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thewayuarent · 7 months

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Clothes in Only Friends

And how it let us know everything we need about Ray’s choice

God, do I love costume department working on Only Friends. There is so, so many fun and interesting things to notice - “talking” t-shirts (especially Boston’s), and Sand with yellow, and how TopMew started as “striped” couple - but one is vertical and the other is horizontal (is it about them being misreading each other? or is it about them crossing each other’s lives? idk), how Boeing appeared and we immediately see TopMew vibes all over him. How we can easily indicate each character individual style.

But my favorite thing is how the series uses style shifting to show what’s going on with characters without telling it out loud.

We have Nick, who was so obsessed in his jealousy, that he started to copy man he knew Boston was interested in. We see him coming back in terms with Boston, but we also see him learning to accept himself again - the way his style got back to his usual one, with green and blue colors and more boyish vibes. He’s not the same, because his experience changed him, but he is who he is, not a shadow of someone else.

We have Mew, who adapted Ray’s style and behavior because he was hurt, and he chooses to numb his pain, and he gets to the only person he thinks can help him with that. He’s coming back to his senses by the end of episode nine, but he’s still very Ray-coded, because he still didn’t figure out who he is or what he wants and he’s in the middle of his journey (I’m so waiting to see how it will turn out).

And we have Ray, and his example is so fascinating. Because if you look at Ray’s choices of clothing in episodes 8 and 9, you can actually predict everything happens. (I will exclude scenes from university cause, well, uniform)

His style screams Sand most part of the time, but it’s absolutely not about him wanting to adapt Sand’s life or look. It’s about him choosing Sand since the very beginning of his and Mew situationship. Because while Ray needs his time to realize everything about him and Mew and him and Sand, we know he already subconsciously made his choice. As well as we know Ray and Mew will never work out way before they are ready to admit it.

The talk. There a lot of things were said out loud for the first time in this scene that are every important. But this is also about what was shown to us - that the first time we see Ray and Mew as a “couple” is also the first time Ray chooses to wear something Sand-coded. Specifically something very similar to what Sand picked for him.

And there is something about Ray saying “I’m so happy when I’m with you” (can he hear himself? no, but really, it’s been two weeks and I’m still like, bro, for real?) while he stays here, wearing this shirt that looks like the one he wears at the night they were happy, and the night their relationship was damaged hard.

The bookshop. Here we see Ray way closer to his usual style, but not exactly. Ray is always extravagant, and attention grabbing, and using patterns, and lip gloss, and he is just that kind of person. But here he’s quiet. And monochrome. No make up, not patterns, no usual brightness. Mew looks more like Ray than Ray himself.

And this is indicating why their relationship with Mew is wrong - Ray is not fully himself, he adapts in a way Mew never asked him, actually, but he knows makes his presence more tolerable. He seems like himself, sure, but he doesn’t feels like himself.

The party. I made a post about is already - it’s just great example of Mew and Ray thinking they are on the same page while they are actually not even from the same book.

It’s all about toxicity, and pain, and dragging each other down instead of helping each other to stand.

The fight. This is my absolute favorite one. Because this whole conversation - absolutely unhealthy and terrible it is - is actually both of them realizing they will never work out.

And they try so, so hard. And I believe it’s really frustrating for both of them to accept they failed. And of course instead of talking it out they blames each other, and hurt each other. And of course they will manage thing well later - but this is their breaking point, right here.

And of course Ray, who is attentive enough to recognize Mew’s feelings for Top has no fucking idea about him spending this whole time with Sand written all over him. While Yo knows, and Mew knows, and everyone including my grandma knows - he himself is just not ready to allow himself to admit it.

The river. So, this scene, as well as next one, Ray wears not just Sand-coded clothes, but actual Sand’s clothes. But there is a difference.

Because this is the scene where Ray finally admits his feelings - but he’s able to do it only after Sand admits his. Because Ray is incredibly insecure, and incredibly drowned in self-hatred, because Ray always reaches towards people who give him attention and love. Because he can’t allow himself to go for such risk without assurance.

And he’s sitting here with Sand, and Sand is in bright blue color, while Ray is in his t-shirt, but dark, and black, and with “You Only Live Once” and he’s admitting - to Sand and himself - his feelings, but he doesn’t admit to himself that he’s already made his choice until the very next scene.

The choice. And they are sitting again, and that’s only two of them again, and Ray wears Sand’s t-shirt again, and this is very different.

Because this is not just occasional t-shirt. This is the one we saw Sand wears. This is the one that was on him the very same day Ray made an attempt to move on from Mew. The very same day Ray said “I want to know you better”, the very same day he invited himself in Sand’s life. The day they were probably very happy, even if way far from well communicated, the day that could become an indication of something new for them.

And he wears this t-shirt when he says something cheesy about “I will handle everything while I have you” and “Let me be the part of your dream” - the very same dream Sand told him about the very same day.

And it’s just painfully obvious that there is nothing about Mew on the picture anymore. Sand told him “I won’t wait for you” and Ray was like “You don’t need to, I’m already here”. Oh they’ll fuck it up so hard, won’t they?

The comeback. And like that, Ray’s style is back. Because Ray’s clothes don’t tell us story about trying to be someone else, but a story about wanting someone else.

And when he and Mew have this beautiful adult healthy conversation that I love the most we know that Ray is already accepted his choice - the one that Yo knows, and Mew knows, and everyone in this world actually kind of knows. And this is how we know that this painful arc of Ray and Mew being toxic disaster is finally over even before they say anything out loud. Just because Ray wears his style again.

#ofts #only friends the series #only friends #only friends meta #sandray #raymew #what can I say. I’m a sucker for style and unhealthy romance #does it guarantee happy ending? noooo #does it mean their relationship is healthy? noooooo #but yeah

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 6 months

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Rewatching Shadow and Bone so here are some of my favourite little details that I haven’t seen loads of people talk about (this is almost definitely just part 1 so stay tuned)

The bird cage in Heleen’s office

The masks on stalls in the Ketterdam streets, including Komedie Brute masks, what look like the Jackal masks, and what I believe might have been a sun summoner mask

The song that Ravkan soldiers in Mal’s unit sing whilst they march in s1e4 is the Kerch drinking song Nina sings for Inej on the boat in Six of Crows

Matthias’ hesitation before saying “I feel nothing for you” and Nina replying “then I guess that makes you good at your job” is SO reflective of Matthias’ realisation that Brum didn’t have to drown the good parts of himself to do terrible things the way Matthias always did; Matthias had grown to admire Brum for what he believed was the ability to silence the good in himself in order to do what “must be done” because he found that so difficult to do, and acknowledging that Brum didn’t find those things difficult the way he did was one of the most important moments of being able to separate himself from the Drüskelle beliefs and begin to understand that what he went through was actually abuse and what’s implied to be at least similar to Stockholm Syndrome (I’ve written at length about this and if I get going I’ll never stop, so if anyone wants to know more lemme know and I’ll tag you in my post about it)

“Pomdrakon Players”, the group the Crows join to infiltrate the Little Palace, references Ravkan desert “Pomdrakon” where you soak raisins in brandy then set them on fire and try to grab them in the dark that Nina tells Matthias about on the ice

This isn’t an observation I just thought you’d all like to know that when I was watching the map room scene in episode 4 every time Alina said ‘Aleksander’ I repeated her in a stupid voice, which was really unfair to Alina because she doesn’t know but it was a genuine reaction and I stand by it because screw the Darkling

The comment that the Fjerdans don’t mark ash tress because they’re scared, I love that. I wonder if they pray when they mark trees, like they do when they cut them down? I personally got the impression that all trees were precious but ash trees were sacred when I read the book

The valve to turn out the lights in the Royal Archives Heist because all the lighting is gas powered!! Like I know this probably was just a thing we knew without really thinking about but it’s also really cool in that it reminds us about the class difference between the Crows and the others since, at least in the books, gas lighting isn’t as common to the Barrel as candles and bone lights are but is implied to be more common among the Merchants

Also not an observation but “you’re the quarter master, aren’t you?” “Yep” *wallop* will never not be hilarious and iconic

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the costume department for this show were goddamn miracle performers thank you for your service. I’ve banged on about the symbolism in the costumes before so I won’t now, but I have really only talked about s2 so I guess if you want more I could talk about s1

“No guns” *walking past Jesper* “no knives” *walking past Inej* “no weapons of any kind” *wait where’s Kaz* will always be fabulous

I genuinely have no idea how they did the Tailoring on Alina’s hair when Genya first does it for her but it is incredible like I don’t know exactly what changed but it just… I don’t know, it’s amazing

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trutrustories · 6 months

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STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 2: Breaking Brad

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

Okay, Check-list, ep 2:

11) matching suits part 1 THIS ⬇️ costume department did a great job and they look badass together also, they´re walking very close to each other.

