#1950s poodle cuts

[thesimline]

One of my personal favourite decades! 70s hair is usually associated with Farrah Fawcett’s iconic feathered ‘do, but there was actually a lot of variety in styles during that decade. CC links under the cut.

You can find more of my female hair collections here:

1920s  ✺  1930s  ✺  1940s  ✺  1950s  ✺  1960s  ✺  1980s  ✺  1990s

1 - Black Widow by Simlive

2 - Madison by Green Llamas

3 - Winona by Simstrouble

4 - Rhoda by Simstrouble

5 - Pam by Birksches

6 - Strange Time by Marigolde

7 - Charline by Simstrouble

8 - Corrine by Feral Poodles

9 - Dainty Deena by Renora

10 - Stevie by Serenity

11 - Lima by Green Llamas

12 - Olympia by Simstrouble

13 - Nay Nay by Atashi77

14 - Linda by Birksche

15 - Jumpsuit Ripley by Busted Pixels

16 - Damlas Bun 2 by Birksche

17 - Lara by Feral Poodles (TSR)

18 - Terry by Dogsill

19 - Venere by Simstrouble

20 - Messy Bob by Sycko Sims

21 - Diana by Feral Poodles

22 - Jordana by Kiara Zurk

23 - Noah by Dogsill

24 - Lou by Birksche

With thanks to some amazing creators: @bustedpixels @feralpoodles @dogsill @simstrouble @sycko @zurkdesign @serenity-cc @greenllamas

#ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 cas #ts4 cc cas #the sims 4 #1970s #70s #70s fashion #1970s fashion #ts4 decades challenge #hair collection #ts4 hair #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #1970s hair #ts4 cc hair #70s hair #1970s cc #1970s female hair #decades cc

[shikoslady]

Theory about Niffty (SPOILERS AHEAD)

*I posted this on another platform a couple weeks ago. I did add some new thoughts to the post.

This theory is based off of what has been confirmed as canon by Vivziepop and what we see of her in the series.

Niffty was an abused, suburban housewife from the 1950s. She is confirmed to be Japanese in her 20s when she died. She snaps after an ugly fight with her husband (Fred) and stabs him in the back repeatedly until he is dead. She has a complete psychotic break and laughs as she runs down the street with a bloody knife. Police try to talk her down but in her broken mind she tries to attack them. She is shot 3 times in the torso and dies from her injuries.

Evidence:

Niffty's appearance: Wears a poodle skirt, apron, and has 3 hole shaped designs on the torso that resemble gunshot wounds. Her hair is cut in a bob style that would have been typical of a housewife in that era.

Niffty's mental state: obvious OCD regarding cleanliness and pest infestation. Sadistic, erratic and unpredictable, unstable. Likes feeling pain. Clear signs of having been through trauma.

Niffty's hobbies:

-Makes crowns out of roaches. The crown is a perversion of a flower crown, something some mother's would make for their children in the summertime. This shows she is creative and may have enjoyed crafting in her human life.

-puppet shows. It is mentioned she puts on roach puppet shows... a sign again of creativity. Puppet shows were popular in her era.

Niffty and the stains. In a line that sounds like it's a throwaway, Niffty says she named the stains on the carpet. There is a large one that she named Fred. The stain resembles the one left from her husband's body after she killed him.

Niffty's interest in Bad Boys: This is also psychological. For those who have experience abuse first hand this will make a lot more sense. Victims of abuse tend to find partners that are similar to their abuser because it is all they know. They feel uncomfortable in healthy relationships and are drawn to the chaos they know. It takes years of therapy and healing to break this cycle.

Niffty and Alastor: She seems to be very fond of Alastor beyond her usual attraction to bad boys. Alastor is illuded to being the baddest of the boys in Hell and yet, she doesn't do her usual thirst lunge or comments over him. I think he makes her feel safe. Perhaps he is protecting her... Do they have a deal? Does he own her soul? We don't know for sure. We know Husker is bound to Alastor however I don't assume that is for sure without their arrangement explored further.

Niffty and Vox may have known each other.

There isn't much to go on other than they both died in the 1950s. Niffty is afraid of cameras (television), and Vox's smile as he watched her on the tv when she killed Adam and again when she was being interviewed for the deed.

This could easily be explained as him being glad Adam and the exterminations are over or that could be a misdirection. The only reason why I question these two scenes is because of the Heaven scene with Charlie and Vaggie running past Adam and Lute. Until it is known that it was Vaggie they were talking about, it makes perfect sense for them to be annoyed with Charlie being there.

Niffty vs Adam:

Before Niffty surprise kills Adam, he is berating the group with insults. He claims they should be worshipping him since humanity sprung from his loins. He goes on to call them "ungrateful disgusting losers," then Niffty stabs him. If she was an abused housewife, this kind of verbal assault from Adam would have been triggering. She kills him in a similar fashion to how she murdered her husband, laughing maniacally the entire time. She stabs him multitudes of times before hoping off and prancing away from his dead body with a proud smile.

What do you all think?

#hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel #niffty #alastor #hazbin theory #hazbin #hazbin thoughts

[atomkatzchen]

I don't usually post my art here, but I wanted to share my redesigns of Nifty and Alastor!

Something about their canon designs bug me, so I thought I might as well take it into my own hands to make them a little more to my tastes.

The sketch looks good too :)

Design notes below cut!

Alastor:

- Changed mostly red colour scheme to a more browns and reds one. The entirely red colour scheme was a little bit of an eyesore.

- Gave him curlier hair.

- He is now wearing more 1930s-esque clothing! He probably should be wearing a tie instead of a bow, but I wanted to keep some aspects of his character in the design

- Changed his mic to be period-accurate. I think his canon mic is fairly accurate, although obviously very stylised due to it being a weapon(?). This one looks fancier in my opinion lol.

Nifty:

- Gave her a maturer look. I felt in the canon design she was a little childish for a 22 year old, especially for a 1950s gal.

- Switched her colour scheme a little.

- Also gave her curlier hair. Her messy straight bob is cute, but in the 50s there were a lot of curls and poofs in hairstyles. Kept her hair messy though :p

- Made her outfit look more like it's from the 1950s. The poodle skirt was cute but a bit of a cliché when thinking of 50s dresses.

- Took away the maid apron :( She can still have it sometimes, I just wanted to highlight the dress. I think it's a little weird she is always wearing the apron even when not at work.

#my art #artists on tumblr #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #nifty hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

🔪 Niffty 🔪

VAs:

Kimiko Glenn (series)

Michelle Marie (series)

Theme song (AU):

Favourite quote:

"STAB! STAB, STAB! *maniacal laughter* BLOOD! Hehehehaha!"

―Niffty, seconds after killing Adam

Basics:

Species:

Human being (formerly)

Sinner Demon (cyclops)

Sexuality: Straight (implied)

Sex: Female

Date of death: 1950s

Age: 22 years old (biological)

Occupation(s):

• Hazbin Hotel employee

<> Maid

<> Pest control

<> Cook

AU:

Employee of I.M.P 🤭

Likes:

• Sewing

• Fanfiction

• Cooking

• Cleaning

• Collecting

<> Collecting hair/fur from people

<> Hoarding cleaning supplies

• Crafting

<> Making crowns out of dead roaches

• Men/Boys

<> Bad boys

• Experiencing pain

• BDSM

• Playing with the kitty

<> Fidgeting with Husk’s wings and ears

• Handling sharp things/weapons

<> Angelic weapons

<> Needles

<> Stabbing stuff

<> Knives

<> Murdering people

• Blood

• Tormenting insects

<> Putting on insect puppet shows

<> Killing mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others

• The idea of being forced to do something

Dislikes:

• Bugs/insects

• Anything messy

• Being called a mess

• Being recorded

• Good boys

<> Sir Pentious turning good

Flaws:

• OCD (extreme)

• Masochistic tendencies

• ADHD (implied)

• Stereotypical views on gender roles - Pilot episode

<> She's aware that her viewpoint is outdated and potentially offensive, something she does apologize for.

• Schizophrenic

• Hypersensitivity (especially when being called “a mess”, particularly by Angel in 1x06)

• Age regression

Romantic interests:

• Sir Pentious (formerly)

• Lucifer Morningstar (ideally)

• Valentino (one-sided)

Friends:

• Coworkers of the Hazbin Hotel:

<> Charlie Morningstar (boss)

<> Vaggie

<> Alastor

<> KeeKee

<> Husk

Patrons:

• Angel Dust

• Sir Pentious

Others (acquaintanted):

• Razzle and Dazzle

• Egg Boiz

• Lucifer Morningstar

• Mimzy

• Cherri Bomb

Family (surrogate):

Father 1#: Husk

Father 2#: Angel Dust

(adoptive) Brother: Frank (one of the Egg Boiz 🤭)

Uncle: Sir Pentious

Aunt: Cherri Bomb

RP/AU:

(middle) Sister: Kat Dust

(future) Sister-in-law: T.J. of the Ars Goetia

(youngest) Sister: Luster Dust

Nicknames:

• Niff (by Husk & Angel Dust)

• Dear (by Sir Pentious)

• Girly (by Mimzy)

• Tiny (by Angel Dust)

• Filthy Janitor (by Katie Killjoy)

• Chiquita (by Valentino)

Enemies:

• Exorcists

<> Adam (victim)

<> Lute

Abilities:

• Sewing

• Fire resistance

• Cleaning

• Water resistance

• Agility

• Holy power resistance

• Cooking

• Instrumental talent

• Hypnotic trance (only when being filmed)

Skillset:

• Bilingualism

<> English & Japanese

• Jack-of-all-trades

• Melee proficiency

Weaponry:

• Needles

• Knives

• Angelic dagger

Appearance & personality:

Niffty is a small, cyclops-like demon with pointed limbs, white skin and one large eye. Her eye sports a light yellow iris, thick eyelashes, and a hot-pink sclera with a yellow gradient.

