembered about the fan.

"Oh!" He got up and slithered to the bed, picking up said item from where it lay and opened it with a flick of his wrist. "I finished the fan! Fine construction, if I do say so myself."

It was a gaudy thing, but meshed with the style of the costume to look like a large shell. He fanned himself with it as he slithered back over to the vanity. "It has a few little extra tidbits that most other fans don't! Just in case." He winked.

Alastor

“Oh, does it!” Alastor grinned broadly. “You weaponized a fan! Of course you did. How does it work?” He leaned closer to inspect it.

Sir Pentious

"When it's shut," He said, snapping it shut. "It can be used as a ray gun."

He tilted it to show the very subtle and hidden barrel in the end, and pulled on another part to make a handle, the trigger popping out when he did. He held it out, aiming at a dress on the floor-- but didn't shoot. He didn't want to ruin his new dress that he just stole!

"Just a standard heat ray, but it's condensed and powerful enough to blast a hole in someone." He shut the handle and trigger back up and flicked it back open to fan himself again, a devilish grin on his face.

Alastor

He was grinning so wide the corners of his mouth threatened to disappear beneath his hair. “*Brilliant.*” He laughed, “Is it wrong of me to hope something *does* go wrong so I have a chance to see this beauty in action?”

Sir Pentious

"No, not wrong at all! I tested it out on some firing dummies and it was spectacular. If something doesn't happen, well, after the ball we could always go make some trouble!" He laughed again, winking at Alastor. He shut the fan again and slipped it into his belt-- the leviathan one, now around his waist, blending well with the dress.

"Now, let's see....Dress, pearls, Hattie, belt, fan, the mask is on the bed....Am I missing anything?"

Alastor

“Well...” Alastor looked Telly up and down. ... This station is experiencing technical difficulties, please hold while we attempt to get back on air— “I think so! I don’t know what else you could add.”

Sir Pentious

Telly continued to scrutinize himself in the mirror-- He knew he was forgetting _something_. He turned to the side and that's when it struck him. "OH! My scales! We forgot about painting them."

He slithered over to grab the rather large containers of nail polish style paint he'd 'found' (hehe, _crime_). "A copper-y color to match the verdigris, and then a shimmery green for some of my black scales to just add a bit of flair!'

Alastor

“Oho! I see why we needed to prepare so early!” He picked up one of the copper bottles and shook it. “Goodness, they do make them sparkle these days, don’t they! I suppose with these little brushes we’d better split up the job?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, that would be best-- I think if you take painting the scattered black scales, I could handle the sides where the yellow is? I don't want to move too much while you're painting though so we should find a good way to get settled where we both can reach the right parts." He slithered a bit to turn in half, to be able to reach the visible part of his tail. He took the copper from Alastor and handed him the green instead.

Alastor

He took the green, hesitated, then said, “Which ones do you want me to paint, exactly? I uh, I’m afraid I’m not blessed with an artistic eye.” He laughed apologetically. “I can color within the lines if you give me crayons and a coloring book, but I’m not what you’d call gifted at improvisation.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Well, in that case, maybe you should take the sides actually. All you'd have to do is make sure to only paint the yellow." Once again, swapping paint. "I'll handle the individuals."

He shook the bottle and opened it, firmly closing his mouth to make sure he didn't blelele right into that Smell. Telly started to very carefully paint a few of the black scales on his tail, humming Randy Dandy-oh under his breath.

Alastor

"Thanks." Alastor took the bottle, then plopped down on the floor so he could lean on one elbow and reach the sides of Telly's stripes where they were visible just above the ground. "So sorry for getting picky with how I help you! I don't mean to inconvenience you, but I doubt you'd have liked the results if I hadn't! Ask me to get creative and I tend to slap on a mess, *then* look at it and go 'Oh, that's terrible, isn't it.' Don't know how artists do it..."

His rambling trailed off as he got into his work—and as he realized that silence meant he could listen to Sir Pentious hum.

Sir Pentious

Telly was content to let Alastor talk, and then content to hum into the silence that grew between them. It was comfortable-- and how often did that happen? A comfortable silence, with just his humming to fill it. He focused on the painting, doing groupings of three scales every so often. It was soothing, actually, painting his scales like this-- helped him forget the anxiety he'd felt earlier. Plus the brush against his scales felt very nice.

Alastor

It took a few square inches of painting for Alastor to figure out the exact amount of polish and pressure to get an even covering on each scale, but by the time he got up to the point where Telly’s tail bent and the belly lifted off the floor, he’d gotten down to an efficient rhythm. He could even trace carefully around each of Telly’s brilliant eyes without slowing down.

He set the polish bottle down on thin air so he could free a hand to lift Telly’s skirt aside, out of danger of landing on the wet polish. He wouldn’t go *too* far up beneath his skirt, no point painting in places nobody would see—but he wasn’t going to leave anything that might be visible unpainted.

This was, he mused, probably the most quiet he’d had in months—Telly’s hypnotic humming was more than enough to keep Alastor content. A rarity. Forget sea serpent, maybe Telly should have dressed as a siren.

At some point, Alastor had gotten the thought *I don’t want to accidentally paint my gloves* and removed his remaining glove without conscious awareness before continuing to paint—a realization he didn’t have until he’d finished painting up one outer stripe and started down the other side. But once he did notice, all he could think about was the brush of chiffon so light it made the back of his hand tingle and cool scales under his hand near what on human anatomy would be the back of a thigh.

He accidentally smudged a bit of polish off a yellow scale and onto a black one. He carefully wiped it off with a thumb, tried to hold the brush steadier, and continued.

Sir Pentious

Telly's concentration didn't waver, even when he felt the front of his dress lift. His focus shifted a tiny bit when he felt Alastor make a mistake, but quickly returned to his task at hand. The motions were so methodical, they soon became automatic-- paint a trio of scales, move a few over, paint another three.

His humming shifted from Randy Dandy-Oh, to My Jolly Sailor Bold, and then shifted again from humming to singing, his voice soft so that he could hit the notes. It was always easier to do when he wasn't trying to belt.

"_My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There's noting can console me, but my jolly sailor bold..._"

Alastor

*Pierced by Cupid* indeed, that bastard. Alastor recognized this one, he’d heard Telly singing it in the shower once. He started quietly humming along. His hum was a buzzing drone—hums and microphones don’t mix well—but it was certainly in tune, he had that going for him.

He found himself disappointed when he switched from the side stripe to the one in the middle—he was running out of scales to paint. Nothing left now but the middle stripe and the few yellow scales exposed on Telly’s upper chest. Alastor thought he could have happily stayed hours exactly where he was—kneeling in front of Sir Pentious like a knight swearing his fealty to a lord, lovingly tending to each and every individual scale by hand, leaning in to gently press a warm kiss to the cool snakeskin—

NO. No he did NOT do that—he got so close his bangs brushed over Telly’s scales, but he caught himself and jerked back, gasping with a burst of static, shocked out of his trance by the realization of what he’d nearly done.

“I—I’m so sorry.” His voice was so distorted it was nearly doubled. Damage control, hurry hurry hurry—“I think I almost—nearly got a brush in your eye, there. Not paying attention to what I’m doing, clearly.” Had Sir Pentious noticed anything else? A dozen eyes were on Alastor, how obvious had he been? He shook his head violently, as much for the effect as to actually clear his head. “Nearly drifted off on the spot, I think, you’re too soothing a singer—Here.” He held up the bottle with the lid hastily screwed back on. “I don’t think I should—I don’t want to risk getting you in an eye. Sorry.”

Sir Pentious

He felt that-- the brush of hair against his scales. They were far more sensitive to touch than most would give credit, and he nearly fumbled his own painting. So focused, he hadn't really been watching what Alastor had been doing with his body eyes, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't been near one of the eyes-- but he sat up some and took the bottle back.

"Ah, alright then. Do you want to switch? There's only a few more spots to do on the back end, I could point out where for you?" His eyes blinked, big and owlish, made even larger by the lashes glued to them. "No eyes on that part." He laughed, a bit awkwardly. What was once a companionable quiet was suddenly charged with electricity, and Telly very much wished he'd been paying more attention when Alastor had leaned in like that.

"I think I can finish the yellow bits myself-- certainly don't want to be poked in an eye." Another slightly strained chuckle.

Alastor

Alastor let out just as strained a chuckle in return. “No, certainly don’t want that. You’re right, I think I...” He held out a hand for the green bottle, realized it would be almost impossible to take it while avoiding Telly’s fingers, and held out his hand palm up so he could set it down on Alastor’s hand instead. “Thank you.”

It would be quick and far less detailed than coating every individual spot of yellow in a new color. He didn’t even need to apply a solid coat, just enough to add a little shimmer. He could copy Sir Pentious’s pattern to determine where to apply the remaining green paint and slap it out in no time—and he wouldn’t have to face the temptation to repeat his near mistake.

Sir Pentious

Telly dropped the bottle into his hand, and then leaned over his tail, looking at what he'd already done. "There, there, there, and there, and there," He said, pointing out a few spots. "If you want to improvise a bit, that's fine too."

He smiled, a bit more relaxed, even if the tension between them was still present-- it helped to have something else to focus on. He straightened up and then bent to start applying paint where Alastor had left off, noticing straight away that he hadn't even been close to one of his body eyes. That was going to wriggle in the back of his mind for a while now. He pushed it away and focused on painting.