12) Loki defending /saving Mobius from Brad (with magic!) also, Mobius, dear, (my beloved) you were really going for it! Always so ready to fight! I can´t xD

Loki "don´t u dare hurt him" Laufeyson, look at his face!

13) Mobius and Loki struggling to assemble IKEA furniture- sorry Tapmad together

14) " And he knows..." I mean yeah, sure. keep remind us, that Mobius knows everything about Loki, and saw him at his worst, so we can appreciate even more the fact, that Mobius likes him and cares for him so damn much 💚🤎

15) Loki finding Mobius´s joke amusing Mobius: cracking joke right after Loki´s threatening speech:

Loki:

16) Loki being very concerned for Mobius after his outburst, saying that It´s okay, and then suggests having pie because he knows Mobius so well and is avare of the fact, that his man is stress eater I´m gonna cry they´re too pure for MCU someone adopt them

17) Bickering like married couple (part 2) 18) The whole freaking pie scene!

Just them, sharing calm, intimate moment together

Mobius opening up to Loki, and admiting he "lost it"

Loki trying to make him feel better and absolutely KILLING IT! btw, I know, that some people think, this scene doesn´t make sense, because Loki didn´t "lost it" during avengers, but was controlled by mind stone, etc.... well I think that it actually doesn´t matter. Guess what else doesn´t make sense? For example the fact, that they already talked about Loki fighting Avengers ( during their first meeting.) Loki is aware, that Mobius saw New York invasion at least twice now, and he´s telling him anyway. I would say, that point here is Loki trying to lift Mobius´s spirit, entertain him, make him smile. Why else woud he start his monolog by "remember, when...?" And I think, that this is huge, actually: Loki, using his bad memory, defeat, his humulianting experience to make Mobius feel better. So not only, that we see, he no longer care about being rurel but we see him making lightly fun of it FOR MOBIUS´S SAKE! He has different priorities now... our immortal god is a grown man now... it´s just so fucking beautiful... 🥺

Also Mobius saying to Loki: "come on, you´re the God of Mischief" Like it´s a best thing in the world, and Loki gives him THIS LOOK! (I mean that head tilt would be considered "acting" category, but I´m already making concessions by including all these things under one number :D

19) Loki and Mobius: mischievous duo

Mobius trusts him so completly!

They both such a drama queens!

And they works so well together!

like... seriously, Brad didn´t see this coming, AT ALL! xD

also... Loki complimenting his plan?!

20) "They say opposites attract. NO." Mobius´s wishfull thinking xD (But hey, it IS true. Opposites attracts. And works greatly together. That´s the only reason, why, for example, trope like grumpy one/sunshine one is so popular!) I can´t! just look at his face 🤣 Oh honey! just calm down

He is sooooooo NOT chill here xD bless him

21) Loki, not following Sylvie, but actually staying with Mobius and comforting him. AGAIN. (which is an absolutely glaring contrast compared to episode 2 in first season!)

#loki spoilers #lokius #loki season 2 #loki and mobius #MCU #mobius m mobius #mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston

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soft-girl-musings · 3 months

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Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3)

Steven Grant x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: theater kid slander (affectionate), amateur references to Shakespeare, steven and reader teach high school, no use of y/n

wc: 1,341

fic summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. And neither does the play you watch unfold.

A/N: as a recovering theater kid, this was a fun one. enjoy!

_____________________

It's poor etiquette to laugh. Right?

How you ended up sitting in a high school theater on a Sunday afternoon, you have no idea. Well, that's not true: you never can say no to your favorite students. When they begged you to come to their closing matinee, you had no choice but to cough up the ticket money (with no faculty discount, to add insult to inconvenience).

So here you are, seated in the darkened auditorium, watching what could only be described as chaos unfold on your school's professional-grade thrust stage.

In the lobby you'd heard whispers of how last night's cast party had gotten a bit too rowdy, rendering a few upperclassmen unable to attend their final performance. It didn’t matter what circle you ran in at their age: you’d learned years ago that a “mysterious illness” following any high school party probably isn’t the flu.

Thankfully there were enough students to fill in the missing principal roles, but with only the morning to prepare, it’s a wonder they've gotten through each scene. Draped in ill-fitting costumes with scripts in hand, the students have tried their best to piece together one last staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. All you know about this play is that it’s a comedy, but you don’t think you’re supposed to laugh at every blunder and mishap.

(It’s very hard not to.)

Across the house you see Mr. Grant, one of the younger teachers on campus, whose face mirrors how you feel. He’s probably trying for a look of statuesque stoicism, but all he's managed to pull off is mild bewilderment.

You haven’t spoken to your coworker much– mainly because there’s rarely a moment where he’s without another colleague talking his ear off or hanging on every word of his (admittedly delicious) accent. He’s a newer hire, having come from London to teach a few history courses but was moved to the literature department the moment your principal saw the top of his resume. The modern education system, ladies and gentlemen.

The man is dressed to impress: black turtleneck under a sharp tweed ensemble, his usually wild curls tamed a bit as they grace his forehead, he certainly looks the part of a private school instructor. But there’s no denying the entirely unserious look on his face: he is one blunder away from losing his cool.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until his bright brown eyes connect with yours. In an instant you understand why so many students doodle his name in the margins of their notebooks: his exasperated stare has you instantly weak.

–which is poor timing, given the scene unfolding onstage between you. An unrehearsed kiss goes wrong, and the two of you slap your hands over your mouths to subdue your laughter.

The rest of Act I goes the same way. You try to follow along, but every so often your eyes drift to Mr. Grant white-knuckling his way through the rough performance. When your eyes connect again (and again, and again) you both struggle to contain your laughter. Knowing that tears are likely stinging your colleague's eyes the same as yours makes you feel like less of an ass.

The curtain closes for intermission and you rest your head in your hands. How is this only half over?

“Bit of a rough watch, yeah?”

Your head snaps up– those brilliant brown eyes widen at your expression, now only one row of seats between the two of you.

“Mr. Grant–”

“Steven,” he says quickly, offering his hand. You take it and smile.

“Steven,” you begin again, giving your name in return. “I don’t mean to be rude, but aren’t some of these kids–”

“–in my Shakespearean Studies course? Quite a few, really.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we’ve focused more on the historical tragedies. Don’t think a textbook can teach comedic timing.”

“Oh, I've laughed plenty.” You fidget with your program and look back to the stage. “At least they’re trying their best, I’m sure part of you is proud.”

Steven’s smile grows as he shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, it’s nice to know they’ve looked at the material for once.” He leans in. “Last week I asked them where the phrase ‘double, double, toil and trouble’ came from, and someone said Harry Potter.”

You laugh out loud for the first time all evening. It feels nice to not hide it. You miss how Steven takes in the sight of you, as well as his loss for words when you calm down.

“I have a confession to make,” you say hoarsely, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what’s supposed to be happening. I’m lost as hell.”

“Maybe I could–” he trips over his words and his feet as he clambers around the seats to sit next to you. “Maybe I could help you out. Bit of an expert, myself. What they pay me for, and all–”

“Sure,” you stop him with a smile. “I’d like that.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and settles in. Pulling out a pair of reading glasses, he opens his program.

“Right. So, A Midsummer Night’s Dream…”

The rest of your intermission is spent receiving a crash-course in William Shakespeare. You’re amazed at how he spouts the most minute details about recurring symbolism, character motivations, and even the historical context of the play up until the lights dim and the show resumes. You squeeze his forearm to silently suggest taking a break, and he chokes down whatever factoid was about to tumble out next.

Maybe it’s because the students have found their footing. Maybe your mini-lecture has filled in the gaps so you can better follow along. Or maybe it’s the sight of Mr. Grant– Steven– sitting beside you, rapt attention on the stage as his readers slide down his nose each time he laughs and leans in to explain the joke, drawing closer and wafting his subtle cologne your way between still-too-loud whispers. Whatever the reason, you’re enjoying the second half of this show much more than the first.

The play draws to a close with a happy ending. One of the fae characters comes downstage to address the audience as the rest of the cast departs.