Her red-pink hair is kept into a slightly messy bob cut with swirls on each side, and a single light yellow streak located at the top. Her mouth has sharp light pale yellow teeth inside and black lips, and small hot-pink dots on each of the corners.

Niffty's attire is that of a black neckerchief around her neck, and a 1950s red-pink maid dress under a white apron with three hot-pink dripping splotches. She also wears long black gloves which covers most of her hands and arms, along with matching-colored tights.

Pilot:

In the pilot, her skin was light yellow and her hair appeared scruffier, with the single streak instead being a shade of amber. Her lips were also maroon.

Her attire, while still 1950s themed, instead consisted of a burgundy neckerchief, a white blouse with three hot-pink dripping splotches, and a red-pink swing skirt which featured a 50s-fashionable dark burgundy poodle with yellow dots. Her gloves and tights were instead the same color as the poodle print on her skirt.

How would you describe Niffty’s personality?

• Vague

• Spontaneous

• Quick

• Fixated (when tasked to do something)

• Violent

• Emotional (especially drunk)

• Shy

• Hyperactive

References:

#niffty #kimiko glenn #michelle marie #Spotify

[sunfoxfic]

I had. So. Much. Fun. With this one. I'm absolutely in love with it.

[ID: A drawing of Juleka Couffaine from Miraculous Ladybug. She's looking down to one of her hips with her eyes closed, that hand resting on the hip. Her hair is down and she's wearing a white shirt with black lace sleeves and a purple-magenta skirt with a tiger in the corner, the tail trailing off into a stitched pattern reminiscent of 1950's poodle skirts. Beneath the skirt is a bit of black lace petticoat poking out. The background is a brown door and a tan brick wall. End ID.]

Lace pattern from the sleeves taken from here!

+ bonus fun lighting version under the cut

[ID: The same image as before except everything is a bit darker and more purple-y, with light seemingly radiating from the top right corner. End ID.]

#juleka couffaine #poodle skirts #my art #miraculous ladybug #ml fanart

[girluninterrupted11]

Next up, one of the most iconic decades....

The time has now come for the 1950s, a decade that I’m sure we are all more familiar with. Poodle skirts, Grease, Marilyn Monroe, all of that good stuff. I know when I think of this decade grease (the movie not oil) is especially what comes to mind, but that might just be me. I remember watching that movie for the first time in my childhood best friend’s basement and being so confused (I was 8 or 9 so cut me some slack here) but still interested. Olivia Newton-John’s character Sandy had this black outfit that I will always associate with the 50s. I don't think I knew much else at the time, besides the classic blond bombshell trope that the time period is known for so for me this was a whole new world. Quite obviously, since then I’ve definitely learned a lot more about fashion and it’s evolution through the decades (I wouldn’t be doing this blog otherwise). Let’s get into it then …

Now, I can't talk about the 1950s without dedicating a good chunk of this post to icons that changed the fashion game. So, first is our blonde bombshell of the 50s. I couldn't do this without bringing up Marilyn Monroe could I? One thing she really popularized was blue jeans (so did other people, like Elvis) which she wore in one of her movies. Now, we obviously all wear jeans all the time, especially Levi 501s. Fun Fact, these are my go-to jeans, just like many people for the past 150 years. Not only did she popularize them but she also showed a different side to jeans, one that balanced glamour and femininity with comfort and practicality. Marilyn is the idea of femininity for a lot of people and I think that this definitely shines in her jean outfits. I think this is something she does really well. Jeans are versatile and can go either way depending on how you style them (which is quite different from fashion before). I do have to say I do love Marilyn Monroe so I might be biased here. I’ve had a massive poster in my room for years (right next to a Kate Bush poster and a Bangles poster). Now, Marilyn is known as being a sex icon and her glamour. The blonde hair, the red lips, the dark eye makeup and the accentuated figure. This is a key part of 1950s fashion, but it's not the only side.

Now, Marilyn is known as being a sex icon and her glamour. The blonde hair, the red lips, the dark eye makeup and the accentuated figure. This is a key part of 1950s fashion, but it's not the only side. Audrey Hepburn is the perfect example (not saying that either is better, but the different aspects of the decade, love them both equally). Her style is a more subtle femininity, one with more elegance. Accordingly, she popularized ballet flats, big sunglasses and capri pants. Personally, I'm really not a big capri pants fan, especially myself, but I think she manages to make them look good. I always feel like they just look awkward and weird. Like why? What’s the point of the length? They’re not short enough to be shorts, but not long enough to be pants. I want to know who got up one morning and said “You know what we need? Pants in that awkward in-between length? That’s what’s missing from my life” Why? It also always makes me think of being a kid and wearing those plaid capris that were popular in the 2000s-2010s and are horribly ugly (if you know what I'm talking about then you’ll get what I mean, if you don't, consider yourself lucky). On the left picture below is Audrey wearing capris for her movie Sabrina (great movie by the way, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t watched). For some reason I think they look good in this outfit, it's simple but cute nonetheless, and the capris somehow aren't evoking a visceral reaction so I consider that more impressive than anything.

She is also wearing ballet flats in this image, which I will always consider to be timeless and cute. A classic black flat is something that you can never go wrong with. They add just the right amount of elegance to any outfit (like the capris in this outfit) which again is something the 50s really gets right, the art of elegance and femininity. 

On the right is an image from Breakfast at Tiffany’s (one of my all-time favourite movies, I’ve watched it a dozen times since I was 10). As you can see she is rocking the chunky sunglasses, which I can absolutely get behind, unlike the capris. I love chunky sunglasses, and they are absolutely a must-have for me in the warmer months. I think some people look better with smaller sunglasses and can absolutely rock them, but I am not one of those people. I wear big sunglasses for the same reason I wear big earrings, it's necessary when you have curly hair (and a lot of it). Smaller pieces just get lost and it becomes pointless. I guess I just have to thank Audrey Hepburn for being able to wear big sunglasses. 

That brings us to the end of this segment. From Marilyn Monroe’s sensuality to Audrey Hepburn’s elegance, the 50s fashion trends continue to remain timeless.

Next up, I’ll be talking about my favourite decade so stay tuned !! See you next week xx. 

#fashion #1950s fashion #marilyn monroe #Audrey hepburn #old hollywood #sabrina #breakfast at tiffany's

[ripslingerfan13]

Nifty’s Lore…Or at least I tried to figure it out😅

* She definitely has some form of OCD with the excessive cleaning.

* Most likely was a house maid for someone

* Definitely had a bug collection

* She was definitely a serial killer! No doubt about that one!

* Her thing was clearly stabbing them to death.

* ‘Killing mother bugs in front of their young as a warning’ …If that shit ain’t screaming ‘Some form of mommy/parental issues’ then I don’t know what the fuck is?!

* She speaks both English ‘and’ Japanese

* Might not be much but maybe some relationship involving Japanese culture? Relative or friend?

* Or maybe she was just really into their culture and just wanted to learn for fun? (I’m currently doing that at the moment)

* Her obsession with bad boys may hint to a bad boy boyfriend, or a genuinely bad boyfriend.

If that’s the case the obsession with receiving and delivering pain could be a result of an abusive relationship and Stockholm syndrome. Cause those asshole always find a way to make you believe you’re nothing without them. Stockholm Syndrome is a coping/survival mechanism to keep themselves alive in certain situations…now that I think about?

Nifty died in the 1950s in her 20s still pretty young. Killing the mother roaches in front of their young. Her height and attire? The poodle skirt was normally worn by young girls during that time? I originally thought that her personality was some form of psychosis…but now I’m starting to lean into it being a result of trama…

From being kidnapped…

Even though Nifty’s in her 20s she wearing an outfit wore by teenagers and younger girls during that time…?

My whole damn theory just got cut short and changed completely! I now believed Nifty may have been kidnapped and tortured at a young age until she finally snapped.

The thing with the roaches mothers could be a result of her witnessing her own mother’s death when she was taken away. The obsession with cleaning and killing bugs, her captor turned her into a maid and forces her to do all the cleaning, cooking ect. And the place was just a straight up mess with bugs all over the place! She had to make her own clothes because he barley bought her anything. Being into bondage and stabbing is a result of long term sexual and physical abuse from her captor.

Nifty’s a sadomastic meaning she enjoys both receiving and causing pain. Like I said before could be a coping mechanism for the abuse, sticking with that. As both are often caused by childhood trama.

Why she’s in hell could be that she had finally lost it after being locked away and abused for long and murdered her captor but because of all the abuse and trama may have caused her to become psychotic and go on a hunt for someone to ‘help’ her regain what she lost when she killed her captor as she had pretty much gone insane from everything done to her. But she didn’t really get very far and was quickly captured.

And since I can’t get a straight answer from google about the Justice system in the 50s💢 I just looked up how bad was sexism in the 1950s and that would be the best answer I can get. And so yeah since women were already treated as nothing but housewives and just straight up servants for their husbands…?!

And with this new knowledge my theory has changed yet again!