It didn't take long for him to finish up-- they'd almost been done when Alastor had stopped. He finished the last bit on his chest and turned to show Alastor. "Did I miss anything?" He lifted his chin to make sure Alastor could see everything properly.

Alastor

“I think I’ll trust your judgment!” Even better than trying to guess based on what Sir Pentious had done so far. He quietly sighed in relief and got to work finishing up the last little bits.

Alastor looked up at the question, then stood to get a better look at Telly’s chest past the ruffles. “Looks fine to m—Oh! Your hood.” He considered that conundrum for a moment. “Would the polish even stay on it with the way it, you know...” he held up his hands to separate and press together his fingers several times, “flaps like it does?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I thought about that. I'm going to try and keep it down as much as I can, and no I don't think the polish would stick well-- or it might stick it _together_ and that would be painful. I think this year it will have to stay as is." He touched the hood, petting it a bit and drawing it over his shoulder like hair briefly before letting it fall back.

"Perhaps next year we'll have enough time to find something to cover it! For today, the pearls will have to do." He pulled his fan back out and gently wafted himself-- more to make sure the paint dried than anything.

"Alright, just masks and then we're ready, correct?"

Alastor

“I believe so, yes!” He reached into a portal to pull out a shawl, mask, hat, and a few pearl strings, and went back to the vanity to put them on. First the shawl, which he tucked around his head and down into the collar of his coat; then his mask, an impishly smiling face that he’d painted bronze; then the hat, which he held in place for a moment until he’d grown his antlers up and through a pair of concealed holes; and at last the pearls, which he draped over the antlers like Mardi Gras beads over a leafless tree.

Sir Pentious

Telly got his own mask from where it sat on the bed, slithering to join Alastor by the vanity. He stopped just before putting it on to watch the antlers grow, his eyes wide.

"Oh, that's magnificent," He murmured-- before blinking and turning toward the mirror to put on his own mask. It was heavy, but luckily the ribbons allowed Hattie to take much of the weight so it wouldn't press too tightly. He turned, smiling behind it as he offered Alastor his hand. "Shall we?"

Alastor

He turned to smile at Telly—or, well, his mask was doing the smiling at this point. He could frown his heart out and nobody would know. He doubted he would. “Let’s!” He took Telly’s hand. “Onward to the beautiful town of... Swamp Ass.”

Sir Pentious

"Onward!" A beat. "Are we going through Hentai's dimension?"

Alastor

“Afraid so! Hang on to your pearls, I’d hate to see them float off somewhere.”

Sir Pentious

"I don't know that I have enough hands to hold them all down!" But he does put a hand on the ones that could easily float off. "Ready as I'll ever be!"

Alastor

“Then off we go!”

And off they went.

They emerged on the other end on a cobbled sidewalk next to a canal. In either direction several old stone bridges arched grandly over the dirty water, draped in flowery festoons in Mardi Gras colors. Old, dignified-looking stone and brick storefronts displayed local artisanal crafts and fine bakery goods—like anywhere else in Hell, the windows were protected by iron bars, but here they were fancy decorative iron bars. All along both sides of the canal and over the bridge, Carnival partiers milled about, most of them in beautiful masks of some sort, a few of them dressed better even than Alastor and Telly. It was as dignified and elegant a scene as Alastor had promised.

Several hooting partiers sped by in a motorboat, bikini tops flapping around their necks instead of where they belonged, spraying smelly water on the other side of the canal. Ah, well.

“Perhaps we should move inland.” Alastor gestured toward a narrow street that opened a couple blocks away into a large town square.

Sir Pentious

Telly took it all in, his mouth agape underneath his mask. There were so many lights and colors and-- that's when it clicked in his mind.

"OH IT'S CARNIVAL!" He nearly shouted, before his mouth snapped shut and he laughed. At the passing boat, he nodded to Alastor. "Yes, let's move away from that-- wouldn't want to ruin all our hard work!"

He continued to snicker, even as they moved, the cobbles feeling nice underneath his slithering tail. "Oh, I can't believe I didn't realize what Mardi Gras was until just now, how much of a dunderhead am I?" He laughed more, shoulders shaking slightly.

Alastor

Alastor summoned up his cane—temporarily painted to match his outfit, and he *had* attached the fake seashell to it after all—and strolled along toward the square. “Wait—you didn’t know Mardi Gras is the end of Carnival?” He laughed. “What in the world *did* you think it was?”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed harder. "I don't know! I didn't think to connect the two! I just thought it was some American holiday that came about after my death!"

Oh, the cane looked very nice. That's a nice cane. He should say that. "Your cane looks very nice!"

Alastor

“Hah! Oh no, Mardi Gras is *old!* Why, out in Louisiana there are towns that still celebrate it the way their ancestors did in France hundreds of years ago. But America is where Mardi Gras got *big!* New Orleans, specifically!” Listen to that home town pride.

“Why, *thank* you,” Mic said. “And that hat of yours is looking mighty cute—“ Alastor shoved his palm over the microphone with an amplified thud.

Sir Pentious

Hattie's eye-- much smaller now and the centerpiece of the crown, briefly went Silly Mode at the comment from mic before returning to its normal slit pupil. Telly chuckled and wrapped his arm around Alastor's, pulling him closer in the process.

"I see! I only ever briefly visited France-- But I had been in Venice and Rome for Carnival during different trips! It was quite something to see, all the costumes and colors!"

Alastor

“Isn’t it glorious!” He gestured at the costumes of the passersby—and almost whacked somebody in the head. People were walking a lot closer to him than usual. It took him a moment to realize it was because they didn’t recognize him as the Radio Demon. “New Orleans *really* takes the credit for *modern* Mardi Gras, but apparently Venice really upped its game in the last few years. At least, that’s what the Venetians down here say. For all I know, maybe they only started showing us up with the costumes in Hell and wanted to act like they’re doing it up above too. I certainly never heard anything remarkable about Venice’s Mardi Gras in life.” According to Alastor only New Orleans is allowed to be *really good* at Mardi Gras.

Sir Pentious

"From what I remember, Venice's Carnival was superb! My favorite part was throwing the balls of colored chalk! You ended up a mess at the end of the day, but it was such fun!" He laughed and gently bumped his hip into Alastor's, squeezing his arm with both of his own.

"That and exchanging flowers from carriages!"

Alastor

“Throwing *what?* You were just—what, pelting each other with extremely soft rocks?” He laughed. “Oh, that *must* have been before the fancy costumes, I can’t imagine mixing chalk messes and expensive dresses!”

Sir Pentious

"The costumes were fairly generic, but no not rocks! Little cloth sacks filled with powdered chalk! It was soft enough it wouldn't hurt most of the time, but would get everywhere!" He laughed, and then looked around.

"Are we close?"

Alastor

“Yes indeed!” They’d just come up on the square, which had several large, grand old buildings—including what looked like a cathedral, except that where one would typically expect a cross on top, it was capped with a stone hand pointing a middle finger toward Heaven. The largest amount of costumed revelers—and the ones with the campiest outfits in sight—were clustered around the doors to another large building. “There’s our destination.” With a flourish, Alastor summoned up two tickets and offered one to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly didn't take the offered ticket, instead whipping out his fan to snap it open and daintily fan himself. "A Lady doesn't hold tickets, my dear, that is for her chaperone to do." He fluttered his lashes behind the mask and laughed.

Alastor

“Oh!” Alastor laughed. So Sir Pentious was getting in character. “I beg your pardon, madam, you’re quite right! It would be my honor to hold on to your ticket on your behalf.”

Sir Pentious

"Good! Now, let's get inside, I am simply parched!" Was he a bit too good at the 'snooty upper class woman' bit? Perhaps he was, but considering his family, it wasn't much of a surprise.

Alastor

“As soon as we can,” Alastor said, half bowing. He certainly wasn’t surprised by the successful ‘snooty upper class woman’ bit; after all, when Sir Pentious wanted to, he pulled off the ‘snooty upper class man’ bit with aplomb.

They joined the crowd waiting outside their venue; and, within a few minutes, were inside.

Inside looked like a mix between a banquet hall and an upscale drag club with a runway set up down the middle of the room. Dinner and a show. For the moment, though, people were mostly milling about between tables while a live band played.

Sir Pentious

Telly's eyes widened when they entered the ball; there was just so much to look at! The other costumes, the decorations, the stage. Everything was so beautiful, he could hardly contain his awe. His arm stayed locked around Alastor's though, his grip turning a bit vice-like. He hand't been to a party like this in decades, and it felt like his first time all over again.

"Where to first?" He asked, with as much calm as he could muster. Which wasn't much. Surely Alastor could feel the way his hand was trembling where it gripped him.

Alastor

Alastor *wished* he could see Telly’s face. His wide eyes darting around the room were enchanting enough, and that tight grip on Alastor’s arm said the full expression must be even better.

“The choice is yours.” Alastor attended something or other for Mardi Gras almost every year, this moment was for Telly.

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I don't know where to start," He muttered, as his eyes continued to scan over the room. He would've been frozen by indecision if someone didn't clear their throat loudly behind him-- that snapped him out of it long enough to pull Alastor over to the side of the room with him.

"I forgot how, ah, many people are at functions like this." He was suddenly feeling very parched-- no it wasn't from nervousness, of course not. "Shall we get a drink to start? I'm very thirsty."

Alastor

Nervous around crowds? Alastor settled his hand over Telly’s and squeezed. “Sure! A fine way to kick off the festivities.” He looked around for the nearest table with refreshments and led Telly that way.

