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#it looks like a cravat but its not quite the right time period for that i don't think
nochangeintheplan · 1 year
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Hijikata...
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Just. Period sex with Levi.
You know as well as I do he doesn't have a problem with it; the man spends half the series covered in blood.
You take him so perfectly, so slick and wet and tight it’s like a fucking dream. He has to be extra careful with you because your period makes you so so sensitive—no matter how loud your normally are, it gets quadrupled when he's got his dick in you and you're bleeding. So loud he's actually had to gag you to stop your wailing from disturbing the neighbors.
But its no big problem, really, all he has to do is shove his cravat in your mouth. Or better yet when he simply uses his fingers; slides them through your lips and presses firmly against the back of your tongue.
"Be a good girl and suck 'em for me, sweetheart. I know I'm making you feel good but those douchebags next door don't need to know it too."
God you’re just so much wetter.
The first time is kind of an accident; you've never mentioned wanting to be intimate during your period because you know how he is about cleanliness.
You're surprised enough that he's into sex as it is; there's no way he'd want anything to do with it when you were bleeding. The mess, the oversensitivity, the smell...it was a lot to ask from anyone, right? Better not to ask and to handle it yourself.
But he comes over one day without warning. Levi, of all men, knows the smell of blood intimately and the second he steps into the apartment he smells the iron in the air. He runs to your room, thinking you've hurt yourself somehow.
But the sight that meets his eyes is one of you sprawled out on your bed, a towel under your hips and your pretty pink toy disappearing between your thighs.
"It...it helps with the cramps." You squeak out, like you need to justify it somehow.
You imagine him turning away from you in disgust and you cringe—but the man before you is standing quite still. Not trying to move away from you at all. He's silent for so long you start to panic.
"It...Makes you feel better?" He asks quietly.
"Yeah, it helps ease the pain for a while." Your face is burning so much you can't even look in his direction.
"Why...didn't you tell me?" He sounds hurt.
You blink dumbly at him. At Levi, the most anal clean freak you've ever met, and wonder what to say. 'You're so neurotic I thought you'd vomit if I mentioned it to you' somehow didn't seem like the right move.
But after he learns that it helps you, and actually takes some of the discomfort and pain away, he becomes so eager that you actually have to turn him away.
He loves it. How overstimulated you get. How you've got tears running down your cheeks as you blink up at him, lips wrapped around his fingers that muffle the sobs bubbling up in your throat. Sobs you simply can't stop when he bullies that sweet spot inside your swollen, aching walls.
You cry when he starts moving inside you, so overwhelmed by the blunt press of his cock, but you cry even more when he stops.
Fuck—he makes his girl feel so good.
Levi loves it when you get like this, you're like putty in his hands. His whiny little baby that keeps begging and begging him to make her feel better—begging for more, begging for less, all hot and raw and aching.
And God you always get so clingy after. The two of you clean up and take a hot bath, and then he's got you hanging all over him the rest of the night, like you just can't bare to be parted from him.
Your hands card through his hair when you come up from behind him and bend to rest your forehead on the back of his neck. An arm twined with his when you walk together to get warm mugs of tea from the kitchen. The night always ends with the two of you curled up together; you draping yourself over his lap and nuzzling into his chest, just begging to fall asleep in the warmth of his embrace.
The heightened sensitivity and the intimacy of the mess, the flood of emotions wets your eyes and glues you to his side.
And It's fucking perfect.
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makeste · 3 years
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BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition
hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.
also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.
okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)
okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well
so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual
Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do
Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...
Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...
Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc
Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here
Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should
and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes
anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!
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OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS
Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby
anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me
Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY
Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled
Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires
Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”
AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT
Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy
HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on
BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING
Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling
anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this
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hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao
anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol
anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe
I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board
Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN
Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business
Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face
ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well
Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess
Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time
anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well
anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god
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kisstherainwriting · 4 years
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Mind if I Cut in?
Pairing: Missy x Reader
Warning(s): None! I don’t even think I swore anywhere
Anonymous said:
FIRST. YOU are a literary FORCE to be RECKONED WITH. second. I was thinking that going to a fancy ball with the doctor, and missy whisking you away (as is her right) for chaos and debauchery and maybe tearing up your dance card (because why do you need it when you already have a partner) would be cool. or something
This was such a sweet request that 1) had a LOVELY compliment, thank you, hon!! 2) involved Missy, and 3) had an A+ concept. So inevitably my fingers slipped. It’s still messy, it was meant to be a quickie. Will probably edit a little later??
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“I don’t dance,” the Doctor had said gruffly, all furrowed eyebrows and stern-set mouth. Like you put him in a cravat and he was suddenly contractually obligated to be Brooding and Mysterious and Extra Taciturn. Like two hours earlier he hadn’t eaten an entire jar of marmalade with a spoon while lecturing you on the Sea Monkey Uprising of 2078.
“And I don’t do out of tune Quadrille Bands,” he’d added while squinting at the chamber musicians. Who sounded pristine, actually, like they’d come straight out of a carefully crafted period piece.
“Then why are we even here?” you’d asked. You were all glammed up for the occasion, looking like a frilly three-part miniseries, and suddenly you felt very silly. “Why would we come to a ball?”
“Wish fulfillment,” he’d said, a fond smile breaking through his pseudo-Byronic exterior. “You’re welcome.” Then the Doctor had handed you a little notebook. It was leather, and gold-leaf shimmered on its cover. It was attached to a delicate cord. A dance card. 
The Doctor had slipped it onto your wrist. “Just hold this up and look pitiable. Someone will dance with you. Probably.”
And he’d then promptly abandoned you to the whims of the party.
Someone had asked to dance with you, actually. You’d been twirled around for what felt like hours now. And as the names in the little notebook had piled up, you’d started to feel overwhelmed by it all. When the strings faded out and the current song waned to a close, you were relieved. Your dance partner released you from his sweaty grip, and you took a deep breath, wondering if you could slip out between numbers. See if the Doctor had found any finger foods, wherever he was.
A familiar coyness cut through the room’s polite applause. “Mind if I cut in?”
As you turned, your skirts flared out, swirling against your ankles. 
Missy. In the middle of the crowd, her hand extended and waiting. Those sharp blue eyes glittered up at you through her lashes.
“Depends,” you managed. How the hell was Missy here? Who casually crossed paths in nineteenth-century Austria? … Other than nineteenth-century Austrians. 
Your pulse rocketed; you fought the bizarre impulse to cover your neck, just in case she could see it somehow. “Are you actually asking me to dance,” you asked, “or is this just a really bad pun?”
“Always so suspicious. It really is getting tiresome, pookie.” Missy’s gratuitous pout couldn’t fully cover that ever-present smirk. Your nose crinkled at the pet name. She held up both hands, her fingers dancing in the air. “Left all my sharp objects in my other hat, I’m afraid. Satisfied?”
You were breathless, you reasoned, from dancing. And maybe from the shock of seeing her, her Edwardian silhouette still striking and charmingly out-of-place against a sea of crinolines. It certainly had nothing to do with Missy’s full-blown, annoyingly fluttery-making smolder as she once again extended her hand. Dancing made people breathless, damn it.
Biting your lip, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, you took her hand.
The smile that lit up Missy’s face made the room feel sweltering. She intertwined her fingers with yours, and, slowly, like she was toying with you, she pulled you closer.
“Excuse me.” A man whose mustache looked vaguely familiar stepped forward. Missy’s movements halted. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking anything but, “but I do believe that I requested the next dance.”
“Oh,” Missy said. Her eyebrows raised, expression all faux-concern, she looked between the two of you. You grimaced into one of your gloves. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” the poor idiot confirmed, apparently suffering from a low-functioning fight or flight instinct. “Quite sure. You might refer to their dance card.”
“This one, here?” Missy clarified, plucking it from your wrist. Lips pursed, she thumbed through it. “Uh-huh. Yeah, okay, I see that there--oh! Whoopsies.” With a swift jerk, Missy ripped the notebook cleanly in half. “Clumsy me. Ever so sorry.”
Missy fanned herself with the dance card, shreds of paper spilling out onto the floor. Her grin was two feral ticks away from a snarl. 
The man paled, only managing a series of frantic throat-clearings as he faded back into the crowd. You mouthed “Sorry!” after him, which seemed to delight Missy all the more.
As if they’d been waiting for you, the orchestra finally started up. The first notes rang out through the hall as partners recoupled. Missy dipped into a low curtsy, and—failing to stop a smile—you bowed your head. Then Missy reached for you again, her hand coming to rest on the small of your back as she pulled you close and guided you into the first few steps. One, two, three; one, two, three.
A waltz. Of course.
“Rather ornate setting for getting groped by fuddy-duddies with muttonchops,” Missy drawled as she led you around the floor. Her movements were effortless. 
It was impossible to avoid eye-contact when you were this close, and she seemed to relish your flustered discomfort. “For the record, I’ve been having a great time.”
She smirked. “Liar.” In one fluid movement, she twirled you out before tucking you neatly against her, your back pressed to her chest. You could feel her breath graze your ear.
When you were face-to-face again, you shook your head. “So, seriously, what are you planning?” you asked, the question feeling strangely conversational.  The whole righteous-companion-outrage was getting more and more difficult to muster up when her hand felt so soft in yours.
“Really now, precious, I’m wounded,” Missy objected. Her grip on your waist threatened to slip lower. “Can’t I take a pretty girl for a spin about the ballroom?”
“Without casualties? I’m not sure yet.” You spun her, which seemed to take her by surprise. “I don’t exactly trust you, you know.”
She affected a sulk, lower lip jutting out. “Sad face.”
“Where’s the Doctor?”
“No idea.” She was lying. But you let her move even closer, somehow keeping pace to the music even though your noses were inches apart. That bright red lipstick sparked in the candlelight. “Come on, kitten, let me show you a good time,” she taunted, suddenly. “Play hooky at the school dance.”
There was something so bizarrely earnest about the way she said it, so light-hearted and spur-of-the-moment, that you chuckled. “What, just leave with you?”
“Just for a few hours.”
“Mm. Who knows what we could get up to in a few hours.”
“Sexy little bite of chaos,” Missy grinned. “Consider it a palette cleanser for the frankly pungent amount of pastels in the room.”
Absentmindedly, your thumb played with the shoulder of her jacket. “I can’t just leave the Doctor, Miss.”
With the nickname, she knew she had you.
“I can have you back by midnight, Cinderella. With both shoes, if you’re good.” The promise was mocking, but Missy squeezed your hand. As she pressed her cheek to yours, she stage-whispered, “The Doctor’ll never even know.”
"Well,” you exhaled, as the dance came to an end. Your skirts settled around you. “You did clear my dance card.”
Missy refused to release your hand. “For the whole evening, sweet cheeks.”
Notes: Wow this got away from me. Why can’t I write drabble-length drabbles?? But I hope you like it?? And thank you for the ballroom prompt, hon! I’ve never written a ballroom scene before 💜
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my18thcenturysource · 4 years
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What do you think of the 18th century costumes from buffs the vampire slayer and angel the series?
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I had forgotten entirely of such episode from Angel!!
Wow. Thank you @luluthecatprincess​ so I had to go and watch it first. LOL. Sorry for the late response.
First, let’s remember that both series are from the late 90s and early 2000s and well, that might get whacky sometimes BUT in this case, in general it’s such a nice result! You go, Angel costume team!
BTW this is “The Prodigal”, Season 1, Episode 15, of Angel (aired on 2000), but the same outfits appear in other Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel episodes in short flashbacks. I think this is the first time they properly appear in Angel.
The flashbacks on the episode are supposed to be set in Galway, Ireland, in 1753, so I’ll be using the 1750s and late 1740s as the style references for these costumes, and I divided the costumes by character and outfit. Here we go.
THE MAID
Along with the time and place, we see the maid of Liam’s (a.k.a. Angel) home:
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She does not look bad, except for the cap. That cap is hideous. A cap is clearly needed for a maid to keep her hair in place, but this one is seriously ugly. I’m not sure if it’s the artificially white material (which is always a sign of polyester or other artificial fiber fabric), or the fit. Other than the cap, the only other detail I find hard to imagine a maid would wear in a normal work day is the size of the sleeve ruffles, which are deeply not practical, and a bad idea to wear while going to well for water. We know that maids might get their mistress’ old dresses, but it is definitely not practical. BUT I think I see the visual reference used for this outfit (up to the ribbon lacing front):
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“Mademoiselle Louise Jacquet”, 1748-1752, Jean-Étienne Liotard.
LIAM / ANGEL
He wears five 18th century outfits during this episode, that I have named: the yellow waistcoat outfit, the green outfit, the pink waistcoat, the funeral outfit, and the vampire outfit.
The Yellow Waistcoat Outfit
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This is what we first see him wearing while he’s with the maid. I’m going to completely ignore his hair, because it is not done, but generally looks like a nice length to be done in curls at the sides of the head and a pony tail in the back with a bow or black silk bag (later we see he’s got a loose pony tail). I mean, he’s hungover, but those hairstyles were supposed to be worn FOR DAYS, so I’ll just pretend that he has not had his hair styled for quite a long while.
The shirt does not look bad, it has frills attached to the front vent like it should, and not in a horrible and inaccurate cravat, so thankyouverymuch. The waistcoat does not look bad, the colour and the embroidery are right, just as the shape and round neckline (even here is worn open). This tell us that Liam is quite a wealthy young man… or his father is. Here a waistcoat (front and back) to be seen as comparison:
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Man’s Waistcoat, France, ca. 1750, LACMA
Now, the garments look rather good, but there’s something wrong and I cannot put my finger on it (other than the long shirt worn completely out, even though we know that it was long because it was used as underwear, and I get that it is used as a parallel of a modern drunk man with his shirt worn out of his trousers, so I’ll ignore that). It seems that this outfit fits wrong. His second outfit has a coat and it also looks odd, but his last outfit looks really good.
I’m not sure if it’s because David Boreanaz seems to be HUGE and all these garments seems too short and too narrow for him (but he’s like 1.85 m and that’s not freakishly tall, just tall). BUT it might just be that since all is worn in disarrange, and when we see the back of the waistcoat it looks tiny on this back:
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Or maybe, this guy is just huge.
The Green Outfit
Excuse my poor screencaps, but this was the only one I got to make with the full outfit XD
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The fit also seems odd. Unlike other garments on the episode, this seems to have been made for the episode: the fabric has a weird shine and seems almost like upholstery fabric, the buttons are sadly small, and the fit on the actor’s shoulders is definitely not right for the 18th century, but especially, it is not made like  other coats in the episode (like the PERFECT ones Liam’s father wears). His shoulders are too straight like in modern tailoring, but the rest of the coat seems too big for him, which only makes me think of the late 90s fit in men’s tailoring.
Here for comparison from later in the episode, is Angel in “the present” (1999-2000), and look at the silhouette of his trench coat:
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And now look at the green coat:
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The cravat is tied in a simple way but I still don’t know why hasn’t he dressed his hair! Man, get your shit together!
Pink Waistcoat Outfit
The first photo of the submitted post is this same waistcoat from another view. In pink brocade with gold decorations, this waistcoat has an odd front curve and buttons on both sides… like, how is he even supposed to button that down?
Also, suddenly he’s got perfect square sideburns that we had never seen before, and that might be the envy of Mr Darcy himself. This is a weird outfit.
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The Funeral Outfit
SPOILER (is a 20 year old spoiler a real spoiler?) he dies to become a vampire. So here, we see his funeral and then later that night, his rise from the death. For this important event in a vampires life (idk, I guess?), he wears a black or brown suit. I don’t know because it seems black and the light changes and it seems brown.
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But first, let me get this out of my chest: he died AND NO ONE DECIDED TO FIX HIS HAIR FOR HIS OWN FUNERAL?! DAAAAAAAMN! Yes, I’m OBSESSED with his lack of hairstyling. I could have been SO good! But well, what is done, is done.
Now, he’s got a nice cravat with lace tips, a coat with big cuffs in a fabric that seems to be of satin stripes (oddly, it was chosen to cut the stripes horizontally), nice laces cuffs for his shirt and a general better fit than the one of the green coat.
The Vampire Outfit
Finally, we see Liam paying a visit to his father (and killing everyone in the process). Finally his hair is not a mess, but still not in a good mid 18th century style. Just a total fail this guy’s hair. Anyway, he’s wearing a dark green velvet suit with a stripped waistcoat. The coat has cuffs (and a weird piece on the back) in the same fabric as the waistcoat. I think this is the best suit in fit, but he best suit overall in the funeral one.
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On this suit we see the back (seeing that weird contrast piece), and also see the volume of the skirt of the coat that gives it its name of frock coat. The buttons are metallic and simple. He wears a (too big to not look hideous) black brooch on the cravat. Just. Why.
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Somebody explain to me wtf in this on his back:
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THE FATHER
Oh. My. God.
I don’t know where did they rented his outfits from BUT he’s the best dressed character of the episode. Period. All his outfits are perfect: the roundness of the shoulders, the fabrics, the sober colours, the perfectly styled hair, the tricorn hat. Everything is right. Perfect.
Which makes me think, that all costumes were rented and they only made the ones David Boreanaz wore, so maybe they couldn’t find anything great that fitted him. I have to say that they worked them well (not perfectly), so they work.
Now, here the outfits worn by Liam’s father with no real comment because all are great:
The green coat at the beginning of the episode (it even looks like wool! Look at his lace cravat! AND HIS HAIR!):
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The dark red suit with the pink waistcoat:
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You can even see the volume of the wide skirt of the coat!
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The funeral suit, all black with gold decoration:
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look at his cravat! But ignore the girl’s hair, everything is wrong there:
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And finally, the death outfit (spoiler! he dies!), he’s at home at night and he’s not wearing a coat, so we see him in dark brown breeches, pink (?) waistcoat, shirt with lace and no cravat. And guess what? HIS HAIR IS DONE.
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Anyway, this man just escaped from a mid 18th century portrait:
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“William Axtell”, ca. 1749-52, John Wollaston, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
DARLA
First of all: what kind of name is Darla, and what the hell was she thinking when decided that Angelus would be new Liam’s name? It only makes me think of evening prayer. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.
During this episode she wears three clearly different dressed:
Robe à l’anglaise with floral stomacher
When we first see her, she’s at the pub wanting to eat Liam up, we only see her earrings and the wide necklace with shiny embroidery:
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Then we see her out on the street, when she sires Liam. we see that she’s wearing yellow? green? a robe à l’anglaise with an embroidered stomacher:
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Grey gown with sash
After Liam’s funeral, she goes to meet him at the cemetery. She wears a silver/grey gown with long sleeves, pink stomacher, and a decorative pink sash. Over it she wears a cape, perfect for going out in the night rising the dead, and her accessory is a ruffle choker/necklace with a ribbon. Because of the cape, we do not see the full volume of the skirt, but I seem to see that it is like the others. Anyway, this particular style seems more suited for a later decade in the 18th century.
We don’t see this dress’ back, so I don’t know for sure if it’s a robe à la française or à l’anglaise, but I tend to think that the latter.
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Gold robe à la anglaise
Finally, when Liam/Angelus kills his family, we see her in this other robe à l’anglaise with gold decoration and stomacher.
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She’s clearly supposed to be easy to find with the eyes, therefore she wears light colours with some kind of shine in them. The silhouettes are pretty good, as the sleeves, decorations and laces. I like that her key accessory seems to be a wide choker/necklace.
