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taybatwo2 · 2 months

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Soooooo. Anyone clownish enough to give Mattel money for that overpriced Designer doll???

….that would be me…I’m the problem…🤡

I was on the fence about getting Lenore…I am a sucker for new Monster High face sculpts and I don’t see her getting any cheaper…so I bought her.

Whelp. Here she is.

Like everyone and their mother has said: she’s not worth $75 bucks (she was $81.98 with shipping, which doesn’t make things ANY better).

To compare, G1 basic dolls were $15.99-25.99 when they were on shelves. They came with a diary, and at the beginning: a pet, a stand, and some sort of bag/purse.

Amazon’s G1 Draculaura exclusive was $50.00. She had embroidered clothing, an ornate (and crappy) stand, and a diary dripping with LORE!!!

Most G3 basic dolls are $25.99-29.99 and are now getting UV screened/painted accessories. AND many of their pets are getting different second and third/fourth sculpts.

Mattel’s Skullector Vampire Heart Draculaura and Fang Vote Jinafire were $90.00-$100.00 each. Draculaura has VERY detailed clothing pieces, a stand, and ornate headpiece and shoes. Jinafire has some insanely sculpted accessories, a stand, and probably a great multi-layered dress.

The Haunte Couture dolls were $75.00 a piece, came with stands, fabric bags, some metallic plated accessories, some layered clothing, brushes, rooted eyelashes and DIARIES.

I see her release akin to G1’s special releases: Basic Catty’s, Casta’s, and Amanita’s dolls. Doll comes in an “elaborate dress,” a diary/introduction to the doll (very important in introducing and getting attached to these new characters) and no pet…while Lenore has a pet and no diary.

I don’t know why Mattel seems allergic to giving their dolls (especially G1 themed dolls) diaries. They make composition notebooks, doll accessories, and even a Spirit Halloween bag themed as their diaries (so they know it’s part of the MH aesthetic), but don’t want to go that extra mile in introducing their “Brand Boo Student” with a diary?! And like, they were hyping the shit out of Lenore being a brand boo student….

Hahahahahahhahahaha!!! Lenore Headcannons under the cut:

Here’s what a ten minute brainstorm came up with: Lenore was a teenaged daughter of a hinted at famous poet. After her mom died, her dad spent more time on his poetry, which left Lenore alone to play out in the garden she had started to grow and collect with her mom. She was spending more and more time out in the garden, either deep in her books on flora from around the world or trimming/weeding her precious plants. She becomes enamored with rarer and more unusual flowers and plants (throw in a drawing of Amanita’s hibernating flower-form and/or some newspaper clippings of monstrously large venus flytraps being found). She even started feeding a raven that has started hanging around the garden, it seems so friendly that she starts talking to and sharing her love of plants and that she wishes to discoverer a plant that no one else has! One dark and stormy night, while getting ready for bed (a reason for her hair to be down and to have a flowing Victorian nightgown look) the raven raps on her window sill. She was startled, but opens the window to let the sopping bird in. It drops something from his beak and it’s one of those eyeball flowers that are all over her art and accessories. It blinks at her. She jumps back, which scares the raven back into flight. It caws: “nevermore” and flies back out the window. Without stopping to think, Lenore lights her lantern and runs down the stairs, out the door, and towards the expansive gardens after it. The raven stays just within her lantern’s limited light but the storm is getting worse and the hedge maze she is normally familiar with is feeling larger and more menacing. The raven is getting harder to see. She hears whispers and starts feeling eyes watching her from the hedges. And it’s so cold and she’s practically drenched through. She should have grabbed something more than her VERY light sleeping gown. She whips around for the raven or to get her bearing. She’s lost! She feels tears start to dampen her cheeks along with the rain. She hears more rustling behind her again. She turns and lifts her lantern towards the sound, but her boots catch and trip on the strange damp vines (the same ones that make up her belt and part of her shoes) sticking out from under the hedges, she falls down hard (darn running in the rain in her bright pink victorian heels) and her lantern goes out. The last thing she hears is the raven swooping down by her. “Nevermore! Nevermore!” She had breached one of the veils/thin spots/transition zones to and from the Monster and Normie worlds. (In G1 I surmised that their worlds were parallel dimensions with overlapping places (like New Salem)). This breach’s mostly made up of Monstery Mirrored version of her family’s estate gardens all lit by never ending dripping candles.

So like Spectra, she wasn’t born to ghosts, but became a ghost through and accident. And since dying, maybe she can only speak in rhymes now (her diary could cut off and every sentence ends in a rhyme). And why is she at Monster High now? Maybe she’s just come to New Salem for a Monster High sponsored (in-verse Monster High has to have some serious money with all their prestigious alumni) Garden Show or a “Plant Exhibition of the Monster World.” Insert a tie back into the Gloom and Bloom line (she heard that last year a corpse flower was put on display and bloomed). Maybe she’s representing Haunted High (due to her being made from solid colored plastic and having a “ghost masked face” is something that is mostly seen in the ghost realm of the Monster world. Ghosts that mostly live in the main Monster world itself (like Spectra, Johnny, the Create a Monster Ghost, and Symphanee) all have see through parts). She could even name drop River/Vandala/Porter/ Kiyomi. You have the implied history and a whole world already started Mattel, use it! Oh! I haven’t explained the 👁️👄👁️spider yet….ummm. It’s her pet garden spider (THEY DIDN’T EVEN GIVE IT A NAME) that helps protect her rare plants from hungry pests and even some insects too. If Porter tries making his own paint from some of her flowers without asking again, oh so help her. Ummmm. Maybe she’s afraid of ravens now? So River’s pet always startles her. Vandala has inherited some treasure maps of far away places that may contain plants yet to be discovered? Hmmm, Kiyomi gave her a sapling of a cherry tree and swears nothing is more beautiful than their blossoms??????? I dunno.