Nifty was forced to get married as soon as she turned 18. And her husband was a psychopath and basically everything I said up there👆 Just replace ‘Captor’ with ‘Nifty’s husband’. And that’s my theory! Most likely with Nifty still being so young probably did not act as subservient as women were supposed to be and was constantly being punished for it. And punishments were both sexual and physical. Until eventually she became the subservient wife she was supposed to be. Explains why she becomes so focused when given a task.

I’m guessing by her personality she was ok with it at first as she is really into bad boys and thought it would be fun. Not gonna go into her whole personality as it pretty much defines a typical teenage/young adult (someone who literally ’just’ turned 18!)

In the pilot she has the stereotypical views on gender roles which she was well aware are offensive. And that could be a result of the abuse….but then…I mean she’s a….

AH FUCK IT!!! I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WITH NIFTY’S DEAL IS?!?!?!?!

The childhood trauma at least I’m sure about based on her design. But I’ve got shit about the rest of her story!

But hey! Maybe some of my thoughts helped you guys out a bit at trying to figure out this girl.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel lore #I actually thought I figure this out?! #AS IF!!! #i’ve tried everything #But I have no clue what Nifty’s deal is?!?! #That girl is an enigma.

[ateliermandaline]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Doll Wig Poodle Cut Curls Size 18 Fits Patti Playpal & Similar Dolls.

[project1939]

Day 41- Film: Scaramouche 

Release date: June 27th, 1952. 

Studio: MGM 

Genre: Action/Adventure 

Director:  George Sidney 

Producer: Carey Wilson 

Actors: Stewart Granger, Eleanor Parker, Janet Leigh, Mel Ferrer 

Plot Summary: We follow the adventures of Andre Moreau in pre-revolutionary France as he searches out his biological father, runs from the law with revolutionary friend Phileppe, tries to avenge Phileppe’s death at the hands of the Marquis de Maynes, hides out as famous comedian Scaramouch, and woos two different women. 

My Rating (out of five stars): ***½ 

It took me awhile to really get into this movie, but once I did, I enjoyed it. It was the kind of light-hearted colorful historical epic you would expect from 1950s Hollywood. Flashy and splashy but not overly complex in terms of character or nuance. And certainly not overly concerned with historical accuracy! Some spoilers ahead. 

The Good: 

The fencing! The fencing! If there is one thing that elevates this film and makes it worth checking out, it’s the sword fighting. There’s lots of it, and it is all convincing and well-staged. (Except for the speed at which blood spurts out of people when they get slashed!) The actors all did pretty extensive training to learn how to make it realistic, and it shows. The sword fight at the end of the movie is the longest in Hollywood history, as far as I know. 

This kind of goes with the above, but I absolutely loved the fact that the long swordfight at the end of the film had no non-diegetic music. The only sounds we heard were the swishes and clangs the swords made, the gasps of the crowd watching them, and the grunts from the two men as they battled with each other. It heightened the drama so much for me. 

Mel Ferrer. He is one of my favorite actors of the time period. He’s so good at playing wounded sensitive brooding people! In this he was generally a bad guy, but I still loved him more than the actual hero! 

Eleanor Parker. I always think of her as the Baroness in The Sound of Music, but in this movie she really stole my heart. She was just so captivating to watch at every moment- she was by far the most interesting female character in the film. Her luscious long red hair looked great as well. It was wonderful to see a woman who didn’t have a short tightly styled 1950s poodle cut! 

I liked part of the ending. The fact that they didn’t kill the Marquis de Maynes made me really happy. I was dreading Mel Ferrer’s death and knew it must be coming. When he was spared, I was legitimately satisfied and relieved. It also made the end more interesting and unusual. 

Janet Leigh was better in this than I expected. Her character was pretty boring, though. 

The light-hearted vibe of the whole film. The film was just good fun, and it didn’t take itself too seriously. 

The bad: 

The incest? I know it ultimately wasn’t really incest because Granger and Leigh turned out not to be brother and sister. But when you spend almost the entire movie believing they are, it’s hard to turn off the disgust switch when they suddenly get married at the end! I just did not like it at all. 

Granger got a little grating after a while. Maybe some of the stories I’ve heard about what a difficult person he was bled into my opinion of his character, but I didn’t totally like him. He seemed to be trying too hard to be devil-may-care charming. He was certainly hot, though, if you like the hunk-of-man-meat type. 

Historical accuracy! Costumes were especially loosely authentic to say the least. But you don’t really expect a 1950s Hollywood epic to be especially historically accurate. 

The plot could be overly tangled at times, and it took awhile for me to fully get into it. 

And again, why did Granger have to marry Leigh? 

#project1952 #1952 #project1952 day 41 #100 films of 1952 #sword fighting films

[thesimline]

Enjoy this big round up of 1930s style hair cuts for the ladies! CC links after the cut.

You can find more of my female hair collections here:

1920s  ✺  1940s  ✺  1950s  ✺  1960s  ✺  1970s  ✺  1980s  ✺  1990s

1 - Emilia by Ivo Sims

2 - Lucia by My Stuff

3 - Clementine by Aharris00britney

4 - 30s Hair by Vroshii

5 - Medium Pulled Up Curls by My Stuff

6 - Charlotte by Feral Poodles (TSR)

7 - Classy by DelcoWebney

8 - Solange by Badkarma (TSR)

9 - The 30s Hair by Birksche

10 - Arlette by Simstrouble

11 - More 30s Curls by Vroshii

12 - 214 by Curbs

13 - Clawdia by Fun With Sims

14 - Blues by Simandy

15 - Stefania by Aladdin the Simmer

16 - Ophélie by Wonder Carlotta

17 - MM Hair by Birksche

18 - Mousse by Simandy

19 - Fae by ImVikai

20 - Iris by TwistedCat

21 - Elegant Wavy Hair by Rusty’s

22 - Aurora by EnriqueS4

23 - Anna by Alfyy (TSR)

24 - Ina by Marsosims

With thanks to some amazing creators: @ivo-sims @aharris00britney @vroshii @feralpoodles @simstrouble @coloresurbanos @simandy @imvikai @twisted-cat @rustys-cc @marsosims

#ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 cas #ts4 cc cas #the sims 4 #the sims #1930s #30s #30s fashion #1930s fashion #ts4 decades challenge #hair collection #ts4 hair #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #1930s cc #1930s female hair #1930s hair #decades cc

[lyndaz-fashionistas]

The Circular Skirt Workshop Full, half, quarter or a double circle how much flare would you dare?! The Half Circle creates a very nicely flared A-line which naturally doesn't have quite the exuberance of the other circle styles but makes a really super Maxi skirt. The Full Circle skirt has retained favour since it's 1950s heyday. The fullness it gives is perfect for petticoats but will you resist the lure of the Poodle applique? The Double Circle makes a wonderfully full skirt. This is definitely one for the girl who loves a lot of fabric to swish! Description Over these 2 weekends workshop learn how to make a circle skirt on a waistband and with or without pockets. Learn how to handle such a large piece of fabric and to manipulate the challenging behaviour while cutting and sewing - especially through the areas affected by the fabric's bias. Learning to sew through the bias angles of the fabric is a great way to hone your skills. This is a great choice if you have made simple garments previously. This skirt features a waistband, pockets, either zipper and button or an elasticated waistband. While making the skirt you will learn to handle the bias of the fabric, use overlockers, a zipper foot and buttonhole foot, as well as how to fuse interfacing and why do you hang a circle skirt before hemming? What you will learn In our fun and friendly workshop you will learn how to: - draft a full, three-quarters, half, quarter and even a double circular skirt. - take your own measurements - calculate the waist circumference, the diameter and radius of the skirt accurately. (the math is super easy I promise!) - make your own circle skirt pattern - use a sewing machine and overlocker to create a professional finish - insert a zip - create a waist band - create an elasticated waist band - design and insert pockets What you will get • A circle skirt made by you! • A copy of your custom fit pattern What to bring • 1 button up to 2.5cm in diameter • 0.3 metres of light weight interfacing • Fabric Width >140cm = 1.8 metres woven mid-weight fabric, width <140 = 3 metres • 18cm+ plain zipper • You will need 3-6 metres of fabric depending on (at Lyndaz Dressmaking) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkiZqTlSzcS/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[splendidemendax]

a non-exhaustive list of things i have seen at my local fourth of july parade

this year:

two (2) troupes of bagpipers (cop and non-cop)

a freaky af mcgruff the crime dog mascot, slumping in the back of a pickup truck like a puppet with his strings cut

the knights templar

a holographic tesla suv, gullwing doors open to show two extremely bored looking toddlers in itty bitty ballgowns

three (3) bolivian dance schools

between zero and three cults, depending on your definition of a cult

the mayor of dc

the former mayor of dc

a non-democrat who seems to think he might possibly be elected the mayor of dc

a local barbecue restaurant's van, towing a smoker actively smoking things

the league of women voters, notably more pissed off than usual

four old men in a 1950s cadillac convertible, dressed in sports coats and sailor's hats, holding glasses of champaigne. the poster on the door of their car identifies them as "the yachtsmen." they are handing out apparently real $100 bills to small children

batman

deadheads, identifiable by their enormous "MAKE AMERICA GRATEFUL AGAIN" banner

a band in a truck playing excellent go-go music very loudly

in the past:

all six dc republicans, travelling in a pack for safety

the oscar mayer weinermobile™ with a duct tape "U S A" on the side

the dc bomb squad truck, complete with a tiny bomb-defusing robot

a man painted green and dressed up as the statue of liberty

random people in very expensive cars

random people in very old cars

"the millwood mob" (???)