“If we shadows have offended,

Think but this and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear…”

“Star pupil, that one,” Steven whispers once more. “Deserves every bit of the spotlight.”

You squeeze his arm again, this time not moving your hand or looking his way. You both take in the last words of the performance in dazed silence.

“...Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.”

With that, the fairy bows and the stage fades to black.

The audience erupts into applause as the cast returns onstage. You and Steven cheer and swap last-minute quips about the performance as the standing ovation thunders around you.

You exit the auditorium together and are immediately swarmed by a handful of students– some yours, some his– who eagerly await your feedback. You each congratulate the cast, getting them to sign your programs to commemorate the day.

Finally you’re able to break away and step into the brisk evening air.

“Well that was… something,” you laugh.

Steven grins as he fastens his coat. “‘Least they’ll be tuckered out in first period, yeah? Might get a bit of peace tomorrow morning.” He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Sorry, don’t want you to leave that behind. Could be worth something someday.”

You take your folded program back from him. “Oh, I'm sure.”

With an awkward wave, Steven steps back. “Right. Well, see you around.”

“See you, Steven.”

You turn to head toward your car. As you walk, you unfold your program to see a new signature on the back page, followed by a phone number.

Let me know if you need any more Shakespeare translated. I’m fond of the love poems, myself ;)

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A/N: mk bingo has been a blast, i'm grateful for the chance to put these guys in Situations. that's one for each of em now. we'll see who gets attention next...

also, some inspiration was taken from this post (rip)

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant/gn!reader

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monk-of-figaro · 22 days

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Indirect Storytelling

@tayasigerson's recent (and amazing!) art of Sabin and Gau with Tiger Masks got me thinking about ways in which games can offer means of indirect storytelling that standard literature cannot.

I'm no expert on linguistics or the English language, so maybe "indirect storytelling" isn't the proper term. Or maybe I'm wrong about my assertion in the first place. But to me, the fact that only Sabin and Gau can equip the Tiger Mask feels like there's a character trait that is implied but never stated.

Why is it that only Sabin and Gau can equip the Tiger Mask? What is the commonality between the two that nobody else shares? What does this imply about their characters?

I have my own theories, of course - thoughts about how they both embody the idea of "wildness", both literally and figuratively; or maybe how they each have a connection to "nature" that is stronger than other party members; or maybe even their connection to each other has something to do with it - but the fact that something as simple as who can equip an item can be used to hint at character or plot elements is pretty wild, isn't it?

The Tiger Mask isn't even the only example of this in FF6. Probably the most famous example is the Memento Ring, which can only be equipped by Shadow and Relm, and to my immediate recollection is the only direct connection they share in-game. Everything else about their relationship is implied through Shadow's flashbacks (which only connect them by showing he was in Thamasa with a dog at some point in the past) and through Interceptor's uncharacteristic affection for Relm.

Because Shadow and Relm are not shown to have any real relation or connection, and in fact speak probably less than a dozen words to each other the entire game, the fact that this seemingly-random pair are the only ones who can equip the Memento Ring is really special (and easily missable). If everyone could equip the Memento Ring, it would lose its specialness, and we'd lose a key aspect of the Shadow/Relm backstory.

The Memento Ring also adds additional context by its description:

Ring blessed by departed mother's love. Prevents petrification, zombie, and instant death.

Most Relics in FF6 don't have as much lore behind them as something imbued with a "departed mother's love", so the fact that only Shadow and Relm can equip this strongly implies they each have a connection to this "departed mother". There are even fanfics (like this amazing one from @azurefishnets - A Nameless Memento) that use the Memento Ring directly as a plot element for the Shadow/Relm/Strago dynamic.

A third implication can be drawn from the fact that the Memento Ring prevents all instant-death techniques. Why is that? How and why does a departed mother's love protect against instant-death? What does that imply about the mother's own death?

In addition to the Memento Ring and the Tiger Mask, there are other items that can only be equipped by specific people. Here are a few choice examples:

Royal Crown (Edgar, Sabin)

Red Jacket (Edgar, Sabin)

Snow Scarf (Gau, Mog, Umaro)

All the "Suit" costumes, like the Moogle Suit (Strago, Relm)

Some of those make some sense - like the Royal Crown - but others are kind of open to interpretation. Maybe it makes sense that Mog and Umaro can equip the Snow Scarf, but why can Gau, and why can't anyone else?

What about the Red Jacket? Does that have some connection to royalty, or is there something else being hinted at? After all, red is not one of the Figaroan colors; it's the opposite of blue, which actually is one of the Figaroan colors. And why does it negate fire damage? Is there some connection with the desert heat?

Anyway, sorry for the rambling post. It just struck me how cool it is that gaming - and particularly FF6 - has this unique method of conveying story that is not possible with any other medium, and that's pretty cool! FF6 is also the only game that I can recall that uses equipment to convey (or imply) untold elements of the story like this.

As if I needed yet another reason to obsessively love the game so much.

#ff6 #thoughts from my brain

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

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Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 3: When The Lance Fells The Falcon (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 3: When The Lance Fells The Falcon

The day of the Heir Tournament has finally arrived, and what is a joust without some bloodshed?

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: TW! Depictions of violence, mentions of blood, Daemon being an asshole, angst, the continuation of my blood feud against HOTD’s costuming department

Word Count: 4.3k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: With all the explicit detailing I included about the character’s dresses, would you guys maybe be interested for me to post some of my fashion designs here, so you guys can get a clearer vision of what I envisioned the characters wearing? Because I find it extremely difficult to translate my designs into words lol, blame my lack of fashion background. And from this chapter on, things are going to start getting serious.

Also recommended that you listen to ‘There Are Worse Games To Play’ on the Hunger Games soundtrack while you read this chapter, particularly towards the end 💗

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics as always!

The fire crackled merrily in Lady Y/N’s chambers, although the room was filled with a ruminative silence. Night had once again descended on the Red Keep, and after tending to Aemma all day, who was in more discomfort than usual, Y/N was exhausted.

She was still simmering with displeasure at Daemon’s words from that afternoon. One could argue that Daemon was merely being careless with his words, but Y/N knew better. Just like many other people, he disregarded her based on her gender. She thought maybe Daemon would be different since he cared not for the restraints society has put on him, but it appears she was nothing but a fool to ever think positively of him.

I sighed, my fingers continuing to weave the bonnet for Aemma’s babe, even though I found no pleasure in the task. Daemon’s words this afternoon had sent me tumbling into an unpleasant spiral of emotions, and I directed my dark gaze towards the roaring fire, where the charred remains of my father’s letter still sat.

Lord Matthos and Lady Primrose, Lord and Lady of Highgarden, and my parents. With my lady mother dead now, and me being their unfortunate sole surviving child, my father had directed his focus on getting me married off as soon as possible. “You must wed and produce heirs that could inherit Highgarden,” my father had insisted, pleaded, even. “I know with your...reputation, it might be difficult to find a match, but you are no longer young anymore, and you must marry as soon as possible. It is the duty you owe to House Tyrell.”

“My duty,” I snorted, nearly pricking myself with the needle in the process. It was simply unfair, why must I be expected to marry and pump out babes for my husband while men like Daemon could prance about freely without a care in the world? I wanted to enjoy my youth, as was my right. Why should i care for duty? Even if my father required heirs, House Tyrell was not lacking in any cousins that could inherit if he should pass.

Indignation coursed through my blood as I began increasing the speed in which I was weaving the bonnet. Even Aemma had reminded me on more than one occasion of the importance of duty, and I was sick of it. There was just some part of me that couldn’t grasp why everyone was so fixated on it. The Seven had granted us one chance at life: one should revel in it by pursuing their own desires. And besides, after witnessing Aemma’s grief and pain over her many miscarriages and stillbirths, I shuddered to think what duty might have in store for me. I was determined that I would not succumb to the notion of the dutiful, heir producing daughter that my father so wished me to be, no matter how much my father pleaded with me. After all, if Daemon could evade it as long as he did, surely I could do the same.