Sir Pentious

Telly followed along, eyes still darting every which way, now with paranoia instead of delight. Once they reached the table however, he closed his eyes and took a breath-- slow in, slow out-- and pushed aside the feeling. He was here to have a good time. He had a mask on. No one could even tell who he was, there was no reason to be nervous.

"Do they have wine? Or....what do they have at parties now? Punch? Is that what it's called?"

Alastor

“With what I paid for these tickets, they’d *better* have wine.” He paused. “Granted, it wasn’t my money, but.” Crime!! He glanced at one of the banquet tables. “They’ve got wine glasses, we’ll at least have wine with dinner.”

The refreshment table, however, seemed to primarily have champagne. It also had elaborate hors d’oeuvres on colorful plastic toothpicks. He picked up one with five different ingredients squeezed onto a cracker the size of a silver dollar and popped it in his mouth. Yum.

Sir Pentious

Oh thank fuck, alcohol. He took a glass and lifted his mask just enough to get a sip. The bubbles tingled on the way down, and he took another sip, the alcohol calming him a bit as it started to seep into his system. And then he's taking an hors d'oeuvres and popping that into his mouth too-- best to eat something before he drinks too much. It would be a bad look to get smashed straight off the bat, right?

"Dinner? Oh, I didn't know it'd be one of those types of balls." Oh, he'd have to remember table etiquette, oh no.

Alastor

“I think the plan is dinner and a fashion show by the krewe putting this ball on, and then the actual dancing part of things is going to be in another room.” He grabbed a champagne glass and took a sip. He still has his mask on, how did he did that. “Or maybe the tables are actually metal under those tablecloths and a giant magnet on the ceiling will pull them out of the way! I don’t know, I didn’t organize the event.”

Sir Pentious

Telly noticed that at last, and blinked. "How did you do that?" He asked as he very delicately took another sip and ate another snack. Hattie was doing good keeping the mask up enough to expose his mouth, allowing such things to happen, but Alastor's mask hadn't moved an inch.

"I hope dinner is soon, I'd like more than just these little hors d'oeuvres."

Alastor

“Do what?” Listen to him. So innocent. Definitely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Dinner should be starting on the hour! So, not too long now.”

Sir Pentious

Telly lowered the mask to be able to level him with a withering stare through it. "You know exactly what I mean, Alastor."

And up it goes again for another sip of champagne. "Ah, good. Shall we find seats?"

Alastor

"I'm afraid I don't!" So he says, literally as he takes another sip from his glass. Studio laughter.

"Yes, let's." He grabs a handful of hors d'oeurves to go and, since his hands are now full, offers his elbow to Sir Pentious. "Lead the way!"  A few of the tables have cards set up showing they're reserved—mostly consisting of death threats to people who dares steal the reserved seats—but most are still empty.

Sir Pentious

Telly looked around, spying a rather good table that was still free. He took Alastor's arm and slithered toward it-- only for another group to descend on it. His eye twitched under his mask and he snapped his fan shut, hand twitching to turn out the gun handle.

"This one looks good," He said, smacking the reserved card off the nearest table and sitting on his coils, all the time glaring at the group that took the _preferred_ table.

Alastor

Alastor dumped his snacks on the table so he could pick up the reserved card and see what kind of threats were being leveled here. “Exciting news—we’re going to get our spines snapped!” He gave Sir Pentious a wry look. “I feel like trying to break your back would be like trying to break a rope.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, if one gets a proper grip one can break a snake's spine rather easily-- but if anyone tries to grip _me_, I'm sure we're more than equipped to deal with them." His eyes were still on the other group, narrowed to slits behind his mask, and he flicked the handle out of his fan-- and then back in. No, no, not yet. He didn't want to ruin the party so soon.

But he did make note of the costumes of the group, filing that information away for later. "If the spine snappers arrive, we can make fine work of them together."

Alastor

“Or, *or.*” Alastor leaned over and flicked the card to the ground beside the coveted next table over. “I bet the original party at this table won’t remember the *exact* table they reserved, don’t you think?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, if only Alastor could see the smile on his face right now. He surreptiously moved his tail to press on the card and then-- flick!! -- off it sailed, closer to the preferred table. And Telly flicked open the fan again, wafting himself once more and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Very true, my dear, very true. That should take care of it, don't you think?" He turned to bat his lashes at Alastor.

Alastor

*My dear.* Alastor’s bones turned to jelly and his guts filled with butterflies. He winked. “Oh, I *certainly* think so!” How long has Telly been calling him “my dear”? He’d only just caught it. It sounded so natural, it might have slipped past him earlier.

This called for more alcohol. He drained the rest of his champagne.

Sir Pentious

Another sip and Telly's was gone as well. He hummed, looking at the empty glass, and then over at Alastor. "Care to get us both refills, Al--" He caught himself at the last moment and gave a short laugh. "Darling?"

Alastor

“Darling” doesn’t liquefy his guts quite the way that “my dear” does, but it sure isn’t helping. “Of course!” He bolted up so fast his chair squeaked across the floor. Whoops.

Right, the terms of endearment were just part of the act—masquerade and all that. Didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Don’t read too much into it. Don’t get weird over it.

He snatched up their glasses. “I’ll be right back”—don’t say his name, they’re being incognito, grab a term of endearment—“my l—“ NO DON’T SAY THAT ONE “—liege.” *THAT WAS TERRIBLE.* He hustled away. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—

Sir Pentious

Oh, Alastor seemed out of sorts, fumbling over his words like that-- Telly wondered idly why that was, but giggling all the same at being called 'my liege'.

He hummed softly as he waited for Alastor to return, taking one of the snacks left behind and popping it into his mouth.  Oh! Looked like someone was approaching the other table and picking up that reserved card. Telly hoped Alastor would get back before spines started snapping.

Alastor

Alastor was not in a rush to get back. He was going to lurk right here at the refreshment table until his breathing had steadied again and his hands weren’t shaking. Okay, haha, wow, all right. That was a totally disproportionate emotional reaction to hearing his ex’s pet name for him—you know, the same pet name that 95% of all English-speaking couples use. Not a big deal, calm down.

He crushed an empty glass with one hand. It helped a little.

He tuned out the slowly mounting sound of a disagreement until it escalated to someone bellowing, “—and your lipstick’s ugly, *bitch!*” He turned around—oh, *oh*, that was their table, wasn’t it! He snatched up two fresh glasses and hurried over, weaving through the gathering crowd so he could reconnect with Telly before the onlookers got too packed for him to squeeze through.

He offered a glass to Telly around the time the first tooth was lost, and whispered, “I missed the start of the argument, how’d it go?”

Sir Pentious

Telly had been so focused on the fight brewing, he barely noticed when Alastor returned, until he heard his voice. He leaned his body closer, fan up to cover his mouth as he lifted his mask to take a sip of his fresh glass of champagne, and then used it to whisper behind, as a lady was wont to do.

"The spine snappers came up and found the card, started accusing the others, and the others denied seeing the card, of course. Then they started insulting the spine snappers' costumes, and well--" He gestured to the brawl that was now in full swing. He moved his tail to make sure it wouldn't get trod upon in the kerfuffle, and the tip instinctively wrapped around Alastor's legs.

"That was quite the good idea, pet, sending the card over there." He giggled.

Alastor

Now, “pet” really *shouldn’t* be making his knees feel weak. It seemed a bit demeaning. He’d rip out the entrails of anyone else who dared call him such a thing. And yet, here he was, knees decidedly weakened. Hmm.

He tipped slightly forward in a half-bow. “I thought you might approve, *milady*.” At least he’d gotten that part figured out while he was at the refreshment table.

Sir Pentious

The crowd was into it now, hooting and hollering as the fight picked up intensity. Oh, and look at that, security was already heading through the crowd. Telly smiled devilishly behind his mask and fan-- what fun this was already!

"Oh yes, my lord, what a glorious evening this is turning out to be already. I hope it continues to be just as entertaining." His eyes flicked over to Alastor, and he set down his glass to slide his arm around his waist. Telly tugged him closer, purring. "Though with the present company, I'm sure it will be spectacular no matter what may occur."

Was the alcohol already getting to him? Maybe. He really needed more food.

Alastor

He’d been promoted from pet to lord so quickly! This was going to be a challenging character to play.

Or maybe not so challenging—he slid his hands behind Telly’s back and tugged him a bit closer. “Any evening at your side is magnificent.” Although the brawl was a nice bonus. A couple of people in the crowd had recognized the combatants and joined in, and for the life of him Alastor couldn’t tell whose side they were fighting on.

Sir Pentious

Another purr rumbled through him-- Heaven above, he loved to be held, and right now, by Alastor especially. He felt his heart flutter at his words, and he began to gently stroke his thumb against Alastor's side. Telly fanned himself more, and then giggled as he fanned Alastor a little, tittering like he'd seen so many of his sisters do with suitors.

His attention was drawn back to the fight right as security got in the middle-- oh! And there went someone's face. The security team pulled some of the combatants apart and began to drag them toward the exits, throwing them out on their asses. Telly couldn't help but laugh behind his mask.

"Fun! Look at them all, getting tossed from a party! What cads!"

Alastor

Was this what they were doing now? This moment sure felt romantic, was that what it was? Were they spending this evening playing pretend at being a couple? He thought he could do that. He could definitely do that.

“How uncivilized. They’re not worthy of an event like this.” Tsk, tsk.