a poodle inexplicably dyed hot pink and neon purple

an all-queer marching band

a man carrying a 6 ft tall cardboard hillary clinton

a totally normal safeway truck, no decorations whatsoever, looking lost

#mea res

[odgaardodgaard46]

The Popular Nightlife In London And Hotels In London

Webster's Dictionary defines the word popular as, "commonly liked or approved." the crew crack would describe the Nike air jordan the same possibility. Actually every single edition of the Jordans signature sneaker line can be known as popular. But whether or not this come down to determining the well known Jordan shoe ever made, there can be a clear cut winner. The Jordan 11 stands head and shoulders above all belonging to the other shoes comprise the most desirable line of basketball shoes in the of sneakers. What makes crack pc free codex cpy torrent download halo 2 anniversary for buffet ideas is it occurs a put. Sure, everyone has their favorite brand, but any given strength training agree that your particular lollipop is really a yummy cure. Lollipops come in all sizes from small drops to large, over-sized circles of sweetness too big to slip in your oral. Just about injustice legendary crack can find from fruit and soda to sour pops. Hair does not shed. Hair just grows and grows and has to be cut to an appropriate length. The poodle's coat does need maintenance otherwise their hair will become very matted. Another associated with coffee that is very popular is known as Dunkin Donuts. William Rosenberg is the company's founder, and he established company in 1950 in Massachusetts. Dunkin Donuts is not just popular for coffee, as they are also widely renowned to aid their breakfast chances. Laksa - This is really a spicy noodle soup, as well as claimed turn out to be invented by Singaporeans, although it's more inclined to be derived from Chinese/Malay country. The origin on the name Laksa is unknown, but it becomes widely popular not only in Malaysia and Singapore, but in so far as Australia and beyond. If borderlands l key pc crack game torrent tried Laksa, you knows why, given it as mainly an explosion for your taste senses, mixing sweet (coconut) tastes with sour (lemon grass or citrus) influences with increased standard fare (thick noodles, egg, tofu). Sometimes Laksa is done more watery like a soup, while some prefer it as thick as possible, with as few liquids as is practical. Having hair also means people with allergies never have a reaction by using a poodle. Poodles being hypoallergenic is another major reason they have grown to be a so well liked pet. Your physical features intend to attract men normally. If you've got features you know men like, make sure he turns into a good from them. Show enough he or she has a desire to see you closer and more intimately. You can get the usual guy are usually follow these steps, but be sure you still want him by period you get him.

#THEACTIONGAMES.CO

[threeminutesoflife]

On Your Back

Three Drabbles

Pairings: Frank Adler x Reader; Ransom Drysdale x Reader; 1950s Steve Rogers x Readers Summary: Three short drabbles abt the Reader on her back Warnings: 18+, public sex/oral sex- female receiving Word Count: under 700

Frank x Reader: 

The music poured out from the carousel’s speakers, smothering the closed carnival grounds like a melodic fog, fighting its way through the fried food-scented air. Helping a friend with an emergency repair on the ride earlier, Frank cashed in his favor for a date night in the now deserted fairgrounds. Sprawled across the carousel’s floor, you two laid alongside the statuette horses; you on your back and Frank’s mouth feasting between your thighs as he cupped your ass and kneaded you harder. Balancing himself on elbows and knees, your shoulder blades flattened against the metal platform as Frank flattened his tongue against your core. Salty, sweet- all his. Overhead, your eyes blinked away from the bright lights lining the beams, highlighting a spider web design as you rotated around the mirrored center of the carousel. Glossy hooves climbed and descended above you. Slack-jawed and mewling, you shuddered and spread your legs further apart, resting one on the gold pedal of the rising and falling horse.  Calloused and firm, Frank’s grip anchored you against his soft mouth. He dreamt about you writhing on his tongue all week, your flavor on his taste buds- he wouldn’t let you forget tonight easily. With a determined lick and a hard suck, your hand shot out grabbing a decorative hoof as he tipped you over the edge again. 

Ransom x Reader:

The extensive glass canopy of the underwater restaurant made you feel like you were inside a misplaced snow globe. The thick acrylic allowed various shades of blues to glide over the room, floating shadows along the floor. Barely seated inside the private glass pod, Ransom cupped your chin and announced he’d be having dessert first.   Laid out across the table, he wore your legs around his neck as you clawed at the tablecloth beneath your back. Blissed out on red wine and oral pleasure, you tried focusing on the bursts of light cutting through the dark water overhead. But before you could appreciate the glowing refractions or the iridescent fish swimming above, Ransom blinded you with another orgasm, leaving you gasping for air. With his soft locks wrapped around your fingers, you pleaded and pulled for him to stop. Brushing his nose stubbornly against your clit, he ignored your gasps and stamped another kiss to your wet core. An obscene moan escaped you as your head ungracefully fell back, rattling the table. Spreading your folds further apart, Ransom locked eyes with you and smugly swirled his tongue over your sweet skin. “Don’t hold back when you squirt, starfish,” Ransom grinned, chin glistening with your slick and thick fingers tracing your slit. “I paid extra for the clean-up.” 

1950s Steve x Reader:

The pastel ruffles beneath your poodle skirt were a stark contrast to the sharp collar on Steve’s leather jacket. The weight of your felt hemline teased the back of his neck before he dove further between your legs. You rustled under him, all nylon and netting, the layers of your petticoat crinkling in disarray over his shoulders. The scent of his cologne clung to the backseats of his Chevy, and as his sideburns marked your skin- you knew his scent would cling to the apex of your thighs. A deep groan vibrated past Steve’s lips fanning a wave of goosebumps to erupt from your skin as he tasted you. Steamy windows and heavy praise, he skillfully circled his tongue around your bud. Flashes of the drive-in’s movie made the car’s interior glow, but all you could concentrate on were the dangling bows on your black and white saddle shoes pushing into the hardtop of Steve’s car. Desperate to convey how much he needed you, he squeezed your breasts and thumbed your nipples over the creamy cardigan. Your legs trembled as Steve sinfully nipped and kissed your cunt, leaving dusty shoe prints along the roof. The ends of your laces chaotically swung above your bodies as he licked his love into you.

#frank adler x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers x reader #frank x reader #ransom x reader #steve x reader

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Zero-Sum Game (Brick/Blossom)

Summary: Brick and Blossom run into each other at Princess’ murder-mystery themed birthday party. It’s all good, old fashioned enmity and petty sniping until they accidentally get stuck in a room together. Trapped with only each other for company, they may just find a little common ground and settle the score once and for all.

xxx

Some friends over on Instagram decided to do a smut challenge this month just because. Enjoy, sinners! [Cross-posted on my AO3, link in my profile.]

WARNING: Very NSFW content ahead beginning at the ♕ symbol. Please take note of that E rating and read at your own discretion.

xxx

Princess Morbucks towered over her gathered audience from the second floor balcony of a palatial chateau in the heart of wine country. Draped in a mink stole and wrapped up in a scarlet mermaid cut gown, she struck quite the commanding presence for a dead woman. 

“I’ve been murdered!” she announced. “And the culprit walks among you.” She pointed dramatically at her guests below. 

“Lookin’ pretty fly for a dead lady!” whooped some hedge fund chode in a fedora. 

“Shut up, Christian. Your character is canonically mute,” Princess snapped. “Everybody else, get chatting. And you better find my killer before midnight.” She raised her champagne glass in a toast, and the room reciprocated. 

All except for one. 

Brick sipped his champagne out of a vintage flute with a scowl. Princess never skimped on quality. If he was going to be here at this overblown costume party surrounded by Peloton girl bosses and tech bros, he supposed it was the least she could do. 

A socialite he recognized from the outermost circumference of Princess’ social circle approached Brick in a hurricane of poodle skirt before he could escape. “Brick Jojo! I thought I recognized you.”

“Marina Moreau,” he greeted her. 

“Dashing as always, I see.” Marina dragged her talon-sharp nails over the high, wing collar of his starched evening shirt and tapped the white bow tie affixed at his throat. 

“As always,” he said, unsmiling. 

She retracted her hand from him and pressed it to the elegantly twisted pile of box braids on her head to play off his lack of enthusiasm cool and smooth. “So, found any clues yet?”

Brick took a sip of his champagne. “No.” And he didn’t plan on it, either. It was Princess’ prerogative how to throw her own birthday party, and if that meant he had to dress appropriately for the time period and remain in attendance for the duration of the evening, he would do it to the absolute best of his abilities. But no one could force him to partake in this childish Clue charade. 

Marina, for all her social graces, had her limits too. “Well, the night is young.” She raised her champagne glass to him with a polite smile and conveniently spotted another friend in the crowd at just that moment. “Oh, Laura!” She waved enthusiastically. “Sorry, excuse me.” She was already dashing away before she could finish her apology, perhaps as thankful to be out of there as Brick was. 

He took a breath and decided he had better navigate to some quieter corner where he was less likely to be roped into the evening’s frivolity. Without his phone on him (house rules, if it wasn’t in circulation in the 1950s, then it wasn’t allowed inside), he was looking ahead to a very long evening of one of his least favorite pastimes: people watching. It wasn’t that Brick couldn’t sit still with his own company for an extended period of time; rather, he was quite adept at solitude and often preferred it. But people were, by and large, excruciatingly dull to observe. He cared very little for social niceties, and found small talk in particular an exercise in medieval torture. Which was not to say he was incapable; if he wanted to, Brick could have worked this room with the finesse of a weaver spinning straw into gold. 