See! I’m already bonding with Lenore more now and can see why she has some of her accessories, style choices, the sassy looking pet, and why they didn’t give her see through anything (did Symphanee take all the see-through plastic Mattel?!?!).

Tada, I have put more thought and have tied this back into the brand more than Mattel has.

WAIT! Or maybe (due to the trippy/bright colors on her box, and the eyeball flowers) MAYBE she was drinking a bit too much absinthe at her Garden Tea Parties with the other Victorian ladies; went to get up to use the loo, couldn’t see straight, started screaming that the “flowers have eyes” and “the giant spider with candles knows all of her secrets”, took another step, couldn’t walk in her weird heels and fell on her face and died. It made for a really awkward Garden Party.

The possibilities Mattel!!!

Okay, I’ll be making an actual review of her in the next couple of posts.

#monster high #aleta’s toys #doll collecting #monster high doll #dollbr #doll collector #monster high dolls #lenore loomington #monster high headcanons #monster high skullector #monster high g1 #Mattel critical #Doll review

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theramseyloft · 3 years

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4/22/21 Loft Notes

Good news!

Meds arrived today.

By the look of Angel's paper, he definitely got his appetite back.

They got here fast enough that I may just be able to restart the combination Ronidazole and Secnidazole without the Metronidazole...

Bluh. No. I don't want to start and then stop a regimen. I'll finish both out.

We are on day 2 of Metronidazole. Day 1 of the Ron-Sec combo

Leela is in as good appetite as Vito and Liang.

Angel is doing more pacing.

Spending less time hunched and fluffed.

VERY interested in food!

He's particularly keen on millet, safflower, and mung beans; all high fat/protein content seeds that go down pretty easily.

Leela may still have another egg in her.

Though she may not lay it until tomorrow.

Tandy laid a new egg last night.

My phone just died before I could record it.

Hoping for sexing results for the TM and WS babies today.

Angel is still doing a lot of throat preening, but he's also molting in his big boy feathers.

Birds medicated and fed.

Satin tread Chiffon.

Couture is very busy with important grazing.

Hoss got in my lap and played with my skirt.

There was, briefly, an Alex on my knee!

Got pictures of everyone.

Suki and Wukong are very funny.

Both have crammed into their tiny nest box to feed their chonk-tastic peep at the same time.

Ginger and Danica's peeps are so tiny!

They're full and growing.

Just very small.

Rogue likes to play gently with my fingertip, apparently, but that is absolutely NOT an invitation to pet her at this point. XD

God. Dammit. Cherub!

Tandy thought he was changing guard with her.

He was not.

She got down and went to eat.

He hopped onto the lip of the box like he was gonna go sit, and then changed his mind and followed her down to dance.

Just had several minutes of quiet Blue time.

He nibbled millet out of my hand and didn't particularly want down once he realized I was blocking the older birds from getting to him.

WS3-1 may not be Wukong's peep...

Chinese Owls may be shown in literally everything except tail mark.

Might be Farthing's.

Beak being so wide is odd if it is, but he and Suki are full siblings and they have COF and Giant Homer grandparents.

Oops!

Misread the Chinese Owl show standard.

"A.O.C. (Any Other Color): This class to include color and/or patterns not provided for in the official color standard. AOC could, at present, include such colors/patterns as laced, reduced, opals, toy stencil, bronzes, baldhead, tearless, magpie, any indigos except blue heterozygous, tailmarks, etc. When five or more good quality (in the opinion of the judge) AOCs of a single color/pattern are shown, they shall become a judging class with no separation of sexes or ages."

I may hang onto this one to see how they develop.

Got the DNA results back...

TM5-2: Test again WS3-1: N/A

Maniacal dove laughter

Gender is not applicable to Wess.

Both shells had been discarded by the parents.

They got contaminated by poop and sand.

Not to self, blood test when that happens.

Oh, sweet!

"Hi Danielle, Thanks for ordering with us! We would like to let you know that TM5-2 egg we received was still wet and had grown mold. For the next time, we recommend that you let them air dry for at least 24h before putting them in a plastic bag, because mold and other bacteria destroy any present DNA, thus making the gender test ineffective. Please, send us a new sample of the bird again, and we will perform the tests at no extra cost. As a courtesy, we give you the option to send new samples for the specific birds on this order to run the test for a second time. This option is not a credit to apply to new samples for different birds. For new samples, you would need to create a new order and pay separately."

Welp, I'm getting those ready.

Patron: "what are you going to be using?"

Blood.

Patron: "Just curious, why blood and not feathers?"

You have to pull them.

It hurts, and they don't give enough blood.

Got Mystery done.

Got Wess done.

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hunterartemis · 5 years

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The Assistant: Chapter 10: The Truth Must Perish

Word count: 5207.

Chapter summery: The despair that was brought yesternight have brought a catastrophe that indicates that the Bad must win and the truth must perish.

Chapter Theme: Battle by Martin Phipps : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KcPmWgllNA

This is the way the world ends...Not with a bang but a whimper.*

There was blood on the floor, the half-drunk soup was stone cold and the case opened aghast, and Newt was sunk on the floor with his Lanvin couture still on him. He couldn’t life any of his present limbs to wipe his nonstop tears, and a sharp jab of pain was constantly pulsing near his diaphragm. When the snowy morning cast a white sunlight inside his apartment, it felt like a cruel mockery.