Now, with all these good stuff, I don’t know why her hair is closer to the 1760s and 70s than to the 1750s, like we can see in this examples from my hairstyle timeline:
The 1750s did not have much volume at the top of the head,
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The 1760s saw the rise of the hair and the egg shape hairstyle (and look at the choker! it’s just like Darla’s!):
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The 1770s gave wide curls a place in the increasingly complicated hairstyles:
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And once more, we see that LIAM HAD NO GOOD HAIRSTYLE FOR ANY OF THE THREE DECADES.
SOME OTHER RANDOM COSTUMES I LIKED FROM THE EPISODE:
The maid in the pub, that only misses a jacket and that kind of looks like Christina Hendricks… and IS HER according to IMDB:
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Everyone at the funeral:
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The mom in black:
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The mom dead :( or she’s just taking a nap :)
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And my favourite is this particular boy with crazy hair (you go, Glen Coco! Rock that baroque look):
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CONCLUSION
Unlike I expected, the costumes are pretty good. Accessories were kept simple and that always help a lot. The silhouettes were almost perfect, and the materials are not horrible. Their biggest misstep was the hair, with hairstyles of other periods (and from later from when it is set! If they were from before, there is not such a problem), wigs that look pretty artificial (like the mom’s wig), or no hairstyle at all (I’m looking at you, Angel).
So, it was a nice surprise to see that the period costume of a supernatural/fantasy/noir series from the early 2000s could serve its purpose in such a good way: it set easily the time and place, and the broad attitudes of the characters dressed. Since watching the first scene, even without the text, you could tell that they were in the mid 18th century, that Liam is a drunk, that his father is strict and respectable, and that Darla is a refined lady. So, mission accomplished.
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raeynbowboi · 5 years
Text
Dating Disney: The Little Mermaid
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So when I started, Dating Disney, it was with the intention to pin down the fashion validity of Disney’s leading men, but when I started looking at Eric, I found that he’s wearing very hard to pin down clothes. A simple shirt, some pants, boots, and possibly a cummerbund? Or a sash? It’s really unclear. So rather than that, I decided to use clues in the movie to pin down a general historical time frame and location for Disney Movies, and I’m not really going in any order. I stand by Sleeping Beauty being set in mid to late 14th century Italy, but from here on out, I’ll be focused more on history and the movie, using context clues to set a time frame.
Story Origins
Den Lille Havfrue or The Little Mermaid, was written in 1836 and published in 1837 by Hans Christian Andersen, a Danish writer. It was written initially as a discreet love letter to Edvard Collin who had won his fancy. Edvard had gotten himself engaged to then 13-year-old Henriette Tybjerg 3 years earlier in 1833. The story is a highly symbolic depiction of Andersen’s feelings, as Edvard represents the handsome prince, Henriette is the kind foreign princess taking the love of his life, and Andersen is the suffering hero who endures great heartache to be near the one he loves, and is effectively voiceless, unable to speak his true feelings due to the time when he was living in. Henriette was actually so worried that he’d make a scene and declare his love for Edvard at their wedding that they “accidentally” gave him the wrong day, and he missed the ceremony. Thus, Andersen wrote the little mermaid disguised as a wedding gift, which Edvard had little interest in and which Andersen later decided to publish. I won’t do this for all of the stories, mind you, but this one had a very interesting history behind it.
Clothing
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The first costume doesn’t appear in the actual movie, but is used occasionally as part of the Disney Prince line-up attire that Eric sports. In this image, he’s sporting a waistcoat, cravat, and tailcoats, all indicative of 19th century men’s fashion. In particular, this look rose to popularity in the 1840s and stayed popular through to the 1850s. Eric’s wedding suit and the engagement suit are both  military jackets that include epaulets on the wedding suit. These are in fact naval admiral jackets, as seen in the below picture.
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All of these fashion elements emerged during and following the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815). Most of the men except Eric have buckles on their shoes. Although we might associate the image more with the 18th century and the American revolution or pilgrims, buckled shoes were still a common sight in the 19th century that it’s not out of place or unreasonable for them to worn in this film.
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The widely hated pink dress (and quite unfairly I think) that Ariel wears to dinner seems to fit with 1850s fashion although the large sleeves were apparently designed to resemble 1980′s prom dresses. The blue dress Ariel wears for the date is entirely era inappropriate (especially since her ankles are visible during the Victorian Era), and neither hers nor Vanessa’s corset dresses are fitting for their time period. It should be noted that the visible different skirts was not a trend of the 1800s, and this was the closest example I could find, and even then appears to be an outlier in what’s been recorded of 1850′s fashions. Now, it’s possible that this dress could be old and was just lying around, so even Ariel’s dress is not necessarily proof of a finalized decade, since she could simply be wearing an out of fashion gown.
Technology
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The Tobacco pipe that Scuttle calls a Snarfblat, seems to resemble a Calabash type tobacco pipe, first invented in 1898, at least according to one source I found. The Calabash is widely recognized for its saxophone shape, and is closely associated with Sherlock Holmes imagery. There are other types called Bent or Billiard pipes that may have existed earlier, but I couldn’t find when those kinds of tobacco pipes would have been invented.
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Eric’s Ship seems to resemble a Galleon, mostly in the bent U shape of the ship and the bulky stern. An evolution of the Portuguese Carrack ships of the 15th century, these Spanish ships were invented initially as armed cargo ships, but were also used as warships. In the early 19th century, they were drafted as auxiliary war vessels, dominating naval warfare for most of the Age of Sailing. Although Eric’s ship is not quite a Galleon, given that his ship as a more noticeably protruding cabin on the ship’s stern, it still maintains the unique U-shape of the vessel.
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The type of carriage we see when Eric gives Ariel a tour of his kingdom seems to resemble the Phaeton carriage. Both are four-wheeled carriages with a fold-up back and a swooping decal on the front of the vehicle. Shown to the right is an image of Queen Victoria as a child with her mother in a Phaeton. I don’t have an exact year as the link no longer works with the British Museum of History, but Queen Victoria was born in 1819, and she looks fairly young, so I might posit that this might date anywhere from 1822-1834? But I’m legitimately guessing. The point is, this type of carriage would have existed at this time and later.
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When we see the town square of Eric’s kingdom, we see a clocktower and gas lamps. While I couldn’t find an exact year of when clock towers became a common thing, the clock that houses Big Ben in Elizabeth Tower was built in 1844, so that’s a least a clue as to when a much smaller clock might have been commonplace. Gas lamps as a public source of illumination began in 1809, as commemorated by a political cartoon of onlookers marveling at the new wonder.
Geography & Climate
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Hurricanes - when the sea storm hits, the sailors declare that the storm is a hurricane. Initially, I assumed the movie was still set in Europe, and I looked up and found that there have in fact been instances of hurricanes hitting the western countries of Europe. However, the palm trees kind of debunked that theory.
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Yes, you are in fact seeing palm trees. Growing naturally. In the place Eric calls his kingdom. So we are definitely not in Europe. This is further backed by the fact that a hurricane hit only two or so days ago, and hurricane season tends to be in autumn, while the foliage in Eric’s kingdom is a vibrant summer green. This has lead me to the assumption that Eric’s “kingdom” is a colony in either Florida or more likely, one of the Caribbean islands. Which would most likely mean that Eric is a Spanish prince. This is backed up by the simple fact that the general aesthetic of not only the castle, but the kingdom has a very Spanish look to it. But I’m not really at all well-versed enough in architecture to elaborate other than “it looks kinda Spanish to me”. He could be the son of the Spanish king and ruling this local area due to its economic importance and could possibly have a warship to fight off pirates. Eric might also not be the first in line for the throne, thus this is why he’s so far from home and without any parents around. He came to the new world to rule a smaller slice of his kingdom since he’d probably never be king of Spain. And yes, I did find that there are marshlands in the Caribbean, so Eric and Ariel can still go for their boat ride through the bayou.
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There’s also a portrait of Phillip and Aurora in Eric’s dining hall, which means he’s probably related to them. Considering they’re Italian and he’s Spanish, it’s extremely likely. It’s not super relevant, but it’s a neat easter egg. Or if it’s not Phillip and Aurora, it could be Eric’s parents, and it just looks a lot like Phillip and Aurora, which could still be a clue that they’re related. Although the painting is rather recent, not like a 14th century tapestry, so it’s probably either a painting of his parents, or Aurora and Phillip are a big deal in Eric’s family, resulting in them getting a more modern portrait made of them.
Verdict
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All around, I would have to say that the movie is set on one of the Caribbean islands under Spanish colonialism in around the mid 19th century. Although the pipe might be from a later decade, it’s such a minor detail, and so late in the century that if anything it’s an outlier in the data. Most of the facts tend to point more toward the early and middle of the 19th century, which is why I lean more toward the early-to-mid 1850s as the era of choice for this film. What this means for the world at large is that both America and France have denounced their monarchs. Victoria took the English throne in 1837 and has been ruling for about 20 years. Charles Darwin’s Origin of the Species sparks outrage among the public at the notion of being a monkey’s nephew. Furthermore, it pretty much dissolves the Little Mermaid from being connected to the Frozen/Tangled conspiracy at all, as Ariel is all the way over in the New World, while Arendale is half-way across the world. It’s possible that the ship could have been commandeered by pirates who sailed the ship to the Caribbean where it was sank, but that’s adding extra steps and filling in blanks to try and force the theory to work. So there you have it, Ariel married a Spanish prince who was a full on navy admiral living in colonial Caribbean islands in the 1850s. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are. I would not have logically pegged the Caribbean for the setting of the film. But, that’s where the evidence points.
SETTING: A Spanish Colony in the Caribbean
KINGDOM: The Spanish Empire (1492 -1975)
PERIOD: 1850s (Victorian Era)
LANGUAGE: Spanish
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mithrilwren · 4 years
Text
Five for Flowers
For Fjorclay Week, Day 2: Fake Dating
I finished this JUST IN TIME! But I was determined to get this out today :) Enjoy some fake marriage, buoyed up by the flimsiest macguffin-acquiring plot in writing history!
(cw. mentions of trafficking)
[Also on Ao3!]
The manor house is darker than most of the other buildings in Port Damali, its walls adorned in austere shades of black and red, and the wrought-iron gates barring their entry a foreboding grey. Two high spires mark either end of the tall building, lending the illusion of a small-scale castle to its silhouette. Even amongst the rest of the manors in the district - the richest one, where Fjord would never have dared step foot during his sailor days - the building is ostentatious, and Fjord tugs on his cravat, checking for the fifth time this afternoon that it’s still sitting straight.
“Sure looks like the kind of place a creep with a secret torture dungeon would live,” Beau remarks - sarcastic, but Fjord still hears the shiver of revulsion in her voice. The thought of someone as sweet as Twiggy spending months, years, locked up in a place like this… it’s enough to make him sick.
“Well, should we see if the illustrious Sir Cadigan is in?”
Beau nods, then goes to collect Caduceus, who’s wandered off to examine the lichen that’s grown from a nearby tree into the bars of the fence surrounding the house.
Thankfully, Jester’s forged letter gets them tidely through the guards at the gates. They’re led into a small patio, as they await a decision on whether they’ll be allowed into the manor itself. Once they’re inside - if they get inside - he won’t be Fjord anymore, but ‘Captain Leofric Janelle”. (A group naming decision, made without much input from Fjord.) Beau and Caduceus will become his associates, here to present their fine wares and rare artifacts to the most esteemed collector in all of Port Damali.
More guards patrol by, and Fjord watches them, notes their numbers, and goes over the plan again in his head.
Convince Sir Cadigan we’re interested in becoming purveyors for collectors like himself. Find out if he knows anything about the book. Get an invitation to the next event at the Exalted Collection Auction House, or find out how. Caduceus, make sure he’s not bullshitting us. Beau, if something goes wrong, punch Sir Cadigan in the nose, then run like fucking hell.
…That last bit could probably still use a bit of work, he muses.
After fifteen tense minutes, they’re ushered through the wide double doors into a foyer of some kind, and then an enormous drawing room. Every spare inch of each wall is lined with pedestals, bearing items of all shapes and sizes: dusty tomes, cloaks inlaid with fine filigrees, ancient cores of metal that even Fjord, with his limited grasp of history, can guess must date back to the Age of Arcanum. Each plush chair and velvet-lined couch within the room is perfectly arranged to provide the best viewing angle for a subset of the pedestals, with none blocking the sightline of the others. There’s no door at the other side of the chamber, but instead, what looks like a corridor that leads to a wider space beyond.
A servant comes in and hands them each a glass of some amber liquid that smells nauseating bitter (which is to say, expensive) and as he leaves - with the tray still balanced elegantly on his arm, despite its emptiness - an impeccably dressed man enters the room.
He’s younger than what Fjord imagined. Something about Twiggy’s account of Sir Cadigan had fixed in his mind the image of the proprietor of the Driftwood Asylum - maybe it was the descriptions of wanton cruelty, or the tendency to keep children locked up in highly uncomfortable quarters. That man was in his sixties, balding and thin, but Sir Cadigan seems only a decade older than Fjord - maybe mid-forties, at most. His short brown locks are still untouched by grey, coifed and teased to an elegant wave above his brow, and his body is trim, though the tight lines of his gold-threaded jacket speak of muscle lingering beneath.
“Welcome, Captain,” he says, in a lightly accented voice that rumbles at about the same timbre as Fjord’s. “I’ve been told you come bearing gifts? Or rather, merchandise for trade?” Cadigan smiles, all aristocratic charm, and offers a hand. “I’m always happy to make new acquaintances.” He pays Beau and Caduceus no mind, lending Fjord his whole attention in a way that he might find flattering, if he wasn’t already so on edge.
Fjord takes the hand, and the grip that meets his is bracing.
“As you can see, I’ve amassed quite a collection of treasures in my time. I do hope what you’ve come to show me meets the standard of what you see before you.” The grip tightens, and Fjord returns the smile through the crack of bruised bones.
He may not look much like the Asylum proprietor, but Fjord knows a bully when he sees one.
“Of course, Sir Cadigan. I wouldn’t dare waste your time with anything but the best.”
“Good. Then we’ll get along well.” The affable demeanor returns as the hand withdraws. “But before we begin, you must introduce me to your companions.”
“Right.” Fjord clears his throat. “Well, this is my first mate-”
“Beau,” she cuts in, sticking out her own hand, and Fjord sighs internally. He didn’t have high hopes that anyone else would stick by their pseudonyms, but he did have hopes. At least the danger should be minimal - he’s the only one who could theoretically be known by name in Port Damali.
Cadigan reaches out to accept the handshake, with considerably less enthusiasm than he did for Fjord, but the motion halts halfway to meeting. His eyes slide over Beau to light on Caduceus, who stands - for once, unhunched under the high ceiling - by her side.
“Now, who is this fascinating creature?” He turns away from Beau entirely, and she frowns, as her hand drops back to her side.
“Caduceus,” he replies, with an easy smile, “Caduceus Clay,” and Cadigan doesn’t even wait to see if Caduceus will offer a handshake before he reaches out and grasps his hand, pulling him forward. Fjord shifts on the spot, abruptly uncomfortable, as Cadigan pulls the hand up to the light and lowers his head, as if to kiss the back of Caduceus’s knuckles. But at the last second, he pauses, then turns the hand over and teases the fingers apart, running his own over the soft fur that borders Caduceus’s palm.
“What intriguing musculature,” Cadigan murmurs, and there’s something in his eyes that’s almost… hungry, as he continues to maneuver Caduceus’s hand back and forth. While Caduceus makes no effort to remove himself from the touch, looking more perplexed than putoff by Cadigan’s inspection, Fjord is seized by the inexplicable urge to drag Caduceus away from the man. He can’t read Cadigan’s intentions - whether this some sort of bizarre flirtation, or something else entirely - but whatever it is, it makes Fjord’s stomach twist: to see Cadigan touching Caduceus in such an intimate way, without so much as a by your leave.
…Which is funny, because he’s never thought of hands as particularly intimate before. Maybe it was just Caduceus’s hands, that remind him of healing warmth and a boost off the ground after a hard fight. His are big, dwarfing Cadigan’s by inches as those unfamiliar fingers continue to roam over Caduceus’s knuckles and down to the wrist bone.
Over Cadigan’s head, Beau catches Fjord’s eye and mouths what the fuck? He shrugs, trying to convey with his eyes that a) he doesn’t know, and b) Beau should try to keep her cool, for now. Their only mission is to find a way to that book, before someone else does, and discovers what dark secrets lie within its moldy text. Gods know he’s endured his own share of unwanted groping, enough to last him a lifetime, but they always came out ahead for it. Where would the Nein be, if he hadn’t done what he did for Avantika… Maruo...
His stomach flips again. The reassurance isn’t as comforting as he hoped; not when it’s someone else making that bargain. Not when it’s Caduceus, who Fjord isn’t convinced would even know how to interpret an advance, blatant or not.
“I’ve never met a creature like you before,” says Cadigan, finally releasing Caduceus’s hand and stepping back. Fjord feels like he can breathe again. “What do they call you?”
“My name, generally,” Caduceus answers, and Cadigan’s face twists in displeasure.
“Your kind, I mean.”
“Oh! Well, you weren’t very specific. I’m a firbolg.”
“Fascinating,” Cadigan says again, tapping his chin, and still staring at Caduceus intently. Fjord allows himself a moment of relief, hoping that’s the only explanation for Cadigan’s strange behaviour. He’d certainly never met a firbolg in all his time in Port Damali. He’s not even sure if any tribes live on the Menagerie Coast, period; there aren’t exactly an abundance of forests to choose from. Maybe he was just intrigued by the sight of a new race, like Fjord was when they met Pumat Sol for the first time. That could be all it was.
Still, as Cadigan leads them around the room, showing off all his pedestals with the sort of purposeful disinterest that tells Fjord he does, in fact, cares very deeply what they think of his collection, Fjord still notices the man drifting closer to Caduceus than he strictly needs to be, and Fjord finds himself looking for excuses to interject himself between the two of them.
He asks question after question about golden suits of armor and ugly pencil sketches, barely hearing the answers by the fourth long winded monologue of subsequent explanation, but at least if Cadigan’s compulsive need to show off his wealth of riches is fed, it keeps his eyes off Caduceus: off his gait, his hair, the lichen dusting the top of his breastplate, each of which Cadigan leers at greedily in turn. It’s like he’s cataloguing his appearance, writing up the details of his body in his mind for later perusal.
Fjord is about ready to crawl out of his skin by the time they reach the adjoining room, where they find larger installations on display: sculptures and frescos, painted hobby horses and staffs with crystalline glyphs running down the smooth wood. After Cadigan is satisfied they’ve all fully absorbed the grandeur of the possessions on display, he leads the three of them to a table at the center of the room, spreading his hands wide over its empty expanse.
“So, now that you know the quality of the things I trade in… what have you come to show me?”
Beau, having been given temporary custody of the bag of holding for this mission, begins to pull out their offerings. Fjord winces to see the whip laid down, remembering how it saved Beau’s life only a few months before, but they haven’t got many magical possessions they’re willing to trade. Yasha couldn’t be persuaded to give up either of her greatswords, nor Caleb any of the more valuable or interesting books they’d collected along the way, and so they had to make do with what was left: a smattering of odds and ends, some rarer than others, and hopefully something tempting enough in the mismatched lot to catch their target’s attention.