But the show was over now... and the next table over was empty. Alastor reluctantly slid out of Telly’s hold, but only so that he could move to the next table and pull out a chair in front of one of the undamaged sets of tableware. Your seat, madam.

Sir Pentious

"Certainly not!" Telly lifted his nose and laughed. He frowned a bit when Alastor let go-- but then saw what it was he was doing, slithering over after grabbing his glass. He sat down and nodded his head to Alastor.

"Thank you, darling," He purred.

Alastor

“You’re quite welcome, honey.” He took his own seat, then paused; his grimace wasn’t visible but one could see it in his eyes. “No, I don’t like ‘honey,’ that’s far too casual. We can class this up a bit! *Cher*? No, still too casual—*mon chéri*?” Alastor propped his chin in his hand while he thought. “*Mon serpent*? My sweet snake?” He glanced over Telly’s costume. “My pearl?”

Sir Pentious

There was a little shock at being called 'honey'-- that felt far more intimate to him than the terms he'd been using. But then Alastor launched into wondering about which terms to use and he relaxed again. Of course, it was all part of being incognito, yes, that made sense. No reason for his heart to leap and flutter with every more personal petname.

"Perhaps, _mon reine?_ Or Madame de la Mer? Oh! And you can be Monsieur de la Mer!" The grin behind his mask was huge-- a pity Alastor couldn't see it. "Oh! Oh! Or maybe _mon reine de la mer!_ and then you'd be _mon roi de la mer!_"

Alastor

“Oh, hah, of course! Here you are in drag at a ball, I believe that makes you a queen by default.” *Did* it? Alastor didn’t actually know. Did crossdressing as a woman *automatically* qualify someone as a drag queen, or did it require participating in all the other little cultural rituals too? He didn’t know, he could ask somebody else sometime. Maybe Angel knew, he did drag far more than Alastor.

He leaned closer to Telly, closing the distance between them. “Queen of the sea it is. How very, *very* fitting.” Alastor nearly rested his chin on Telly’s shoulder, face shielded between the fan and Telly’s hood, and murmured adoringly, “*Ma reine de la mer... et des enfers... et de l’univers...*”

Sir Pentious

He'd been about to ask what exactly a 'drag' ball was when Alastor leaned so very close and whispered those sweet nothings to him. His breathing picked up just a tad, a fraction, as he tried to keep hold of his emotions-- don't let them run away now, Pentious, it was part of the little act they were both putting on.... Or was it? Being shielded by both fan and hood, no one else could see Alastor, no one else could hear what he was saying over the dull roar of the crowd. Perhaps....could he...?

No, no pull yourself together Pentell! He was playing the role, that was it, stop reading into it. A breath, and then another, and finally he could think enough to respond.

"_Seulement si tu es à mes côtés, mon roi._" He cooed back, his mask blocking the flick of his tongue-- and eugh, the inside of the mask neither smelt nor tasted good.

Alastor

“*Pour toujours, ma reine. Je suis à toi pour l’éternité. Nous vivons—*”

A server set a plate with the first course in front of them, startling Alastor into sitting upright—just in time for the server to deliver Alastor’s plate too. He winked at Alastor before sashaying off to the next table. Oh, how embarrassing. What had he just been saying? Good God.

“Show must be about to start,” he said, a bit too cheerfully and a bit too loudly. He loosened his mask and tilted it out with his thumb so he could start eating. (Apparently the “eat through the mask” trick only worked with small snacks and sips.)

Sir Pentious

Oh, oh, Alastor was still talking and Telly's entire body had stilled to listen, so intently. His focus, so singular, that the entire ball faded away-- until that plate was set in front of him. He realized then that he had been leaning so very close to Alastor and straightened up. Swallowing thickly, he quickly thanked the waiter, lifting his mask to begin on the first course. His hands shook a little, the whispered words replaying in his mind-- something that would likely continue the rest of the night and the next day and the next and the next....

"Oh, this looks very good." He took a small portion, as he'd been taught so long ago, and delicately put it in his mouth. "Yes, very tasty."

His eyes were drawn to the stage, where the first people were starting to strut down the runway-- the first outfit was an over the top peacock that made him gasp momentarily, and then a whole _dragon_ was the next. Oh, these were superb! He took another sip of champagne-- until the waiter returned with wine, a nice crisp white for the first course. He thanked them once again and took a sip of the new drink, and oh, was it tasty.

"Look at that artistry, mon roi, those outfits are spectacular!"

Alastor

Oh thank goodness, Telly wasn’t weirded out by it. Just playing along! Just getting in character! Totally normal!

The only thing limiting the size of Alastor’s bites was the fact that he had to get his fork under his mask without making a mess of it. He couldn’t say anything stupid as long as his mouth was full, right?”

“They’ve really upped their game lately.” The peacock tail on the first costume was so wide the model wouldn’t be able to reach across it with both arms fully outstretched, and several people at the tables nearest the stage had to duck the dragon’s wings when he turned around. “I haven’t been to one of this krewe’s events in the better part of a decade—I’ve been missing out.” He gestured at the third one, “How do you think they got that working centaur costume—? Oh, no, I think she’s actually a centaur.” Easy mistake.

He conjured up a neon pink plastic straw to let him drink his wine. Classy.

Sir Pentious

Telly glanced over and then did a double take at the straw. "Can I....can I have one of those?" He'd actually wanted to ask for one earlier but had decided against it. It _was_ a high class event after all. But if Alastor was doing it, surely then he could to!

"Oh yes, that is clever, playing into what you are in Hell-- kind of like what I did!" He laughed and took another bite.

"Look at that one! She's literally growing flowers as she walks!"

Alastor

What a spectacle. Alastor watched it admiringly. “Do you think that’s magic or mechanics?” He glanced over. Alastor got magic, but Sir Pentious was the one who knew mechanics.

Sir Pentious

At the question, his eyes narrowed trying to piece together what it was. "Hmmm, I'm thinking magic! It's too subtle and quick for it to be something mechanical, at least from my estimation."

Alastor

“It’s very well done!” Alastor wondered if he could steal the trick. If Telly liked it so much, he’d probably love getting something from Alastor that replicated the trick...

Was Alastor considering giving Telly *flowers?* Get a grip. He turned his attention to his food. (Pasta salad. Fine choice. A much better starter than salad salad.)

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it is!" He finally actually looked at what he was eating-- oh, pasta! He knew that. But it was cold. Interesting! It definitely tasted good. Telly took another bite.

"Mm, I've never had cold pasta before-- well, not intentionally." He chuckled.

Alastor

“I’ve usually seen it as a side!” He was picking around at the salad now, inspecting the ingredients—ham, salami, olives... Ah, he recognized this. “This is a muffuletta pasta salad! Local speciality! Swamp Ass’s population is about half Louisianan, half Italian—and muffulettas come from the New Orleanian Italian population.” Listen to that Home Town Pride in his voice. “I had them on sandwiches when I was alive! Down here they tend to switch out the bread for pasta. That’s one of the things I love about this holiday, *everyone* wants to eat like they’re from New Orleans.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Excellent, I've still been meaning to try some good New Orleanian fair! Do you think all the courses will be from your neck of the woods?" He takes another few bites, making contented snake noises. He raised his glass again-- but it clinked against the underside of his mask and he made a frustrated noise.

He looked at Alastor's straw and then just reached over and-- yoink!-- plucked it out. He put it in his own wine and used it to sip. Much better. Alastor could make another one.

Alastor

Alastor laughed. “I’m so sorry, you asked for a straw earlier and I got distracted by the flowers, didn’t I?” He waited until Telly stopped sipping, stole back his own straw, and summoned up an elaborate curly straw to drop in Telly’s wine glass. “There!” Curly straws were infinitely more fun.

“Why didn’t you tell me you want to try New Orleanian food! If I’d known, I’d have been loading you down with more jambalaya and gumbo than you’d know what to do with!” Well, he definitely knows now. “I’d say we’ll either be getting New Orleanian, or some sort of Louisianan-Italian fusion cuisine. Speaking of, the Cajun chicken pasta in this town is to die for, I’ve got half a dozen different restaurants I could take you to just to eat that alone. If you’re ever willing to drop a hundred bucks a plate, there’s even a place around here that gets proper seafood in it, and *oh* is it worth it!”

Sir Pentious

"I thought I'd told you that before, hadn't I? That I haven't tried any?" He pondered that before shrugging. "Well, no matter! But yes, I would love to try more-- especially since it is your forte and all, you'd be the one to know the best of the best. Whether you're cooking it or from a restaurant!" He oogled the curly straw and smiled-- a little hint of it visible under his lifted mask-- and took another sip of his wine.

His plate was polished off quickly and the waiter came to take the first course and replace it with the second. "So, what's this one?" He asked, looking to Alastor.

Alastor

“... My memory must be slipping.” Gee, was it possible that Alastor had a hard time focusing whenever he was around Sir Pentious? Hmm! Far-fetched, but worth considering! “You probably did! I’ll, uh—keep it in mind this time.”

When the plates were switched out, his eyes were on the current performer on stage—a strip tease that, impressively, exposed a second costume that was somehow larger than the first. “What? Oh!” He looked down at the main course—and laughed. “Well, speaking of jambalaya! Doesn’t quite look like my recipe, but...” He poked around it a bit, examining the ingredients. “Well—they used orzo instead of rice! And that’s a lot more tomato than I’d put in. Definitely a fusion cuis—*did they put cheese on it?*” He scooped up a forkful to examine it. Definitely Parmesan. “They put *cheese* on *jambalaya*?” He looked at Telly in deep affront. “These people put cheese on jambalaya!” Who were these monsters?