In the moment of tomblike stealth, he felt something warm and wet upon his face that wasn’t his ever drenching tears. A blunt and flat beak was nipping at his face—he turned and saw his niffler snuggling upon him, of all his intelligent and brilliant beasts, his crafty little bugger, the niffler broke out of its cage, just to comfort him. Upon the despair, the presence of the creature brought a smile upon his face.

“So it’s you niffy...” Newt took him in his arms and started to pet him, and watched how it’s nostrils quivered and it’s beady eyes blinked in a certain inquisition, as if to ask ‘what’s the matter with you?’ Newt blinked with a saddened smile, trying to reply to the silent question, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t tell himself what he needed to hear, then how will he do that to this creature.

‘She is gone niffy... she will never come back.’ Newt’s callous hand tried to caress the small fluffy back of the niffler, and he could feel the rejection of the small creature under his palm; as if its skin was creeping into its own skeleton. Suddenly with a jerk the niffler crawled of and dived into the case and with a fine chink something shiny fell out of its pouch.

The diamond necklace dazzled in faint blue, pink and yellow under the pale morning light, its incredible beauty wasn’t marred even though a speck of viscose blood stained its side. It lay there like some shiny outer skin, newly shed by a dark creature. It was tangled within in its own strings of pearls and panels of silver, as if trying to comprehend what it was to do other than to grace the beautiful neck of the duchess.

What is diamond without a beauty?

What is a beauty without diamond?

What is a diamond without dazzle? It is cold, hard and impenetrable.

“She just lost her sparkle that’s all...” Newt mumbled.

Suddenly a gust of wind and a crisp slap landed on the back of his head. Newt who was quite unnerved and exhausted in both mental and physical manner, landed on the floor, hitting his face really hard. And with the gust of effect, his case also snapped shut.

“Tell me you’ve answers...” a female voice angrily snapped. Newt pulled up his face with immense difficulty, and saw a pair of skinny ankles wearing light blue flowery pyjamas and looked up to meet the tall stature of Tina Goldstein towering over Newt with her face flushed with immense rage. As his vision settles he saw, she was clutching a newspaper in her hand. She didn’t look well, it wasn’t the puppy faced disappointment she had when she met him in Paris, nor was it the despair of yesternight. It was pure rage and fear that sent sparks in her beady dark eyes.

“Tina you...” then his eyes fell on the heading of the paper. Without standing up, he straightened his back and took the paper from Tina’s hands, and as soon as he read the headlines, cold sweats started to form on his brows. He threw his unkempt bangs slightly and intently looked at the bold black lines, scrawled across the parchment; like some gruesome bruise on virgin skin.

NEWT SCAMANDER, WANTED FOR THE UNLAWFUL SEDUCTION OF THE NEWLY ENGAGED DUCHESS OF CROY.

The midnight pain in the diaphragm that plagued Newt all night came back and slowly he found it very difficult to stay straight “What time it is?” Newt mumbled with immense difficulty and tried to wipe his face. In an attempt to stay calm, he slowly looked at his wall clock he whispered “it’s 7 in the morning; the Daily Prophet isn’t released until nine... where you got that?”

“Pinched it from the press itself” Tina replied agitatedly, “Actually no--” Tina tried to concentrated, “the junior editor called me up fifteen minutes ago in my dorm--”

“In your dorm? Where is your dorm--”

“Under the Atrium building you bub... don’t you know there is a reserve dorm for the office holders and guests—anyway, this Junior editor, well—I saw him for a couple of month when I heard about your engagement with Leta—but anyhow, he came to my room and gave me this, apparently someone followed you or Maxine--”

“Me or Maxine?”

“would you stop interrupting me--” Tina exclaimed angrily, “anyway, someone followed you and got this footage and suddenly all the ministry went outraged and there was a Wizengamot session at three-o-clock and all this mess—long story short, an arrest warrant has being issued under your name--”

“What did I do? She was drunk and seriously ill when I found her... I didn’t detect anyone; there was no one in the building--”

“WELL APPARANTLY THERE WAS!” Tina bellowed, “I knew from the moment I saw her... I knew she was a bad news--”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tina--”

“Ridiculous?” Tina picked up the paper from the ground, “is this look ridiculous to you? You committed High Treason against British Ministry, this is worse than Queenie joining Grindlewald... I swear to Isolde’s hair, you are a complete idiot!”

“I didn’t commit anything... she is my employee and I was just helping her--”

“Employee?” Tina folded her arms sarcastically, “which part of the official records says she is your employee? She is a Duchess by birth and her father, the French Diplomat can skin you alive. And besides, Theseus told me, you cannot defend yourself since you have illegally employed her.” Tina huffed in exasperation, “she never submitted her official End of Service notice, and therefore she is still under the protection of Article 51A, and you just became a felon by law.”

Newt had nothing to say. He felt like he was being trapped into an acromantula web and the head of the hollow was coming for its flesh. He tried to breathe slowly after sitting on the couch. Tina was still fuming and pacing throughout his living room. Her nervous pants echoed throughout the room like a sound in a claustrophobic space, magnifying everytime.

“Theseus is trying to minimise the press... he is trying to convince the editor not to print this in the paper, because his job is on the line too—but your warrant is ready to be released—Newt think of something, what you can do to defend yourself, is there anything you can do, or call anyone for that matter?” her cheeks and nose glowed red in agitation and her voice grew more hoarse. Her tall figure, to Newt’s ken looked grim against the morning light. Newt’s blue-green eyes went vague and glassy, his mind was swimming and for that he couldn’t respond to that, he remained quiet for a long time. After that Tina started to break down, “that’s it... you are gone—nothing can save you! And with you, I will be gone too--”

“Why would you go? You didn’t do anything?” Newt tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort in Tina’s eyes. She looked up from her hands that hid her tear stained face, “I may not have do anything, but I won’t leave you anytime soon, knowing that the reason you are in this position is the bitch--”

“It is a misunderstanding Tina, and I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO BADMOUTH HER LIKE THIS--”

Tina stood up from the sofa, looking at Newt with disbelief, her face was livid and tear stream was running across her face. But suddenly, the fireplace blazed in lurid emerald flames, Newt and Tina stood back in surprise as a head started to appear in the fireplace.