Cadigan takes his time examining each piece, passing over most, but humming in a pleased way when he gets to the whip. “What an interesting collection of treasures you’ve brought me, Captain. How, may I ask, did you acquire this assortment?”
“I’ve spent my life on the high seas. We come across all manner of strange and interesting things in our travels.”
“All obtained honourably, I’m sure.” Cadigan smirks, and Fjord returns the knowing smile.
“Oh, of course. What do you take us for? Pirates?”
“Hmph. I wouldn’t dare to presume.” Cadigan picks up the whip, and gives it an experimental crack. The lash is swift and precise, and Fjord is not at all comfortable with how easily Cadigan holds the pommel in his hand: like he’s accustomed to wielding weapons of that sort. “How you come by your good fortune is no business of mine; my only concern is what fortune it brings to me.” He sets the whip back on the table, and pushes it towards Fjord. “Now this, I like. What’s your price?”
“Twelve thousand,” he answers swiftly. They’ve done their research - planned ahead, for once. He knows it’s overasking by a mile, but bargaining down is part of the game. Asking for less would be an insult, and a dead giveaway that they’re not who they seem.
Sure enough, Cadigan’s grin widens at Fjord’s proposal.
“Why, Captain, you must take me for a fool! This is not worth more than six.”
They go back and forth, haggling through rakish smiles, until they settle on a sum that pleases both of them - and honestly, surprises Fjord in its generousity. Their only aim was an avenue into Cadigan’s world, so turning a tidy profit in the process is an unexpected bonus.
“Nothing else tempts your fancy?” Fjord asks, when the money has been tossed into Beau’s bag and a servant has taken the whip away.
“From these? No.” He sneers at the rest of the items on the table, as though their mere presence in his sight is personally offensive. “But there is something else that’s caught my eye.”
His gaze slides from Fjord’s face, passing over Beau without pause to land on Caduceus once more. Fjord and Beau slowly turn as well, following his gaze.
“Hmm?” Caduceus asks, once he realizes where the attention in the room is now focused. He glances down along his body, searching for whatever Cadigan was referring to. “If you’d inquiring about my armor, I’m afraid I’d rather not part with it.”
Cadigan laughs, the light sound tinged with something darker beneath, something that sets Fjord’s teeth on edge. “Yes, I’m quite decided, Captain. I must have him.”
“Wait just a fuc-”
Fjord holds up a hand to Beau, staying her rage, which is a mite hypocritical considering the fury that roils in his own stomach.
“Sir Cadigan,” he says, slow through gritted teeth, “just so we’re clear, what do you mean, ‘have him’?”
“For my collection,” Cadigan clarifies, grin never slipping, even as his eyes narrow into something sharper. “Your companion is a unique treasure, indeed.” He waves a hand down the length of Caduceus’s body, all the while only looking at Fjord, as though Caduceus is merely another item on display. “The colouration, the facial structure, the hair. Nothing like what I’ve seen before: a truly quality specimen.”
“Ah,” says Caduceus, and Fjord is relieved to see a note of anger in his eyes as well. At least he’s cottoned on to what’s happening… though, he remembers, Caduceus grew up on the border of Shadycreek Run. Fjord shouldn’t be surprised that this would be part of his, albeit limited, world experience. “So you mean to buy me, then?”
“Come now,” Cadigan says to Fjord, still ignoring Caduceus, and the fuming Beau between the two of them. “No need to be coy in this house. We both know that men of the sea don’t acquire riches like these without dabbling in the most valuable cargo of all. Still, I understand your hesitance. It seems you’re quite partial to him - and after all, who wouldn’t be?” Cadigan laughs again, and Fjord tightens his fists, nails biting into his palms. “But let me assure you, my offer will more than assuage any lingering guilt over the trade.”
There’s a clinking of metal at the corridor to their rear. Fjord turns his head, and spies the shadow of armor and halberds, waiting just outside of sight. At his side, Beau stiffens as well.
“I simply won’t take no for an answer,” Cadigan says, crossing his arms, as though the matter has already been decided.
“Sir Cadigan, I, uh- I think you’ve misunderstood the situation.”
In his panic, he takes less time than he should to consider what his next words should be. A minute later, he’ll be kicking himself for not saying something like ‘we aren’t in the business of selling people’, or ‘here’s my alternative offer’, or even, in a more Beau-like tenor, ‘fuck off, you enormous creep’.
Instead, what comes out of Fjord’s mouth is, “We’re married.”
Beau’s mouth falls open.
“Excuse me?” Sir Cadigan’s eyes narrow, as Fjord… freezes in place.
What the fuck did I just say?
“Uh,” Fjord clears his throat. “Yeah… yup. For just over five years now. Right, umm… darling?” He nearly chokes on the endearment - too syrupy for his true accent, but he doesn’t have Vandran to call on now - staring at Caduceus with wild eyes and trying to deliver the subliminal equivalent of a foot-stomp through nothing but rapid blinking.
Please, for the love of everything holy, just go with me on this.
“...Yes,” Caduceus says slowly, not taking his eyes off Fjord, and he feels a flush begin to creep up the back of his neck. “That’s right. Five years.”
“So,” says Fjord, gulping down the rapidly pooling saliva in his mouth. “You can see why your offer, no matter how generous, is out of the question.” He moves to Caduceus’s side, Beau mouthing ever more vehemently what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck as he blocks her from Cadigan’s view with his body. Fjord slings his arm around Caduceus’s waist, in what he hopes comes off as a protective manner. But he’d forgotten about the height difference, and so his arm lands somewhere more in the vicinity of Caduceus’s bony hip. Fjord has to angle his hand down so that it ends up resting on Caduceus’s thigh, rather than… anywhere else.
Damn, he’s still skinny.
Fjord waits with bated breath to see what Cadigan’s response will be. He can feel just as much tension radiating from Caduceus. They can fight their way out if they need to, but he saw at least ten guards on their way in, and he’s betting there’s a whole host of magical enchantments littered throughout the manor as well. If he thundersteps his way out, he can only take one of them with him. Their escape would be far from a sure thing, if this turns bad.
“...I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.” Cadigan sighs deeply, then unfolds his arms from his chest and waves off the guards in the corridor. “But I wouldn’t take a prize that another man has already claimed.”
Fjord’s grip tightens on Caduceus’s hip, pulling him even closer to his side, until they’re pressed together from calf to waist. Far from abating, the disgust in his throat only deepens. He hates that his gut instinct was right: that this is the kind of man that would only respect Caduceus’s autonomy, if he thought he already belonged to someone else. That Sir Cadigan views marriage as possession, at its core, and he quietly wonders if the man has a spouse, and how unhappy they must be in their union, if he does.
At least it’ll be over soon, he thinks, keenly aware that the sweat on his palms is probably soaking into Caduceus’s thin shirt. They’ll finish up their transaction, and then he can apologize to Caduceus for dragging him into such a mortifying lie once they’re safely back at the inn-
“That being the case, I insist you stay for dinner! I’d be fascinated to hear the story of how you two met.”
“Same here,” says Beau, not overtly amused, but definitely goading, and if they were alone he’d aim a kick at her shin. There’s a time for teasing, and Fjord isn’t feeling it right now.
“We really should be headed out soon,” Fjord hedges, but to his surprise, a heavy hand lands on the small of his back. He does his best not to jolt forward as the hand slides to rest at his own waist, feeling the heat of blood rise from his neck to his cheeks. Gods, Beau is seeing all of this. He’s never going to live it down.
“I think that sounds lovely,” Caduceus says, far more pleasant than anyone talking to the person who’d just tried to buy them ought to be. “We had wanted to ask you about some of the other collections in town… maybe even the auction house. Isn’t that right... dear?” His hand gently squeezes Fjord’s side, and Fjord absolutely cannot look his direction, for fear of combusting from sheer embarrassment. His entire face is burning, and he prays to Melora, or anyone else who’s listening, that his dusky skin will hide the blush.
“Excellent!” Sir Cadigan claps his hands together, draped in friendliness once more. “If you give me a few moments, I’ll make the arrangements.”
Cadigan leads them back to the first room and bids them adieu at the door. The moment the heavy wood closes, Beau rounds, and unleashes the words she’s been bottling up for almost an hour.
“Dude. What the fuck?”
“I don’t know!” hisses Fjord. “I panicked, alright!”
“...But it did seem to have the desired effect,” Caduceus muses softly. “I suppose we’ll just have to maintain the pretence, until we’ve gotten the information we need?”
“...Fuck.” Fjord scrubs a hand over his face, and Beau pushes her hands into her hair.
“Fuck is right. No offense, but you two have got the worst game I’ve ever seen. You both have ‘never been laid’ written all over you... Avantika notwithstanding,” Beau amends.
“Right,” grumbles Fjord, “No offense,” while Caduceus nods, apparently agreeing with Beau’s assessment.
“And now you’re supposed to convince this guy that you’ve been shacked up and oh so deeply in love for what, five years now?” Beau laughs incredulously. “We’re so screwed. Forget getting the information, we’re going to have axes in our heads before dessert.”
“I don’t have much experience in the realm of romance,” Caduceus concedes. “But I trust you, Fjord. Your plans are usually solid. If you think we can pull this off, I’ll follow your lead.”
Fjord laughs nervously. Calling it a plan, rather than a hasty decision made in the heat of the moment and immediately regretted, is incredibly generous. But they’re in too deep to back out now. “Right,” he says. “At least we have time to-”
-get our story straight, is what he would have said, if Sir Cadigan hadn’t reentered at that very moment.
“The dining room is being prepared. If you’d all follow me.” He ushers them out into the hall, and at the last second Fjord grabs Caduceus’s hand, clinging for dear life, both to the illusion of romance they’re trying to maintain, and… honestly, to the feeling he’s not alone in the deception, for once.
(He’s so used to being the one out front, wearing a stranger’s face as well as he can while the others hang back, that it’s almost comforting, that there’s someone else at his side, equally complicit in his success or failure.)
They follow Cadigan through long, twisting hallways, with not a blank segment of wall left unadorned, until at least they come to an elaborate dining room. The long table is made of a finely carved wood - mahogany, maybe - and set for twelve, though there are only the four of them in total. Between the arched ceiling and gaudy tapestries, the whole room feels incredibly overdone for their little dinner party - which seems in keeping with the rest of the manor’s design.
Cadigan takes his place at the head of the table, and the servants guide them to their respective seats. Beau is given a place at Cadigan’s right hand, while the servants gesture for Caduceus to take the seat to his left. Fjord quickly jumps in the way, grabbing the back of the chair in front of him, the one that he’s pretending he doesn’t notice a different servant is indicating as his own. “Allow me,” he says, and pulls back the chair, nodding meaningfully at Caduceus.
“Thank you.” Caduceus takes the seat, and Fjord pushes his chair in for him, then takes the one at Cadigan’s side, which puts him right between the man and Caduceus.
Their host goes quite purplish when he’s annoyed, Fjord notes, and he smiles innocently at Cadigan before reaching forward and taking a sip from his newly refreshed goblet.
They stagger their way through small talk as the first course is served - roast pheasant confit, which means exactly nothing to Fjord, but is delicious. Fjord makes certain not to reveal too much about what he already knows about Cadigan, while he asks the kind of open questions that leave the man plenty of room to self-aggrandize. He also makes sure to slip a few of the blistered peas from his plate onto the side of Caduceus’s salad - offered in place of the pheasant, on his request - while Cadigan is watching. That’s what couples do, right? Share food?
When Fjord looks down again, he notices that a few slices of radish have migrated to his plate as well.
While he knows it’s all part of the ruse, and done on Fjord’s own initiative, it’s hard not to be a little touched that Caduceus remembers how much he likes radishes. They’re the kind of thing that you don’t usually get on a ship - fresh, and crisp, and crunchy when you bite into them, unlike the salt-encrusted hardtack and petrified raisins he swears he chipped more than one tooth on in his youth. He spears a piece, and smiles gratefully at Caduceus, the fondness in his expression far from an act.
From across the table, Beau coughs into her napkin, which Fjord imagines might have been hiding a gag, but mercifully keeps her mouth shut.
Next comes the soup, and the end to Fjord’s brief reprieve, in which he’d almost convinced himself their little physical gestures would be enough to get them through.
“Now that we’re all comfortable,” Cadigan takes another deep sip from his wine, “I’d love to hear how such an unlikely pairing came to be together!” Fjord opens his mouth, ready to jump in with the half-remembered tale of how his former boatswain met his Marqueesian wife, but for once, Cadigan seems more interested in what Caduceus has to say than Fjord. “Do tell!” he implores, raising his glass to Caduceus. “How did a ship’s captain end up with such a fascinating creature as you?” Fjord doesn’t miss the ordering of the sentence, the way the possessive clause still belongs to him, and he takes a sip of his own wine to drown out the frustration that’s threatening to escape from his throat.
He should be used to this by now - people talking down to Caduceus. Hell, even King Dwendal had no time for him, even after the Nein single handedly delivered his capital city from ruin. But it still rankles him to his core. Caduceus is incredible, one of the most incredible people Fjord’s ever met. If people would spend even a little time getting to know him, instead of just making assumptions, they’d see what Fjord sees.
Even though the question wasn’t addressed to him, he doesn’t see the harm in laying a reassuring hand on Caduceus’s for moral support. This could be the moment they crash and burn - improvisational skills aren’t Caduceus’s strength (nor, apparently, Fjord’s, if their current situation is any indication) - but whatever he says, Fjord will have to play along.
“Oh, well. It’s a bit of a long story.”
“And we have plenty of time!” And drink, Fjord thinks, as Cadigan downs the last of his glass of wine and calls for another. That their host is a lush doesn’t come as a surprise - the man is one grand personification of overindulgence - but Fjord hopes they can still turn that detail to their advantage. Loose lips, and all that.
“Well,” Caduceus starts, “we met in a graveyard. I was very lost, you see, and Fjord helped me find my way out.”
“Fjord?” Cadigan asks curiously, and Fjord winces as he realizes Caduceus’s blunder. Of course, he would have been the only one to remember to use a fake name, and of course it came back to bite them in the ass. “I thought your name was Leofric.”
“A term of endearment,” Caduceus responds, with barely a moment of hesitation. “In my tribe, it’s common to give a new name to a loved one, one that reminds you of the person. My… husband was my passage to the sea, where I found my family again, and so, ‘Fjord’ he became.”
Fjord’s heart swells with something almost like pride. He’s (almost) certain Caduceus is lying through his teeth about that ‘tribal practice’, but Cadigan eats up the lie, nodding vigourously.
“Of course,” he muses, words beginning to slur together like the bed of seaweed beneath the dish of salmon that Fjord only just notices has been placed in front of him. “What an odd tradition - but darling, in its own way.”
“I think so.”
“So, what next? Did he sweep you off to the sea, and then off your feet?”
Caduceus chuckles through his nose. “Not exactly. We’re both stubborn, and thickheaded, and it took me far too long, to recognize what… I was missing.” The barest of hesitations, just enough that Fjord notices, but not so long he can parse what it means.
Caduceus’s hand has started to shake, he realizes - probably with nerves - and Fjord gives it a tiny squeeze, hoping his message is clear. You’re doing great, keep going.
“I think it was seeing my family again, that did it. I was alone for so long, I forgot what love looked like, until I saw it in front of me once more.”
Fjord swallows again, a whole new emotion flooding his chest. Seeing Caduceus’s parents had been a revelation for him as well. Two happy parents, embracing their children: it had never been part of the fabric of his reality. A big family, with so much love to spare, and he had wanted-
He had wanted.
“I asked him to marry me, that night, beneath the altar,” Caduceus concludes. “I shouldn’t- I couldn’t wait. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t to be alone anymore. It was… well. You see now.”
There’s a hint of self-recrimination in Caduceus’s words, something Fjord can’t decide is embarrassment, shame, or worry that his lies weren’t good enough. Though… did Caduceus really lie? The part about falling in love with Fjord, sure, but the rest? It’s pretty much what happened. Which, honestly, is miles ahead of whatever lie Fjord would have offered. And judging by the unexpected softness in Sir Cadigan’s bleary eyes, that spark of honesty did the trick.
“What a story,” he says, almost dreamy in his wine-drunk stupor. “Captain, you are a fortunate man indeed.”
“Don’t I know it,” Fjord agrees, finding it far too easy to fall into grinning at Caduceus, silently congratulating him for a job well done as he squeezes his hand again. It’s only Beau’s swift kick to his ankle that reminds him they still have a job to do. “But enough on that. We think that the world of procurement is our calling, and we came to you because we know you’re the best in the business...”
Two more courses, another bottle of wine, and several tedious conversations filled with blatant flattery later, and they have their invitation to the next event at the Exalted Collection Auction House. With their mission accomplished, they bid a tipsy Sir Cadigan goodnight, and make their escape back into the night air.
Beau is uncharacteristically silent for most of the walk back, which is very frustrating, because Fjord was planning on using her as a buffer for the more awkward silence between him and Caduceus. That silence between them only grows more heavy with each step back towards the inn. What had seemed almost easy in the cool glow of Cadigan’s chandeliers returns to being mortifying, now that they’re back in the real world. Fjord whistles with his hands in his pockets, trying to forget how strangely well they fit into one a little larger than his own.
The rest of the Nein clamour around them when they return, and Beau takes on the task of delivering the good news. She even skips over the bit about his and Caduceus’s ruse, which is… oddly considerate of her.
At least, that’s what he thinks, until she unveils the reason for her previous silence: she was saving up her ammunition, for one last deadly salvo.
“Oh, and I almost forgot to mention - Fjord and Caduceus got married.”
Beau sits back, smirking, as the room devolves into chaos around them.
“It was just one night!” he cries above the ruckus, to no avail.
“Yup,” smirks Beau. “Until that auction - you know, the one that was the whole point of tonight - where Sir Cadigan is definitely going to be, and is definitely going to expect your husband to be on your arm. Face it, Fjord, as long as we’re in town, you guys are hitched for good.”
Fjord buries his face in his hands.
She’s right, and he hates that she’s right.
This isn’t over yet.
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clansayeed · 4 years
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Things Worth Keeping, or the Annual Raines Corp. Fourth of July Charity Gala
PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil)
⥼ Summary ⥽
Kamilah takes great care in preserving some of the more sentimental articles of clothing she's acquired over the years. Nadya realizes she might have a historical costume kink.
word count: 2,775 rating: teen+ content warnings: language, brief political discourse, implied sexual undertones, implied kink
⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽ 
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So it turns out every time there’s an event that requires Kamilah’s attendance (specifically requires, since the Awakening Ball was both some weird vampire-political obligation and her wanting to see Marcel again) the mannequins come out.
Only for costume events though.
Or… she’s decided ‘every’ just because what are the chances she’s lucky enough to behold the sight of Kamilah Sayeed in period wear twice in one year? Apparently very good, very good indeed.
The vampire takes it upon herself to explain while fussing with a few collars and sleeves rumpled in transit. Nadya takes it upon herself to listen intently — takes everything in her willpower not to take notes. “Indeed one comes to terms rather early on that all objects are replaceable and their worth is only what the owner projects upon them,” which is quite a lot judging by the little smile Nadya sees peeking at the corner of Kamilah’s lips as she works, “and because I have had the misfortune of losing things I once coveted, I see no harm in preserving that which has stayed with me.”
Nadya adjusts her seat on the couch; makes sure the lid on her travel mug is secure otherwise she’ll never be allowed to drink in the front room again. “Is that a really fancy way of saying ‘I think it’s really pretty and I want to keep it that way?’”