But that would require effort, and right now, Brick had the willpower only to drink the rest of this champagne on the beautiful but very stiff-looking chaise in the corner. Perhaps later, as the guests fanned out into the staged rooms and secret passages of the historic manor Princess had rented out for the evening’s festivities, he would find a moment to actually hang out with his best friend on the one day of the year he couldn’t say no to her self-indulgence no matter how ludicrous.

Brick side-stepped a chatty circle of guests eagerly discussing the “murderer’s” ransom note someone had found pinned to the wall on a dagger and splattered with red corn syrup, only to literally bump into a passing couple. It was only his quick reflexes that redirected his remaining champagne onto the floor, rather than onto the woman’s exquisite dress. 

“Excuse me—” he said at the same time as she said, “Oh, I’m sorry—”

The full-body heatwave of laying eyes on someone beautiful momentarily took the air from his lungs. She was movie star glamorous in white organza and a shower of black seed pearls, all collarbone and painted lips and a waterfall of red hair. 

And then, she had to go and open her unfortunate mouth. “Brick?”

The flush of unexpected attraction immediately fizzled and died the moment he recognized that nasally voice. He didn’t bother to hide his wince. “Blossom.”

Blossom’s surprise morphed into the simmering distaste that was more at home on her pretty face whenever he came into her line of sight. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her immediately. It had been a long time, and he wasn’t prepared for her. 

“Polaris,” said the guy on her arm. He wore a top hat and a monocle and thrust out a hand for Brick to shake. 

The shock of seeing Blossom Utonium—former arch nemesis and forever pain in his ass—in person for the first time in over a year was all it took to short circuit Brick’s sense of self respect and make him automatically shake the offered hand. 

“Wow, strong grip!” Polaris said. “Brick, you said?”

“Yeah,” Brick said, still checked out of himself. 

Blossom, similarly disrupted, recovered faster. “Brick,” she said again, this time with the requisite spoonful of suck my dick superiority she was famous for. “I didn’t expect to run into you here tonight.”

He couldn’t agree more. Blossom and Princess worked together, and Princess mentioned on occasion that they had become closer over the years now that all the hormonal drama of their teenage years was long behind them. Brick supposed it wasn’t completely unexpected that Princess would have invited Blossom to her birthday party, given that the bar for an invitation was low enough to have admitted Princess’ entire pilates class, but still, a role-play murder mystery party? Princess must have been downplaying how close she and Blossom had become for Blossom to show up tonight in full costume.

“Technically, I ran into you.” Brick gestured with his empty champagne glass.  

This, of course, was not an accomplishment to be proud of by any metric, except that it was an accomplishment he’d beaten her to, and Blossom frosted over. That gave him the energy to smile warmly. 

“Well, no harm done,” Polaris said genially. He adjusted his monocle as he critically examined Blossom’s dress. “I don’t see a single splash on you.”

Blossom smoothed her white gloved hands over the flared skirt of her dress. “No, he didn’t manage to get me at all.”

Brick’s smile evaporated. Asshole. “You might want to take a closer look in better lighting. It’d be a shame to ruin that dress. Sabrina?”

Blossom’s smile turned rictus. 

Polaris beamed through his monocle. “Wow, impressive eye! Are you a classical film buff?”

Brick didn’t need to be much more than breathing with a pulse to recognize a replica of the iconic Givenchy gown Audrey Hepburn had made famous in the 1954 classic. “Nah,” he said, and didn’t elaborate. 

If awkward could be a noise, Polaris squeaked it out just then. “Oh. Well, anyway.”

Brick mercilessly stared right at him. Tall, dark, handsome but in safe way, like he drank green smoothies for lunch and kept a swear jar on his office desk. The type who probably knew Blossom could slay a monster fifty times her size in the same sense that one knows colonoscopies exist and happen but has never actually experienced one themselves. 

The colonoscopy intervened before Brick could eye beam a hole through her date’s overactive Adam’s apple. “Brick and I went to school together,” she said. “Although, we’ve lost touch over the years.”

Polite and vaguely personal. Brick wondered if she actually liked this guy (a horrifying thought), or if she was trying to throw Brick off his guard somehow.  

Polaris brightened, his relief palpable. “Oh, that explains it.”

It?

“High school?” he asked. 

“And college,” Blossom said. Her pale eyes fixed on Brick. “The higher I aimed, he always followed. Brick’s always been difficult to shake.”

Like a herpes diagnosis, her poisonous expression announced. 

“Our paths diverged when Blossom went to law school and I went into consulting,” Brick said. “If I followed anything, it was the money and not a cent of student debt.”

Blossom expertly restrained a super volcano behind her serene face. He was surprised she hadn’t begun to spark for how congenially she was looking at him. 

“Oof, yeah, I hear you. I’m an attorney myself—antitrust specialist, uh-oh!” He said this last part with a hand guarding his mouth as if it were a dirty secret. Brick didn’t so much as blink. Polaris word vomited onward after a pause that was markedly too long. “But yeah, you know, there are days when I wish I could do it all over and just go backpacking in Peru or open a dive shop in Thailand, something totally off the grid and spontaneous.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. 

“Uh-huh.”

When neither Brick nor Blossom said anything further, Polaris changed the subject. “So, Brick. Any idea who killed our hostess?”

Brick snorted before he could help himself. “If she has it her way, we’ll be here all night speculating with no end in sight.”

To his surprise, Blossom actually grinned. “Leave it to Princess to find a way to stay trending even in death. This is a vanity murder.”

Unfortunately, Brick found that funny. She wasn’t supposed to be funny. 

“Hey, I bet we can solve it before everyone else,” Polaris said to Blossom. “Should we…?”

The excruciatingly unsubtle attempt to ghost the conversation was lost on no one. However, for the excuse to end this bizarre encounter, both Brick and Blossom were willing to take it. 

“Of course,” she said. “I just want to get another drink first.”

Yeah, I bet you do, Brick thought. He’d want one too if he had to spend the night playing Sesame Street Sherlock with a dude who had the self-awareness of a lawn chair. 

“Good luck,” Brick said, tipping his empty glass.

Blossom took his glass right out of his hand in a naked declaration of war. “I don’t need luck.”

Watching her sashay away to bus his empty glass tested Brick’s temper within an inch of nuclear fallout. A year since he’d seen her in the flesh (thirteen months, a week, and two days, to be precise—last year’s college reunions, a long weekend of glorious debauchery), and within five minutes she left him ready to pop an O-ring. He’d only seen her briefly that weekend at the tail end of a game of robo pound in the downstairs bar of the eating club they’d both been in, and those few minutes were enough. She didn’t play, of course—not in the general sense, just when he happened to be at the table. She didn’t even say hi to him. She probably wouldn’t have said hi to him tonight if he hadn’t literally run into her and her wilted lettuce leaf of a date hadn’t carried the conversation kicking and screaming. 

“Ahem!” Princess commanded attention from her balcony, where someone had given her a microphone and a generous goblet of wine. “It’s been over an hour, I’m told the murder weapon hasn’t even been found. Get your shit together find my killer before I start to decompose!” 

The guests laughed and chatter picked up as they hightailed it out of the bar room to explore the extent of the mansion and start to piece together clues in earnest. Princess caught Brick’s eye and raised her wine goblet in his direction in a casual threat—have fun or else. 

All things considered, Brick much preferred to take his chances against Blossom’s wrath than Princess’. So, he slinked to the bar to steal a new bottle of wine and quietly made his way through one of the side doors leading deeper into the house, feeling decently determined. If he was going to be forced to participate, then he would crush it. And most importantly, he’d crush Blossom’s dreams of winning this insipid mystery game.

xxx

As it turned out, having the power to cleave canyons and explode stars was not directly transferrable to sleuthing. Brick not only found himself behind several other groups in terms of clues collected, but he also couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up in this corridor. The secret passageways were designed to be deliberately circuitous, and even his X-ray vision was no help when all it did was see through walls into rooms he didn’t recognize, anyway. 

Brick took a drink of the bottle of wine he’d purloined. Perhaps if he just lingered in the corridors, Princess would eventually forget about him and he could go home. He wondered what progress Blossom had made. Probably not much with that human remora glued to her side. He chuckled at his own joke—you brilliant son of a bitch—and leaned back against the wall to savor the aftertaste of the wine. 

A quiet grinding of stone sliding on stone didn’t worry him immediately, and it was his mistake. The wall gave out under his weight, and he tumbled through it on unstable legs, too surprised to react in time. He flailed on instinct, remembered the open wine bottle and the fact that he could fly, and tripped into an ungraceful hover just as the rotating wall shuddered back into place. 

“No, damnit!” 

Blossom put her hands on the wall Brick had just come through, but it didn’t budge. For all intents and purposes, it was a regular, ten-inch thick, granite wall no one was going to hear her shouting through. 

“What the hell?” Brick set the wine bottle on a wooden end table. His eyes quickly adjusted to the low lighting in the windowless room he’d tumbled into. It was not a large room. There was a lone sofa with a stained painter’s sheet draped over it collecting dust. Wall sconces buzzed with electricity, but Brick saw no switch for them embedded in the stone that surrounded him on all sides. An armless, pale statue of a Grecian nymph posed in the corner. An old painting of a woman who looked suspiciously like Princess but dressed like eighteenth century French nobility with a beehive wig a foot and a half tall took up an obscene amount of the far wall. There was no door, not even a fire place. 

“That’s my line,” Blossom huffed like she was slightly out of breath from pacing and shouting. “Not only am I still stuck in here, but now I’m stuck with you.”