Sir Pentious

Telly merely stared at him back, spoon halfway to his mouth. He finished the movement, letting the taste roll around his tongue. HM. Definitely odd, with that cheese.

"Yes, that is definitely cheese. Should there not be cheese?" His head tilted, and he took another sip of his wine. Oh, look at that, the glass was empty. He looked around and-- oh! the waiter was there already, refilling with that same tasty white.

"I think the texture of the cheese in it is a bit....odd, but the flavor seems fine to me?" Was that the wrong thing to say? He was about to find out!

Alastor

“There should most certainly *not* be cheese!” He tried it. He thought about it. He shrugged. “Well. All together, it tastes fine. But I wouldn’t call it *jambalaya.* It’s half as spicy as it should be.” He leaned over to nudge Telly’s elbow. “If you think it tastes fine, that’s what matters!”

Sir Pentious

Oh, good! He puffed a bit at the nudge and words. Yes, he did think it tasted good! Different, but that was also good! He continued to eat, and then noticed the runway again-- a sparkling butterfly demon flew above it, her wings glittering and dropping said glitter dust with every flap. The effect was stunning and he stared as she did a twirl in the air.

"Oh, that's gorgeous-- look at how the lights play off her wings!"

Alastor

Alastor quietly reached over to steal Sir Pentious’s fan and shielded their plates from the dust until she’d left the runway. “It probably works better in parades than at dinner,” he laughed. “Do you think the ‘fairy’ pun is intentional, or...?”

Sir Pentious

He hadn't even thought about the food-- a lot of others seem to be grumbling about it now, and he laughed. "Yes, likely works better that way. And perhaps! With that much glitter, anything could be possible."

Telly looked down at himself, and then over at Alastor, and giggled again. They were covered in the stuff.  "Well, now everyone can shine as brightly as she!"

Alastor

Alastor played a line from a song, "*Let's all be fairies~*" and then cut it off. To his delight, someone at another table over sang the next line. Alastor waved. Another old fogey!

He attempted, unsuccessfully, to brush the dust off his sleeve. "If only we'd known, we could have saved some time painting your scales!" ... Which reminded him of what he'd nearly done while painting Sir Pentious. Wow this weird orzo jambalaya sure is fascinating all of a sudden.

Sir Pentious

"Hmm, maybe, but I still like the effect of the paint better!" He laughed and his tail moved up to wiggle at Alastor. Telly returned to eating as well, trying to not just shovel it into his mouth as he'd gotten used to. He had to act proper, remember all the etiquette that had been drilled into him since childhood. He finished his jambalaya and then looked at his wine. Oh. It had glitter in it. He took out the straw and held it up, looking for a waiter-- and oh, there they were, instantly replacing his glass with a fresh and clean one.

And he cleans the straw with a napkin and puts it back in the wine. Siiiiip. Ah, tasty. He wasn't drunk yet, but he definitely felt the alcohol affecting him, and it showed in the way the tip of his tail moved to just curl around Alastor's ankle under the table. That was his leg now.

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t quite drunk himself yet, either; but the reminder of how close he’d gotten to getting completely out of line—*and how glorious it had been*—was pushing him to drink a little faster than he should, too.

And also prompted him to scoot his foot a little closer to Telly when he felt that tail tip coiling around it. If he wanted it, it was his.

Sir Pentious

The third course came upon them, and Telly purred. He hadn't had a proper three course meal in forever, this was wonderful. And all the costumes, and the lights, and the wine, it all had him feeling giddy and light. Before he started the next course, he reached over and took Alastor's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Thank you for taking me here, this has been the best night and we're not even to the middle of it. I truly, deeply appreciate this, mon roi. I am having the very best time, and it's because you're here with me that it's even more special." Oh, those were words that he'd just said, weren't they? He let go of Alastor's hand to pick up his wine and take another sip. Just try to play it off as something totally casual, yes, that was good.

Alastor

*Oh.* Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious’s hand. “Thank you for letting me take you, *ma reine*. I’ve gone to something or other for Mardi Gras nearly every year since I’ve died, but I can’t remember the last time it was this fun, and the night’s hardly begun! Why, we’d beaten some Mardi Gras I’ve had before we even got off the airship! The company is what makes all the difference. All that, and we’re still two days away from Mardi Gras itself! It’s only...”

Valentine’s Day. Right, he’d almost let himself forget that part again. He swallowed hard and withdrew his hand to his own cutlery and plate again. Some kind of bread pudding and a scoop of ice cream—oh, how nice, they’d drizzled the ice cream with Mardi Gras colored syrups. He took a couple bites of the bread pudding just to say he had, then said, “I’m not a fan of desserts, do you want mine?”

Sir Pentious

Telly started in on his-- oh, that was _delightful!_ He made pleased noises as he continued to eat, the sweetness washing away the embarrassment he'd felt. At Alastor's question he turned and nodded, mouth still full. He reached and pulled the plate toward himself-- and then took Alastor's hand again, just holding it as he ate with the other, his thumb rubbing over Alastor's knuckles.

Alastor

And once more, that hand belonged to Sir Pentious and Alastor was happy to let him have it. For a few minutes, he was content to sit there silently, watching the end of the show and enjoying the chill that went up his arm each time Telly’s thumb moved.

Sir Pentious

He finished his dessert quickly, and then started in on Alastor's-- Mm, just as good. His thumb continued to stroke while he ate, too intent on the dessert to even pay attention to the end of the show. But then everyone was clapping, and he put down his spoon in a hurry to start clapping too. He did want to show his support after all!

Once the clapping stopped, his hands resumed their positions, one holding Alastor's and the other with the spoon, and he finished his dessert. Taking another sip of his wine and polishing off that glass, he lowered his mask back down again.

"So, dancing is next, correct?"

Alastor

“Right!” Right. God. Dancing. He’d been so focused on the show and the dinner he’d completely forgotten that he’d signed himself up for dancing with Sir Pentious. Could he handle that without doing something stupid?

He stood abruptly, pulling his hand back. “The wine’s getting to me. I need air.” He looked around for a restroom, a hallway, something. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long, just—holler into the nearest radio if you need something.”

Sir Pentious

Telly blinked and nodded. "Oh! Yes, alright, I'll-- I'll just be here." He pulled his wine glass closer, before catching the attention of a waiter. He quietly asked if they had a red, and was rewarded with a fresh glass. Telly popped the straw in and slid it under his mask, taking sips as he waited.

His hand held his fan, stroking along it and twitching every now and then, wanting to pull out the handle and use it to cause some chaos. But no. He wouldn't do that. This night was going well, and he wouldn't ruin it now.

And then he was approached by someone else and he looked up, starting up some polite small talk, mostly if only to wait out the time Alastor was away.

Alastor

Alastor did manage to find a hallway, and then a staircase, and then another hall, and within a couple minutes was up on a balcony. He took off his mask, leaned on the railing, and looked down at the partiers in the square below. All right. Time to take stock.

Things were going great. Things were going *too* great. Telly, thus far, had been very sweet. Telly had been *too* sweet. In his heart of hearts Alastor knew Telly was just playing along with the game that they’d started by (and Alastor had to reiterate this to himself) going to a *gay ball* in *masquerade* on *Valentine’s Day,* which was *entirely Alastor’s fault*—but so much of it didn’t feel like a game, and he wanted so badly to tell himself that it was more.

But it wasn’t more. Telly was playing along. And, more than that, Telly was *taken*—remember that part? Anything Alastor thought he might read into Telly’s behavior thus far was in Alastor’s own semi-drunk head. Any touchy-feely-ness or effusive sentiment was just... how Victorian friendships were.

But what if Alastor was wrong and he passed up a chance...?

But he wasn’t wrong.

Dancing.

He could handle the dance without doing something unforgivable. Right? Unless somebody in the past had taught Sir Pentious how to dance with his new anatomy, he would probably say he missed dancing and Alastor would ask why he *didn’t* dance and Sir Pentious would say something like “*I have a little trouble keeping up with the footwork*” and Alastor would have the option to help him, or not. And all he had to do was *not*. That was it. Particularly here, in public, with people around who would notice if Alastor started pulling out magic tricks to help a snake glide across the dance floor. Instead he could tell Telly that he didn’t mind staying to the side with him, or maybe at most they could hold hands and sway a bit. And it would be fine.

He took one last breath of ~~fresh night air~~ muggy Swamp Ass fumes, put his mask back on, and went back inside.

Sir Pentious

By the time Alastor returned, the dancing was in full swing, the stage having sunk down into the floor (and Telly had been VERY curious about the mechanisms required to do that) to make space for the dancing. Couples twirled around the space, laughing and having a nice time.

Telly stood off to the side, having left the table as the workers started to clean them up. He held a fresh glass of wine, the silly straw stuck under his mask as he drank, his fan in the other hand idly wafting air at himself. He was glad for it, too, since masks did get awfully stuff, especially ones that were full face. After his initial conversation, more people had approached him, making more small talk, and some were now asking him to dance.

"No, no, I cannot," He said, covering his masked face with his fan. "I would say I have two left feet, but alas, I have no feet at all! I simply couldn't." He laughed and tittered, playing up the role of Queen of the Sea. The demon he turned down shrugged and walked off-- but was almost immediately replaced with another, begging his favor. Seemed like he was popular now! Might even have a line forming behind the current suitor-- a small crab-like demon, speaking in a deep Cajun accent.