Kamilah goes still. Not the tense kind of still that makes Nadya want to stuff her words back in her mouth but the kind of still she’s come to understand will reap very wise rewards. If she’s patient enough.
She’s learning to be patient enough.
“I suppose if you wish to bring the sentiment down to the simplest terms… yes.”
And oh man even that little agreement has Nadya buzzing excited.
“I’m so excited — this is gonna be so much fun!”
“What it will be, Nadya, is a gross exaggeration more akin to a serial drama than the real thing.”
“Wow, grumpy pants. Where’s your sense of patriotism?”
“In the same gutter as the ideals on which this nation was founded.”
Okay, fair point. But that brings up a very good series of questions all scrambling to make themselves heard. Which goes about as well as it always does and leaves Nadya tongue-tied and mute.
More than a few times Kamilah throws subtle looks in Nadya’s direction. Totally discreet and casual — done while circling a dress here, adjusting a cravat there. And each time she asks some variation of “Are you sure this is how you wish to spend your evening?” Nadya gives her the same answer.
“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”
The final time Kamilah is just close enough to turn crisp on her heel and bring them face to face. Her deep honey eyes roam Nadya’s face and spare no detail; like she’s one of those pretty dresses Kamilah’s kept after all these years.
It makes Nadya feel small and big, whole down to the tips of her toes but also just a sliver in Kamilah’s long long life. Which is a lot to feel for someone of her size. Maybe too much.
Cool, soft lips on her forehead force Nadya to open eyes she didn’t know she was squeezing shut. No longer scrutinizing, now the vampiress allows them both a rare glimpse behind the mask. To the concern she guards close and reserves for those she cares about.
Adrian, Gerard, Marcel… Nadya.
She cares about me that way. Holy cow.
“You truly mean that.” Kamilah says and it isn’t a question. Kamilah isn’t in the business of asking stupid questions to which she knows the answers — that’s Nadya’s ball game.
“Of course I do.”
“Forgive my surprise.”
“Always.”
It’s just a kiss. People kiss all the time, all over the world. But those people aren’t Nadya and they aren’t kissing Kamilah so they couldn’t possibly know how wonderful and important and loved each one makes her feel.
Along with all the other things that make her squeak when they part. It’s impossible to miss that look in Kamilah’s gaze.
“While I enjoy your company immensely Nadya… I may have to ask you to leave,” even though the trace of her finger over Nadya’s lips kind of contradicts that, “as I do have to attend a conference call before the night is through.”
Nadya doesn’t even care that her pout is a little childish. “I thought you took the day off for this.”
“I took a half day for this. You were the one who insisted on losing an entire night’s productivity to help me choose my attire.”
“I’ll be quiet?” There’s no harm in trying, right? Thankfully Kamilah still seems more amused than anything.
“You misunderstand.”
Does she, though, because there are only so many ways to take the sudden closeness. Kamilah’s hands braced atop the back of the couch pinning Nadya between the cushion and her permanence, the contradictory darkness in her bright eyes with their lowered lashes, and oh my god that smirk…
Then Kamilah’s leaning in to whisper in her ear and she’s just—just jello, absolute jello. “I had hoped to be finished by now, yet I keep finding myself distracted.”
Jello or not though Nadya will always be Nadya.
“I—I can leave, if… if that’s what you want.” I know work is important to you. I know schedules are important to you even though your organizational methods are outdated and frankly anxiety-inducing. I know you have a lot to get done and only so many hours of moonlight to do it…
Kamilah doesn’t answer. Instead just taps the underside of Nadya’s chin with her pointer finger and gives a smile in reward when the human lifts her head obediently.
“What do you want, Nadya?”
You know what I want, she would normally say, but if she did then all their… all their training would be for nothing. And don’t memories of that (as recent as, uhm, three in the afternoon today) make her zone out somewhere over Kamilah’s shoulder.
Seven mannequins; still headless, still creepy. Four beautiful ballgowns and a priceless Egyptian kalasiris†, a definitely custom-tailored zoot suit, and…
Holy broad stripes and bright stars.
“I asked you a question.”
Oh yeah, she’s definitely wearing that.
Kamilah doesn’t have to remind her twice. Nadya leans forward what little she can; basks shamelessly in the one thing in the entire world she knows she’s earned—
The way Kamilah looks at her with absolute pride.
“You. I want you.”
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Its so fulfilling to see all her hard work come together in one place, on one night, and with the promise of fireworks to come. There’s just something about fireworks. She loves ‘em.
Jax lets out his fifth heavy and long-suffering sigh of the minute. A personal best, but Nadya’s having too much fun to ruin the night by telling him.
Unfortunately her hoop skirt makes it hard to sidle up for a hip-check. Cue sigh number six.
“You know I’m technically the hostess for this thing, right?”
“Are you saying you’re the person I complain to?”
She huffs. “No, I’m saying that your grumpy face is personally offending me.”
She can’t tell if he’s purposefully avoiding her eyes out of spite or shame — then a roaring yelp of laughter from the dance floor draws Nadya’s attention out to where Lily and Maricruz spin fast-paced and free; held together by just their hands and their shared looks of ‘I couldn’t care less where I am so long as it’s with you.’
At least that gets a little smile out of Mr. Grumpy-Pants.
A costumed server stops at the pair of them and offers his tray of goodies up like sin. Nadya spares two quick glances over either shoulder — thankfully Adrian has donors to schmooze and Kamilah hasn’t arrived yet — before she plucks a cheese cube carved in the shape of the Liberty Bell.
But it isn’t enough that Jax has to act so unhappy the entire gala — now he’s stealing her snack and eating it himself?! Where’s my purse, where’s my stake?!
What else can she do but gape? He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, just chews and chews and swallows while trying to ease the itch in his legs caused by the borrowed hose.
“Lily warned me you might make bad choices.”
So what? I’m a grown woman, I can make bad choices if I want to. “Are all of you in on some big conspiracy to keep me from cheese?”
“If it’ll spare you future pain, yeah.” Which — she wasn’t expecting that. Nadya can’t help but feel her face soften. One look down her way though and he rolls his eyes. “Stop it.”
“You hate my party. You steal my cheese. What’s next, burning my crops and delivering a plague onto my house?”
Jax looks appalled — which is a real shame. That would have gone over so well with Lily. “I—what?!”
Nadya just waves it off though. “Forget it. Just…” oh hey look, time for her own sigh, “forget it.”
“It’s not you. It’s these tights.”
“They’re hose.”
“They itch.”
“Imagine wearing them all the time.”
Nadya is totally enjoying her frilly not-period-accurate-in-the-slightest ensemble but of course Adrian is the only one who looks really right in his whole get up. It’s a good thing he has to wear modern suits and styles or else he’d be pegged for a vampire right away.
Her boss pulls her in for a one-armed hug, expertly outmaneuvering the skirt but he probably has experience with that, huh? And his smile only widens as he takes in Jax in all his colonial glory.
“They were good in the winter, obviously. Though I’ll admit once I didn’t feel the weather anymore the discomfort really presented itself as a problem.”
Jax just rolls his eyes. “Why do I feel like you throw this thing just to say shit like that?” Which— she can tell he’s trying to be sarcastic but Adrian definitely goes tense beside her.
“I ‘throw this thing,’ as you say, because my own personal wealth can only go so far, and most of it is immaterial. But every donation is material, and that maximizes the good I can do with it.”
Nadya nods eagerly. “There’s like six different scholarships in STEM research alone, I think a dozen in the business sector, and when we get to our goal tonight —” she knows they will, Raines Corp. history states they always do and Raines Corp. never had her to push them above and beyond, “— the company’ll have enough to match the city’s bid for the abandoned tunnel reconstruction project.”
If he ever read the minutes she sent him after every Council meeting he’d know this, but when Jax said he didn’t do paperwork he meant he really didn’t do paperwork.
But it’s enough to get his attention. “And what happens then?”
Adrian shrugs. “I postpone it. The most I can do without getting politicians involved is five years but I figure… that should be long enough to either relocate the former Clanless and break even, or fortify the Shadow Den enough that any efforts won’t cause structural damage. Unfortunately Vega’s interim replacement hasn’t officially made her views on such things known, but I think with time —”
It’s—as Lily would put it—freakin’ cinematic. How Adrian’s voice fades away to a buzzing in her ears and Jax’s reply sounds like a mouthful of cotton. The music dims and the lights aren’t as bright except where they fall on her when she strides through the open double doors.
Now let it be known that Nadya firmly believes Kamilah looks amazing in anything. Her power suits, a crimson dress from centuries gone, the plum kimono she uses as a nightgown… Honestly she’d probably somehow make a banana costume look sinfully sexy.
No. What? No. Moving on.
And even though Nadya knew the moment she laid eyes on the uniform it was the non-negotiable choice — her brain put some weird filter on itself to keep her from imagining just what that looked like. Probably to try and keep her sane.
Because the real thing… there are literally no words.
Adrian’s laugh comes both from behind her and a million miles away. “Would you look at that. Now that is a sight that brings back memories.”
“Wow, color me surprised.” Jax deadpans.
Adrian is a close personal friend of the New York Historical Reenactment Society (surprisingly not a bunch of vampires… if there was ever a group suspect but no, she’s checked) and most of them are in attendance tonight. They make Nadya look like her dress—a gift from Adrian, rental only—was bought at a cheap pop-up Halloween store.
And Kamilah makes them look like a middle school theatre cast. There’s just something about the fabric, the way it fits her and the way she carries not just the uniform but her own body inside of it that makes her look authentic. No one would believe her; not with the freshly-oiled leather and polished brass buttons, but Nadya’s chaotic-dumb brain really wants to scream “take a look at the real deal, ya posers!”
Kamilah’s hand rests on the glossy hilt of her saber as she approaches. Eyes passing right over Adrian — probably used to the sight — and sparing Jax absolute no dignity in the soft “ha” she gives.
“I didn’t know we could wear uniforms.”
Kamilah raises an eyebrow and tucks a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “You… have one?”
“No,” sigh number seven, “but I would’ve tried to find one. Anything to get out of these tights.”
“They were useful during winter.”
Adrian laughs and gestures to her eagerly. “That’s what I said!”
Kamilah wasn’t ignoring her, not on purpose. That’s made obvious the second she finally does take in every skirt and frill, every pearl in her necklace and lets her eyes linger where Nadya’s chest heaves against her corset.
“Nadya, you look as beautiful as ever.” Then Kamilah takes her hand and kisses the back of it with a soldier’s courteous bow. Where’d I leave that dumb lace fan…?
She’s about 99.9% sure Kamilah holding her hand is the only thing keeping her standing right now.
Adrian snickers. Nadya couldn’t care less. “Careful there, General Sayeed††. Your lady seems about to swoon.”
Thankfully the woman takes heed and pulls Nadya close, possibly the most public affection they’ve ever had holy crap on a cracker, resting a hand on the curve of her hip. Yet she looks at Adrian with… what is that, mild annoyance?
“You know very well I was not named General until nearly a century later.”
Jax mouths his silent counting — blanches; “You were a General in the Civil War? You know what — of course you were.”
“A discussion for another day, perhaps.” Kamilah dismisses him just shy of pushing him out the door; lucky for Nadya both he and Adrian take the hint and fade into the cinematic background.
It’s just Nadya and Kamilah now.
“Hello.”
“H-Hi.”
Long fingers brush a strand of Nadya’s hair aside feather-light. “You do look… stunning, Nadya. You look stunning. Blue becomes you yet again.”
Blue? She’s wearing blue? Because her face is scarlet. “You — I mean — wow like…” words Nadya — words, “you really wore that and…” And fought in it?
Kamilah’s nod is curt. “In a sense. My skills were best suited to espionage, sabotage and the like.”
“Of course they were.”
“Though I’m gladdened to know the uniform still becomes me.”
As if it ever wouldn’t. “You look perfect in, like, everything.” But Kamilah’s not a fan of those kinds of blanket statements, so she tries again a little bit more from the heart. “You make a uniform look really good, that’s what I mean.”
The hand on her hip presses down then; important and as on purpose as everything else Kamilah does. Through the fabric right underneath her hand a familiar purpling not-at-all-bruise sings sweet on Nadya’s skin. Of course Kamilah knows where the love bite is. She was the one who gifted it.
“I may be the soldier…” Kamilah pulls her close; a hold of stone — she leans down to ghost a kiss at Nadya’s jaw (and knows it will drive her wilder than wild) and whisper in her ear.
“But you’ll be the one taking orders.”
Nadya’s last coherent thought?
She really needs to find more chances to get Kamilah in costume.
NOTE: While this fic technically exists in the Oblivion Bound universe it works standalone as well, I think. The only references are brief and to Maricruz Espinoza, a vampire original character and girlfriend of Lily, and a sort-of reference to the fact that Marcel survived in my fanfiction. Hopefully it still reads well!
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artemuerto · 4 years
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The Thing that lives under the Bed AU or Shadows.
Note: Please, listen to a song Cat Pierce feat James Levy- Regret by almost the end.
This was not what i imagined happening but as Cat release this song i couldn't help but to sank in it and imagine as Tony would feel Peter as much as the angsty song tells you. And i know that by those last lines it could led to a tragic end for Peter, but is up to you to decided if Peter falls asleep forever to dream of Tony of if he ever blinks again.
I did call him sleeping beauty for a reason.
@starker-sorbet, @thestarkerisobvious, @starkerprince
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Startdust and Moonlight
Up to next morning, Peter didn’t feel tired nor restless, he imagined he had dreamed last night, however his mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember what his dream was all about. A sharp knock on the door alerted him.
“C’mon sleeping beauty, it’s time to wake up.” Groovy with sleep Peter marched to the bathroom and got ready for the day. His hair was suffering from a crazy case of bed hair, sticking all over the place as if somebody had played with it before he went to sleep; a distant tune rang beneath him making him blink fast trying to remember. Where did the music come from?
Once again, May knocked on his door, only this time, she appeared smiling at him offering a warm cup of coffee.
“You’re getting late for school, kiddo.”  Peter said his goodbyes running out of the apartment after kissing her cheek and stealing her breakfast.
Peter’s mornings were very similar and casual. Tones of boring classes, boring topics, interesting topics, horrible teachers and lots of screaming, whether is the Cafeteria flood with kids and hunger or the long hallways filling with swimming legs and rush breathes as more than one student seemed to late that day.
His one free period was usually taken by the library, on the days Ned and Gwen shared the same hours, they would stay together, eating snacks and talking about their days, their classes, the weekly gossip, dating and the walk of shamed to the principal’s office.
By the early afternoon, right after the bell rang and the students started to leave the school, Peter would take his time. The season was changing, the raging heat was slowly decreasing, although there was no obvious turning on the trees nor any sing of snow yet, surely autumn was taking his time to arrive. The sun still shined above their heads and painted the sky with blues and magentas reminding him of cotton candy on the Carnival.
Waiting for the subway wasn’t really a chore, at least not for Peter, sure May hated it on the rush hours when everyone was trap like a can of sardines, but even then for Peter was a whole experience. Low were the times where Peter would take a seat, and even if he got lucky he would prefer to give it away to someone who actually needed it. He liked to daydream about the lives of the people who traveled with him on short distances on the subway, where would they go? Where did they live? Did they like the subway like Peter or would they hate it like May? Would the people love being in such a restricting place or would they rather be on wide open spaces?
Like that foggy gray ancient mansion Peter used to visit when little.
Wait— what mansion?
Going into a tunnel with the flutter of passing birds, Peter closed his eyes and saw it. The long roads of ladders cover in dirt and dead leaves. The lonely looking mansion resting in dry land and open space, the bindweed created a slithering path that he wishes to dance upon. The creaking of leaves under his bare feet was a delighted sound as he danced an old tune in violin. Would anybody be there to dance with him?
The flashing light of warm sun brought him back to the present. The people around were unconcerned of his thoughts and soon one and another left their places by the time they reached their destination. Confusion clouded his mind, was it a dream? He could recall the fresh memory of a place he was sure; he had never been before even when the details were so firm in his brain. Perhaps he had seen it in class? History was never his forte but Peter could swear it was straight out of a Victorian novel, those which he and his classmate were force to read in literature and study their times in real life back in the 1800s.
Maybe, that’s what it was. A simple made of memory from a past class.
Peter went home without another thought feeling the soothing warmth of sleepy sun at the back of his neck, innocent to perceive the glooming darkness that soon came to follow.
That night the Shadow was small. The longing in their whole being was palpable but the Light was so bright and pure that they could not do much. They questioned what could have changed and what could have happened to their Master for him to be so different in a blink of an eye. Their eyes had not deceived them, Peter seemed happy, content, curious and joyful for the passing of nights where he could play with them, Peter went as far as dancing with them in their home and he looked so thrill; the Shadow thought they had found the one. But now their master was so gloomy, a pale shade of gray where not even his sight would light up the darkness.
What happened to master Peter?
They waited and hoovered, holding back and longing. They stood back until Peter came into his room.
*  *  *
Peter said goodnight to May with a long sigh, they were both tired after a long day and even when he had a pile of homework soon to become a mountain, Peter wanted nothing but to sleep and forget.
«What Master wants, Master gets. »
Under the covers Peter stayed wiggling his way into comfort, his puffy socks were on and his pillow was extra fluffy he felt swimming in the clouds, the air around him stilled. There was no rusting of wind or lonely dragonflies looking for their partners in the open, like a bubble of peace Peter was surrounded by calm and serenity.
Shadow peeked in curiosity ventured under the bed, slowly reaching the edge of its domain, they had never reached that far before, their limits were bound to the stretch of the bed and the cold floor beneath it. The Light had told them so.
«Impossible to go. Perish you will. Consumed and forgotten you be. »
The Shadow remembers those words, the words that left them powerless and lonely. Cast away in their home waiting, always waiting for someone who would come and dance once again. Fill their home with music and passion.
And surely he came.
Peter came stumbling around, touching the frozen walls of the mansion, painting marks of mist and fog, dark trails of obscurity where not even the selfish rays of light could reach them, the candles flickered, trembled in Peter’s passing. Peter was made to dance for them.
Thanks to Master Peter the Shadow could move, could walk and run, they could dance once again. So the Shadow would dance for Peter.
The roaming of music came in whispers. Peter wasn’t sure on how he knew but he was certain, soon he would be able to hear it all clearly. The shy notes sound peaceful and inquisitive, as if they were waiting for him. And waiting they were.
Bashful tunes came closer and closer, prompting him to walk freely on their soft rugs. Open doors greeted him but instead of the massive dance hall he was accustomed to see, his sight was different. A wide room with oval ceilings and spiders hanging from it with short flames of candles.
“Where am I?” Peter questioned. The flicks of darkness danced its way to him drawing snakes of forms to get his attention.
«Your room, Master. »
“My room?” The large bed was made, the bed post had creamy wavy curtains and nets with opaline wind chimes sparkling and giving light to the space.
«Yes. Yours. »
“How is this mine?” Peter came standing in front of the wavy shadow and extended his hand with clear intensions of touching but never being brave enough.
«His room. Happy Master. Room Master happy. »
Peter still didn’t understand how it came to be his. Who could have given him such room? Who lived in that place besides his friends. The friendly shadows that love to play and dance with him.  As if sensing his thoughts, the shadow beamed looking bigger than before, faster than before. The shadow circled him, surrounded him and for seconds Peter feared, were the shadows going to hurt him? The last time he was in that same position, not only him but his uncle was also hurt.