I frowned as I eyed the finished bonnet. Not as pretty as I envisioned, but children grow fast anyway. I went over to the window, gazing at the Dragonpit, dark and imposing against the night sky. It only made me think of a certain princeling, and I huffed, drawing my curtains shut. Rubbing my temples and exhaling heavily. I decided not to waste any more of my thoughts on the Rogue Prince. Clambering into bed, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I had not expected to be in attendance at the tournament today. Aemma had been experiencing increasing bouts of pain for the past few days, and I wanted to keep her company should the babe be close to making its arrival in this world. Unexpectedly, I had been nearly dragged out of Aemma’s apartments by Rhaenyra and Alicent early in the morrow, with Aemma insisting I go spectate the tourney instead of staying with her like a watchful owl. I had argued, but Aemma specifically called upon Rhaenyra and Alicent as reinforcement, with some explicit threats that I would be quartered, hung and my head placed on a spike should I refuse to attend.

Thus here I was, in the royal box, my face etched with concern as my mind kept wandering over to Aemma. I prayed fervently to the Seven that she would not go into labour in my absence, and to the Mother that if she did, that her labour would be smooth and painless.

“What say you, Y/N?” I was pulled out of my reverie, eyes wide as I muttered an unintelligible “Huh?” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes good-naturedly while Alicent struggled to hide her giggles. “I was just discussing with Alicent why you seem to be favouring gowns of Tyrell green as of late. Usually, we noticed you would be in lighter shades.” My gaze shifted downward, surprised at her observation.

I was dressed in my best, another gown of Tyrell green silk, with fitted sleeves that trailed to a more sheer, but still dark green material that flared out below my elbows. Several gold roses adorned my shoulders, interspersed with tiny rubies. The neckline dipped slightly in the valley of my breasts, but anything that could cause scandal was covered by a layer of Myrish lace. The dress’ skirts clung to my figure, parting at the centre to reveal an underskirt of olive green and gold brocade. It had cost a fortune, and had once belonged to my mother. My signature gold earrings adorned my earlobes, and my hair was pinned into an elegant braided updo. I might dislike the idea of duty to my house, but regardless, I had to represent House Tyrell in the best light possible, especially at such an important event.

Rhaenyra and Alicent were decked out in their finest for the occasion as well. Rhaenyra was clad in Targaryen colours, and I admired the black corset that looked reminiscent of armour fitted across her upper half of her body. Dragon scales were painstakingly patterned on the corset, and they were held together by laces made of fine golden thread. Underneath the corset, she wore a dark red gown with an intricately pleated skirt. The sleeves were off the shoulder, going down to her wrists. Gold shoulder plates set in a dragonscale pattern with gold fringes protected her bare shoulders from the autumn chill. She wore a heavyset necklace cut with square shaped rubies, hammered into gold, and her hair was let loose in a wild cascade of curls. She looked every inch a Targaryen warrior princess. Alicent was dressed simpler, but still looked beautiful nonetheless. A light blue dress of brocade and silk with a square neckline hugged her soft curves, exposing a little bit of her collarbone, where two strands of pearls were draped across her neck. Her sleeves were puffed at the shoulders, stopping short just before her elbow, while the rest of her sleeves were fitted tightly to her wrists. Small delicate flowers were sewn at the hem of her sleeves. Her skirts parted at the centre to reveal an underlying layer of cream white brocade, and her bodice had crisscrossing geometric diamond patterns sewn on it, dipping at her waist with a point. Her hair was fashioned in a half up, half down hairdo, curls tumbling to the small of her back. Both of them had inquisitive looks in their eyes, though Rhaenyra’s harboured a glimpse of impatience.

I smiled a little awkwardly at the question. Truth be told, I had no idea why. My thoughts had been taking on a darker turn since my encounter with Daemon in the throne room and the raven sent by my lord father, and I supposed my choice of apparel reflected my mood. “Well, at such a celebration, it is only fitting of me to dress in the colours of my house.” I reasoned, tilting my head slightly. “Do the darker gowns not suit me?”

“All colours suit you well, my lady.” Alicent said gently. I smiled gratefully at her, as Rhaenyra turned to Alicent and asked teasingly if she suited any colour as well. My smile widened as I watched the two bicker playfully.

We were interrupted however, by the arrival of the King. We all stood up to greet him, bowing politely. He was beaming from ear to ear, as he began addressing the crowd, much to the raucous cheers of the crowd.

“The day has been made more auspicious, by the news I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labours!” My eyes widened upon hearing those words, and as soon as the King finished his address, I stood up, ready to excuse myself to go tend to Aemma, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, effectively halting my attempts of a hasty exit. “Viserys-”

“I know you want to be there for Aemma,” the corner of Viserys’ eyes crinkled as he spoke gently, trying to push me back down to my seat, “But she asked me to relay a message: trust that she will be alright, and enjoy the tourney instead. It will be your only time to relax before you are swept up in your duties to take care of the babe.”

I bit my lip, a sense of unease washing over me. “But-” “You must stay and enjoy the tourney. Your King commands it. As does your Queen.” I glanced at him, eyes filled with worry, but he only nodded encouragingly.

“If my king commands…I shall obey,” I said with some reluctance, although it dissipated somewhat when Viserys beamed at me, clapping my shoulder affectionately before sitting back down. I sat back down too, my eyes wandering over to Rhaenyra, who gave me a smile, which I returned. I said a silent prayer to the Seven as the first few contenders were being announced, that both Aemma and her babe would be safe and healthy.

The first of the tilts began, to the boisterous cheers of the crowd. I watched as a jouster carrying a shield with a sigil unknown to me quickly unhorsed a squire of House Tarly. My brows furrowed., I turned to Rhaenyra, “Do you recognise the sigil that the mystery knight was carrying?” She shook her head. Alicent leaned over, eyes fixed on the knight as he steered his horse before the royal box and bowed, “I think he’s from House Cole. Of the Stormlands, I believe.”

Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose, “I’ve never heard of House Cole. This should prove most interesting.” I pursed my lips as Lord Boremund Baratheon asked for Princess Rhaenys’ favour, addressing her as “The Queen Who Never Was”, causing the crowd to stir a little in dissent. “You could have Baratheon’s tongue for that.” “Tongues will not change the succession,” came Viserys’ assured response. “Let them wag.”

“Lord Stokeworth’s daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire.” “Lord Massey’s son?” Alicent inquired, a little surprised. Rhaenyra nodded, “They’re to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.” I snorted, remembering some of the unsavoury rumours I had heard swirling around the court as of late. “Best get on with it,” my voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.” Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief, and Alicent clapped a hand over her mouth as if reeling from the sheer impropriety of it, while I merely shrugged, a smirk tugging at my lips and turned my gaze back to the proceedings.

I leaned forward in my seat, intrigued when the mystery knight of House Cole unhorsed Lord Boremund in a single tilt, much to the crowd’s delight and mocking laughs. Rhaenyra let out a small “oof” sound, while Alicent looked dumbstruck. Mayhaps the tourney would be of some excitement after all.

“Prince Daemon, of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!” The smile that was forming at my lips dropped in an instant, and I pursed my lips as Daemon, clad in his black armour, raced past the audience astride his black steed, much to the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd. I rolled my eyes: show off.

I was unsurprised and somewhat amused when Daemon chose Ser Gwayne Hightower as his first jousting opponent. Of course, Daemon chose today to be even more of a little shit than usual. Oftentimes, I wondered if he gained his life essence from pissing Otto Hightower off. I craned my neck backwards to catch a glimpse of the Hand’s expression, my lips curving upwards in a smirk when I took note of his irked expression.

Suddenly, I felt a heavy stare upon me, and I turned back to the spectacle to see Daemon’s violet eyes fixed on me. When he met my gaze, that little shit had the audacity to smirk and tilt his lance at me. I huffed and turned away, fixing my eyes on Ser Gwayne instead.

I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh as Daemon’s lance was nearly knocked out of his hand by a well angled tilt by Ser Gwayne. Mayhaps that smug bastard will get some comeuppance today, I thought with glee.

That glee was short lived as Ser Gwayne was thrown from his horse in an unsightly scene, when Daemon aimed for his horse’s legs, causing the animal to neigh with agony as it slid forward and bucked Ser Gwayne off into the dirt. I heard Alicent gasp with fright next to me, and I reached out to pat her hand reassuringly. That cheating bastard really had no scruples when it came to dealing with Otto Hightower, even to his kin.

I frowned as I watched Daemon parade around on his horse, looking all too pleased with himself. I was caught off guard however, when Daemon came to a stop in front of the royal box, prompting Rhaenyra to get out of her seat, tugging me and Alicent with her. I was screaming internally for Rhaenyra not to drag me into this, but I begrudgingly followed Rhaenyra as she leaned over the railing, grinning at Daemon. “Nicely done, uncle,” Rhaenyra complimented him, causing Daemon to tilt his chin upwards arrogantly. “Thank you, Princess.”