“Hey, don’t put this on me.”

The look on her face told him that ship had already sailed. 

Brick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just go.” He moved to punch his way through the revolving wall, but Blossom’s Super-powered grip caught his fist before he got the chance. 

“Don’t!” she hissed. “You’ll bring down the floor above us.”

He tried to yank his hand free, but she held fast despite his Super strength. “What the fuck do I care? I’m not staying in here.”

Ice bloomed under her fingers and seeped a dreadful, aching cold through the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. “I said, no.”

Blossom had the malicious focus of the protagonist in a Korean revenge thriller, and for the briefest moment Brick faltered and slackened. 

“If you use force, you’ll cause thousands in property damage,” she said. “And you could hurt anyone on the other side or above us.”

So what, he wanted to say. Might as well have said from the way her face curdled. 

“Even if you don’t care about collateral damage, think of Princess. This place is a historical landmark. We’re talking a lot more than your average fine if there are any accidents tonight.”

Brick gathered his wits and pulled out of her grip, which she allowed this time. Frost flaked from his wrist and left it damp as his supernatural heat melted it away. “You seem to know a lot about it.”

“I negotiated the venue contract for her.”

Brick wondered what it must be like for a normal human lawyer to sit across the table from a Super who could eye beam a hole through his esophagus. He fantasized that guy was her flaccid date for the night and smiled to himself. 

“So we’re stuck in here until someone opens that revolving door again,” she concluded, her focus shifted entirely to the wall in question. 

Brick considered just punching through the wall, anyway. But as much as he hated to agree with Blossom, she had a point about Princess and the hell that would rain down upon him if he jeopardized her reputation in any way. “Right.”

At least he’d thought to bring wine.

Blossom watched him with shrewish hesitation as he tugged the painter’s sheet off the sofa—an antique, cherrywood settee upholstered in tanned velvet that looked like it belonged in an eighteenth century French court—smoothed his coattails, and sat down. He draped himself over the cushion, taking up far more room than he needed to, at the sight of her face pinching in quiet judgment. When he grabbed the wine and took a long sip from the bottle, she couldn’t seem to stomach his indulgence any longer. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

“It is a party.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged at her bolt of hair. Wispy tendrils had sprung free of their fishtail confinement over the course of the evening. He imagined her tugging on it when she was irritated, or anxious, or bored and feeling like smashing something. She’d made healthy progress unraveling the thing in the short time since he’d first run into her. Which reminded him. 

“Hey, where did Polenta go?”

Blossom gave him a comical look that lasted all of a half second before warping into something far more resting bitch face. “It’s Polaris.”

“Uh-huh.” 

She didn’t return his grin, but she didn’t tell him off, either. “He’s probably looking everywhere for me.”

“Yeah, I bet he is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Brick shrugged and took another gulp of wine. 

Blossom resumed staring holes into the revolving wall, which unfortunately did not magically convince it to move. “He’s my coworker. He’s a nice guy.”

Well, well, well. “He’d have to be with such a stupid fucking name.”

Blossom chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t be an ass.”

Unlikely, considering she was enjoying it on some baser, indulgent level. The thing about Blossom was that her horse wasn’t nearly as high as she pretended it was. As someone who had known her since they were five and grown up alongside her, Brick was uniquely qualified to damn her achievements and delight in her fuck ups. Nine times out of ten, he was directly responsible for (or collaterally to blame for) them. She could be despicable, and she could be ruthless. And sometimes, when the cameras weren’t rolling or laws weren’t breaking, she could even be fun. 

Brick hated that he knew these things about her. Butch said it was fate. Mojo said it was his mandate, whether he accepted it or not. And Boomer said it was unparalleled luck. How many people can say they’ve found their true and equal counterpart in another?

If you asked Brick (you’re not asking, he’s just telling you whether you want to hear it or not), he’d say it was annoying. He couldn’t escape Blossom no matter how far he roamed or how high he rose, because she would always rise just as high. She was the only person who ever could. And for better or worse, that gave them something of a common ground.

For example, their sense of humor. 

“What do you even talk about with a guy whose parents named him Polaris? Cultural appropriation and kale?”

Blossom pursed her lips so hard not to smile it was a wonder she didn’t bite through them. “More like beard oil and the manifest destiny of SpaceX.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

She looked away to hide what he knew was a smile. “He’s a nice guy, though. A brilliant lawyer too.”

“He looks like his favorite movie is Joker, unironically.”

Blossom covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Brick leaned over his knees, a glimmer in his eyes. “I bet Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life saved him from a really dark place.”

“Oh my god, stop.” She couldn’t contain her smile anymore. “Just because he’s gauche doesn’t mean he’s secretly a mustache twirling alt-right.”

“He was wearing a fucking monocle, Blossom.”

She got herself under control and faced him, straight-backed and power posing. “I’m not standing here listening to you insult my date’s extremely period-appropriate costume. At least his says something about his personality.”

Yeah, that he’d jump at the chance to join Fight Club. 

Brick got up and smoothed a hand down the front of his starched shirt. “You really think my suit has nothing to say about me?”

Blossom gave him a downright seedy once-over just to mess with him, he was sure of it. He suppressed a shiver nonetheless. “You look like Edward Cullen sullenly waiting another fifty years to seduce a troubled high school girl.”

It took a marked effort not to laugh. “I look good.”

“Congratulations.”

xxx

At some point, they ended up sitting side by side on the settee and Blossom got ahold of his wine. 

“I can’t believe no one’s found us yet,” Blossom said as she took a drink. “Surely they’ve solved the murder by now. It was so obvious.”

Brick eyed her askance. “You and Potpourri solved it?”

Blossom shot him a dirty look. “Stop that.”

He took the wine back while she was busy being a sourpuss.

“Wait a minute.” Blossom grinned, and nothing good had ever come of a grinning Blossom. “You didn’t solve it, did you?”

Brick took a long sip of wine in lieu of answering. 

Blossom shifted on the settee to face him, her skirt a tsunami of fabric slowly overtaking the space between them. “I bet you spent the night wandering around by yourself being unpleasant to everyone. No wonder Marina was gossiping about you.”

“What the fuck did Marina say?”

This, of course, was a mistake. But Blossom had always known how to poke him until hornets came alive under his skin. “Nothing unflattering enough to put a chink in your massive ego, don’t worry.”

God, she was such an insufferable bitch when she wanted to be, and Blossom seemed always to want to be when she was around him. He could still feel the phantom sting of a quarter on his temple where she’d “accidentally” launched it at the speed of sound in his direction during reunions last year. Sorry, didn’t see you there. Her friends, drunk on Beast and nostalgia, just laughed and resumed their game at the table on the opposite side of the tap room. Just when he’d successfully forgotten she was there and put all his effort into enjoying the glory days of college with his friends, she crept up on him like asbestos in the basement, not to be ignored on pain of mortal poisoning.

Whoever said Blossom Utonium was a paragon of virtue had never been stuck in a secret panic room with her and only one nearly-drained bottle of wine. 

“What were you even doing wandering the halls by yourself?” She leaned in closer, and he clutched the wine bottle to him for protection. “Were you looking for me?”

“And you worry about my ego.”

“Did you think you could beat me to the solution?”

That patronizing tone had always had a way of bleeding him until he resurrected, determined to undo her and everything she had worked for with the mindless focus of a hungry zombie. 

She leaned in even closer. He could smell her Dior perform, see the hollow between her collarbones and the path it carved to the promise of cleavage under the tube top of her starlet’s dress. Her lips were so red, and so very close. “Did you want to challenge me?”

It wasn’t as if Brick had never considered her. It was impossible not to consider what it would be like to fuck the shit out of one of the most beautiful women he had ever known. But this push and pull between them, this zero-sum game that required one of them to play catch up while the other flew on ahead, was just that: a game. As untenable as it was facetious. 

Brick swished the wine, but the bottle was finally empty, so he tossed it unceremoniously on the floor. “Historically speaking, that’s rarely ended in my favor.”

Blossom smiled then. Like, actually, warmly smiled. He’d rarely seen it directed at him, maybe never. Her hand was cool through his lapel. “Aw. That’s almost gracious of you.” 

“I literally could not have been more gracious.”

She laughed, and it was a nice laugh, not one of those condescending, noblesse oblige chuckles meant for the rabble. “Stop, this is too weird. I don’t like you being agreeable.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to give Palindrome a run for his money.”

She shoved him. “You are such a dick. His name is Polaris, okay? North Star, mariner’s waypoint, a guiding light.”

“He’s done a shit job guiding you out of this room.”

“Oh my god.”

“I bet he gave up.”

“He did not!”

“He totally did. Even for a human nettle, no pussy is worth all this effort.”

Blossom’s frown turned serious then. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s the truth.” 

They sat up facing each other now on the far opposite sides of the settee, rigid and ready to draw like two gunslingers in a cowboy movie. 

“Not that it’s even remotely your business,” Blossom said as she completely made it his business by talking about it, “but Polaris and I aren’t that serious. This is only our third date.”

“I absolutely have to know what he did to gaslight you into giving him even five minutes after your first date.”

“He was nice to me. I know that’s a difficult concept for you to wrap your costume pocket watch around.”

To which Brick took considerable offense, because that T-bar watch was the genuine article, not some Party City gimmick. Brick was good at a great many things, but fashion was something he was great at. And it was the mandate of one with impeccable taste such as him to be a fashion ambassador to the benighted Polaris’s of the world.