“Theseus has been arrested, they are coming for you... quick, do what you--”

Before they could recognise the person, Newt and Tina heard several whoosh of apparating wizards around their house, and then Newt happened to notice what was exactly wrong with him, and the realisation almost petrified him, as if there was a basilisk standing in front of him. He slowly recalled everything: Tina was inside, and yesterday Maxine disapparated from his room, so clearly the anti-apparation charm was failing. There was plenty of danger if a ministry wizard came in: first of all, his case, which they would have confiscate in a matter of second on a minute excuse, second was his basement which was enhanced with undetectable extension charm, a deed that was against the law of Wizarding Property and Magical Enhancement; Maxine did warn him about this, but Newt never thought that it would happen so soon.

His mind was divided in two places: firstly protecting his beasts and their whereabouts, it wouldn’t be pleasant if the New York incident happened again, and then he steadily wondered who and how delivered this obvious false piece of news to the ministry. There was a high chance that someone from Maxine’s family or the French ministry charged against Newt, but the possibility of Anatole Malfoy stalking Maxine’s steps did not completely vanished from his mind. Moreover, Maxine was very afraid, in fact exceptionally afraid around Anatole, and she did admit that it was for him she left her Auror’s job—but why Newt and Tina? There was a mystery that wasn’t adding up. If Theseus is arrested then their last line of defense is gone—Anatole must be behind this and he was operation out of sexual jealousy.

The footsteps outside grew closer and closer; both of them felt themselves surrounded. From the corner of the eye, Newt saw Tina fondling her golden locket that preserved a picture of her and her mother. Suddenly, her hand slipped from the golden locket, and firmly held onto Newt. He could her voice; it wasn’t fumbling with nervousness, there was a desperate calmness in that tear drenched voice that can only come to someone when their backs are at the wall, “You must not let them reach the basement... now listen to what I say--”

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander... by the Order of the British Ministry, you are charged with a matter of Illegal affair with the Duchess of Croy, Maxine Adrienne Odessa Valois--” a sonorous voice called out from outside of the door. At first Newt wondered why they were calling him when they could have rammed the door or just directly apparated inside, but then again, he understood that an anti-apparition charm was already on effect.

“—They’re here....” Tina’s voice firmed up even more, and Newt felt a small pressure before the battalion march of the Aurors stopped at the doorstep—any moment now.

“—on the count of three, we will come inside, do not attempt to resist or retaliate--”

“Tina... I think you should leave now--” Newt took his mouth to Tina’s ears, but instead of scampering back, she smiled at him, and her hand firmed even more upon his, if Newt wore the cuffs, so would she.

“I may have not danced with you Mr. Scamander, but I will sure wear the same cuffs and hear the same sentence as you--”

After the agonising three seconds, like the army of death, the ministry wizards rammed Newt’s front door. The one at the front had an awfully familiar face. “Mr. Charlemagne?” Newt asked in a flabbergasted manner, and the wizard looked at him with a queer eye. As if he wasn’t in his will to do this, and it terribly saddened him to arrest Newt. After a brief pause, an unwilling smile graced upon his lips, framed with a Papillion moustache, “how strange are the circumstances Mr. Scamander that we are meeting this way... Clement Charlemagne sir, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you--”

“Please Mr. Charlemagne, don’t do this... we are innocent, we know nothing about this--” Tina implored to Clement in a most desperate manner, but his honest eyes showed that over his personal opinion, he placed his duty towards the ministry, and in a reluctant manner he cuffed the hands of Tina and Newt.

“You are Newton Artemis Fido Scamander? And you, Porpentina Esther Goldstein?” he asked solemnly, as they both nodded. “Good... you will be identified by your superiors Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Augustus Worme furthermore. I hearby arrest you on behalf of the French and British ministry--”

“Wait what--?” Tina asked abruptly, “What do you mean by French and British ministries--”

“There are many things Miss Goldstein, which are better not be revealed. Trust me it will break your heart--” Clement came dragging them both out of the flat, ready to be apparated to the designated spot where they could go to the Atrium. But before they could leave, Newt desperately sought after the question Tina just asked.

“Who ordered our arrest Charles--” he used the name Maxine called him last night, “who have such a power to arrest us both?”

“The Duchess...”

...

Across the sea, in the middle of the Seine River, in a tall stone chamber, Maxine’s eyes fluttered opened into a nearly unfamiliar scene. Her compact London flat had somehow whirled into a lavish golden-and-pastel baroque room which may have awestruck any commoner, but sent a chill in her bones, suddenly she felt an old fear creeping in her heart and with that all the remaining traces of drowsiness left her eyes. She looked outside the window and the views confirmed her fear; she was in the most infamous place in the whole of France, not only known by the wizards but also muggles: the Conciergerie, a place that stood against everything that was human, the royal prison, and this place was ‘acclaimed’ by the Valois when the last queen of France Marie Antoinette was beheaded in the guillotine. Conciergerie*, the Paris estate of the Valois is the place where Maxine spent all her childhood, and underneath this exact room, a muggle queen was stripped all of her dignity and pride to be set an example that she was nothing. Conciergerie, what better place to bring Maxine Valois to remind her of her status? Her head hurt really badly, as if she had rammed her head several times on cold hard marble, and her body felt incredibly light, warm and fuzzy, as if there was something cloudlike all over her body.