He smirked as he zeroed in on me, lingering behind Alicent. “Lady Y/N,” he called, a certain mischief in his voice. Oh no.

“You look rather radiant today, dressed in your house colours.” I narrowed my eyes, aware of his attempts to bait me, by first paying me a compliment, so that if I rejected him, I would seem ill-mannered. But with so many eyes on us, I could only respond through gritted teeth, “Thank you, my prince.”

“With such a beautiful lady as the one before me, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask for her favour.” Murmurs echoed throughout the crowd, as I attempted to minimise the lethality of my death glare. This brazen little punk. To ask for my favour after what he had said yesterday-

I leaned forward, whispering harshly, “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?” Daemon merely raised an eyebrow. “You know I am certain I can win these little games. Having your favour would all but assure it. You won’t rebuff me with so many eyes watching us, won’t you, byka zaldrizes?”

Grinding my teeth, I did my best to keep my expression neutral. He was right, the crowd was getting restless. I could hear some murmuring from the lords behind me, and even Rhaenyra was nudging me subtly. The gods have chosen to curse me on this very day. I sighed, before moving to retrieve my favour, a small wreath of orange and purple flowers. Sliding it down the lance Daemon offered up, I forced a smile on my face. “I wish you good luck in the jousts, my prince.”

Daemon smirked, having gotten under her skin like he wanted. “With your favour, I’m sure I don’t need it.” Daemon rode away as I rolled my eyes and took my seat once more, Rhaenyra and Alicent following suit. “It appears the Prince Daemon is attempting to play nice today, Lady Y/N,” Alicent smiled at me. Rhaenyra nodded earnestly, “Mayhaps he is starting to be civil to you, Y/N.” I had to refrain from snorting and saying something very derogatory about the Prince, instead letting my surly expression do all the talking.

As Lady Y/N was distracted by the frenzy of the tourney, a maester sidled up to the Hand of the King to relay a message. The Hand’s eyes turned grim, and he turned towards Viserys, whose expression was still filled with mirth after witnessing his brother ask Y/N for her favour. Upon hearing the news, the King’s face visibly blanched, and he got out of his seat swiftly, followed closely by the Hand.

Y/N, Alicent and Rhaenyra were engaged in fervent conversation, completely absorbed in the proceedings. But soon enough, the tourney had given way to violence and bloodshed. Y/N winced and averted her gaze as one after the other, the jousters who chose to continue their battle in arms caved in each other’s heads, fighting each other like feral beasts. A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she did her best to block out the sound of agonised grunts and screams from the bludgeoned competitors. Looking over, she saw Alicent picking at her own fingernails till it was bloody. Frowning, she quickly nudged Alicent, who immediately stopped with a sheepish expression. Covering Alicent’s hand with hers to provide some reassurance, Y/N turned her head backward to take in Viserys’ expression, startled when she realised both the King and the Hand were missing. Cursing herself for her lack of awareness, she quickly moved to get up, but Alicent pulled her down to her seat. “Y/N, you must not leave now!” Alicent insisted, “Prince Daemon is about to tilt against Ser Criston!”

I tried to shake off Alicent’s hand, but her grip was surprisingly strong. “I couldn’t give two damns about Daemon, the Queen needs me-” “It would be rude to leave before you’ve seen the jouster whom you’ve bestowed your favour to compete,” Rhaenyra chimed in, her purple eyes alight with excitement. “Father is there with Mother, she will be alright. They commanded you to enjoy the tourney with us, and as your princess, I order you to stay.” My face fell as I chewed my lip while glancing at the exit of the royal box. Alicent tugged on my hand, and I found myself relenting at the determined looks both of them were levelling at me. After all, there was no harm in staying for just a while. And I might even see Daemon get bested for the first time in his life.

Reluctantly, I relayed my attention back to the tourney, just as both the competitors began charging at each other. Putting a hand over my mouth, I watched as Ser Criston and Daemon both failed to knock each other off their horses in the first tilt. With my heart in my mouth, my eyes nearly boggled out of my head when I watched Daemon being knocked off his saddle and into the dirt.

Daemon had lost.

Mouth agape, I stayed rooted in my seat, even as the crowd all stood to rain thunderous applause and cheers on Ser Criston. I felt a smug smile slowly spreading across my lips. Daemon had lost! At long last, someone had humbled that egotistical bastard, and I had been here to witness it. I sighed happily, savouring the prospect of being able to mock him for this for the rest of his life. “Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a contest of arms!”

I raised my eyebrows as Daemon approached Ser Criston, wielding Dark Sister with a dangerous expression on his face. He is nothing better than a petulant toddler throwing a tantrum, I thought to myself, snickering. My eyebrows shot to my forehead when I noticed Ser Criston carrying a morningstar. A most unusual weapon.

The crowd followed the ensuing sparring match with enthralled eyes, myself included. Rhaenyra was nearly falling out of her seat from the way she was leaning forward, and Alicent had a hand over her mouth. When Ser Criston splintered Daemon’s shield, it was like something feral had awoken in Daemon. He began doling out more impulsive blows as anger overtook him, slashing at Ser Criston like a madman and deftly manoeuvring out of the range of his blows.

I clasped Alicent’s hand tightly in mine as Daemon kicked Ser Criston to the ground, pouncing on him with brutal force. When Daemon blocked Ser Criston’s attack by lodging Dark Sister with the morningstar’s chains, Rhaenyra reached over to take Alicent’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Finally, Daemon delivered the final blow, hurling the remains of his shield at Ser Criston, striking him squarely in the face and causing him to flounder on the ground.

I shook my head in disbelief as Daemon raised both his arms up, hollering and revelling in his triumph. But that victory was soon short lived as Daemon felt a slash on his behind, knocking him to the dirt, face first. I felt Alicent reel back in surprise next to me. Daemon tried to lurch for his sword, but was forced to submission by a few well aimed kicks from Ser Criston, breathing heavily as he dangled the morningstar threateningly in Daemon’s face.

“Yield.” Daemon could scarce believe what was happening right now. He had lost. To some unknown commonborn knight. Him, the Rogue Prince. The finest fighter in the Seven Kingdoms. Tasting bile in his mouth, he gritted his teeth. “Yield.” Ser Criston’s voice made it clear that he would not ask again. Daemon chuckled humorlessly, refusing to say a word, but begrudgingly surrendered. He knocked away the arm that the knight offered, rising to his feet before stalking off. While leaving the jousting field, he took note of Y/N running off from the royal box. His ire now increased by tenfold, he swiftly made his way to the exit of the royal box, where he spotted his lady emerging from the shadows. Snarling, he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around to face him. “Daemon, let me go right now. I do not have time for your tantrums-”

“It was you,” he hissed, twisting her arm, causing her to grimace. His rage was blinding him, the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears making his blood boil. “Your favour cursed me. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have won. And instead, I was humiliated-” Y/N scoffed, trying to break away, but Daemon only tightened her grip. “You lost because you were a cocky, arrogant bastard. Do not attempt to blame your failings on me. Now let go!”

Daemon’s vision was nearly red by now, and he pulled her closer to him as he spat out, “You’re not going anywhere, byka zaldrizes.” “Let. Go.” her voice was laced with contempt. “I will not ask a second time. Go reflect and accept your loss, maybe this will teach you some humility.”

Daemon opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by the arrival of that cunt, Otto Hightower. He wanted to spit at him to fuck right off, but the look on his face made him think twice. Y/N’s hand went slack, causing Daemon to release her, worried that he had hurt her. He looked between the both of them, confused, but quickly caught on when he saw the Hand bow his head grimly.

Daemon had experienced a lot of things he would never forget that day, but nothing could compare to the pure look of devastation on Y/N’s face at that moment. The Hand inclined his head, lips pressed together, before he moved past them to the entrance to the royal box, no doubt to inform the other lords.

His anger dissipating, an unsure look appeared on his face as he scrutinised Y/N’s face. She nearly stumbled over, eyes mad with grief, and Daemon unconsciously caught her arm with his left hand, steadying her. She didn’t seem to register his touch however, mumbling in a daze, “Aemma…I need to find Viserys. Viserys…” Daemon followed her movements with his eyes silently, as she mounted a horse reserved for the nobility nearby, spurring it towards the Red Keep. He watched her disappear into the distance, mouth pressed into a thin line, and his purple eyes swimming with a dozen complicated emotions. He needed to get out of his armour, it suddenly felt all too stifling to be in it.