«No. Master, happy. Master, dance. Clothes for Master. And Master dance. »
The Shadows wrapped him in spirals of feathers, later on Peter could picture the difference, the difference between the regular darkness he knew and the absolute blackness that soon followed his eyes to the point where he couldn’t even see himself nor the palm in front of him. His body took another shape, long lost was the soft camisole he always seemed to have in that place and now, a fit white dress shirt, a high neck and a soft cravat was decorating it, resting in the middle a dime of gold. His slacks of a pompous fabric, but quite fit and also white trousers. And all that pristine beauty shined over a burgundy jacket brocade in gold.
He had no trench coat as the Shadow seemed no need for it due to of the extensive waterfall of tail from the vest. Peter could not believe his eyes as he moved and twisted and twirled within himself. A full body mirror came in view and Peter saw himself for the first time.
«Beautiful. »
Peter wasn’t sure who was talking but he recognized the voice from before. The other times he had been in the mansion, they were there with him, all the shadows and whoever talked right now. He took careful steps reaching the mirror, the person standing at his back was at the far corner of the room, so Peter was not able to see him yet, the soft light trembled and soon after died as the mirror broke in tiny pieces.
“Please,” Peter begged with shaky hands, trailing shattered pieces of glass, the Shadow feared he would hurt himself. “Please, don’t go.” Closing his eyes, letting himself be consumed by the lack of light, Peter begged. “Please, I just want to see you.” The Shadow smiled and all the lights came to life creating a path for Peter to follow.
“Dance with me.”
*  *  *
Everything is easy in the middle of the night Your eyes are stars, your skin moonlight But with the sun there comes the truth It bares the soul and wastes the youth
*  *  *
With each passing breath Peter could see him better. His hands were cold to touch, Peter’s fingertips reaching the man’s hands with care as he let himself be led toward the center of the room, spinning around in harmony and light feet, Peter’s still bare feet slid smoothly barely feeling the lack of warmth when his whole attention was placed on the man he had to know yet.
“What’s your name?” his curious eyes did not escape the handsome features of the person dancing, Peter was trying to remember. He needed to remember this person, he was sure, he knew him somehow but from where.
“Our always curious Master.” The man smiled all teeth white and shiny, causing a shiver down his spine as Peter couldn’t look away. At that recognition flashed past his mind and Peter came closer as possible. Was it the shadow? Were his friends? The man nodded short but sweet and with a change of tune made Peter take a turn and bubbles of laughter fluttered out of his pale lips.
“But what do I call you?” What to call them? They were his friends, but keep calling ‘it’ or ‘they’ felt odd in a passive way, like he long to connect with them in a greater level. A name could bring love; a name could bring pain but still gave the warmth of memories and knowledge. A named could give meaning.
“I had many names before.” The man explained. “But in here, in our home…” To make a point, Peter twisted once again and was brought to a tight hug. “Master can call us what he wished to.”
“Peter.” He stated. And the man tilted his head to a side in question, like that Peter could take in all the little details. Long, dark lashes outlining whiskey warm eyes that never seemed to miss him, a strong jaw with full lips surrounded by a trim beard, raspy and soft looking.
“My new name is Peter?” Peter wanted to laugh but snorted instead.
“It’s mine.” The music soon came to an end but neither felt like moving away. “My name is Peter.”
«Peter. »
The honey dripping feeling he got from a simple whisper made him shiver and his friend feared he would get cold. They, both, would find a fitting name.
*  *  *
Hours spent walking and moving, traveling around the open halls and still rooms. The shadow followed close aching to never letting him go. Bright chandeliers on top of their heads and dying candles alerted them it was time to go. The Shadow hurt in longing, he had his master, he had a name and his strength was coming back because of it; his master was right. With a new meaning he could live again, live above from the binding shackles of fear were no longer in his wrist, his Master had given them so much live and love.
The Shadow stood next to Peter as the boy sighed in deep sleep, with no one else around, he could drink in all beauty his Master is, was and it would be in all eternity. With his long curls expanding over the white sheets of the pillows, protected from cold in his comfort cocoon of blankets, the Shadow reached down to touch him, however froze in impression and fondness. Even in his sleep, his master called for him.
“Tony.” To Tony, Peter was made of stardust when his eyes sparkle and moonlight shine of all his pristine skin each time he dares to feel under his fingertips. Meant to guide his path in the sea of black that was his existence. For a short amount of time, faster than a blink, Peter saw him. His master saw him materialized in his world, not the realm of dreams and wonder and smiled at him, called for him. “Tony—” He didn’t have to hide anymore; he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. With one touch of his lips and his Master would be utterly and completely his.
Closing his eyes and holding a breath, Peter thought if that was what it felt like to be loved to death.
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Broadchurch: the short story collections. Part 1
Available over here.
The first book contains four short stories, all of which take place before S2, so if you want to read this, it might be nice before re-watching S2.
1- “The End Is Where it Begins”, Ellie, After S1: how she comes to transfer precints and end up as the traffic cop we see in S02E01.
2- “The Letter”, Maggie, a few days before S2: STruggles with Echo finances, works on a story, thinks about resigning.
3- “Old Friends”, Jocelyn, 10-20 years before S1: insight into her past, her career, her character, Jack Marshall, and what was going on in town around the time Danny and Tom were born.
4- “Over the Side”, Tess, months before S1 (three days into the Sandbrook case): a twenty-four hour window into that case, her perspective on the case, her affair, and Alec’s behavior/character/etc at that time. This is the night Pippa’s body is found, from her perspective.
I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. this book was interesting, short, and very worth the read, for me!
1. Ellie- Between S1 and S2.
“Going back into uniform was Ellie's choice, but it usually means demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie is concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat help her hold he head up high, and she walks easily in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways,  not downward; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years of service left in her, that’s not an option. “But there’s more to it than the money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant about atonement. [Look! Thinking about him!] by serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things tat people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive /fuck you/ to Joe.  Fifteen years, Ellie's been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie's best friend, their community, and her eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.”
And in the car with her new loudmouth partner: “after ten minutes she finds herself yearning for Alec Hardy’s brooding and sulks. At least he was quiet. She wonders where Hardy is now: under a doctor’s observation somewhere, she hopes, contemplating the salvage of his own career from the confines of a hospital bed.”
In general her new partner is a bit of a sexist good-old-boy who thinks the problem with youth today is the welfare state... She thinks the problem is lack of outreach and enrichment. She is struggling to get everything in line in her life.
Tom’s voice breaks while they are separated. And her heart breaks to have missed that.
She successfully overrides her partner, follows her instincts, and saves a family, some kids, from a domestic situ while on the job… and then falls to fucking pieces after. Realizes she doesn’t have the emotional fortitude to handle cases without breaking, right now. Calls in sick, and then transfers to traffic.  “She is bitterly aware of the irony that while she has gained her colleagues’ respect, she now understands that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s either this or leave the force, and then Joe’s won. She is hanging onto her career by her fingernails, marking time until his plea next week. “Ellie has always prided herself on putting people before anything else but life as a black rat is about enforcing the letter of the law, or rather its numbers. She’s reduced to the digits and codes of traffic policing: stopping distances, speed limits, milligrams of alcohol and penalty points. Even her fellow traffic officers, infamous for their pedantry, started calling her robocop after he first shift. “Inside Ellie's locker, there’s a photograph of Tom and Fred before the blast. She marks a tally on the picture’s white border, inky scratches in the gloss, to count down the days until Joe stands in the dock at Wessex County court and says the magic word that will give her back her son.”
Aw hell, Ellie.
2- Maggie- A few days before S2 begins. 
Budget cuts are crippling the Echo. Finally, she is ready to submit her resignation in protest, but a story she runs down locally (to do with land use, and, eventually, marijuana), turns out to be leveragable to do some good in town, force some good change, and she figures that's still worth doing, so she'll hang in a little longer.
No mention of Lil, so, still not sure when they broke up/if they are split... oh, and a passing mention of Jocelyn's home. Just, that it is there.
3- Jocelyn- Her story is set farther back, but is fascinating. It's set partially at least twenty, twenty five years pre-S1, and then partially right around the time that Danny Latimer was born. 
It's a little window into who Jocelyn was at that time and what she did. Talks about her outlook on her career, her relationship with her mother, her habit of spending no more than four bank holidays a year in Broadchurch, and staying in London, her preference, her work, the rest of the time.
Also, it turns out she represented Jack Marshall and convinced him to plead guilty so that he would get a shorter jail sentence and get back to the Rowena faster, which he did, and then married her.
Jocelyn was quite reserved even then, but they kept in touch and Jack confided in her after the accident that took his son's life and caused their split, that he needed a new place to go... She suggested Broadchurch because she knew the newsstand was up for sale.
The last scene of the short story is her visiting him at the newsstand. She's noticed her vision is starting to go, she's watching the Latimers with their three-day-old baby boy walk along the beach.
There are references to lots of things and folks there in town, throughout the story, the sea brigade, Oliver, the fact that she's lost touch with Maggie long since and she's a bit grateful for that because otherwise Maggie would surely have sniffed out her connection to Jack and outed Jack's past to everyone. Oh, and Ellie is 10 days overdue and fit to burst with Tom and so Beth (Beth and Ellie had become friends in their pre/antenatal classes) had been dropping by with Danny over there, hoping that holding Danny would maybe induce labor.
... and finally.
4- Tess- Day 3 of the Sandbrook case, well before S1
I didn't look ahead, I totally had no idea that this was coming. But this is Tess' side of a 24-hour period from the Sandbrook case. I'm going to sum some of it, and then I'm probably just going to end up posting big chunks of it. Or you can go read it yourself. That's good too. XD
It's April 2012, day 3 after the Sandbrook girls disappear. She and the other DS she's cheating with were getting it on, for what was clearly not the first time, in the backseat of his car. Made a comment about the fact it next time they would take it back to the hotel, doing it in the car was foolish and uncomfortable. Which also seems to imply that this is a regular thing. Tess thinks a bit on the fact that Dave is present with her in a way Alec isn't, though she feels guilty about all of it.
The cheating is a release for her, like other people might smoke a cigarette or go for a run. She knows Alec is really struggling with how close in age Pippa is to Daisy. 
"Alec works sixteen-hour days, forgets to eat, and gets angry. She hasn’t seen him since they got the shout two days ago. He’s sleeping on the sofa in his office, if he’s sleeping at all. At least Tess got four hours in her own bed last night and a shower in her own bathroom. Daisy was staying with a friend; Tess and Alec rely a lot on the generosity of friends’ parents in the first few chaotic days of a case. The house was too quiet this morning. It’s strange; Alec can stay away for days and Tess feels nothing but relief, but Daisy sleeping somewhere else feels wrong."
Tess knows what Alec is like on these cases. Her affair with what's-his-face went on much longer than the case itself. I’d guess months, at least, prior to this story.
"She hasn’t seen Alec since last night. Tess hopes he’s not in the office. The chances are small; as Senior Investigating Officer, he likes to work the field as much as possible. They used to work so well together – professionally, at least, she’s never been more compatible with another officer, and that includes Dave – but at the moment she can’t concentrate if Alec’s even in the same building. Dave sits opposite her at work, and Alec’s got the corner office just behind them. Every time he walks past, she shrivels with guilt and with contempt for her husband. Guilt over the adultery, contempt that Alec can’t see it.
[Lends more weight to Hardy’s perception of the affair, as we saw it in the S1 novelization-- namely that it was shameful, that he felt ashamed to have been cheated on. I bet she says/said something nasty, along these lines, and he internalizes it]
“If she and Dave so much as brushed past each other at a crime scene, he’d notice. That’s the problem in a nutshell: the tunnel vision that makes him a brilliant detective means he hasn’t seen Tess – really seen her – in years."
[Oh God, I see where this is going. This is the night he finds Pippa, isn't it?]
‘Where’s Alec?’ Tess asks Chrissie, a fellow DS who’s already got three empty mugs on her desk. Chrissie creases her brow. As always, whenever Tess refers to her husband by his first name, it takes her colleague a few seconds to get who she means. But what else can she call him? She can’t call him Hardy and she’s damned if she’ll call him the boss or the guvnor.
[”Guvnor”? is this a British thing, or personal nickname? if the latter, Ellie would laugh herself sick over it, if she ever found out.]
“Chrissie checks a memo on her screen. 
“‘He’s overseeing a fingertip search of the river Sandbrook.’ 
“‘The Sandbrook?’ echoes Tess. It’s right on the edge of their patch, a slow-flowing river with great stretches straying miles from the nearest road and barely accessible on foot. ‘On what basis?’ 
“‘On the basis of it’s the only open space left on our ground that we haven’t covered, and there’s still no trace of either girl,’ says Chrissie grimly, her eyes travelling to the clock. Tess flinches at the reminder of how far behind they are, and boots up her computer, not wanting to waste another minute. When Dave comes in, she looks up with a cool hello...”
She thinks about potential leads in the case, she interacts with Dave a little bit, mostly through facial expressions. And then
“Tess is giving Dave one more warning look when his phone rings. His face loses its colour as he listens; Tess pulls out her earplugs but the call is already over. 
“‘That was the boss,’ says Dave, pushing his chair away from his desk, car keys in hand. ‘They’ve found the body of a young girl in the Sandbrook.’ 
“South Mercia University Hospital is across the dual carriageway from the police station, eight storeys of white concrete and foggy windows. 
“‘I knew it’d be murder,’ says Dave, as they get into a lift marked STAFF ONLY. ‘I knew from the first shout, but it doesn’t stop you hoping, does it?’
“‘You always hope,’ says Tess. ‘But I can’t remember hoping like this for a long time.’ Dave reaches for her hand and circles his thumb on her palm. 
“‘You OK, babe?’ His tenderness melts her, but she can only squeeze his fingers in reply. She can’t afford to soften now. The lift spits them out two floors underground and Tess and Dave walk through a dingy yellow corridor lit with flickering strip lights. It is maybe ten degrees colder here than in the station. This is not the way to the viewing room, where victims’ families see their loved ones still beneath a white sheet. This long walk is for the professionals, the dealers in death. There is nothing beautiful down here: a few laundry bags piled in a trolley, a mop and bucket and a yellow CLEANING IN PROGRESS sign. Tess tries very hard not to think about what gets mopped up down here. 
“‘I don’t understand why it’s just the one body,’ she says. ‘Nothing about this case makes sense.’ 
“‘Just the one body so far,’ Dave corrects her. There’s another fire door ahead; he lengthens his stride to open it for her. Tess isn’t used to these little chivalrous touches. She is astonished to find that she quite likes them. 
“‘Did Alec say if he was staying to continue the search?’ 
“‘He pretty much hung up.’ Dave bites his lip. ‘I’m sure he knows, sometimes, the way he talks to me.’ Tess shakes her head. 
“‘That’s how he talks to everyone.’ But she shakes her shoulders, as though to recalibrate her body language, and by the time they get to the end of the corridor, there’s a big space between her and Dave. When – if – they go public, it must be a long, long time after this case has been put to bed. A technician in mint scrubs is waiting behind a glass door; she punches a number into the keypad to let them in. 
“‘Five minutes,’ says the technician. Her voice is steady but she looks like she’s been crying. ‘Dr Kendall’s just preparing her now. You can wait up here.’ 
“Tess and Dave follow the technician on tiptoe up a short flight of stairs. In the viewing gallery, there’s a row of seats, almost like in a cinema, and the blind is down on the panoramic window so it looks like a blank blue screen. There are a handful of flattened paper bags on the table. Waiting for them is Sanjeev, a newish DC. He’s not long out of uniform so he won’t have worked a case like this before. Tess hasn’t spent much time with him, but she knows Alec really rates him. There’s a weird, stale, boggy smell and for a moment Tess retches, thinking it’s the dead-body-rotting smell she dreads so much. It takes her a few seconds to recognise the smell of stagnant river water, and that it’s coming from Sanj. 
“‘Sarge,’ says Sanj to Tess. ‘How comes you’re not upstairs with the boss?’ Tess doesn’t bother to hide her confusion. 
“‘What’s he doing upstairs?’ 
“‘Don’t panic,’ says Sanj. Immediately Tess starts to panic. ‘It’s just a precaution. He got into difficulties in the water.’
“Tess is bewildered. ‘What was he even doing in the water?’ 
“‘He found her,’ says Sanj, dipping his head. ‘Pippa’s body. He carried her out. You know what he’s like, he stalks off on his own, all impatient, no one can ever work fast enough for him. We didn’t even know he’d gone until he’d got her out. He reckons he went under a few times. He took in a lot of water and they’ve got to be careful about it being in his lungs, or Weil’s disease or something.’ Sanj looks down at his feet; he flexes them, and his shoes squelch. Tess is rooted to the spot, horrified at what Alec must have been through today. She is torn. Instinct urges her to go and check on him; after fourteen years of marriage, you can’t just turn off the concern like a tap. But he’ll be in good hands. He probably won’t even want her, he hates being fussed over. And with him indisposed, she’s the senior officer. 
“She’s still debating with herself when the blinds go up and the theatre is revealed in all its spot-lit, chrome glory, and there, splayed on the slab is— Tess’s vision blurs. There’s a whole team of people, but the pathologist and his team, in their scrubs, are reduced to green blobs. Tess can’t look at anything but Pippa Gillespie’s body. It doesn’t look human. It has been completely bloated by the water; her face is swollen and grey, her limbs pasty and distended. Water has matted her hair and dirt outlines her nails. Tess thinks of the picture they have on the board, that perfect little girl, playing tennis, golden skin, long brown hair, and it is all that she can do to stand. She’s seen bodies destroyed by water before, but never one this young. Tears try to push their way out of her eyes but Tess pushes back harder. She’ll cry later, in front of Dave, but she won’t fall apart in public. She gives silent thanks that Pippa can be identified forensically. Her mother will never have to see her like this. 
“She steps up to the microphone, forcing her voice to hold steady. 
“‘DS Tess Henchard,’ she says. ‘Is there anything you can tell us just by looking at her?’ Dr Kendall looks up to the gallery and nods hello. 
“‘Only that she’s been in the water for at least two days.’ There’s a tenderness in his voice at odds with the gleaming surgical instruments in the tray behind him. ‘So that narrows down your time of death, I suppose. As for the cause … I’ll be frank with you, Sergeant. There’s no obvious wound. Water covers death’s tracks. It gets into the body through the orifices and starts decomposing from the inside as well as out. It affects the tox report. We will work quickly, and to the highest standard, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the cause of death. Let’s talk in the morning.’ 
“‘Christ.’ She pushes the heels of her hands onto closed eyes, but the image of Pippa’s face is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She looks to the door; she ought to check on Alec, for form’s sake as much as anything. Dave doesn’t need to be told what she’s thinking. 
“‘I’ve got this,’ he says. ‘You go to him.’ It is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her. He places a hand on her arm, a light gesture but it’s not lost on Sanj. Tess notes his double take, then watches as the horror below wipes the suspicion from his mind, for now at least. She leaves Dave and Sanj to watch the post-mortem. 
“In the lift, her legs go. She has pulled herself to her feet by the time she gets to the front desk. The receptionist points her towards Accident and Emergency. Tess concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, reading the signs, breathing through her mouth, and trying to close her mind’s eye to the sight of Pippa Gillespie’s body, but the image is imprinted on her for ever. Her badge helps her to jump the queue – she can’t help thinking she gets more respect from the triage receptionist as a Detective Sergeant than she would as a wife – but it still takes her the best part of an hour to find out that Alec has discharged himself. She boils with rage – if he’s gone back to the scene with his health in tatters, she’ll kill him. She asks to see the registrar who treated him; another half-hour wait. 