She shook off the satin futons from her torso and looked down to see that she was no longer wearing that murky, stout and warm corduroy dressing gown that was soiled with vomit, blood and her own defeat, but in pink fur that smelled of gold, pride and status. As if a vacuum created in her heart and the turbulence of her blood set in, she remembered that the unknown shore she was swept in, that dressing gown was the only anchor to her previous world. Now it is gone, there is no chance of seeing it again. That soft lacy pink of that fur felt like cannibalising flesh upon her very skin and for the first time in a long time, her blood remembered the old feudal rage that burned many, and destroyed many. She jumped from her bed and slammed the giant wooden door open and started to stomp across the massive medieval corridors in such a tremendous force that all the house-elves that were working disillusioned themselves and the human attendants made themselves scarce in case they are trampled in her fury.

“c'est quoi cette merde?” (what is this shit?) Maxine drawled after slamming herself into the breakfast parlour, where three women were having tea and gossiping with silvery laugh. At Maxine’s arrival they cast a brief patronising look at them, and the oldest of the three put her cup gently on the short table and put on a forceful smile.

“And good morning to you...” she said in a pleasant voice.

“Ah... Saint Marguerite, haven’t see you in a while” Maxine replied with a cruel smile and sauntered towards her. Supporting herself on the glass top table, she leaned on her and asked, “how is your cousin...oops, your husband--” and gave a satisfactory smile when she cringed at her, “so nice to see you when you’re not sucking my old man up.”

“Mademoiselle Maxine...” Marguerite stood up, pulling her entire Bell-epoch authoritarian figure to the fullest extend and her neatly arranged red hair high, as if to stand against the unjust that Maxine was causing, “do not forget that he is your father, and I am your mother.”

“Oh please... do forgive yourself for a moment” Maxine waved her words around, “you are the very reason that I was born. It’s your fault that my father went with my mother, because he wasn’t happy with you know—fucking his sister.” Maxine paused and enjoyed the conflicted look on Marguerite’s matronly face that oscillated from humiliation to rage, and Maxine did no effort to hide her delight.

“Sometimes I am so glad that you grew up to be so observant, but Maxine, do you happen to know why your mother left you alone?” Marguerite asked with composure and watched Maxine’s smile disappearing.

“Don’t speak to me like that old hag, you are just a--”

“If you speak another word again maman, I cannot guarantee that your dignity will not be violated--” a reddish blonde woman with very pale skin and Slavic feature stood up against Maxine, and her icy blue eyes glowered towards her.

“Hello Sveta, didn’t notice you were there—and how’s the marriage going with Lance” Maxine straightened up and smirked. It felt more like a greeting than an insult, because the next moment Sveta, or Svetlana, Maxine’s older sister-in-law drew a smile upon her uncannily symmetrical Slavic face, and came to kiss Maxine.

“Bonjour Masha...” she gently grabbed her face and gave her a glowing look. Svetlana had this habit of calling Maxine ‘Masha’, a Russian diminutive that queerly sounded both affectionate and condescending. Out of the three Maxine had patience only for Svetlana because she had a no-nonsense attitude and cared less about being ‘ladylike’. Svetlana smiled again to praise Maxine, “glad you are taking the drinking business seriously--” Sveta shook her head in such a manner that from under her waved tucked in bob, the pearl droplets caught the morning light. And in that smile in her face, Maxine sensed something out of the normal. She knew those earrings, those were her grandmother’s the Duchess of Croy, whose title she was given. Those precious baroque pearls were now dangling on Sveta’s ears, and it was an indication enough to convey that her position was reducing on the Valois estate already.

“What drinking business? It’s been eight hours in a weekday... isn’t that normal for a human being, and besides I had always had the stronger stomach--”

“—more like seventy-eight hours...” another voice spoke from the couch, and looked at Maxine with her protruding gray eyes that had dark shadows underneath it. She was giggling to herself, barely managing to keep her posture correct with her enormous stomach. After an episode of giggling and fondling her stomach, she cast a glassy look towards her sister-in-law as if to assert a new level of patronization upon her. Maxine returned that look with her usual crooked smirk that wiped the smile off the pregnant woman. Elena de Orsini, the younger daughter-in-law of the Valois, after two miscarriages and a trip to the Hopital de Dymphna, she was finally able to get pregnant, and now she was silently conveying Maxine that with the true heir on board, she will usurp her position.

“Oh darling...” Marguerite mused with concern which sounded like mockery in Maxine’s ears. She turned towards her stepmother quickly with the word, and the intensity of her expression put caution in Maxine’s face, “didn’t anyone tell you?” Marguerite asked plainly. She waited for Maxine to reply, but nothing came out of her mouth. Marguerite’s brows crinkled in worry and she started to shake her head, “oh dear, o dear... you sincerely do not know?”

“Can you cut the chase and come clear now St. Margaret, before I slap your parchment face?” Maxine snarled and Marguerite came a little closer to her and told that she has been unconscious for nearly three days. Marguerite received a call from someone at very early in the morning, and Lampito, her elf brought Maxine in the Conciergerie, crossing all the portkeys.