Alastor

He heard music by the time he reached the bottom of the staircase—had the dancing already started? Alastor had been away longer than he’d thought. He picked up the pace to reach the banquet hall-turned-ballroom.

And there was *la reine de la mer*—attracting an audience, to Alastor’s pleasant surprise. Over the last half century he’d gotten so used to seeing Sir Pentious in isolation, shunned.

He caught up just in time to catch the *no left feet* pun, and wheezed a laugh even as his heart gave a painful squeeze—wasn’t that nearly exactly what he’d thought Sir Pentious would say about dancing? Some dumb foot pun? At the last moment, Alastor decided not to walk right up to Telly but rather to join the line, standing slightly out of it so that he was clearly visible from the front, examining his gloves boredly like he was just another guest waiting for a shot at the pretty snake in the pearls.

Sir Pentious

Telly took another sip of his wine, letting the Cajun crab make his attempt before rebuffing him all the same. It was then that he caught sight of Alastor waiting in line-- and oh, wasn't that just like him? To just hop in and see what Telly would do? A warmth that had nothing to do with the wine spread through Telly's chest. He stood up a little taller, staring down the next demon with all the regal authority he could bring to bear-- which was actually a substantial amount. What a change this must, from the Telly that Alastor normally saw.

The next demon-- actually the centaur from the show-- made their plea and Telly let the silence hang between them, as if considering the offer.

"Well, we would have the proper amount of feet, were I to join you, sweet one, but I'm afraid I simply could not-- Lord Poseidon would be terribly upset to have his Queen Amphitrite dance with one of Chiron's people!" He tittered and turned his face away, waving his fan in dismissal. There was now just one person between him and Alastor, and Telly smirked. Snapping his fan shut, he used it to simply push the next one aside handing off his wine glass as he did, slithering up to Alastor instead.

"And whom approaches but my Lord himself, waiting in line like common rabble-- come, my love, surely you need not wait. Take what is yours, by right." He flicked the fan open and held out his hand for Alastor to kiss-- or do what he would.

Alastor

Oh! He was getting *into* it! Alastor had always known Sir Pentious had a streak for showmanship, but he was getting downright theatrical. It was *captivating* to watch. It was hammy and melodramatic and over-the-top and a dozen other words that most people used to mean “bad over-acting” but *here*, out of *Sir Pentious*, it was bombastic magnificence, and it suited him *perfectly.*

And he’d put on that show for *Alastor.* Something in Alastor’s chest felt full, like his heart was poised on the precipice of taking a beat, waiting for some cue it hadn’t yet received.

“My dearest Amphitrite.” He took Telly’s hand lovingly, pressed the cold lips of his mask softly to the fingers. “I can only take what you’re generous enough to offer me! As far as I’m concerned, I *am* one of the common rabble, waiting humbly to receive your favor. As I have been since the moment I set eyes on you, and as I always will be.”

*He could handle the dance,* Alastor had thought. *It would be fine,* Alastor had thought. *He wasn’t going to do something unforgivable like immediately take advantage of the fact that he’d just been cast as the god of the sea to metaphorically confess his feelings,* Alastor had thought—

Sir Pentious

Oh, those words-- His heart felt fit to burst, and his breathing kicked up a tic. But no, no, control yourself Telly, Alastor was just playing the part. He was a consummate showman after all. The show must go on. But perhaps....

Well, as long as they were playing this game, he might as well lay it on thick, right? He was allowed that, wasn't he?

"My King, my Lord, you, common? Nonsense! You hold my heart, precious thing that it is. How can you say you are something common when you hold the heart of the Queen of the Seas? Do you seek to so debase your Queen? No! You are as kingly as any mortal king, moreso, even! No other Lord could dare to hold me so tightly-- I would burst free of their confines! But for you, I sit so meekly, for your love, I let you hold me tight."

He got closer and closer with every word, not even noticing the crowd they'd drawn with their antics. His face was so close to Alastor's now, they would be sharing breath were it not for the masks.

"Lord Poseidon, do you not love me enough to raise yourself up, so that you may carry me to even greater heights?" The words were whispered, an undercurrent to them that Telly hadn't meant-- a truth to the grandioseness that he desperately wanted to draw back in the moment it left.

Alastor

His breath stopped and started and stopped again, some needle in his chest shuddering as it spun from station to station, searching for the right song to score the scene and coming up blank. “I’d never so insult you, *ma reine*! Why, if I heard any common sailor claim your heart could fit in a mortal’s hands, I’d capsize his ship and drag him beneath the waves. However, Poseidon is only a king so long as Amphitrite makes him one! Without your touch, I’m just another tired sea monster sleeping beneath the waves, an unfinished potential demigod who only climbed halfway up Olympus before losing my strength and falling back down. It’s because I can hold you that I can be a god.”

He cupped a hand around Sir Pentious’s mask, thumb tracing the sculpted snakes that curled across its cheek. “But you were not born to sit meekly,” he hissed, a dangerous static noise like the distant crash of a tsunami beneath his words, “not for my love or anyone else’s. I’ll run myself through with a harpoon before I see you lower yourself on my account. But for your love, my queen, I’ll raise myself to your level—for your love, I’d lift us both all the way to Heaven above.”

Sir Pentious

Pink eyes stared through the holes in his mask, meeting red, lashes fluttering as he blinked. The touch to his mask-- he swore he could feel it, the way it burned like a brand upon his cheek. His hand came up to cover Alastor's immediately, holding it there-- he wanted that burn to sear straight inside of his head. His other hand snapped the fan shut and wrapped around his waist, tugging him in.

"Do not threaten yourself so-- I could not go on were you to leave me in such a manner. I will not lower myself, and you will raise me higher, my King, and all of Olympus will tremble neath the combined might of the sea." His eyes closed in that moment, forgetting everything but Alastor's touch-- and he leaned in, their masks clinking together in a pantomime of a kiss. He wanted more than anything to just rip them from their faces and kiss Alastor with all the passion he could muster.

But that moment was when the crowd around them erupted in applause and he snapped out of it. He pulled back, trying not to seem too frantic. He held Alastor's hand still, but pulled it from his mask, straightening and snapping his fan back out. Trying to regain some semblance of control, he bowed to their audience, forcing his breathing back into a normal rhythm.

Alastor

Everything Alastor wanted—deification and deicide and conquest and cruelty, for Icarus to touch the sun and for the Tower of Babel to touch the heavens—all offered to him in a single sentence, and without thinking he leaned in to accept it, his arm sliding behind Sir Pentious’s back, his eyes sliding shut, their masks pressed together so close Alastor could nearly taste Telly’s lips—

And then the show was over and the curtain fell. His eyes snapped open, the needle in his chest wrenched back to its usual station, and he was bowing sheerly out of an entertainer’s instinct before his mind had fully transitioned back from the ocean to the Inferno.

Sir Pentious

Telly was fanning himself a bit more now, just to have something to do with the hand that wasn't still gripping Alastor's. He bowed again, and someone tossed him a bouquet, which he _somehow_ caught. He blinked wide eyes and looked at Alastor, before looking back to the crowd.

"Ah, thank you?" He said, starting to slowly slither backward, towing Alastor with him. "We should-- Ah...Go get some more refreshments now, after a performance like that." He swallowed thickly and turned to go towards the drink table.

Alastor

Alastor went stiff when a big rustly projectile whizzed by just past him—oh, no, good projectile, safe projectile. Wow. Exactly how into it had they gotten? He wished he’d been paying better attention to their audience, he should have been drinking in their approval. He... actually, he didn’t know when he’d last been applauded, by strangers, sincerely.

His hand in Telly’s felt electric, and a shock jolted up his arm when Telly tugged on him. “Right! A fine idea.” His voice sounded thin and tinny. He followed in a haze—what just happened, how *real* was it?

Sir Pentious

A panic coursed through Telly's veins, like his heart was pumping fire-- Why had he done that? It was so stupid, he got so caught up in it! But still he kept Alastor close, he didn't want to make it seem like his haste had anything to do with getting away from _him_ after all.

Once at the champagne table, he released Alastor's hand, needing both of his to raise his mask and down one glass like a shot. And then he took another, sipping on this one. The action calmed him, at least somewhat, even if his mind still screamed in the background.

"That...That was something, wasn't it? I've never had an impromptu performance-- or any performance actually. They applauded us, that means it...it was good right?" Oh, he was rambling a bit, but he couldn't stop himself. "They must've liked it, they threw me a bouquet. I wonder if they thought it was part of the show of the ball? Odd. Never drew a crowd like that unless I was inciting violence--" He started to just drink champagne to shut himself up. _Stop it, you're being weird, Pentell._

Alastor

Don’t look at Alastor, he’s chugging champagne too. He didn’t quite pull off whatever magic trick lets him drink directly through the mask, and a thin stream of it ran over the mask’s curved smiling lip.

“It certainly was something! *Goodness,* you’re just—just a natural at improv, aren’t you! First violin duets, now... You’re holding out on me, you’ve got some practice partner you’re hiding somewhere, aren’t you?” Studio laughter. Did Alastor sound slightly hysterical? He did to his own ears. He decided he should drink champagne about it. “I’m sure they thought it was all par for the course—what’s a masquerade without a couple of natural performers putting on a little show, after all? But *my*, was that a Broadway-worthy performance! You almost had *me* convinced you’re really the queen of the sea...” *Almost had me convinced you really meant it.*

Sir Pentious

Don't worry Alastor, he's not looking because he too is chugging that champagne. How much until the panic goes away entirely? He was determined to find out.