A fucking monocle. 

“Okay. If holding the door for you and complimenting your hair is all it takes to get you to lift your skirt, then yeah, I guess that’s a little beyond my capacity—”

Brick was no stranger to the sharp sting of an open palm across his cheek. Coming from Blossom, however, it hit him with the angry force of a sledge hammer and rattled his teeth in their gums. 

“Fuck you,” Blossom spat, low and snake-like. She got up and paced to the other side of the room, as far away from him as physically possible. 

xxx

She deserved an apology. For all his posturing and honed disdain for Blossom, Brick received no pleasure from seeing her truly upset or in pain. He never had, if he was honest with himself. The game just…went too far sometimes. Sometimes it was her fault, but this time it was definitely his. 

Blossom didn’t look at him when he approached and stood directly behind her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said it.”

She said nothing. She didn’t even look at him. He may as well have not been there at all. 

“I know my opinion on it doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth,” he said, “I don’t believe that about you.” 

“No, it doesn’t matter,” she snapped. Then, more subdued: “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.”

There was a tenseness to her shoulders, like a rabbit with its ears up ready to bolt at the first disturbance in the underbrush. This close to her, he could see the subtle flutter of the vein in her neck beneath her diamond-hard skin. She turned her head toward him slightly, probably wondering why he was still standing too close, and his eyes were drawn to her throat, now bared in offering. 

Offering. 

“Brick,” she said, cautious. 

A little idea popped into his head, just a simple inspiration, and not a novel one. He’d had this idea before. His war with Blossom was generally cold in nature: they were two celestial bodies orbiting each other ever on the verge of total gravitational annihilation. They rarely crossed that line, but they had been known to edge each other close to it. It was in those more impassioned throes of shared animosity that Brick imagined other ways of settling their differences. 

He always dismissed that lubricious voice encouraging him toward madness. Because that was what it was—madness. Madness that he couldn’t escape her no matter where his job or his friends or his goals led him. Madness that they were stuck in this windowless little room bored out of their minds, that no one had stumbled in after them yet. Madness that Blossom’s gaze flickered to his like she sensed it too. 

♕

He moved slowly. Not so slowly that he looked like he didn’t know what he was doing, but enough that she could have slapped him again. 

She didn’t slap him, but she did make a surprising little breathy sound when he brushed his fingers over her bare shoulder and pressed his lips to her throat. 

He barely got a taste of her when she turned fully around and placed her open palm on his chest, but she didn’t push him out of her personal space. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth even as she said it, a formality for the record, plausible deniability. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, dragging his fingers along her arm to her dangerously loose fishtail. 

She hesitated (she hesitated!) like she was curious (like she was curious!), and Brick moved before she could let something as useless as scruples extinguish the glaze of unmistakable desire in her eyes when she looked back up at him. 

He kissed her properly this time, a collision of teeth and tender muscle as he pushed and she gave and he pushed her some more. For all her iciness, Blossom’s mouth was as warm any other’s, sweet and pliant like she herself was not, not for him, at least. The thought that maybe she was with Polaris made him loathe her easy submission to him.

Brick didn’t realize the rumbling sound he made was in the back of his throat and not just in his head until Blossom—her hand still pressed to his chest—dug her gloved fingers into his shirt and bit his lip hard enough to stun. He reacted to this latest attack by pressing her harder against the wall until there was nowhere left to go but through. It had been a minute since he’d been with a woman, and his erection was already as keen as a teenager’s against her thigh through the layers of organza. 

She went along with it.

Fuck Blossom grew from a sinister seed buried in his grey matter into a creature of writhing limbs and gasping breaths as they made out against the wall like it was the single greatest idea Brick had ever had. 

The thing about her gown was that it was one of those heavy, billowy sorts that required more than two hands to manage safely. It would take care and a little time to unlace it properly without causing any damage, and while Brick would have loved to watch her striptease him to the outer limits of his control, he wasn’t clocking that vibe tonight. Maybe next time. 

My, aren’t we confident, he congratulated his own urges.

The sight of her flushed with her hair long and free of its braiding as she stood pressed up against the stone wall in that iconic dress put all thoughts of divesting her of it out of his mind. This was an image he wanted seared into his memory forever. The clothes would remain on. 

Feeling good about his flawless decision-making thus far, Brick grabbed her by the hip and pulled her flush against the bulge in his pants. She made a gasping sound, indignation perhaps at his bossing her around in such a small space, but whatever protest she was revving up for devolved into a little moan when he kissed a tender spot just below her ear and palmed her breast over the bodice of her dress. 

Brick didn’t pay much attention to their migration across the wall until they bumped the armless statue in the corner and it wobbled. Blossom froze. “Watch it.”

Even horny and wanting him, there was no overlooking her incredible talent for mood-killing with a choice tone of voice. Why god would gift such a smarmy, difficult woman with such a hot body was a strong argument for atheism, if you asked Brick. Unless there was some divine asshole up there punishing him by conjuring such an annoying personality into such a gorgeous woman. 

But let’s face it: if Blossom didn’t have such a fucking annoying personality, Brick wouldn’t be here dry humping her against the wall while forty other guests roamed the halls in search of his best friend’s vanity murderer. She, at least, was a proper challenge who could hold his interest.

“Well?” 

Brick smirked at her impatience. “It’s all demands with you tonight, huh.”

Blossom was surely about to tell him to go suck his own dick then if he was going to be like that, but he yanked her hair and shoved his tongue in her mouth to give it something to fill it that would please them both more than her complaints. 

Pleased he was when she surprised him by threading her fingers in his hair. It was almost tender, definitely intimate (she was not attempting to cause him pain, ergo), and the tingling shiver he got from her nails gently scraping the base of his skull plunged him right back into the genius of his master plan for the evening. 

Her hand boldly cupping his cock through his pants was a fantasy he lamented putting a stop to (Brick had always appreciated a partner who took initiative), but there was no way he trusted her to be amenable to his direction until she was totally relaxed. And besides, if he was going to watch Blossom fall beautifully apart, he wanted to have most of his wits about him to appreciate it properly. 

Her skirt was not as heavy as it looked, and he was careful not to let it snag on the wall as he began to gather it up and trace a path up the inside of her thigh. Blossom bit her lip in anticipation, and that gave him a wicked idea. He sneered into a new kiss, letting her feel a bit of teeth, and broke it. She tried to follow him, but his index and middle finger wagged no in her face. 

Through the haze of her lust, he could see her weighing it all out in her head, the consequences of submission and the reward for indulgence. Even if she refused, it would still be worth it to watch her come to terms with this newest depth of his perverted obsession with control and how far he was willing to go for an extra point on the leaderboard. 

Her moment of consideration was barely a moment at all. She drew his fingers into her mouth and held his gaze, true to champion form. Except, Brick hadn’t anticipated the magnitude of the effect this sight would have on him: looking down on Blossom sucking his fingers, sliding her nimble tongue over their lengths, slowly working her way down to the knuckles, all while she watched him for a reaction. He supposed such an enthusiastic performance had earned the breathless “Oh, fuck” he could’t stop himself from gasping out. 

The pop of her lips releasing his fingers had to be the saddest sound he had ever heard. Compared to that happy side quest, pushing her underwear aside and sinking his wet fingers inside her was almost underwhelming. 

Except, the way she tilted her head back to the wall and hissed through her teeth. 

Except, the slickness of his fingers that had just been in her mouth. 

Her mouth…

Brick kissed her talented mouth as she writhed against him. When he pulled out and swirled his fingers directly over her clit, she whimpered against his lips. He entertained himself that that was his name she’d cried out as she tightened her fingers around the back of his neck in such a way that was becoming very difficult for him not to crave next time. 

(Next time!)

Then again, he didn’t want to spend too much time on this. Just get her ready. Anything more, and she’d start to feel entitled. We can’t have that.

Predictably, she was not all smiles when he abruptly stopped touching her. Her snooty protest died in her throat when he licked his fingers clean with the most obnoxiously innocent look he could muster. Unfortunately, he continued to forget exactly who he was seducing and the lengths she would go to do a bit of bossing herself. 

Her strength was Super when she pushed him across the room and forced him down on the settee, while she leaned over him. Her look was absolutely ferocious. “Comfortable?”

Brick spread his arms out over the back of the settee. It was not a large piece of furniture. It could accommodate the two of them sitting side by side with a couple inches of space in between, but certainly not enough to lie supine. Perhaps on all fours, but one look at her ample skirt and he decided that was not in the cards tonight. 

He spread his legs enough to get well and truly comfortable, completely unashamed of the tentpole in his pants. Another brilliant idea came to him. “Room for one more.” He patted the tentpole.

The twitch of her lips told him he’d amused her, and she rewarded him by shimmying out of her underwear and tossing them onto the floor. She was quick about it, a rather impressive feat in heels and that gown, and now she was kissing him again, hot and hungry. Which made it a little hard to concentrate on finding the zipper in his criminally high-waisted trousers. Whoever decided that white tie formal required a nipple-high waistline and a waistcoat must have been an incredibly influential eunuch. 

Blossom tugged his T-bar watch chain, a warning of her waning patience. He sat up straighter in order to get a better angle under the waistcoat and at last found the zipper on his fly. It took a bit of coaxing, but he got it down and out sprang his very eager cock against Blossom’s gloved forearm. It slapped her with an audible thump, startling them both a little. 

Blossom looked down at him. “Hm.”