“And do you know the best part, dear sister?” Elena stood up with difficulty, straightening her sheath-like dress and her protruding eyes glowed with a covert excitement, “your very good friends and benefactors got arrested—oh, what was the name, Oh yes—Scamander and—Scamander” Elena’s giggles that followed poured like hot lead in Maxine’s ears. She carefully screened the faces of the three women that were sitting in front of her, all of them held a peculiar look, as if they were looking at her with a condescending eye, for not knowing something she should have known already. Elena again continued, “I think the order of the universe is finally restoring, don’t you think maman, I mean—it’s a shame that our sister used to work with the filthy lowbred auror when she could have had—anything in the world, and now when she is getting married with the Malfoy family, everything is back in order—I think they should bring back the guillotine and put an end to all those audacious muggles lives--” Elena paused in her musing and veered her ghostly eyes towards Maxine “It still a mystery to me—how come that beast hunter managed to seduce you? But, I don’t blame you ma chere... I mean you cannot really ignore your true nature—you know what they say, like mother like daughter--”

Before Elena could finish, Maxine was pointing her ivory wand towards her sister-in-law’s full belly, and in reaction Svetlana raised her wand up on Maxine’s throat and Marguerite looked like as if she Maxine just murdered someone. With the corner of her Maxine inspected Svetlana’s wand tip and her anger came out in a whispering vapour of poison.

“You should be careful Hélène... there is a long way from the womb to the world, and anything could happen between the two” Maxine’s eyes were getting redder with every passing moment, and her ferocity reduced Elena into a whimpering mess, “if you spew any more lies about me or any of my friends, I not sure I could be a model aunt for that unborn child of yours--”

“She’s not lying...” Marguerite replied with regained composure, and fearfully picked up the paper from underneath the tea-table. With caution she handed Maxine Les Temps Magiques* where it was clearly said that “The Duchess of Croy, Maxine Valois gets Newt Scamander, the celebrated beast hunter arrested for unlawful seduction. Auror and brother Theseus Scamander is also apprehended in suspicion--”

“What is this?” Maxine thundered after throwing the paper across the room, “what is this joke?”

“Why don’t you ask your father?” Marguerite said in a reserved tone.

“Oh believe me, I would--”

Maxine then threw away that fur robe she had been wearing, and in the pink underrobe, she strutted across the hall and into Hrothgar’s chamber in full rage. The pain she had felt after losing the corduroy robe was worsened into something that told her in her face that she had now lost the only good people she knew in her life. When she opened the door, Hrothgar lifted his face and looked at her as if he was already expecting her.

“Viens, ma chere... guess you’ve found out” he said with such an ease that it Maxine’s blood boil, she stomped her hands on his large oak table and looked at her father, who looked back at her with an indifference and a mild annoyance as if he was an employer and Maxine an employee who was out of her limits, he cast a brief glance upon her and smiled his usual well rehearsed cordial smile, “consider this a wedding present.”

“Wedding present? Oh, I didn’t know that I was being married—I thought I was brought here so that you could prepare me for the execution--”

“Maxine—do have a care with your fiancée.” Hrothgar expressed with a mild annoyance, “he is a pureblood and of good family, and he expressed to me how much he is in love with you. Besides, I know about your little liaison with that Theseus Scamander. It wasn’t hard to understand that he was in love with you--”

“What—what did you say?” Maxine’s face changed its course from turbulent anger to a surprise. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying to her. It could not be true—Theseus Scamander of all people, loved her? This can’t be true—it was always infuriatingly one-sided, it was Maxine who pined for him always, and he was the one who disregarded her. He didn’t understand her feelings and never acknowledged her—she was the winner when she walked away from him, moving on and saving him from Anatole’s poison—no, no her father must be lying. But was he lying? Rothbart Valois is never wrong when it comes to people—that’s what makes him so very infuriatingly good. Her eyes felt unusually foggy and burning, her jaw slouched and every rib in her chest started to contract, to squeeze every ounce of breath out of her lungs, but her ears heard Hrothgar speaking, “—it wasn’t just cordiality that he couldn’t mention that you no longer work for him anymore. Even in the dinner table, he kept staring at your direction; his eyes moved every direction that light from your diamond necklace shone... I know that look, and I know what mayhem it can bring--” Hrothgar looked meaningfully to his daughter, “you must not make my mistake Maxine--”

Her senses were numbed already, but despite that a sense of shame was washed upon Maxine, “do you mean my mother then, Monsignor? Then you must think that me being alive is a mistake--”

“I never said it like that--”

“Then end my life My Lord—end the job you left twenty years ago—the one you procrastinated with your mark—do it, end my suffering--” Maxine screamed in agony,

“Calm yourself--” Hrothgar snapped irritably in such a patronising way that not only it belittled Maxine, but also made a fool out of herself, “—but why his brother, monsignor, what did he do?” Maxine straightened up, struggling to gather herself from the humiliation of expression pain before an unfeeling listener, “why him—what did he do? And why take my name to announce the good job? Always the saints aren’t you, you and Marguerite? Never getting your hands dirty and making me the angry fool... ”

“He was simply in the way--” the veil of decorum finally fell from Hrothgar’s face, and the person who was looking at his daughter was a cruel Machiavellian who thinks people as pieces on a chessboard “Newt Scamander—shame on you Maxine Valois! Lying to me through your teeth while you were stirring scuts with that lowly beast hunter—the time when you should be feeling proud that you showed the people like him and his example of a brother their rightful places. I have dug them deep, some place from where they cannot escape—and you are blaming me? I did everything for you—I gave you everything, despite everything--”

“It is my sovereign right sir that I am aware of the actions that are committed under my name--”

“YOUR SOVEREIGN RIGHT WAS TO BE DISGRACED AS A BASTARD OF A MUDBLOOD--” Hrothgar’s screamed on top of his lungs and the force of that voice threw Maxine off her foot. But then, she wasn’t someone who would just take anyone’s lip—she always faced times like this, and she learned to evoke who she was after so many trials and errors that her pretence of being unaffected was almost natural.

“Where have you put them Monsignor? The bottom cells of Azkaban with hoodless dementors to suck their soul instantly” Maxine’s eyes were full and her voice shook with despair with tears filled to the brim.