“She calls Daisy, who’s still at Molly’s. They’re lucky she’s popular. If she has dinner with a different friend every night, that can take them ten days into a case. After that, repeat requests usually get awkward. This time, though, everyone knows the case they’re working on. Friends are falling over themselves to have Daisy for the evening, offering sleepovers, weekend shifts, school pickups. ‘Whatever helps you find those girls’ is the phrase they hear again and again. Tess hopes the goodwill continues into the murder inquiry. Lately, she’s been wondering if the hospitality would extend to a single mother trying to juggle shifts around work and a new relationship. 
“‘It’ll be a little while yet,’ says Tess. ‘Home in time to see you to bed, though.’ ‘Have you found her?’ says Daisy. She has become fixated on Pippa Gillespie; she knows they’re the same age, and she can see what the case is already doing to her parents, three days in. Tess feels a pang for the innocent days when Daisy thought that all they did was direct traffic. Tess and Alec naturally never tell Daisy anything before it’s released to the media. ‘Not yet, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Be good for Molly’s mum.’ 
“Eventually, the registrar comes in, a young man smelling of coffee and sweat. There’s a comet of blood on his white coat. ‘Mr Hardy discharged himself against my recommendation,’ he says. ‘I’m telling you because I’m concerned for his health. Physically, he was fine. I mean, the water doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. But he’s suffering from acute stress, and there are more tests we’d like to run. With anyone else I’d recommend that he take time off work, but …’ He spreads his hands. Tess doesn’t know whether he’s implying that the case is more important than one man’s health, or whether he’s simply got the measure of Alec already and knows his advice would fall on deaf ears. 
“There’s a voicemail on her phone from Alec’s second in command, DS Beauman, wishing the boss well and telling him that they’ve got SOCO in now. Alec hasn’t gone back to the crime scene. So where is he? Alec is not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Tess sees Daisy off to bed and opens a bottle of red. She searches Google maps on her iPad, scrolling up and down the length of the Sandbrook looking for patterns, clues, inspiration, until she feels dizzy. 
“She calls the incident room; Sanj answers and immediately asks after Alec. So he’s not there. Dave’s working the scene at the Sandbrook; she texts him to see if Alec’s turned up, then again to see if they’ve found anything new. Both questions come back negative. She deletes the message thread out of habit even though this time there’s nothing incriminating. 
“She’s really starting to worry now. This disappearance is completely unprecedented. She pictures him collapsed behind the wheel somewhere en route to the Sandbrook, and she works herself up into a fury. For all his dedication to his job, he neglects what ought to be his number one priority: making sure he’s in good enough health to do it. There’s real fear under her concern, though, and she’s about to call the hospital when she hears his car on the driveway. It’s 10 p.m. 
“As his key turns in the door, she’s waiting for him in the hall. The sight of him makes her stagger. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit, the police-station-issue kind they give to people whose clothes have been seized as evidence. The trousers are too short and his ankles are exposed, making him look ridiculous. His hair is plastered down.
“She stopped touching Alec a while ago--”
[Oh god, I remember that comment in the first novelization, that Miller is the first person to take his hand in so long he couldn’t remember...]
“-- it started to feel like betraying Dave-- and he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or to miss it.”
[Oh God.]
“She hesitates before going to hug him, and when she opens her arms, Alec folds his and shakes his head. Dave wouldn’t do this, is her first reflex thought. 
“‘Where’ve you been? she asks. It was supposed to come out concerned but it sounds derogatory.
“Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes nd lets them stay that way. ‘Driving.’
“It’s five hours since he discharged himself from hospital. The thought of him going round and around the ring road in these clothes tugs at the leftovers of her love.
“‘Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?’
“He nods to a clear plastic bag on the doorstep. INside, weeds are wrapped around clothes so muddied that Tess has to think back to what he was wearing when he left for work this morning. His new blue suit. They’ll have to throw it out. Even if the can get it clean, she knows he’ll never be able to wear it again.
“When he pushes past her into the house, Tess can smell the soap from the police station showers on him.
“‘D’you wan to talk about it?’ She pours Alec the last of the wine. He looks into its dark red surface like he’s seeing through it into something else. 
“’I saw her in the mortuary,’ says Tess, ‘It must have been awful for you.’ Alec doesn’t even blink. Dave or no Dave, Tess recognises a man who needs human touch. She puts her hands on his shoulders. When they first got together, she used to massage his shoulder blades at the end of every day, feeling the knots unravel under her fingers.
[An interesting detail.]
“He used to say she had the magic touch, that no one else could relax him like she did. Now, he shrugs her off.
“‘ I’m going to check on Daisy.’
“Tess follows him upstairs and they stand at Daisy’s open bedroom door for a while. She is asleep under a garland of IKEA fairy lights, watched over by a peeling Taylor Swift poster. The tweenage sneer she wears all day has vanished. Her lips are an open rose; her brow is smooth. The difference between their perfect sleeping daughter and the deformed corpse of Pippa Gillespie hits Tess in the guts.
“‘Is she breathing?’ Alec asks suddenly, an octave higher than his usual register. ‘I can’t see her moving.’ Before Tess understands what’s happening, he’s kneeling at Daisy’s bedside. He used to do this when she was a baby, leap out of bed to check she was still alive. Tess had completely forgotten about it until now.
[That’s interesting, does he have past trauma with stuff like that? seems like he already had dead-kid PTSD BEFORE he went into the river after Pippa Gillespie. poor sucker...]
“’She’s not moving!’ He puts his hands on Daisy’s shoulders.
“’Alec, stop it!’ Tess keeps her voice to a whisper even though his was a shout, but it’s too late, he’s already shaking her awake. Daisy’s body flops, but her eyes snap wide.
“‘Daddy, what are you doing?’ She says, as Alec pulls her into a clumsy embrace and buries his face in her nightie.Tess doesn’t have enough hands as she tries to pull him off and calm Daisy at the same time. 
[LET THE MAN HUG HIS DAUGHTER]
“In the end, she has to tug at the collar of his tracksuit top. The pressure on his windpipe seems to knock the panic out of him, and he lets Daisy go.
“‘Out,’ snarls Tess.
“‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Alec walks backwards towards the door. ‘I just needed to make sure you were OK.’
“It only takes Tess a couple of minutes to soothe Daisy back to sleep; she’s confused rather than frightened, still young enough that a few soft words from her mother can chase the monsters away, and Tess hopes that in the morning they’ll be able to dismiss it as a bad dream. She waits until Daisy’s breathing regulates, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear, and tiptoes out onto the landing.
“Alec sits in the half-dark like a little boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the wall as if he has slid down it. Tess kneels next to him on the carpet. His eyes glitter.
“‘I can still see her face,’ he says. He holds out his arms in front if him, palms upwards, elbows bent. ‘I can still feel the weight of her.’ Tess pulls him against her shoulder; he resists for a moment, then collapses and weeps into her neck. This time when she reaches around and starts to work on the muscles in his shoulders, he lets her. His back feels like a sheet of metal; she keeps going until her fingers ache and she starts to feel bone and sinew under his sweatshirt. 
[How is this man constantly portrayed/described as looking like he is shit warmed over, and yet he is one of the most compelling/interesting/attractive characters Tennant has ever played???]
“When Tess shifts position, Alec seems to gather himself, like he’s let out exactly the amount of emotion that was clouding his judgement, and not a drop more. He doesn’t move his head from her breast, but there’s an edge to his voice that almost thrills her.
“‘We’re no longer dealing with a missing persons inquiry. We know where we stand now. We’ll get this.’ Without warning, he leaps to his feet. ‘We know who we’re dealing with now. A monster, someone who can leave a child to rot in a river.’ He starts to pace, his ridiculous bare ankles going backwards and forwards in Tess’s eyeline. ‘This is what we trained for, isn’t it? to get justice for families like this.’
“His new confidence is infectious. Tess often forgets, in all the frustration of living with Alec, what a brilliant detective he is. Or rather, she forgets why he’s so good at his job. It’s the quality that first attracted her to him, that pure, almost old-fashioned belief that good can vanquish evil.
“He is a good detective because, underneath it all, he is a good man.
“It’s going to make leaving him so much harder.”
...
Ouch.
See you next time!
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Some character descriptions of the Stellar Grievances cast.
Stella Greenfield, our main protagonist, is a 20-year-old black woman. In her “civilian” form she’s got long black hair in a ponytail and wears a sweater, leather jacket, miniskirt, thigh highs, and sneakers. In her “Logged In” form, Mechaniisms, her hair is drastically shortened and gets more boyish, and her clothes are replaced with dress pants, combat boots, a really nice dress shirt, a vest, and a cravat, not including her equipment. Her eyes are purple and she’s average height. She was a strategy game nerd in the real world, and upon being thrust into the game world she suddenly essentially had a shit ton of in-universe (since the game world and real world rely on different laws of physics; notably, Newton’s laws are specifically stated to not necessarily be true in the game world) engineering knowledge dumped into her head, so strategy and technology are her two big hobbies. When not giving orders or dealing with a situation herself, she can usually be found tinkering, either on the team’s ship, the GSF Headstrong, or on her own equipment and drones. Also, she comes from an interracial family and has a white stepmom and stepbrother (her stepbrother, Tyler, actually got her into Stellar Grievances in the first place, and he’s part of the main cast for a brief period of time in the beginning). And she’s bi and has ADHD. Her Wrench is called the Gauntlet Wrench.
She’s also regularly joined by her sidekick of sorts, an AI she programmed named Eve. Eve is fully conscious (which is rare but not unheard of in the setting), and usually refers to Stella as her mother. She sometimes appears as a holographic human (and can range in size depending on where she’s projected from; if she’s being projected from Stella’s own equipment, she’s usually the size of a fairy or something, but larger hologram projectors in larger machines can make her practically any size, usually life sized), but her primary function is to operate Stella’s various combat drones, so she can also appear as them instead (and some of them can get pretty humanoid; eventually, Stella even develops a drone that just... looks like the holographic form Eve takes, so Eve can basically have a real body if she so chooses). Eve acts like your typical AI assistant character- generally unemotional and analytical, but she has emotions and whatnot, she just doesn’t really have the emotional maturity to match her logical reasoning and academic intelligence and thus comes off like a computer to those who don’t really know her.
Then, Madison, our secondary protagonist. When she’s first introduced as Buttercup, she has back-length blonde hair and yellow eyes, and is wearing a fancy lolita dress; however, when Phyll dies and passes on his powers to her, her eyes turn green and she gets a green streak in her hair, and when she changes her name to Madison and joins the team, she cuts her hair a little shorter, starts wearing it in a side-ponytail, and switches to wearing jeans and a hoodie. In her “Logged In” state, Agent Yellow, she visibly matures, getting taller, curvier, and less babyfaced (since she was generally short, smol, and babyfaced in her civilian form), her voice gets deeper, her hair gets longer (and also pointier), and her clothes are replaced by beige power armor that... basically looks like Halo power armor but without the helmet. And she wears a beige cape. She also carries a green sniper rifle. Personality-wise, she’s very much the team Cinnamon Roll, though she also carries insecurities from her time with the other Awoken Agents (as she was the last one created, and shortly after her creation work fully began on the Specialist system, so she never really got to contribute much, especially since her only power was that she couldn’t stay dead); it doesn’t help that the Agent who was kindest to her, Phyll, is now dead, and the Agent who was least kind to her, Violet, had a crush on Phyll and blames his death on her (though Violet eventually gets over all this and becomes Madison’s love interest) and can often be found brooding. Her sniper rifle is called the Proto Rifle.
Lily Flowers is the team’s Medic, and the entire basis for her character back when I first envisioned her was that she toyed with general stereotypes for people who play “Healer” characters in media vs in real life. Specifically, back when she first started playing online games, she was what you’d expect from a “healer” character in anime- a moeblob who just wants to help the team, no matter what! But years and years of maining healer characters in online games has worn her down and she’s now more like someone who actually plays healer characters in real life- cynical, sarcastic, and untrusting. Her main coping method that stops her from becoming a total bitter pessimist? Being the team memelord and shitposter. She’s basically the Moca Aoba of the team, the Neptune of the team, the Yang Xiao Long of the team, you know, that character. The one who practically says “Eh? Ehhhh?” after everything they say to make sure everyone got the stupid pun they made. She’s got short messy pink hair and silver eyes, and they don’t change at all when she Logs In. What does change? Well, for one, her prosthetic, since she’s an amputee without a right arm. In her civilian state, her prosthetic is fairly normal; however, when she Logs In to become Yuyuriri, her existing prosthetic twists around to come out of her back, and a new prosthetic that’s bulkier and clumsier but has her MedTool built in is fixed in its place. That’s not the only thing that changes when she Logs In, but it’s the biggest difference; the other big difference is that she wears a big coat in her civilian form, but removes it when she Logs In. She appears to have a different outfit when she’s Logged In, but she’s actually wearing that outfit in her civilian form, too, just under her coat. Specifically, the outfit is made up of a blue turtleneck with no right arm (so it doesn’t get in the way of her second prosthetic), jean short shorts, tights, and boots. Lily’s also a lesbian, and in fact is Stella’s main love interest.
Kyousuke Tenjou, meanwhile, was originally created for two purposes. One, to be a sort of self-insert, and two, to parody/refine the character of Kirito from SAO; the former has mostly been abandoned (my idea was that he’d start out as a total Fedora Neckbeard type, but then slowly get better as he hung out with the rest of the team, and eventually even realize he was actually a transgirl, which is an exaggerated version of how I realized I was trans (I was never quite to the Broni Friendzoni level, but still), but I eventually dropped this aspect to focus more on the Kirito thing and also to keep the team more gender-balanced, though there are still hints of it). So, Kyousuke is this brooding longer swordsman dude who’s visually similar to and named similarly to Kirito, so the comparisons are obvious. But, see, Kirito is regularly rewarded by the series for being this jackass loner dude, even if it does make a token effort to have him grow out of it; the series claims that Kirito’s loner attitude makes him less happy, but more effective as a warrior. Stellar Grievances, meanwhile, makes it clear that Kyousuke’s loner attitude is a weakness and that he’s an arrogant dipshit for thinking he can play a teamwork-based game alone, and he’s mostly doing it in an attempt to look cool and badass when it really makes him look like an asshole and a dumbass. A big part of his character arc is about him unlearning all sorts of toxic masculinity, including some internalized aphobia (because he does start out as this jackass trying to get into every woman he sees’ pants, but it eventually becomes clear that he’s trying to compensate for the fact that he doesn’t actually find any of them attractive and he feels like not liking women makes him less of a man). Anyways, in his civilian form, his hair is short and messy, but longer and messier than Lily’s; his Logged In form, xX_Kyo_Xx (or Kyo for short), reins it back in to Lily levels. His eyes are blue and his hair is black, but when he Logs In his hair is dyed electric blue and he wears green colored contacts. The colored contacts are also functional, as he wears glasses in his civilian form but not his Logged In form. He’s generally wearing black jeans, black boots, and a black sweater in both forms. In his civilian form, he wears a brown jacket, but when he Logs In he trades that out for black gloves and a black cape.
Travis Bhatia was created pretty much alongside the concept of the Scout class itself, but once I’d finished deciding what the Scout class even did, I decided to flesh out his story, and his character arc ended up being about felon’s rights. Because a big part of his backstory is that when he was 19, he committed a horrible crime. And this wasn’t a case of him being framed, or it being an accident; he did a terrible thing on purpose. And he agrees that it was terrible, and even that he deserved to go to jail for what he did. And he did go to jail for three years. But when he got out, that was when the bullshit started. America treats its convicted felons very badly, even once they’ve served their time. And while Travis agrees that he deserved every second of his jailtime, he feels like he was completely screwed over when he got out. He’d served his time, but he was still being punished. And he ended up having to freeload with a cousin of his, and got addicted to online video games like Stellar Grievances. Which is why getting stuck in another world was the best thing that ever happened to him- it let him get a new start on life without the baggage of his felony. Travis is also a first-generation American, as his parents were immigrants from Britain, and he’s also ethnically Indian (for clarification, if it wasn’t obvious, actual Indian, like from India). In his civilian form, he wears jeans and a logo t-shirt; in his Logged In form, Explorer21 (or just Explorer for short), his jeans turn back, he gets his hoverboots, he gets goggles, he gets gloves, the logo on his shirt disappears, and he gets covered in belts, but most importantly, he gets a really long leather coat with a popped collar that looks totally cool when he’s flying around. He’s generally pretty chill and down-to-earth. He’s also gay and very flirty. Originally he was gonna be covered in robes, kinda inspired by the music video for Superheroes by Daft Punk. Travis is also the second tallest of the team after James.
James Reynolds was actually not originally gonna be part of the main cast. I created James to be an antivillain who became friends with Kyousuke and helped Kyosuke realize he was a transgirl, since James was himself a transman. The team’s Marine was gonna be Stella’s brother Tyler. However, I found myself mixing up Travis and Tyler’s names a lot, and realizing that I just liked James better than Tyler, and wanting explicit trans representation back in the team after I decided to leave Kyousuke a guy after all, so I decided to replace Tyler with James. But I didn’t want the antivillain angle with James to go away completely, and Tyler’s presence in the beginning of the story was very important (in fact, Tyler’s presence in the beginning was significantly more important than his presence once things get going, which is part of why I nixed him), so I decided that Tyler would be the team’s initial Marine, but he’d have to leave the team fairly early on, and the team would be without a Marine for a while until James, introduced as an antivillain, would betray his villainous allies to join the protagonists. Anyways, James is the tallest member, with blue eyes and messy orange hair in a ponytail. His general appearance can basically be described as “Bishounen”. He’s generally wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, and an unbuttoned brown button-up shirt. His Logged In state, Don1998 (or just Don for short), wears a fedora (NOT FOR THOSE REASONS), a dress shirt, dress pants, dress shoes, a green tie, and a blazer. James is generally pretty quiet and stoic, though he does often either chuckle or glare depending on his mood. He’s also bi, and a frequent (willing) target of Travis’s flirting, though his primary love interest is a woman.
EDIT: I forgot to mention that Travis and James’ hair colors change when they Log In. Travis’s hair is black, Explorer’s is green; James’ hair is orange, Don’s is red. Don’s also got slightly shorter hair than James, but James’ hair is already pretty short. Travis has spiky hair in either form.
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lightening816 · 6 years
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Everything Wrong with Ballerina (2016)/Leap! (2017)
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  Now if you love this movie like I and a few others do, that's awesome! However, this list (that can/will definitely be added onto by other fans), is dedicated to all of the weird inaccuracies, story choices, and other assorted faults that have left us fans scratching our heads and critiquing this movie inside and out.
SPOILERS AHEAD
...
1. POP SONGS, POP SONGS, POP SONGS
  In this lighthearted film about a couple of orphans who escape their home in 19th Century Brittany, France, one might think that the soundtrack for this film would include some instrumentals that sound a bit like a ballet or opera's performance music. While some pieces from the soundtrack, like 'The Liberty Chase' or 'Escaping the Orphanage' pull this off as well as they can, this movie makes the risky decision of using pop songs like 'Rainbow' by Liz Huett, 'You Know Its About You' by Magical Thinker, and 'Confident' by Demi Lovato. Even Sia gets a song in there!