Y/N raced into the Red Keep, taking the steps two at a time as she rushed past startled servants. Barging into Aemma’s apartments, she stopped short when she reached Aemma’s bedchambers, her hand going to her mouth when she took in the gruesome sight before her, praying fervently that it was just some sick nightmare.

Queen Aemma, no, her friend, her dearly beloved friend, Aemma, was sprawled out on the bed, the coppery stench of blood permeating through the room. Trickles of blood still oozed out of the incisions the maesters had made around her abdomen, and Y/N felt bile creeping up her throat as she realised what had been done.

No.

Y/N bypassed Viserys - still hunched over in grief, staring at Baelon’s small, wiggling frame with a broken expression - and went straight to Aemma. Her footsteps felt leaden and unsteady, as she crouched down to hold Aemma’s lifeless hand. She squeezed it desperately, willing her to wake up, to be alive. But it was in vain.

Y/N went still, before she gently reached over and slid Aemma’s wide blue eyes shut. Trembling as tears began to cloud her vision, Y/N noticed the sun’s rays glinting off a small object tucked between Aemma’s sweat covered neck. It was Rhaenyra’s present to Aemma, that necklace with the ruby falcon pendant, its red shining brilliantly in the sun as Y/N and Viserys mourned for their good Aemma.

rip aemma :( and also f*ck viserys, he deserves to be burnt alive, roasted and fed to balerion.

Fic Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy

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If you liked this fic, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! Thank you for reading this far!

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miasiegert · 7 months

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Hi Cats Tumblr People,

So I heard you like pics.

Please bear with me (AND TEACH ME) how Tumblr works/if I'm doing it wrong! I'm literally the "How do you do, fellow young people?" meme. Our Etsy is linked (unless I messed that up!) Right now it's bare (LOT of work and VERY old photos in the banner) but we'll be posting some cossies soon that are ready to retire. Some of our prices sadly will have to rise (we undercharge honestly for the amount of time put into them... we just LOVE making them). Anyway...

These are our original designs. We have taken inspiration from different productions, from the US tour to Gothenburg to Australia to Japan, less UK because it gets the most attention and we like COLOR! but this is all us. Our goal is to a) have characters be recognizable and b) make swing unitards in palates that could pass as at least 3 characters for emergency. When our rentals go out, swing unitards go with them, and ultimately it's the director who decides what makes the final cut (so a less yellow Demeter for example--but we LOVE that one).

If we ever do a production of Cats with Chaz, you'll notice one in Red, White, and some Black (but mostly Red and White, with fan ears, that is a design David created and is Chaz's FAVORITE design of all time. Any time he does a show, if we're hired, that costume goes. Usually Electra, but any ensemble/swing kitty and can cover for Sillabub or in a pinch Bombalurina. Yuka wore it at Interlakes before she did Victoria on the last US Tour! You might notice an Admetus in tans and GREEN undertones--that was my design he loved. We also did the purple twins (which was vetoed and I said, "Okay" then did it anyway because I knew he'd love it, which he did!), and REBA Gumbie Tap Suit was completely mine (everyone thought I was out of my MIND when I started making it! Even David! Then the shoulder pads came, and the belt, and tail, and BEDAZZLING!!! SO MANY RHINESTONES!!!!) Our Misto coat lights up but we still have a lot to learn about arduino since we'd eventually like to make it blink to music. The Misto coat is also created to fit a multitude of sizes, basically the theatre using their department for alterations since we make use of stretch fabric. I've known Bronson for almost as long as Chaz (he even designed my author website!!!) so when I saw him cast, I showed him his costume (a much, much browner/redder Gus than most see--I was serious about liking color) and let him choose between two coats. He said he wanted pants and we went, "NO! PANTLESS PRODUCTION!" because we thought he was joking! We didn't realize... HE REALLY WANTED PANTS!!!! SORRY BRONSON! So shout out to Wichita for making him pants! LOL!

There is a HUGE joke about Tumble thirsting for Tugger more than the girls so you'll notice that with the Tugger ABOUUUOUOUOUOUOUOUUUUUUUUUT THAT.

Hope that's of interest! And no, I'm not procrastinating on edits when my agent deadline is Sunday. Haha... ha... ha... ha... ha... Sera, if you're reading this I PROMISE I'M WORKING OKAY??? I DIDN'T KNOW WE GOT ON BROADWAYWORLD!!!

We also saw some comments about casting in general and some confusion/questions about different dancers doing different parts (Alonzo vs Plato). Would anyone be interested in learning more about the casting process in general and things that directors/choreographers need to take into consideration? Please note, I will not discuss ANY performers we work with. Ever. All are extraordinary and these are tough calls that aren't easy to make and based on other factors, including the ensemble at large, and sometimes huge changes are made.

#cats the musical #cats musical #cats musical cosplay #cats cosplay #cats musical wichita

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

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yeah okay messmonte once again has me by the throat... i am having Thoughts about that post!! just imagine, hob dressing up as a werewolf because it's fun to teach his classes in costume for the day. he's got his fake ears, he's got his carefully torn clothing (showing quite a bit of his chest, because... well, he's sort of got his own pelt of fur already), and he's got a fake tail that he'd been planning on pinning to the seat of his ripped jeans.

dream, of course, has a better idea. to everyone who sees him, it certainly looks like the tail swishing along behind him is pinned to his jeans, because it's no effort at all for dream to make sure that's what everyone else sees. but when hob asked him for a hand getting the tail in place dream had instead bent him over the arm of the couch, tugged his pants down, and gotten to work getting a much more fun tail added to hob's costume.

the plug attached to the tail is... big. very heavy, and very big. hob's already whining by the time dream steps back to tear a new little hole in the seat of hob's jeans and proceeds to feed the tail through it and get hob's clothes all set in order. hob's sure the angle of the tail makes it perfectly clear where it's attached, but dream assures him that no one at all will realize. and with that, dream tells him to have a good day and be a good puppy, and he vanishes off back to the dreaming. leaving hob to figure out how to get himself to work when he's not sure he can walk and is even less sure he can sit.

he does make it to campus, eventually, though he doesn't have any time to hide out in his office and collect himself before his first class starts. but it goes alright, the plug isn't nearly as distracting once he isn't moving as much. and thankfully he'd thought to cage his cock before he left, because the plug shoves so perfectly against his prostate that hob's relieved to only feel the ache of his cock trying to get hard rather than the panic of trying to hide an erection while teaching.

what's much more of a problem is when he heads back to his department building for lunch and gets pulled into the casual little lunch party a few of the other profs are having. it's just hanging around eating lunch together, drinking punch, and eating candy, really. but his colleagues keep touching his tail. some of them pick it up to admire it and jostle the plug. some of them jokingly give it a little tug as they pass him. one wants to pull him aside for a private chat about an upcoming seminar -- and quite literally pulls him aside by the tail.

at the end of the day, hob's so desperate and weak-kneed that all he can do is collapse face-down on the couch in his office and call for dream. he can't make it back to his flat, not like this, not when his prostate is sensitized from the plug driving into it and his rim aches from holding it inside and his cock feels bruised from trying so long to get hard. he's been a good puppy, hasn't he? won't his master come and take care of him?

-🐈‍⬛

I'm feeling the petplay/puppy play tonight!!! Both me and others have noted that we would love to see more pet play with dreamling. Puppy Hob, kitty Dream? The possibilities are endless.

And of course I've got to link @messmonte and their amazing art which makes us all rabid 🐺🐺

I just love the idea of Hob being forced to go out to work and join in a party in his costume!!! His tail is so silky and beautiful everyone wants to touch and tease it, and he gets a lot of remarks about how red his face is and how he's all trembly and whimpery. His colleagues know that he's up for a little friendly flirting, and he even gets people running their fingers through his chest hair. He has to breathe through his nose and continually adjust the cage through his trousers, to stop his cock getting a serious chafing injury.

He has to describe all of this to Dream as he slumps over his desk and begs to be take home. Dream wants to know exactly who has touched him where; who played with his pretty tail, who teased him? Dream isn't mad - he's pleased, actually, he wants his pretty pet to get lots of attention. He just wants to tease Hob further by making him talk about it while his poor trapped cock throbs and aches.