“Don’t be a nincompoop...” Hrothgar answered with the same indifferent irritability, “they are the property of French Ministry now--” Hrothgar put his quill down and looked at Maxine’s tearful bloodshot eyes with a subtle victorious look, “I am happy to announce that they are currently in the Geôlier of Tour de Silence, and if you have exceptionally good luck—a trait you have inherited in birth, you would be walking down the aisle upon their graves”

With that news Maxine stood breathless for a moment, and then her despair surfaced with sudden howl. That brief bellowing of grief wasn’t only a representative of how the greatest people in Maxine’s life was stripped away from her, and will be soon from life, but it was also an outburst of rage that concealed itself covertly in grief. Maxine put her hand away from mouth that was clamped tight to stop her from whimpering and then she looked at her father with the same expression with which he looked at his daughter few minutes ago.

“Let me remind you sir--” Maxine said in a low and threatening voice, “you are committing a mistake that would cost you your biggest this time. You’ve sold your queen to the wrong knight, and it’s the matter of time that you would be pawned and sold like a brood mare, like you are doing to me now” Maxine slammed the door shut behind her as she stormed out the rooms of her father. The daylight upon her face and the fading bustle of Paris seemed like the gossips of the aristocrats against the unfortunate muggle queen that walked these doors. Maxine never thought she would relate to her muggle roots so much—so this is how must have her biological mother felt when she walked through the halls of the Châteaux d'If*, this is how must have Marie Antoinette felt when she was dragged for her execution, in all humiliation and hopelessness. She started to walk away from that awful corridor to someplace quiet—someplace where she could bleed in quiet, where she could laugh at her own tragedy, the mistake that made her lose the one thing she cared most for. She walked right into Anatole’s trap, and this time she lost Theseus and Newt together.

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

This is a chapter that exposes how privilege and power can corrupt and usurp good people. I intend to present a part of Maxine’s family here, and I seriously do not condone any questionable action Maxine does in here. take the characters as impartially as you can.

This is how the world ends... : lines from T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men.

Conciergerie: a castle in the ‘Isle of the City’, Paris, formerly a prison but presently used mostly for law courts. It was part of the former royal palace, the Palais de la Cité, which consisted of the Conciergerie, Palais de Justice and the Sainte-Chapelle. Hundreds of prisoners during the French Revolution were taken from the Conciergerie to be executed by guillotine at a number of locations around Paris. From 1914, it was opened for public and tourists with a great deal of the buildings sealed off (Medieval parts). I imagine that the places that are ‘out of order’ for muggle public, are used as a wizarding residence by the Valois. It was made during the Capet dynasty (parent house of the Valois), so I guess Valois will use it as house. I specifically wanted this place to be portrayed to show the parallels between Newt and company’s imprisonment and the imprisonment of Maxine in her own home.

Hopital de Dymphna : Dymphna is the patron saint of madness and insanity, and Hopital de Dympha is a medieval style asylum that I imagined for the French Wizards, where the victims would be tortured out of insanity.

Les Temps Magiques : The Wizarding Times, a French Equivalent of The Daily Prophet

Geôlier of Tour de Silence: Jail of the Tower of Silence, I have taken the terms from different places, “ Geôlier“ is the French term for prison Vessel, the kind you see Jean Valjean was kept in the Les Miserables, and the “Tower of Silence“ is the Zoroastrian ‘gravesite‘ where the Zoroastrian people leave the dead to rot in open sun and rain up on a high tower. They believe that dead body is the house of evil and by aquamation, burial and cremation they would respectively corrupt the water, earth and holy fire (which they worship). I intend to write elaborately on the French Wizarding Prison in the next chapter, and reveal its history.

Châteaux d'If: The Château d'If is a fortress (later a prison) located on the island of If, the smallest island in the Frioul archipelago situated in the Mediterranean Sea about 1.5 kilometres offshore in the Bay of Marseille in southeastern France. It was the place Maxine was born, and it is a reclaimed property by the Valois family.

#newt x oc #newt x reader #newt scamander x oc #newt x tina #newt scamander x reader #scandal #magical world of harry potter #second world war #prison #arrest #angst #despair

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hellospunkiebrewster · 6 years

Text

How to Hide a Body - Maxwell x Riley

Author’s note: A request/prompt from the sarcasm prompts I posted earlier. This was so much fun to write.

Summary: Riley gets a sneak peek at her costume for the ball.

Perma tags: @madaraism, @mfackenthal

—

Thunk.

Riley is breathless, this thing was way heavier than she thought it would be. She’s in a staircase, one of the lesser used ones that hardly anyone but the staff used. She heaves the mannequin up the last steps, pulling it onto the landing behind her. She unhooks her elbows from under its arms, letting it thud to the floor.

“Shh!” Maxwell shushes her from a flight above her.

“Did you know these things were this damn heavy?” She asks in a loud whisper.

“Not a clue.” She hears Maxwell answer her from above. “And hey, this was your idea.”

“You’re the one who took me to the boutique in the first place, and I mean, look at this thing.”

It all started out innocent enough. Maxwell told her earlier that day that the costumes for the ball had come in and were waiting for them in the boutique.

“Let’s go, you all know what you’re wearing and I have no idea.” She pouted. She had been trying to persuade him all morning to sneak off with her and allow her a glimpse of the costume that had been selected for her.

“I hear there were a couple of selections,” Maxwell teased her, “They put a few Cordonian designers to the task of designing your costume, seeing as this is your first costume ball it’s only a huge deal which one you select.”

“And why did no one tell me about this Cordonian Project Runway going on? I could’ve been in there hassling designers. ‘Blood orange? Ugh, she’s so pretentious. It’s fucking red.’”