  Most of these songs were written for the film specifically and while they match the optimistic themes of achieving one's dreams, they don't really fit in terms of the time period. For example, during Felicie and Camille's Dance Battle, it might have serviced it better to have a symphony of violins, violas, and a piano playing as they danced, instead of Demi Lovato singing about confidence. They more intense the fight gets, the harsher the strings and keys of the instruments could get for instance, to build tension.
  Using more instrumental music made just for this film might've helped Ballerina gather more of its own original identity, outside of 'cute little film for kids, but maybe not for adults', which film audiences get ALOT of these days anyway. One can still have 'Cut to the Feeling' by Carly Rae Jepsen as the end credits theme, but music plays a HUGE role in films and should be able to match whatever aesthetic you're going for.
2. Speaking of Camille...
  Kids and teen movies typically have that one popular girl who's usually an irredeemable brat who never learns, never tries to show any kind of compassion, and does little to nothing to change (think teen movies like 'Mean Girls 2', 'Taking 5' or 'Bring It On: Fight to the Finish'). Thankfully, every now and then, we get characters like Pacifica Northwest from Gravity Falls and Camille Le Haut from Ballerina, in which we see that they're not too far gone. Unlike the downright nasty brats one might find in other movies for younger people, Camille does have a heart. She just needs that special moment in which she can show it.
  Unfortunately, we don't see her as much as we could have. After her initial meeting with Felicie, in which she comes off as high and mighty as most popular girl characters often do, we don't see her again until she and her mother, Regine, confront Felicie later. By that point, Felicie has already trained quite a bit with her custodian, Odette (who also cleans the Opera), but not once do we ever see Camille. Why can't we see her be suspicious like what we see with Regine when she asks about the mail? Not once did she ever pop her head out of her studio and think that there was something weird going on with her new servant girl? Not once did she ever notice her dancing and wonder 'hmm, why is she dancing so well alongside my other cleaning lady?'
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  It's not hard to understand why she'd be feel such ill will towards Felicie, especially since her identity theft was going on right under her nose! Thankfully, both girls had apologized and made up by the end. But still, if I were Camille, I know I'D be at least a little suspicious...
3. Felicie's Denim Shorts
  Why is it that every single character in this movie has a (kind of) historical costume...
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...except Felicie? Granted her knee length civilian skirt looks alright, but why do we have blue shorts in a film set in the 1870's/80's?
  Did the animators think animating a dancing skirt was too much work? This film was made by L'atelier Animation. This was technically the first film project they ever completed, and while no first try is without its faults, blue shorts don't have a place in 19th century France.
  One of denim's first appearances as clothing was as pants on those who traveled to California in 1849 and 1850 for the California Gold Rush. However, this did not necessarily change the societal norm of women and girls wearing dresses and long skirts during this specific century.
  In fact, most, if not, every time period, including the 19th century, has had some kind of dress code that was to be followed and taken seriously. In a movie like Ballerina, we have men wearing trousers, top hats, walking canes, cravats, etc. In turn, women like Odette and Regine wear long skirts, done up hair, and some kind of corset (except Odette's is over her top and Regine is probably wearing one because of how thin and proper she is), etc. Historically, both sexes would've stood out like sore thumbs if they didn't dress for the appropriate occasion or time of day. If Felicie had been in any other 19th century animated film, like The Boxtrolls, An American Tail, etc, she would've stood out like a sore thumb herself, just with her shorts alone.
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fabricsking · 2 years
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27 Fascinating Facts about Fashion & Clothing
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Fashion is an ancient phenomenon. Humans always had the desire to be different from others and to express their creativity through fashion. Some of the fashion trends that we see today have a ‘weird’ history of origin. With time, trends have changed and fashion has been lost. In this article, we are going to look at those fascinating facts about fashion and clothing.
The Fashion & Clothing Facts
The handbag was first designed and used to help women attract a husband. It was invented in the 19th Women would embroider them with intricate and colorful patterns to show off to the men.
Two of the most influential fashion magazines of all time are ‘Vogue’ and ‘Harper’s Bazaar’. It has existed for more than 100 years since its inception during the 19th The first-ever fashion magazine was sold in Germany in 1586.
‘Mini skirt’ was named after the famous car “Mini Cooper” as it was the favorite car of its designer, Mary Quant.
A Tuxedo (it is a semi-formal western dress code for events and other social gatherings) gets its name from the town Tuxedo, situated in Orange county. It was where Tuxedo was first worn.
Lacoste’s crocodile logo was the first brand name and logo to appear on a garment.
Hollywood producer D.W Griffith invented the false eyelashes in 1916 to enhance the eyelashes of his actress for a film. It was made out of human hair.
The first woman to wear a white wedding dress was Queen Victoria on her wedding day. Up until that moment, a white dress was associated with mourning.
The buttons attached to the jacket sleeve was first attached to prevent soldiers from wiping off their running nose from the sleeves. It was ordered by Napoleon Bonaparte, the French leader.
Before World War II, only men were allowed to wear shorts. But after the war, there was a shortage of fabric, and women were forced into wearing shorts. During the 1970s, South Korea deployed fashion police to measure the length of the women’s mini skirts. Strong actions were taken against those who went above a certain length.
The popular fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld owned more than 300000+ books. He loved books so much he created a scent for book lovers called the ‘paper passion’
The record for the world's longest wedding dress is held by a dress that has a 1.85-mile-long train.
The word ‘Jeans’ originated from the colloquial word ‘Genes’, which translated to Genoan sailors who wore cotton pants.
The oldest eyeliner ever to be discovered was in the most unlikely of places. King Tutankhamun’s tomb. Eyeliner was popular since the 1920s.
During the Renaissance period, it was fashionable to shave off the eyebrows. Weird right!
Queen Elizabeth, I was a big fan of hats. As a result, women that didn’t wear hats on Sundays and on public holidays were given a large fine during her reign.
Did you know that, as per a survey, women tend to buy shoes that are smaller for their feet? It is inferred that women like to think they have smaller feet and therefore choose a smaller size.
Lipstick is a common makeup item used by women. But did you know that its main ingredient is fish scales?
The fashion icon Marilyn Monroe owned a dress that was encrusted with 6000 rhinestones. In an auction that took place in 1999, it was sold for $1.26 million.
The ‘bikini’ was first invented in 1946. But later it was banned by several countries after the Vatican said it was a sin to wear them.
Neckties, originally called cravats, came from Croatia. It is a popular Father’s Day gift.
The long, fluffy wigs worn commonly by judges today, derived from the days of King Louis XIII. The French monarch suffered quite badly with bald patches and wore a massive wig to appear macho and powerful.
Jewelry was first worn by men. During the early days, kings and royals wore them as a symbol of status and victory in battle.
T-shirts are one of the most popular clothing items with more than 2 billion of them sold each year. The origin of the name ‘T-shirt’ is not properly recorded, but most people believe that the T shape is responsible for the name.
In 1997, after Alexander McQueen used animal and bird heads in his fashion show, members of PETA dumped animal guts in front of Givenchy’s Paris boutique doorstep.
The first Indian designer who showed at Paris fashion week was Ritu Beri. She is also the write and publisher of the most expensive book ever written called the ‘Firefly-A Fairytale’ which costs 1 lakh rupees per book.
In the Arab culture, shoes are considered dirty. It is an offense and an extreme grave insult to show one’s shoe sole and throw shoe at someone.
High heels were originally designed for men. It was believed that high heels helped men ride horses better.
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larknnightingale · 6 years
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The Arcana: Regency Era AU
Not sure if this has been done but I’ve been too self-indulgent in my period dramas as of late.
Asra
Childhood friend of yours that you often played with in your youth
Grows up to become a merchant that specializes in foreign trade
Visits often with trinkets from his travels
Brings Faust everywhere he goes. People find it most peculiar.
Hates wearing cravats
Plenty of rumors of his practices in magic
“It’s quite the scandal. One might believe that he has bewitched the good MC, look at the way they look at him.”
“Portia, have you been watching them?“
“Oh a maid never reveals her sources.”
Completely adores you and finds it hard to withhold his affections in the company of others
Gets caught holding your hand more times than both of your fingers combined
You two just stare luringly at each other on the other side of the room
Playful banter every now and again
“As much as you adore the cheetah print Mr. Asra, I cannot let you attend Lady Nadia’s ball in such a ghastly pattern.”
“Perhaps you fear that you will not bear to take your greedy hands and thirsty eyes off of me if I do.”
“...I would think you to be grateful that I already regard you with affection.”
“To be in your regard is a true feat in its own."
Your family doesn’t quite approve of courtship or marriage given his occupation and the rumors so they saved you from such scandal
Little did they know that mirror he gifted you is enchanted so he could sweep you away to a crossroads to practice your magic
Julian
Dramatic physician and dashing rogue
Probably shows up at your house to take care of an ailment that befalls your cousin
Doesn’t talk much at first but he finds himself stopping to chat with you more often than not
Subtly flirts with you through a code with his gloves
*gasp* He let his glove linger before covering his right thumb, he wants to kiss you!
Lots of running off from the servants and family 
“Oh, I heard he once served the Count during the war as his medic. And now he simply works as a physician in the city. My sources say, he’s quite the popular bachelor as well." 
“Are you that source, Portia?“
“Who is to say? A sister never tells her brother’s secrets“ she says as she casually sips her spiked tea.
Dramatically stares out the window while he broods
Picnics in the meadow as he attempts to draw you
Ends the relationship on a bridge during your morning walk with a long monologue
“We find ourselves in quite a scrape. These affections...they must not continue lest I break your heart. Pray my dear, no tears. Oh, how do you manage to bend my heart to your will?” 
Later that afternoon he shows up at the bridge again then gives another speech about how he can’t stand to be away from you
Nadia
An accomplished, respectable lady of the land who you met at a salon years ago
Likes your view of the world
She finds you quite refreshing and excellent company
Her impressionable fashion taste is followed avidly by the ladies of the land
Has an impressive shoe collection
Owns practically every type of wheeled vehicle: chaises, post-chaise, landau, cabriolet, barouche. You name it, she’s got it. 
Doesn’t throw many salons on her own, but she tends to do more private ones
“Oh, MC, a letter from the Lady Nadia. She wishes your company! Why, what a bold move!”
Visits your estate quite often
You get frequent invitations to her summer and winter estates
She takes any opportunity she can get if it means to be close to you
Shoulders touch when she sits with you, adjusts your clothes or hair, taking your hand to help you stand up, tapping your foot under the table, and playful hands when you dance
“The weather is quite dreary, there is no way I can let you go home in this state. You can return in the morning. And I will have you out of those clothes. After all, we were riding all day. Come and sit with me by the fire, you are shivering. ”
“My lady is quite taken with MC. Some say she is even considering marriage. It would be exciting to have a pleasant wedding hosted at the estate.”
“Where are you getting this information, Portia?”
She takes a sip of her tea.
Portia
Working as the lady’s maid for Nadia
She is the source of all gossip in the estate, although she refrains from making such rumors about her lady
Snooping is her true occupation
By day she works and by night she kicks back at the pub sometimes with her brother
Julian has to pry her away from fights as much as possible
Met you at a salon Nadia was attending while you were trying to escape the crowd
You two got yourself in a drinking contest. Lady luck was not on your side.
She made sure she got you back up on your feet enough to head home
During Nadia’s visit to your estate, Portia goes off to spend time with you---when she’s spared a moment.
You two have a secret correspondence over time to express your affections
When there is a single rumor  to rise about the subject, she quickly shuts it down with an outlandish rumor
“Forgive me, Lord Valerius but you like to pry into my business. Perhaps people would rather hear of the tantalizing tale of the goat and the melon in my lady’s barouche. 
“You would not dare!” 
Muriel
Worked as an apprentice to a groundskeeper at the cemetery as a boy
childhood friends with you and Asra too
Gets a job as the groundskeeper at your family’s estate when he's older
When Asra comes to visit, the three of you manage to sneak off to sit in nature
"They say MC takes tea outside just to watch the groundskeeper work.”
“Portia!”
You find time to have small chats with him on your walks
One time you twisted your ankle and you couldn’t walk so he carried you back to the estate
Leaves you flowers by your bedside to make sure you’re in good spirits
His lessons in reading and your little chats have gained the intrigue of the estate
It’s no secret of your time spent with Muriel
Your family does not approve and has promised you into a secure marriage to end this dalliance of yours
Distraught, you dramatically run into the courtyard in the rain
Muriel finds you and instead of bringing you back to the estate---through much difficulty---he confesses his affections to you.
Then you give him a reassuring kiss to seal the deal 
Lucio
Decorated colonel, “paragon” of the war, and the Count
His estate is a whole menagerie of exotic animals he’s collected in his travels
Don’t goad the peacocks
Goes on hunts every so often while visiting his summer estate
Tells endless tales of his time on the battlefront
Bores everyone to death 
Always makes it about himself
Fun at parties, but not the greatest of company
Scoffs at the thought of magic 
Throws the finest salons and masquerades in all the lands
You met him at one of his salons when you had the “pleasure” of “dancing” with him or as his court calls it, “choosing his next victim”
if you could call stumbling on his two left feet dancing
For an esteemed Count you come to learn he's a scoundrel
“One more dance?”
*disgusted noise*
Much fiery wit is exchanged
In fact, he loves the struggle between the two of you
It reminds him of the hunt
This has probably happened (he’s a Darcy through and through)
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the-master-cylinder · 4 years
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SUMMARY Ship’s engineer Andrew Braddock (York) and two other men are floating in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific following the wreck of the ship Lady Vain. One dies at sea. After seventeen days at sea, Braddock and the other man land on an island, where the other man accompanying Braddock is promptly killed by animals. Braddock is nursed back to health in the compound governed by the mysterious scientist “Dr. Moreau” (Lancaster). Besides Moreau, the inhabitants of the compound include Moreau’s associate, Montgomery (Davenport), a mercenary; Moreau’s mute, misshapen servant, M’Ling (Cravat); and a ravishing young woman named Maria (Carrera). Moreau warns Braddock not to leave the compound at night.
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Moreau welcomes Braddock as an honored guest and willingly shares his fine library, but there are some strange goings-on. One day Braddock witnesses Moreau and Montgomery manhandling a chained creature who is clearly not quite human, and the island is home to more than just this one recites the laws Moreau passed on to them. Moreau explains that they are, in fact, the hybrid products of his experiments upon various species of wild animal. Braddock is both shocked and curious. Moreau explains that he is injecting the animals with a serum containing human genetic material. At times, the human/animal hybrids still have their animal instincts and don’t quite behave like a human which sometimes enrages Moreau, feeling that his experiments haven’t worked successfully. That night, as Braddock is reeling from learning the truth, Maria goes to his room where they have sex. It is implied that this is intended by Moreau.
The following day, Braddock takes a rifle and leaves the compound, determined to see exactly how the hybrid creatures live. He enters a cave and finds several of them (all male). Just as he is surrounded by them and about to use the rifle to defend himself, Moreau appears and restores order. The Sayer of the Law (Richard Basehart) is the only one of Moreau’s experimental beasts who can speak; Moreau calls on him to utter the three laws (no going around on all fours, no eating of human flesh, no taking of other life) aloud to the other creatures. This reminds them that they must not attack Braddock.
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After the Bull-Man (Bob Ozman) kills a tiger, Moreau intends to take it to the “house of pain”, his laboratory, as punishment. The Bull-Man panics and runs. Braddock finds it in the jungle, badly injured, where it begs him to kill it rather than return it to the lab. Braddock shoots it, angering the man-beasts, as Braddock has broken the law of killing.
Convinced that Moreau is insane, Braddock prepares to leave the island with Maria. Moreau stops them and straps Braddock to the table in his lab. He then injects him with another serum so that he can hear Braddock describe the experience of becoming animalistic. Caged, Braddock struggles to maintain his humanity. When Montgomery objects to this treatment, Moreau shoots him in cold blood.
Outside the compound, the angry man-beasts turn on Moreau because by killing Montgomery, he has broken the very rule he expected them to follow. He is killed at the compound’s gate while trying to whip his attackers into submission. The man-beasts, now overpowered by their primitive natures, go on a rampage to try and break into the compound and destroy the house of pain as the Sayer of the Law states “There is no law.”
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Braddock, still struggling to remain human, Maria, M’Ling, and the still-coherent and benign beastfolk servant women stave them off and engineer an escape through the compound. Eventually, the man-beasts break-in and the compound is burned. In the chaos, the wild animals which Moreau kept for his experiments are turned loose and a battle ensues between them and the hybrids. Most of the man-beasts are killed by the animals or consumed by the fire, the Sayer of the Law’s throat torn out by a tiger, the Bear-Man tackled off a roof by a black panther, and the lion-man is mauled by a normal lion. During the final escape, M’Ling risks his life to save his companions from a lion and both fall into a pit trap.
Braddock and Maria manage to float away in the lifeboat that Braddock arrived in, but are followed by a Bear-Man (David Cass) who is one of the last man-beasts. After a battle with each other, Braddock kills the Bear-Man with a broken oar. Sometime later, they see a passing ship, and the serum has worn off, returning Braddock to his full human state as Maria looks on with catlike eyes.
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PRODUCTION In December, however, producers Sandy Howard and Samuel Z. Arkoff descended upon the small island resort of St. Croix in the Virgin Islands with dozens of cast and crew members, tons of equipment, and a menagerie of wild animals. There, in the lush rainforest of the island community, a new $7.25 million adaptation of THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU was filmed in its entirety. The period piece, set in 1911, stars Burt Lancaster in the title role. The young hero, enduring yet another name change to Andrew Braddock, is played by Michael York, and Richard Basehart steps into the role essayed by Bela Lugosi.
Although the producers, and director Don Taylor, insist that the picture is not a remake of the 1932 production, it does retain many of the elements of the earlier adaptation, including a female lead in the person of Barbara Carrera as Maria. An added twist in the new version finds Moreau, distraught that his creatures invariably revert to animals, attempting to conduct his humanizing experiments in reverse on Braddock.
Lancaster & Taylor
“Right around that point, Burt showed up in Cannes, and he tore the place apart just walking down the street the people went ape, because he’s an old star. and I guess they don’t get many old stars there anymore. That convinced us that we should use Burt. But even he had some hesitation, so I went and I talked to him. He said, “You got a problem with the script.” I said, “Yeah, but what picture have you done lately that didn’t?’ We did have a problem with the script, and we did a serious rewrite on it that…didn’t work, unfortunately. But Burt was very good, because he was secure with me: I took care of him, watched him. That’s my whole theory of directing: security. Give the actor security and, to a great degree, let him go. Sometimes you’re able to do that completely, like I did with Burt and sometimes you’re not-that’s when you get into trouble. Burt worked very hard.” – Don Taylor
SPECIAL EFFECTS Highlighting the film are Moreau’s grotesque “humanimals,” created by the makeup wizardry of John Chambers and Dan Striepeke, who had earlier worked together on the PLANET OF THE APES series and numerous other projects. Working from sketches and models, Chambers and his crew made casts of their actors’ faces and then elaborated upon their facial structures with clay. The clay was then used to make molds from which foam rubber appliances were made that were affixed to the skin and then blended to match the still-visible portions of the actors’ faces. In this manner, a boarman, bullman, hyenaman, lionman, bearman, and the wolfish Sayer of the Law were created. Human features derived from a goat, lynx, ram, badger, and baboon were also designed in mask form for less prominent roles. An orangutanman was developed, but when the producers objected on the basis that it might look like a PLANET OF THE APES rip-off, some more hair was added and it was redubbed a slothman.