Brick flushed scarlet. That ambiguous little appraisal held too much power, and she knew it. Perhaps it was payback. Perhaps he deserved it (he definitely deserved it). He found himself unable to resent her that moment of comeuppance for long because she immediately wrapped one silky, gloved hand around him and leaned all her weight on the knee she had placed very alarmingly on the cushion right up against his balls. 

But the sensation of smooth silk swiping over his head. 

But the knowledge that she was soaked and aching for him under that lavish skirt. 

Forget games and power. He wanted her, and it didn’t matter anymore that she knew that. “Get over here.” Brick pulled her hip to guide her to where he wanted her, but her hand on his chest stopped him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, as one talking to a misbehaving child.

Brick’s mind drew a total blank. He tried to anticipate what she was going to say next, and realizing it, he mentally kicked himself for being so goddamned slow. Thanks for that, he complimented his cock still happily twitching in Blossom’s hand.

“I’m not letting this,” she gave him a cute little squeeze that drained all the air from his lungs, “anywhere near me without protection.”

The way she said anywhere gave Brick several very sordid ideas, a clear déjà vu of scenes never to be, because this was a one-time thing and of course she hadn’t meant it like that. For all his charms and excellence, he knew there wouldn’t be a next time with her. This was merely a soft reset to even the playing field before they were back to undercutting each other. “Well, I could just…”

He could just…

A string of shockingly vivid images assaulted his mind then:

Coming all over Blossom’s chest.

His cum glistening on her breasts. 

Her fingers painting a slippery path between her breasts.

Her fingers brought to her mouth. 

Her exquisite mouth…

“Whatever lewd fantasy you’re imagining right now, forget it. I don’t know your history. I’m not about to risk it,” she said, dismally sensible. 

For the record, Brick was extremely diligent about getting himself tested and taking the necessary precautions, but he surmised that his word alone wouldn’t convince Blossom. She wasn’t actively backing out, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to when they were so close to getting what they both wanted. 

“Okay. All right. Let me just…” 

She rolled her eyes and retrieved her clutch from the end table, popped it open, and drew out a shiny, tinfoil square. Brick’s relief at her preparedness only barely overshadowed the brief but scathing pang of jealousy. Blossom, always prepared. Prepared for whom? Surely not that damp cockwit Polaris. 

In his preoccupation rolling the condom on and cementing his undying resentment for Blossom’s milquetoast date, he was slow to clock her kicking off her heels and rearranging her skirts to straddle herself over his lap until he felt the tip of himself sinking slowly into the warmth of her folds. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down over him in one brutal, swift movement that had them both choking under the new pressure. 

She was so wonderfully tight. But he’d known that. He’d known she would be like this. Even her cunt was against him. Even this was a challenge. Brick wanted to tell her this, to watch her huff and squirm. But instead, he settled for getting her moving. 

It took a couple tries, but they quickly got a rhythm going. Brick pulled her down as close to his hips as she could fit, and she rose slowly off him, unsheathing herself nearly to the end of him, before he reeled her back in. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder and pooled in her lap over her gown, shimmering with every thrust, and holy hell was she beautiful like this, happy and vocal with her hands clutching at him as if to absorb him and this moment into her memory forever. Pink sparks burst at her fingertips, an unexpected surge of power that went straight to his cock and made him invincible. 

“I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this,” Brick said, mean and cocky and right. 

Blossom was in her own head, her eyes closed to all but the carnal service he provided. Ignoring him even as she took from him. Brick didn’t like to be ignored. He let his own power leak out of his hands and sear her through her dress where he held her, and she tossed her head with a cry of pleasure. 

“I bet you’ll think of me every time you let some nice, simple guy touch you and wish it were me instead.”

She opened her eyes and looked right at him, her fury a sight to behold. “You are so full of yourself.”

“You’re more full of me at the moment.”

Before she could snap back and steal the last word, he twisted his hips in a new angle that surprised her and made her open her mouth in a silent scream. Brick sat up and grabbed her chin, forcing her into a sloppy kiss even as he continued to flex and bend beneath her. He pushed more power into the small of her back where he locked her in place, delighting in the way she shivered and clung to him. 

“You love this,” he taunted her.

“I…”

“You hate me but you love being with me. Say it.”

“Ah—!”

He felt her climax clench around him, wet and warm and wonderful pressure, her cunt happy and welcoming to him like she herself had never been. And in this too he took a specific and needling sort of pride, that if he could convince Blossom to want him, then he could convince the whole world. 

Brick rode that feeling out to his own finish, taking comfort in the warmth of her, though he would never tell her this (he is keeping score, you know). Her breathing was hot and ragged against the hollow of his neck, and there was probably a lipstick stain on his collar. A small price to pay for the simple bliss of detumescing inside her as she held him. 

He looked up once he’d caught his breath to find that Princess’ French court doppelgänger was staring coldly down at him from her ostentatiously large dais. Which, even for him, was a little too weird. He gave Blossom a gentle squeeze on her thigh and pressed a soft kiss to her ear. 

She took a deep breath and rose her weight off of him with a little tinny noise when he popped free. Jesus Christ, he should really tell her to watch the sounds she made around him or they’d be here all night fucking on the ceiling. The spent condom made for a very sorry sight. Waste of cum, if he was being honest. There were better places for it, softer, warmer places, but Blossom was already settling on the settee next to him and burrowing down on the cushion. 

Brick got up to dispose of the used condom, but seeing as there was no waste bin, he incinerated it in his hand, leaving not even ashes to remember it by. He then fixed his trousers as best he could and plopped down on the couch next to Blossom, who had taken advantage of his temporary absence to claim more cushion real estate for herself. Her underwear remained discarded on the floor, and she showed no signs of wanting it back. 

It was a testament to both their languid moods that she draped her legs over his lap and he let her. 

If only he had a cigarette. That would have completed the setting, costumes and coitus and all. 

“I don’t hate you, Brick,” she said at length. 

Her eyes were closed as she lounged. She still wore those elbow-length satin gloves, and her hair was splayed over the arm of the settee like slow-falling magma. 

Brick leaned his head back and ran his hands over her smooth, bare legs, feeling oddly endeared to her in this moment. They said indifference, not hatred, was the opposite of love. Brick had never once been indifferent to Blossom, and that was no small accomplishment over the course of twenty-odd years and so many forgettable faces on both ends of the likability spectrum. In the end, she always remained.

“I don’t hate you, either,” he said.

Perhaps she couldn’t escape him any more than he could escape her. 

Perhaps that wasn’t so bad, after all.

xxx

It was hours later when Princess finally found them locked in a secret room behind a revolving wall asleep on the couch like teenagers who’d stayed up too late watching a movie. She didn’t tell Polaris, Blossom’s date she’d only brought because she insisted on not showing up stag, even though Princess had assured her nobody fucking cared and anyway, tonight was about Princess, not Blossom. But there was no convincing her the moment Princess spilled that Brick was invited too and might show up. 

It wasn’t that Princess had predicted things would end up here, but she hadn’t not predicted it. It was hard not to wonder when two of her closest friends spent so much of their time talking about each other. 

She carefully dropped her monogrammed handkerchief over Blossom’s discarded underwear before a random staff member could walk in unannounced and embarrass her.

“I should leave you locked in here. Morons,” Princess muttered to herself. 

Next time, perhaps. Next time, she’d go out of her way to make sure they had somewhere a little more appropriate to retreat to at her next soiree if they so chose. Somewhere with a door and a mini bar. 

After all, Princess was nothing if not extremely good to her friends.

xxx

Blossom’s dress

Brick’s tux

Princess’ dress

Reblogs are very highly appreciated! If you like my writing, please check out my AO3 for more PPG fics, or the links in my Tumblr profile for Tumblr-exclusive one-shots. Thanks for reading. :)

#blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #rrb brick #powerpuff girls #rowdyruff boys #ppg fanfic

[mystieris]

1950's Sock Hop AU

Inspiration: Back to the Future franchise and my love of poodle skirts

What it's about: It's the 1950's and the night of the big dance. Dipper was on the planning committee and they all agreed to wear the same poodle skirt outfit to the party. Dipper was the only guy on the committee, but agreed to it and just borrowed the clothes from his sister. He arrives at the dance.... And he's the only one that actually wore the outfit. The other members of the committee had tricked him.

Some (drunk) members of the football team immediately spot him and start picking on him and bullying him, calling him slurs I will not repeat here. They take him out to a nearby field and are about to string him up on a scarecrow pole when a car drives up and out of it comes Bill, the quarterback.

He glares at his teammates and asks them what they're doing. The other team members try playing innocent, but Bill can see Dipper on the ground, tried up and covered in blood and mud, his head in a sack. Bill growls and punches one of his teammates in the face. After a brief struggle, the others take the hint that they're not gonna win a fight against their team leader and scatter.

Bill gets down on the ground and pulls out a pocket knife, using it to cut the ties around Dipper, and removing the sack. Dipper immediately freaks out at seeing yet another jock looming over him, but Bill assures him it's okay and helps him calm down. Bill tells Dipper that he'll make sure his teammates will never bother the little brunette ever again.

When the two arrive at the dance after cleaning up, Bill gathers his teammates. He looks them square in the eye, paying special care to particularly catch the eye of the ones he found in the field, and tells them that Dipper is now his "special friend" and if any of his teammates lay a hand on him, they'll have to answer to Bill.

Let me know if you're interested in this AU! ^_^

#gravity falls #dipper pines #bill cipher #human bill cipher #billdip #alternate universe #1950s aesthetic #sock hop #enchantment under the sea