He is (eventually) taken home straight to his own bed, where Dream bends him over and instructs him to slowly take out his tail. Dream wants to see his hole gaping from the weight of holding that fat, heavy plug all day. He wants to hear Hob whining for him like the good little puppy he is. Dream is going to take such good care of him: he'll put his cock in his puppy's hole and fill him up til he smells like cum and nothing else. Maybe afterwards Hob can warm Dream’s cock in his mouth while Dream plays with his cute little ears!

And if Hob is a very good dog who pleases his master all evening, he might even be allowed to cum before he goes to sleep <3

#🐈‍⬛ anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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zaffiri-saffici · 1 year

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Can we just….talk about this scene for a second please because I am having a right freak out. Before Chrisjen enters the UN SG office where this scene takes place, Arjun told her he will stay on Earth rather than join her on Luna and walks away. The whole convo with Arjun is so cold (I don’t know if it was just the actor’s choice but there was no love there after the damage was done from her campaign. He also decided to be involved so buddy, you kind of have to accept the consequence of that choice for your wife) and Chrisjen is rightly hurt by it. She feels their marriage is strained. Actually, she knows it is. And who knows how long she’ll be on Luna separated from him. I think she questions at this point when the next time will be that she sees him. Simultaneously, she just lost to Gao and though defeated, sends her off with a message of advice (the “I believe it’s you but I hope it’s me” thing needs a whole separate post, it’s so good). So we find Chrisjen, post-Arjun convo, post advice send-off, at a low point in her life personally and professionally in the same office, and all of a sudden the tone of this scene shifts. And I really have to thank the costume department for putting her in this elaborate, silk gold nighty and furry robe (and barefoot???) for this whole sequence because in spite of all this and the vulnerability we see on screen, the woman is a fucking rock. She is a rock that weathers any and all storms, and she is layered — and she is a lion, and a lion that endures even the harshest of droughts. And there’s hope because then here comes Bobbie Draper. Bobbie who at this point is so lost (bby girl I’m so sorry about your dreams of water on Mars please accept this hug from all of us). Her whole identity, everything she believed in for Mars, is shattered. Like someone took a piece of her and ripped it away and she has no idea what to do, or how to cope. She’s learned how corrupt Mars is and it has put her on a path of destruction, tested her moral code, and taken her to some pretty dark places. And at her lowest, instinctually, when there might be some inkling of hope, she reaches out to Chrisjen to share it with. And of course it’s Chrisjen, when she’s also at an emotional low in her life. And of course it’s Bobbie; it can only ever be Bobbie coming to her rescue. That’s just what they do for each other. They save each other. And excuse me, I know I’m gay as shit but….LOOK at the way Chrisjen walks towards the screen as she listens to Bobbie’s video message. This is a recorded message, we know it’s not live, so Chrisjen knows Bobbie can’t see what she’s doing BUT - the woman stalks towards Bobbie like the fucking lioness she is on a prowl. Why do that? What is the purpose of this walk if not to demonstrate her intrigue and interest in Bobbie in a deepe way than we’ve already seen on screen? Chrisjen never walks without a purpose. The woman is intentionality in human form. And here her steps are calculated, slow, evaluating — her arms are open at her side gripping the edges of her robe… fuck, they’re longing as she listens to her message. And of all things and in all the ways Bobbie can lay up the information she’s gathered, Bobbie tells her she needs her. Bobbie tells her as much as she tries to convince herself, that they need each other. And Bobbie’s voice is timid and unsure, but as much as there is loss on her face - a loss of Mars and home - you see her pondering something like maybe home is with you too. Maybe home is Chrisjen and the hope she has for them to succeed together, and what they can maybe build though they’re worlds apart. And Chrisjen responds to an empty room, “Bobbie, your timing sucks.” Like Bobbie, I need you too, I think I need you more than you know in a way I am having difficulty coming to terms with. And I just can’t stop thinking about this whole thing and Bobbie’s small but mighty words, and Chrisjen’s purposeful, barefoot strides, and “I think we need each other.” And I’m sorry, but this is queer as shit and I’m here for it.

#this shit sent me #it sent me so hard I’m floating near Ceres learning to make gifs in outer space just to get these words on paper #the expanse tv #the expanse #chrisjen/bobbie #bobbie/chrisjen #chrisjen avasarala #bobbie draper #bobbie x chrisjen #chrisjen x bobbie #this is really gay #shohreh aghdashloo #frankie adams #mine #the expanse edit #the expanse season 4 #the expanse s04e10

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laylawatermelon · 1 month

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I just wanna say by using this post and searching the people in charge of the other episodes, I'm pretty sure ( 80%) it's gonna be a buddie related episode because of the golden trifecta listed in this "guide".

BM, TWong, and LB.

AM is also in charge of the triple B episode.

And there's also JJG, directing on the last of the three.

Also even when they're written platonically I believe the avtors play it romantically and that's where the disconnect happens I think.

They're obviously 'in love' but the show says it isn't.

The episodes also have been written by at least one of the people suggested in the guide above.

(this is all opinion so no pitch forks of it's not accurate!!)

I love meta so some other blogs I'd recommend is:

@loveyourownsmiilee @canonicallyobserving911 @sevensoulmates

@stagefoureddiediaz (this is a must have because of the insane amount of work/research they've done and the details of stuff in the show. I can't wait to make shows and hang out in the costume department where I'm not supposed to be but semantics) 🤷🏾‍♀️

It'd be kind of hilarious if it's a flashback heavy episode where they use the buddie fans clips/moments for the realization/justification (for new viewers/deniers) while doing back and forth between cases and his realization.

Or it can swing another way to madney but I don't think it's really relevant (?) for something like that because there goes the groom is next so that's not it.

I believe there's gonna be like three acts for each episode. So whatever happens in Buck's episode will set the tone.

Because logically three acts, the premiere episode we finished first act already. So then next episode will be them at their worst or leading right into it at the last few minutes of the episode.

You don't know me, if it follows that formula, will be heart wrenching.

Because of the last ep, 6's name is likely they'll parallel each other's relationship.

Okay I'm done.

#tv shows #911 fox #911 abc #buddie #drama #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie meta #meta #s7 speculation

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20dollarlolita · 1 year

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Did you know that sometimes, you do something totally normal in the tumblr editor, something that you could accidentally do very easily, and it decides to eat your entire post? It just deleted over an hour of work? Did you know that it does that?

Isn't that swell?

THE RANDOM LOLITA 30 DAY CHALLENGE, DAY 10: 10 THINGS YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT IN LOLITA.

We're doing a challenge from 2011 and we're doing it very slowly. We're actually doing it even slower, because we wrote half of this post, hit ctrl+z, and tumblr just fucking deleted it with no way to get it back. Glorious. 10/10, fucking hate it.

This challenge number was a little weird for me. I've been doing lolita since 2011, and the answers that I would have given in 2011 are probably very different than the ones I'm giving in 2023. Having that framing makes me feel very nostalgic.

Let's get into it. If tumblr eats this again, I will be throwing the entire website out the door.

Number 1) A comfortable petticoat that stays the right shape, and that I don't have to worry about crushing.

Back in my early days, one of the first things that I bought for lolita fashion was a real petticoat. One of the most critical elements of a lolita fashion look is the shape, and having a foundation that gave me the right shape helped things that I was making look a lot more like real lolita.

(Early 2012)

My first ever petticoat, which is under the red dress, was made out of muslin and some walmart tulle. I believe it used this tutorial. While that dress wasn't ever going to look really lolita super well, the petticoat issue sure isn't helping.

These days I have a Wunderwelt petticoat that I got in 2016, and it's so very enjoyable to have a petticoat where the only concern is that it might be too big for a dress. I love how little work it takes to add the proper shape to a coord.

Number 2) Definitely lolita shoes.

When I wear lolita out and about, I've noticed that one of the things that changes stranger's reactions is the shoes. If I've got some distinctly lolita shoes, like RHS, people tend to ask if it's a fashion. If I'm wearing lolitable shoes that could also work in a non-lolita outfit, I get asked what costume I'm wearing.

(Late 2013)

Baby lolita me had a pair of black Mary Jane pumps from Target, and those were my lolita shoes for several months. In my first ever Bodyline order, I got some brown tea parties, and about a year later I bought these pink RHS and white flats.

And that was it. That was what I owned for lolita shoes from 2013 to 2016. Coords were black, brown, pink, white, or else I wore shoes that didn't match. Occasionally I'd go crazy and get some short boots into the mix, but this was my lolita shoe collection.