The two men recognized that the makeup would lie somewhere between the Primal Man concept and the Planet of the Apes concept. The mechanics had already been licked in these previous films, but the concept would take some doing. They worked with Sandy Howard in developing the creatures. Although they studied the original film version of The Island of Dr Moreau, which was titled Island of Lost Souls (1933), they felt that they could offer much more than could have been done in 1933.
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Concept art created by Mike McCracken for the The Island of Dr. Moreau. Several paintings, drawings, maquettes were created for the designs of the creatures.. the “Humanimals” as they were called. The pre-production started in 1975 with John Chambers, Danny Striepeke and McCracken. Mike created pencil sketches of the characters first, drawings were then selected and from those selections he created more fully developed illustrations in oil and acrylic on canvas and on illustration board.
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After illustrations were selected McCracken sculpted numerous maquettes of those characters, from those maquette he then sculpted all of the prosthetics. A makeup test done in early 1976 of the Lionman, the Boarman and Hyenaman to show the producers Samuel Z. Arkoff and Sandy Howard how the makeup designs would look. They loved them and based on that successful makeup test a revised script was written to include more Humanimals.
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Striekpeke went to the Islands first, doing makeup on Burt Lancaster and Michael York and others. Chambers remained back at the lab with his crew preparing enough appliances. The requirements changed continually up until the last moment.
Surprisingly, the trouble with Dr. Moreau, according to director Don Taylor, was the makeups. “I inherited something that I couldn’t do anything about,” he says, “and that was the appliances that had been made chins, noses and foreheads for all these man-animals. The idea was that these animal men should have been grotesque half human and half beast. But they were all Disney, cuddly. You wanted to kiss ’em. I couldn’t make any grotesquerie out of em at all.” – Don Taylor
The first makeup on Michael York was created by Dan Striekpeke. He created a sunburnt, blistered, dehydrated look brought about from the shipwreck Michael survives. York becomes the first specimen that Dr. Moreau attempts to transform from human to animal, the norm being from animal to human.
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Chambers had created appliances so that he could subtly transform York into a wolf without the audience realizing it.  Chambers and his staff prepared as many as three separate makeup designs for each creature, varying in degree as to human and animal components. “For example,” Chambers explained, “at one point you see the bullman with little nubs where his horns start, and then later you see him with great big horns. But that presented a problem because you couldn’t identify him. I said to Don Taylor: ‘How are you going to identify them, unless you say, “Look, the bullman has changed.” You gonna put baseball numbers on them?’ So we had to throw out the intermediate steps, except in two or three cases. We showed Mling being dragged and taken back to the House of Pain to be rejuvenated, or whatever. And the same with the lionman. We take him from 70% lion and make him 15%. But you see him being taken away and then brought back out to the cart – you know it’s him. And they put a colored patch on his shoulder that was his baseball number.”
Rick Baker’s Lion Man test makeup (Rejected)
Chambers did anticipate problems with the appliances and the moisture, particularly because some of the action required fighting scenes in the water. Special adhesives were used, and the problem never arose. Chambers was quite proud of the teeth he designed and created. They were veneer and tamped right in. Despite the fighting  with the actual animals, there were no broken real teeth, and the actors could talk with them, too.
Early Version of Boarman by Mike McCraken
One scene called for the Bullman to be attacked by a real Bengal tiger, and Striekpeke created a fiberglass helmet from a mold of Bob Ozman’s head. It was outfitted with straps and a protective covering. The production staff had been advised that when an animal attacks—provided he does become “wild’’ enough to do so—he could snap at a head or neck in an attempt to crush the skull. Because they were going to train the tiger to bite one of the Bullman’s horns off anyway, they felt every possible precaution should be exercised.
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Yes, of course. I’ve done simple martial arts kinds of things. But, as an example of what I said earlier, it was during the shooting of The Island of Doctor Moreau that my karate training truly became useful to me. Because I’d learned a few things about balance, eye contact and the importance of not showing fear, I was able to work with the big cats more effectively. It made me feel good when I knew that what I was doing, how I was controlling the tiger’s actions, would save or even make a shot. A human being can’t compete with that kind of tremendous power. And, that’s something that young people should realize about karate; there are real, human limitations. However, on the movie, it was knowing how to get the cat’s attention, by looking at him a certain way. I used a kiai on one shot to scare the cat and make him attack. Sometimes the attacks became real. It was my martial arts training that told me not to show fear. A good elbow strike, or back fist came in handy at those moments, too. – Bob Ozman/Bullman
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  However, York, taking “dramatic license,” wanted to do the part dramatically and physically rather than with appliances. Striekpeke did a beautiful job in creating an effective makeup using highlights and shadows and a little hair. The makeup, combined with York’s performance, achieved the effect very successfully.
The other actors who are seen (or not seen, actually) as the Remaining key mutated creatures all had to be expert stuntmen. The script called for a battleroyale between the new species and Wiwir four-footed counterparts lion, a tiger, a boar, a bull and a hyena. Most stuntmen refuse to work with exotic animals, so these were selected on the basis of their association with animal behavior training by Ralph and Toni Helfer, animal experts who own and operate Enchanted Village in Buena Park, California.
Bob Ozman, who plays the half-man, half-bull creature, owns a karate school and has always worked with animals, which made him a natural for the film. However, in comparing his acting stint to his other encounters with wild animals as a trainer, he comments, “I found it more of a challenge and much scarier than any of the outrageous and so-called dangerous stunts I’ve ever performed before.”
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The tiger did try to bite Bob Ozman, who was playing the Bullman, on the back of the neck, and another time a fang just grazed his eyes. Both times the helmet was the lifesaving factor. Striekpeke had to repair it after the first encounter, which is some indication of how severe the attack was. At other times, the tiger would slash at a hand, tearing off a foam-rubber glove.
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Makeup calls varied from three a.m. to four a.m. It took four hours per person to make them into a Humanimal, mainly because there were so many appliances involved. The Wardrobe Department helped a great deal with other parts of the costumes such as fur jackets. Although the makeup could probably have been completed in three and a half hours, Chambers and Striekpeke insisted on an allowance of at least four, and the cameras were never held up.
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In spite of his star status, actor Richard Basehart also had to respond to that incredibly early call, for his part was to play the leader of the humanimals, a wolf by birth, the “Sayer of the Low.” In the film, he attempts to maintain the human half of his follow creatures and to void the animal instincts that smolder within. As an example of the technical care lavished on the movie, Basehart wore special contact lenses to simulate wolf eyes, since he was frequently seen in close-up shots. He also had a hump built onto his back, because he stands too erect otherwise to represent one of the man-beasts.
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RELEASE/DISTRIBUTION Reportedly, several endings were shot, including a couple of shockers in which Braddock, after escaping the island debacle with the now-pregnant Maria whom he loves, suddenly discovers that she is not what he thinks, but rather the pinnacle of Moreau’s unorthodox experimentation. In one ending, she begins to revert back to her former feline form, and in another, she gives birth, not to a child, but to a tiger kitten. Presumably, sneak preview responses will dictate which ending makes it into general release.
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CAST/CREW Directed Don Taylor
Produced Skip Steloff John Temple-Smith
Written Al Ramrus John Herman Shaner
Based on The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells
Burt Lancaster as Dr. Paul Moreau Michael York as Andrew Braddock Nigel Davenport as Montgomery Barbara Carrera as Maria Richard Basehart as Sayer of the Law Nick Cravat as M’Ling The Great John L. as Boar-Man Bob Ozman as Bull-Man Fumio Demura as Hyena-Man Gary Baxley as Lion-Man John Gillespie as Tiger-Man David Cass as Bear-Man
CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY brightlightsfilm.com martialartsentertainment Starlog#11 Starlog#165 Cinefantastique v06n01 Cinefantastique v05n02
The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977) Retrospective SUMMARY Ship's engineer Andrew Braddock (York) and two other men are floating in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific following the wreck of the ship Lady Vain.
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barpurplewrites · 7 years
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Winds of Change
@of-princes-and-savages I am you secret Santa. It has been a pleasure to writ this for you. It got a bit lengthy so I’m only posting the first chapter here and the full story can be found HERE on AO3
-x-x-x-
Winds of Change – Chapter One
An inventor and an outcast are about to change the world. Those in power are willing to throw a spanner in the works to maintain the status quo, but the cogs will turn and the future won’t be denied; is the price of progress one worth paying?
Belle frowned as she read the newspaper she had bought from the kiosk at Stepney Tram Station. It was only the shuffling from the other passengers and the chugging of the approaching steam-tram’s engine that prevented her from missing the 8:17. Once she had taken her seat she re-read the print that had her so distracted.
 Mr. and Mrs. Philip Greene are pleased to announce the engagement of their adopted daughter, Miss Zelena Greene to Mr Gaston Legume, eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Garrick Legume. An August wedding is planned at Roebury All Saints Church in Northumberland.
 It was either Fate, or poor planning that had seen Gaston’s second engagement announcement published two years to the day after his first. The first one had featured her name, and she’d carefully clipped it from the newspaper to paste it on the first page of what she had thought would become her wedding scrapbook. She snorted at how naïve she had been, thinking a perfect fairy tale wedding would solve all of her dissatisfaction with her life; as if shackling herself to a brute like Gaston would have given her the freedom she craved. It had only taken a few months for him to reveal his true colours; how close she had come to a life of misery still made her stomach clench. As the steam-tram wound its way through the streets towards the river, she mused at how much her world had changed in a season.
 <i>Three Months Ago</i>
Belle was weary from the ball last night, she had not wanted a large affair for her birthday, but Papa had insisted. At first he countered her suggestion of a small dinner by pointing out that his little girl didn’t turn twenty-one every day and surely she could understand his desire to spoil her. When she continued to resist his grand plans he had snapped that this wasn’t just about her, he had a position to maintain in society and he would not have people whispering that his daughter was strange for not wanting a proper birthday celebration for such a milestone year. Heaven forbid if people got the idea that there was to be no grand ball for her birthday because he could not afford to provide one for her. After listening to the predicted woes of what that sort of unfounded gossip could do to the French Mining Company Belle had acquiesced. She had tried to be a dutiful and grateful daughter as Papa increased the guest list to the point where she barely knew a fifth of the people attending the ostentatious event. The only benefit of all of those strangers was that with so many people demanding her time for a dance, or pausing to engage in idle chat as they wished her many happy returns was that Gaston had had no chance to get her alone and pressure her into setting a date for the wedding.
That she was running out of reasons to put off setting a date was worrying her. She had hoped that by now she would have been able to make Papa understand that she did not wish to marry Gaston, but he continued to dismiss her concerns. A gentle knock at the library door roused her from her desperate and increasingly futile dreams of escape. She managed to pull a smile onto her face as the young maid bobbed a curtsey.
“Yes Ashley.”
“Sorry to disturb you Miss, but there is a gentleman to see you, a lawyer, Miss.”
Belle frowned at the card Ashley handed her; “Are you sure he wants to see me? Surely he is here for Papa?”
“Oh no, Miss. He expressly asked to see Miss Isabelle Rosa French.”
Belle winced a little at her full name, these days she only ever heard it when Papa was particularly vexed with her, and even then he never uttered her middle name.
“Very well, I shall see him in the drawing room. Could you please bring us some coffee, Ashley?”
The maid hurried out and Belle took a moment to compose herself, her curiosity washing away the lingering exhaustion from last night. Ashley had left the door to the drawing room open just enough for Belle to observe her unexpected guest for a moment before she announced herself. He was sombrely dressed in tones of black and grey as one would expect for a man of the law, but his cravat and cuffs were bright flashes of colour that gave him the air of a dandy. Belle wasn’t sure what to make of him; a few years ago she would have thought him an interesting character and happily greeted him, but since her engagement she had learned that looks could be deceiving and had come to doubt her initial impressions of people; she had been proved drastically wrong about Gaston after all. She steeled her spine and entered the room.
“Good morning,” She looked at the card he had presented to Ashley, “Mr Hatter. I am Isabelle Rosa French.”
He greeted her with a tight bow and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Good morning Miss French. May I offer my belated felicitations upon your coming of age.”
Before Belle had a chance to utter a polite thank you he bounded across the room to the table where he had laid out several piles of documents.
“It is the occasion of your twenty-first birthday that necessitates my visit this morning. As you may be aware my firm of Cheshire and Raupo have provided legal services for your family for three generations…”
Belle held up her hand to interrupt him; Mr Hatter paused and cocked his head to one side as he waited for her to speak.
“You are mistaken, sir. My father has always used Miller and Hart for legal matters.”
Mr Hatter pressed his hand to his chest; “My apologies, Miss French. I should have more correctly said that my firm has represented the Monroe family for that period of time.”
Belle blinked; it was a day for rarely spoken names, “My mother’s family.”
“Quite,” He gestured to the table, “May we be seated? I am afraid this may take some time.”
He waited until Belle had settled herself at the table before dramatically flicking his coattails and taking the seat across from her. Belle bit her bottom lip to hide her smile, she had been right that Mr Hatter had a touch of a dandy side about him. He plucked the first page from one of his piles and flicked his eyes over it, he looked her in the eye as he spoke;
“Mrs Colette French, nee Monroe, made certain arrangements in her Last Will and Testament, all others were dealt with in a timely fashion after her passing, but the largest one, the one concerning you had to wait until you came of age…”
The next hour left Belle reeling in stunned amazement, she barely noticed Ashley deliver the coffee she had requested. Her mother had left her an inheritance that amounted to seven thousand pounds a year, money that was hers and hers alone; money which her mother had hoped would be used to ‘pursue her passion in life with freedom and joy’.
Belle took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee to bring some moisture to her dry mouth.
“I’m free.”
She hadn’t realised that she had spoken aloud until she saw Mr Hatter’s eyes dart toward the gaudy engagement ring on her finger. He smiled softly, this time emotion showed in his eyes, although Belle could not say what emotion it was.
“Yes, Miss French, you are now a woman of independent means, and are free to do as you choose.”
The door to the room banged open and Papa blustered in, drawing up short when he saw Mr Hatter, who rose to his feet in greeting.
“Belle? The maid said that you were receiving a gentleman, I expected to find you and Gaston planning the wedding, at last.”
Belle made the introductions and cringed as Papa’s eyes narrowed at the name of Cheshire and Raupo. He refused to shake Mr Hatter’s offered hand.
“What nonsense has your mother dropped in my lap now?”
Belle tensed, but for the first time in longer than she cared to remember she was not bracing herself in fear, a long forgotten feeling of courage began to bloom within her. Mr Hatter took a moment to briefly outline the reason for his visit, without divulging any fine details to Papa; he really was a very good lawyer. As usual her father tried to twist the whole situation into being about Gaston.
“Not that you need to worry about finances once you are wed, but this does mean that Gaston can begin looking for a larger house for the two of you, hey Belle?”
Mr Hatter cleared his throat in a dry deliberate way that Belle was sure all lawyers learned at the Inns of Court.
“Sir Maurice, I feel at this juncture I must make clear that the stipulations of the Will are very clear, this income belongs solely to Miss French and will remain under her control regardless of her marital state.”
Her father turned red in the face, a signal that Belle recognized as the beginning of a fit of spleen. She did not have to sit and listen to his ranting any more. She rose sharply to her feet and dragged the hated engagement ring from her finger and tossed it at him.
“I am breaking the engagement! You arranged the damned thing so you can return this to Mr Legume. I have told you for months that he and I are ill suited, but you have refused to listen, you have ignored my wishes at every turn, reminding me that I am dependent upon the goodwill of you or him. Well I am not dependant anymore! Thanks to Mother I am free, free of him, free of you, free to follow in her footsteps and make a difference in the world!”
Sir Maurice took a step back in the face of her rage, but he quickly recovered and advanced on her brandishing the ring. Belle held her ground and raised her chin defiantly to meet his eye.
“Now listen to me, missy. You cannot break a near two year engagement; people will brand you a fallen woman. It that what you want, hum? To bring shame upon my name? Well, is it?”
Freedom was a heady brew, an elixir than made her bold and brave, she laughed wryly at her father’s well-worn tactics, the look of confusion on his face only fanning the flames of her burning bridges.
“Mr Hatter, as I understood matters I have immediate access to the funds?”
“Yes Miss.”
“In that case, I would like to continue to use the services of your firm. I will need to find accommodation until you can find me a suitable house. Would you mind waiting for me while I pack?”
Her father’s face flushed an ugly brick red, he jabbed his finger in her face and snarled; “Oh no! You’ll take nothing out of my house you ungrateful child.”
Belle’s eyes narrowed as she truly saw what her father thought of her, she had always tried to understand his rages and frustrations, to make herself believe that her wanted the best for her, that he loved her; now she realised that she had been blind, her father only saw her as a way to get what he wanted. She blinked hard refusing to let the turbulent emotion within her manifest as tears.
“Very well, Mr Hatter are you ready to leave now?”
“I am at your disposal Miss French.”
Her father reached for her arm, but Mr Hatter swiftly stepped in front of him, protecting Belle from his grasp.
“Sir Maurice, should you attempt to prevent me or my client from leaving your home this will become a legal matter; a very public and very messy legal matter.”
The suggestion of public humiliation was enough to make Sir Maurice step back, he stood glaring in the corner of the room as Mr Hatter gathered his papers and offered his arm to Belle. He trailed after them as they made their way to the front door.
“You’ll see sense Belle. Your Mother’s research was pointless and brought nothing but shame and failure. Follow in her footsteps and you will end as badly as she did.”
Belle squared her shoulders and stepped across the threshold and into freedom.
  <i>Now</i>
The steam-tram was crossing the river and the hustle and bustle of the ships provided a welcome distraction as Belle shook away the difficult memories of that day. With the benefit of distance and hind-sight Belle could understand that her Father hadn't been a good parent. Maurice French had only thought about expanding his business empire, and a union between the two largest coal mining families in the country would have done just that, regardless of the fact that his daughter had nothing in common with the self-obsessed, arrogant and violent man.
Oh Gaston had been a dream during their courtship, the perfect gentleman who asked about her interests and listened with apparent pleasure as she talked about the latest advances in metal casting and clockwork. Once the engagement had been confirmed Belle discovered that he was not a book to be judged by his cover; the mask of tender suitor had fallen away rapidly and Gaston had begun yawning when she tried to talk about anything other than him; he had laughed at her books and taken to plucking them from her hands when he found her reading. When she had tried to resist his physical advances her had called her foul names and pressed his kisses on her anyway, taking delight in pointing out that once they were wed he would be able to punish her for refusing him. Belle shuddered as she recalled him hissing in her ear how he would bring her into line in graphic detail.
Belle blew out a sigh; now Gaston had clearly moved on her father would have to stop pushing her to reconciliation. He had sent her telegrams every day in the first month after she had moved out on her own, messages of cajoling and badgering that she had given up replying to after a time. He had not listened to her arguments against the marriage in person and via the printed word she held even less sway over him. Maybe now with this matter laid to rest, they could begin to repair their relationship, although they would never be close, Belle would like them to be cordial. With that hopeful thought in mind Belle tucked the newspaper into the pocket of her greatcoat and prepared to disembark as the steam-tram approached the Isle of Dogs.
19 notes · View notes