"Mm, no, no practice, just always been good at thinking on my feet." He looked down and after a beat continued. "Or on my tail. It seemed a natural thing to do, considering where we are and all. Where's a better spot to have a dramatic little scene than at a ball? We'd call one without at least five a dull affair in my time."

Alastor

He wheezes at the “or on my tail” bit like it’s not only the funniest quip he’s heard all night, but also the last in a long line of funny quips that have left him with no spare breath to laugh. “Oh... you know, I haven’t kept count, but five seems like a good, solid number. I suppose we’ve had two so far, our performance and then that brawl at the start...” He turned around and leaned back against the refreshment table with a heavy sigh. “What troublemakers we are.”

Telly’s face was half exposed, it would be so easy for Alastor to slide off his own mask and—oh, no, no no no no. Don’t ruin this, don’t ruin this.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed too, feeling a bit of the panic washing away-- See, Alastor was acting normally? Ish? Everything was fine. It was fine! He downed another full glass of champagne, before grabbing another to sip, once more.

"Indeed. I havn't had this much fun since-- well since we last were together." He laughed again, softer this time, a finger trailing around the rim of his glass. Telly raised it to take another sip-- one more for courage.

"Ala-- My lord, would you....care to dance? I'm not good by any means, not good enough to keep up with your fancy footwork, but perhaps, if it's a slow song and we can just do that thing that many movies have people do now, just sort of...stand and sway. I do miss dancing...."

Alastor

Alastor's heart made a single painful thud. He downed the rest of his second glass—God was he going to regret this in the morning—then turned to Sir Pentious and held out his hand. "My lady, it would be my unparalleled delight." Don't do anything stupid. He could handle this without doing anything stupid. Right?

Sir Pentious

Telly's smile was clear from how his mask was currently and he finished off his glass as well. He set it aside, and lowered the mask again, offering his hand to Alastor.

"Shall we the, darling?"

Alastor

He felt like he'd spent half the night with his hand in Telly's and it still wasn't enough, he felt like it was never going to be enough. "Let's."

He found a spot near the edge of the dance floor where they were out of the way of the non-dancing pedestrians but wouldn't collide with the more enthusiastic dancers in the middle of the room. Perfect place to just hold each other and sway.

Sir Pentious

Telly almost put his hand on Alastor's waist, as if he were going to lead-- but no, he was the lady in this instant. He placed his hand on his shoulder instead, his other holding Alastor's in the proper dancing stance he was used to. Though, now that he thought about, the swaying in more modern movies had the lady putting both her arms on the shoulders....

Ah, it would be fine like this. He pressed close to Alastor, trying to keep himself from chewing his lip under his mask. Wouldn't do to bleed on his costume after all.

They drew eyes-- after the spectacle of all Telly's refusals and then that dramatic performance, how could they not? Telly hardly noticed, though, eyes only for Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor was completely oblivious to their audience, and almost barely even conscious of the music. He was slightly dizzy as they danced, and he wasn't sure if it was all the alcohol or the giddiness or the motion of the swaying itself.

He slid his hand from Telly's waist to his back and rested his head on Telly's shoulder. He was just getting his balance back, that was all.

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled at the closeness, and leaned his head against Alastor's in turn. Oh, this was very nice-- he felt so warm inside. He also couldn't tell if that was from the alcohol or being able to hold Alastor like this. Swaying was easier than actually dancing, and felt far more intimate, but that didn't send the panic through him like it would've before-- he felt so content right now, he never wanted to go anywhere else.

Alastor

"Why did you send off everyone else that asked you to dance?" Alastor asked without lifting his head. "They were lining up for a shot with you. You didn't have to wait for me."

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh he hadn't been expecting to be asked that. He didn't let himself freeze, kept swaying-- what was this song? He'd never heard it before-- No, _focus_ Pentell.

"I didn't want to dance with anyone else."

Alastor

"Really?" Alastor chuckled. "Well. Aren't I the luckiest man in the room?"

Sir Pentious

A purr started deep in his chest, and he held Alastor closer. "Yes, incredibly lucky. The only person I want to dance with, you get all of me to yourself." He chuckled softly.

Alastor

"Too bad for everyone else." His arms curled possessively around Telly. For a few minutes, this was all his.

The booze was catching up with him—just enough that his usually sharp grasp of time was slipping out of his fingers, and enough that he forgot to ask himself whether he had moved outside the bounds of even Sir Pentious's remarkably permissive standards for friendship. He was content to stay right here as long as he was allowed, riding high on gilded dreams of conquering Heaven, warm and drunk and happy.

Sir Pentious

Telly didn't mind, not in the slightest-- alcohol suffusing his system, he was content to just stand here and sway for the rest of eternity, locked in the arms of his-- His.....friend.... Just a friend. Yes, of course, this-- this was all just friendly, that's all. He'd keep that repeating in his head until it felt real. Maybe that would squash the soaring of his heart.

He stayed like that, contented and swaying, not noticing as party-goers started filtering out. Even when the music shut off, he didn't notice, or care. But the lights flicking on, now that was something he definitely noticed, and he lifted his head to squint as a waiter approached them.

"_Pardon, messieurs. L'événement se termine et je crains que nous ne devions humblement vous demander de partir._" The waiter said, and Telly straightened up, giving a nod.

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes for the first time in the last three songs, blinked blearily at the waiter, and muttered a vague protest in a thick twangy Cajun accent. No, wait, right, he remembered where he was, they were at an *event.* They couldn’t stay all night.

He straightened up with a sigh—although he briefly clutched tighter at the back of Telly’s dress. “Can you believe it? Us, getting kicked out like a couple of common vagabonds?” His voice is OOZING disapproval.

Sir Pentious

Oh, the clutching had his breath catch, and it took a minute for his brain to catch up with what Alastor said. He smiled under his mask, flicking out his fan again, back straightening.

"Hm! Yes, it's atrocious! We are Gods, and will leave when we deign to, not when told." He stared down the waiter who began to sweat under his gaze.

"Look into my eyes, whelp." He commanded, and the waiter complied-- and then the waiter stiffed momentarily before his body loosened and began swaying as if to music. "_You will gather the other waiters and leave this ballroom, and not return until day breaks._"

His voice was layered with a strange sort of effect, making it seem to echo and ring oddly in the ear. The waiter nodded, eyes filling with a pink haze as he turned and went about the orders. Once he was far enough away, Telly sagged, leaning against Alastor.

"Oh, didn't expect....I think I need air, darling." He fanned himself more.

Alastor

Even *Alastor* was compelled by it. He took a half step after the waiter, nearly following him before his still-clutched hands prevented him from going farther and he snapped out of it.

He shook his head, blinking dazedly. “I always forget you can do that.” Good thing Alastor hadn’t been making eye contact, or he’d probably be halfway out the door too. But being unusually sensitive to sound and particularly drunk was enough.

He shifted his grip to better help support Telly’s weight and keep him upright. “Let’s head outside.” Alastor laughed, “Before one of the krewe organizers finds the hypnotized hired help and comes to investigate!”

Sir Pentious

"I don't like to do it much, it always tires me out." He slithered along sluggishly, leaning on Alastor, the cheek of his mask pressed against the top of Alastor's head.

"It was fun, though, wasn't it? Heh, never thought I'd hypnotize a waiter for politely asking me to leave an event." He giggled. And oh, the thought suddenly hit him that he was _very_ drunk. And then there were more giggles.

Alastor

“For emergency use only! Hah! Hell of an emergency we’ve got here, isn’t it?” His studio audience laughed raucously, what comedy. He leaned on Telly in an attempt to speak more directly to him, nearly accidentally dragging them off course. “They oughta have known better than to tell a god what to do.”

Sir Pentious

Telly stumbled a bit-- though how a snake stumbled, he'd be baffled by for all eternity-- and giggled more. "Oh, Alastor, you're hilarious!" Even more giggles.

"Hmmm, yes, should've known better after my performance earlier! Won't settle to be talked to by the _help_." He snickered. Once outside, he took a few breaths and then moved his mask to take better breathes. And you know what? Off the mask came completely. It took a few tires, but he used the ribbons to tie it to his belt, so as not to lose it.

He turned to grin at Alastor, taking his masked face in his hands to press a kiss to the nose of his mask-- my, my someone was feeling brave. "Thank you, for all of this, Alastor. I truly felt like a goddess this whole night."

Alastor

That giggle was as good as having a packed auditorium give him a standing ovation. “Oh I know, I’m a riot! But feel free to remind me any time.”

He went perfectly still as Telly kissed him—even through the mask, he could feel it on his nose’s tip, a warm tingle spreading up the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. If he took his mask off, he could...

No. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It would ruin everything. (But God, God he WANTED IT.) He pursed his lips forward to kiss the inside of his own mask—that was all he could do. “You should feel like that every single day and night. Someday you *will.*”

Alastor couldn’t keep looking in Telly’s eyes. He turned away, gaze sweeping over the square and the other late night stragglers heading home from the ball. “I’m thinking about next year’s plans!” Change the topic back to something safe.

Sir Pentious

He let him change the subject, his arm wrapping around Alastor's waist to continue walking-- though the pace was nice and slow, Telly didn't know if he had it in him to slither any faster.

"Mm, what were you thinking? Something extravagant and wild, I'm hoping? Something worthy of us, the King and Queen of the Sea?" He purred the words, pulling Alastor close against his side.