I have at least four tutorials in this blog about how to fix shoes, because I don't let my shoes die until they're absolutely dead and gone. Those brown tea parties are now painted gold and have been turned into very dangerous roller skates. I had to take a five-ish mile offroad hike in the white ones, which destroyed the bottoms as well as permanently staining the ribbon frill brown. These are, to this day, the only lolita shoes that I've ever thrown away. The other two pairs of shoes I still have.

My closet doesn't look like a BTSSB show room because I have to keep the rubbermaid tub of skulls somewhere, and the closet seems the best place.

In the seven years since I started buying lolita shoes again, I've collected several pairs. A lot of these pairs were in the $5-$30 price range, and none of them have been disposed of. This is just seven years of collecting shoes.

Number 3) Little details that are fast to add to a coord.

So, TJ Maxx sells these little clip on ribbon bows in their baby department, and they're my new favorite fast and easy accessory. They can go in your hair. They can go on your dress. They can go on your shoes. It's wonderful.

I've said a whole lot that making a lolita coord is about adding all the details that you think you should add, and then adding 3-5 more details. It's very easy to underestimate how detailed a handmade lolita piece should be.

Something that I didn't fully appreciate until recently, at least not to the extent that I currently appreciate it, is how much your overall coordinate can benefit from the same thing. If you CAN throw on some little extra bows and bracelets, it generally looks better if you do that.

I have very small wrists (both wrists together cannot hold a 4-week old kitten) and jingling loose bracelets often drive me nuts. I finally found out that stretch bracelets meant for kids will fit on my wrists, won't jinglejangle, and also won't pinch. As a bonus, they're like $1 for a 2-pack, so I went a little bit nuts stocking up on them.

I've got a couple of tutorials on making your own cheap, small details that you can just plop onto as many coords as you'd like.

Number 4) Sewing machine.

(Feb 2011)

My first lolita dress was handmade. Making my own garments and accessories has always been an important part of this fashion for me. I don't have as much to say about this, because it's just so constantly present in everything that I do.

I've learned about lolita fashion by sewing it, and I've learned about sewing by sewing lolita fashion.

(October 2010)

I made my first lolita dress on a pretty basic sewing machine (the precursor to the Janome 3160QDC). I've since sideways-graded to a really basic 80's Singer. Despite having a very fancy embroidery machine, I don't sew on it. My last service said I've done 5 hours of sewing and 170 hours of embroidery on that machine. I know what I need, and I have what I need.

Number 5) Five Below's $5 bike shorts

They're $5. They come in every color.

Your tights falling down? Bike shorts. Your bloomers pretty annoying to wash and so you want to keep them off your skin to avoid having to wash our sweat stains? Your car a little bit funky and you might need to lie down on the ground to change your tire? Bike shorts. Little old lady in a wheelchair might pick up your skirt to see if you're wearing pantaloons? and you're not wearing pantaloons? You're never going to be more glad that you have bike shorts.

When I was new to lolita and like 12 years stupider than I now am, I had smaller petticoats, and always figured that high-coverage tights and standard underoos were modesty enough, with bloomers being necessary for coords with socks. Get a fuller petticoat, and you stop feeling like that. Bike shorts at Target were like $15 a pair, because they're designed to be comfortable to wear when you're riding a bike. I'm not riding a bike. I'm walking through walmart to buy some milk. I'm not going fast because I have 5" of fake wood glued to the bottom of my foot. I don't need your comfort features. I need $5 bike shorts.

These have pockets in them so that you can stash emergency money or a fortune you got from Panda Express in 2020 that says, "Be ready to take an important journey soon," on it.

Yes, the pantaloons thing happened to me, and I actually was wearing bloomers. Yes, the woman pushing the tiny old lady in the wheelchair clearly had never been more embarrassed in her life.

Number 6) Men's undershirts.

Call it a singlet, call it an a-shirt, please don't call it a wifebeater. These things are made of a ribbed knit that stretches to accommodate boobs and curves very well. They're meant to be washed the heck out of. I can't throw my dresses into the washing machine on the crazy hard cycle and throw them in a hot dryer and figure whatever happens happens, but these things are THREE. DOLLARS. EACH. A whole lot of not perfect things can be forgiven when the under shirt is $3.

The neck doesn't work on OPs or some blouses, but they're also three dollars each, so I wear them any time I can. Women's undershirts are $12-18 EACH so I can't just buy 30 of them. If you want some bonus armpit protections, men's t-shirt undershirts are only like $5 each.

Number 7) Oxiclean.

A lot of lolita fashion is about our super fancy, super detailed prints. These are prints that look lovely when you're up close to them, so it's important to not have dingy and dirty and faded prints, especially when you paid good money for that printing. All hail Oxiclean.

I went to go take a picture of the jumbo boxes of oxiclean that I buy, but it looks like someone threw the box on the ground and then went to lie in her bed like nothing bad happened. (She wasn't hurt and I cleaned it up so she couldn't get it on her paws and lick it).

Also yes, my cat has her own little personal heater. It turns off if it's tipped over, so she will turn it off whenever she gets too hot.

Number 8) Parasols.

First of all, it turns out that finding offbrand parasols for lolita is a super cool challenge. They're not very common, so when you do find one, it feels like a big accomplishment.

I love parasols for a lot of reasons. I was going to get coffee with a friend, and someone was acting kind of strangely outside the shop. I liked that I had something in my hands to potentially use to keep that person away from me if they decided to approach me way too quickly. My doctor and I thought for a while that I had a condition where if I went in the sun, my skin attacked my internal organs, so I started carrying umbrellas for that. It's very sunny where I live. Before I lived here, I lived where it was very rainy, and having a nice couple of ruffled RainStoppers was good to have on hand.

(May 2011 | Sept 2013) I've actually collected parasols for longer than I've really been into lolita. Pic on the left was pre-lolita times. I absolutely loved that parasol and took it everywhere that I could. Pic on the right is the earliest picture I could find of my white RainStoppers that I got at Target, which I still have somewhere in my car. Mostly that pic is there because of my cats. Also the pictures just felt like a nice weird little bit of symmetry.

Anyway, when someone's taking a pic of you without asking, you can block it with your parasol. My relationship with parasols in lolita is complicated, because I feel like I shouldn't need to have a weapon with me, but here we are.

Number 9) All the info that baby me chronicled. Everything I've learned and everything that I didn't used to know. I have so much fun looking at my old cringe coords and all of the things I did that I know are wrong now. I really miss the way I fearlessly tried things out and the rate at which I churned out new pieces. There's some pieces that I don't have anymore and I miss those things. I used to have some old school AP socks that I have no clue where they are. Seeing the way I used to have my bedroom set up so that I'd still have space to sew. Looking at the dates on pictures and thinking about what I was doing back then. Most of these pictures are from back when cell phone cameras were awful, and I've had to edit all of them to get better exposure before putting them up. There's memories I have of us all carrying around digital cameras to save things, because cell phones just weren't there yet (also some of us didn't have pix messaging plans and had to pay 25 cents per picture to get them to our computers). I looked at the bottom of my pink RHS the other day and the tread's all the way worn off. That's so interesting to me, that I've worn pink-shoe lolita enough that I completely wore the tread off.

Jan 1, 2014 "Sometimes the best thing ever is to walk into Starbucks and watch a five year old’s eyes go as wide as they can, point at you, and say loudly “Mom, is that a real person?” Sometimes the best part is watching the mom go BEET red."

I remember that event so specifically. It was one of the first times I'd actually worn the head-eating bow in public. It took me several years to warm up to the head-eaters. I remember exactly what the mom and the kid looked like, but also until I read this post, I'd completely forgotten about this whole incident.

Number 10)

This blog, and the people who read it, interact with it, comment on it.

I really cannot explain how amazing this community is to me. I think the first time I saw someone link someone else a tutorial I made was just a couple of years ago. It was so exciting. Every time i meet someone who is afraid to get into lolita fashion due to the expense, and I'm able to tell them that there's a whole COMMUNITY of people who want to do lolita for less, it's amazing. I started this blog because I felt like I could make myself some accessories for not a lot of money, and I just needed the motivation to do it. But now it's so much better than that. I'm still making things for me. I make things I want and things that I'll use and things that I can make. But I'm also making them for other people, who also need the same kind of help. I teach myself new things so that I can answer questions I've been asked. Every time I have to research an answer for someone, that person has helped me grow.

It's just amazing. Thank you.

#20dollarlolita 30daylorlolita challenge #the random lolita

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