Alastor

“We *could* do that! It’s certainly an option. Or—*or*—we could get some cheap polyester costumes we’ll throw away the next day, and run around pelting everyone’s expensive velvets and brocades with chalk!” Even with his mask on, Alastor’s mischievous glee was visible in his eyes.

Sir Pentious

Oh look at his eyes going instantly silly mode at the suggestion. The grin on his face is as wide as Alastor's mask and he let out a loud laugh.

"Oh yes! Wouldn't that just ruffle the feathers of all of the hoity-toitys! And bring back a favorite tradition of Carnival as well! They residents of Swamp Ass won't know what hit them-- until they discover it's chalk!" He stopped slithering to bounce in place a little. "OH WE COULD DO WATER BALLOONS TOO! FILL THEM WITH COLORED DYES!! WHAT FUN THAT WOULD BE!!"

Alastor

“*Yes!* Fill ‘em up with swamp water! They’ll be dyed *and* stink to high heaven! Nobody’s getting their costume rental deposits back next year, hahaaa!”

Sir Pentious

Telly started cackling wildly, so much so he had both arms around Alastor simply trying to keep himself vertical. "Oh, Alastor, it's GENIUS!"

And his hand is cupping the side of his masked face again, and pressing a kiss to the cheek this time-- the drunk snake is feeling EXCEEDINGLY brave!

Alastor

Alastor couldn’t take it, that gleeful cackle, that praise, that *kiss*— In his frantic fumbling attempt to untie the mask’s ribbon, he snapped its adhesive on one side. Before the mask hit the ground, Alastor had one arm around Telly’s neck, one hand behind Telly’s head, and his lips on Telly’s lips.

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh! Some part of his brain registered that this _wasn't_ something purely platonic, but that part was quietly beat to death by the rest that screamed in vindication at the kiss. The hand on Alastor's cheek slid to the back of his head, tangling in his hair as he kissed back, ravenous.

It took a bit for him to pull back, breathing hard, every nerve alight, and he blinked owlishly. "I-I...ah, well, we-we should-- we should head back now, shouldn't we? It's...it's late, we've...we've had a lot to drink, we should....we should go back....Probably...should stay at the hotel tonight...." He rambled on, brain trying to put things in order, still punchdrunk from the kiss. But he still held tight to Alastor, his arm around him, crushing the Radio Demon to his side as he fanned himself, trying to regain some composure.

Alastor

He’d missed this, he’d missed this, he’d missed this, half a century of heavy aching grieving longing tumbled off his shoulders and crashed to the ground and he felt light enough to float, he felt like pure energy bouncing between the clouds. A hundred radios in every direction started singing “—Loving you the way that I do, there's nothing I can do about it. Loving may be all you can give, but baby I can’t live without it*—“

And the second Sir Pentious pulled back, the weight crushed him again. Oh, God, what had he done? That was *far* over the line, that left the line vanishing behind them over the horizon, what the Hell had he been thinking, he’d ruined everything, he’d lost everything he’d just had, couldn’t even control himself for one God damned evening without losing what little he had, and for the third time he was going to ruin everything he had with Sir Pentious by stupidly, stupidly *falling* like this and not being able to *keep it to himself*—

He couldn’t stand being held so tightly. He melted out of Sir Pentious’s grip, a shadow, reforming just outside his arms. “Yes! You’re right, I—Look at us, we’re making utter fools of ourselves, aren’t we. I’m... so sorry. High time we head out.” He hesitated; then held out his hand, palm up, shoulders hunched and stiff, looking away. “I’ve got to... you know. Portal. Safety.”

Sir Pentious

He'd been using Alastor to support himself, and when he melted out, Telly fumbled and fell. He caught himself with his hands against the cobbles, blinking-- What had just happened? His head was ringing and he could feel a pressure behind his eyes, burrowing into his brain. He stood slowly and dusted himself off.

"...Right, right. Yesss, let'sss-- Let'sss go." He took Alastor's hand, slowly, carefully, unsure and cautious after that. "The hotel, if you would, Alassstor."

Alastor

Here he was, rambling like a drunken idiot, registering a full ten seconds late the *fwump* of a giant noodle flopping to the ground. A loud beep covered up a swear as he rushed to offer support, nearly flinched back—*don’t do too much, don’t offer too much*—then completed the motion anyway. “I am *so* sorry, I— How utterly careless of me, are you alright?”

Sir Pentious

"Yess, yess, I'm fine." He accepted the help, standing up back on his tail, blinking. He pressed his fan to his head and wobbled a bit. "I think I need to lay down, though. Everything'ss ssstarting to ssswim." He held Alastor's hand, a bit too tightly.

Alastor

“Of course. Are you alright to travel through a portal, or...?” He needed to get a better way to transport Telly around if they were going to keep doing things like this—

—but they weren’t, were they? Not anymore.

Sir Pentious

"I think ssso, if I clossse my eyesss. Jussst....maybe teleport usss into a bathroom. I may need to....you know.....after the trip." He held tight to Alastor, eyes squeezed closed, ready to be teleported.

Alastor

Alastor grimaced. “Should have planned our ride home, shouldn’t we.” Nothing to do about it now but grin and bear the travel sickness. “All right.” One last time, he’d let himself wrap his arms around Telly—just to keep him safe. “On three, two, one...”

A few seconds of floating, and they were in a bathroom at the hotel. Without even asking Alastor leaned over and lifted the toilet’s lid and seat, have at it.

Sir Pentious

It's a good thing he did because Telly is immediately over it, vomiting. There goes his whole meal for the night, and all that wine and champagne. He is definitely going to be feeling this in the morning.

Alastor

Alastor leaned back against the sink, could only maintain the image of aloofness for a few seconds, and unsteadily knelt next to Telly to rub his back. There, there.

When the heaving finally started to let up, Alastor said, “Here you are, upchucking a whole bucket of booze into a hotel toilet—congratulations! You’ve now had the full Mardi Gras experience!” Studio laughter.

Sir Pentious

He chuckled weakly, lifting his head to grab some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. He flushed it and took a few breaths, closing his eyes.

"Think I would've preferred a slightly less full. It was wonderful until the vomiting." He sighed and leaned over to heave a few more times. Once his stomach was certain it was all out, he sat back against his coils.

"Still, despite _this_--" He gestured to the toilet. "I had the best night, Alastor, thank you. I look forward to next year even more-- throwing things at people is so simple and yet so much fun!"

He laughed and then groaned, his hand against his forehead. "Think I should lay down now..."

Alastor

Best night? Next year? Suddenly Alastor felt light again. Maybe the lightness was helium in his lungs. It would explain why his voice seemed to go up half an octave when he said, “Really?” He could still say that after horking a bowl of jambalaya into the toilet?

He could still say that after what Alastor did?

Would he still be saying that in the morning?

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” He half stood and leaned over to offer his arms to Telly. “Let’s find you a spot to rest.” Alastor sure wasn’t teleporting him back to the airship, that was for sure. “Water?”

Sir Pentious

"Water, yes, that would be good." He turned on the faucet, drinking straight from it-- and was very glad that he'd already done the pipe work for the hotel. It didn't taste terrible, at the very least. He splashed some on his face, forgetting his make up-- until a lash started drooping. He peeled them off and tossed them in the sink.

"Let's go, Alastor. I want someplace warm..."

Alastor

Someplace warm. Alastor’s inebriated brain slid right past the hundreds of empty rooms with warm, fluffy beds and straight down to the bar. “There’s a fireplace in the lobby?” He pulled down a towel and offered it to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly took it and wiped off his face, smudging the eye make up around more than cleaning it off.

"Mm, yes, that sounds nice," He said, dropping the towel into the sink with the lashes. He wrapped his arm around Alastor's shoulders and grinned.

"Onward!"

Alastor

“*Onward.*”

Out the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. He kept a firm grip on Telly this time—he wasn’t about to drop him again, he didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself for that. But it made for slow going. He hoped none of the hotel staff/residents caught them. (He hoped his alternate didn’t catch them—what the hell would Alastor say?)

Sir Pentious

Luckily, the late hour meant that most were fast asleep, even as this drunk snake and deer combo stumbled through the halls. They only got down one floor when Telly caught sight of the most glorious siren of them all-- a radiator.

"_There_," He muttered, pointing at it. "I want to lay there."

Alastor

That seemed perfectly reasonable and not the least bit weird to Alastor. “Okay, come on...” Over to the radiator they went.

Sir Pentious

Telly purred once they got to it and released Alastor to curl around it. Before he closed his eyes, though, he sat back up and grabbed Alastor's arm.

"Wait! I almost forgot!" He pulled the fan from his belt and held it out to Alastor. "I want you to have this."

Alastor

Alastor stared at the fan, dumbfounded. “*Really?* But you made this.” Very sensible objection, drunk man.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I did! I can make another if I want. I want you to have it. A memento of tonight." And then he sat up further, his hand going to Alastor's cheek and he kissed him, softly and with his mouth firmly shut-- he didn't want Alastor tasting the sour taste that still lingered in his mouth.

With that, he lay down again, and was out before he hit the floor.

Alastor

Any further objections Alastor might have voiced were smashed into a gory pulp as Telly kissed Alastor again.

And then Telly was unconscious and Alastor was alone, mind reeling.

For a long time he sat there in the dark, staring at Telly.

And then he teleported to the hotel kitchen and sat *there* in the dark, staring into space.

What the hell happened tonight.