“Project what? And Liam commissioned the dresses as a surprise for you. He’d banish me if he knew I even told you about them.”

“It’s a fashion design competition show.” She sighed defeatedly, “Ugh, why does Liam have to be so sweet? I don’t want to ruin the surprise for him.��

“Americans will really watch anything.”

“I promise if he catches us, I’ll forbid him from banishing you. I get that power as queen, right? And later today I’ll act totally surprised. Pleeeeeeeeaaase?” She pulled him into a tight hug, trapping his arms at his sides and pushing all the air from his lungs.

“Fine, but no touching anything. Liam will know.”

When they arrived at the boutique, two dresses were displayed on mannequins, both a gorgeous bright red with an obvious bird theme. The first one was gorgeous, off shoulder with illusion sleeves that were peppered with gems and embroidery. Feathers covered the bodice and the skirt was short in the front with a long tail in the back. Her gaze shifted to the other mannequin. The costume could not have been more different than the first. Where the first one gave off a subtle bird vibe, this one screamed it.

“Oh no. I can’t wear that.”

The dress had a high collar coated in feathers would surely cover her ears. A rigid cape jutted out of the back of the dress, like two geometric wings. In the place of a skirt were pants, billowing and puffy at the top and coated in feathers. The bottom half skin tight, yellow, scaly, like a bird’s legs.

“It’s certainly avant garde… Oh look!” Maxwell exclaimed, trying to draw Riley’s attention away from the costume. “It has a fascinator!”

Riley looked to the side of the costume, a small table held a single small accessory. It’s yellow and shiny.

“Maxwell… that’s… that’s a beak.” Riley struggled to speak between hysterical laughter.

Maxwell picked the accessory up to inspect it, “Huh. It is. Not sure what this lacy bit is for, seems like it would tickle you.” He pulled it over his head, the tulle that Riley hadn’t noticed at first, in his eyes.

“Maxwell. I can’t wear that. It’s like some sort of couture chicken suit. I don’t even want everyone else to see it because they’ll insist I try it on. I can’t chance Olivia or worse Madeleine seeing me in it.” She crossed the room and started pushing the mannequin across the floor.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” Maxwell rushed to the opposite side of the mannequin and started pushing against her. “Liam will banish us both.”

“Come on Maxwell, look at this thing.” He still had the beak on. “Just look at yourself.” He turned to the mirror, squinting through the tulle.

“It’s not that bad.”

“...Maxwell. If you’re not going to help me move this thing, at least be lookout.”

So now, they were in this staircase trying to bring the horrible bird costume up to try and hide it in one of their rooms. Maxwell hurries halfway down the flight of stairs and lifts the mannequin’s feet, Riley picks it up again by the shoulders.

“Oh so now you’ll help.”

“Just this flight of stairs left, then down the hall to one of our rooms.”

“This is fun.” She laughs out loud.

“Shh, don’t want anyone to catch us.”

“Seriously, we’re trying to hide a body.” She’s tearing up from her laughter, Maxwell is still wearing the beak.

“I guess we kind of are.”

They reach the top of the stairs and he places the mannequin’s feet on the floor gently. He peers up and down the hallway.

“There’s some maids, cleaning. We can’t go to one of our rooms.”

“What’s the plan then? We’re kind of exposed here,” a tense whisper comes out of her as she struggles against the weight of the mannequin.

“One second,” he whispers before running in the opposite direction of their rooms. He reappears a few seconds later.

“Drake’s room is open. Let’s put it in his bed.”

#play choices #playchoices #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #maxwell beaumont #long post

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cinemaocd · 6 years

Text

I dreamed that I was working writing advertising copy for a company called Pretty Please Pumps. Pretty Please Pumps makes dowdy “dress comfort” shoes that haven’t been restyled since the early 80s. They really only have one shoe style which is a white patent leatherette pump with a shiny teal and silver buckle. Their ad campaign is ripping off the old Easy Spirit commercial where the ladies play basketball in the pumps, only they have women playing tennis in Pretty Please Pumps.

One of my first tasks working for them is to hire a new tennis model so I get my Facebook friend Stella from high school who is 48 now and was the top seeded player in North Dakota in 1988. (In my mind she counts as a tennis celebrity.)

That went over OK, but then the owner of the company got everyone together and said that Pretty Please Pumps was going to be updating their image. And I’m thinking to myself: finally they are going to re-design these ugly ass shoes. He gets us all together to tell us that “Pretty Please Pumps is going couture.” Again, I’m thinking redesign the SHOES or get, I don’t know, a SECOND DESIGN. But nope, what he means is that we all have to wear these crazy outfits with all these ruffles and mismatched patterns and textures, designed by his wife. This thing is like a ruffled mini dress with a drop waist and over the elbow gold lame gloves. And the shoes are exactly the fucking SAME as before only now, all sales people AND staff have to wear the OUTFIT at all times. Also there is going to be a Pretty Please FASHION SHOW and I have to be in it as do all the employees. Never mind that I’m 5 foot 4 and look GOD AWFUL in the drop waist ruffle atrocity.

So we are preparing for the fashion show and we are dressed in our hideous outfits and I’m wearing the Pretty Please Pumps for the first time and ya know they are DAMN COMFY but so, so ugly. STILL. And this guy comes in wearing an African print shirt. He’s a white guy, but he is trying to rock that Wakandan vibe and he’s carrying a tray of large eggs. These are the biggest eggs I’ve ever seen, like five or six times the size of a regular chicken egg. And he demonstrates for us, what we’re all going to be doing at the fashion show. We are going to remove the top of the egg with a spoon, scoop out the baby bird inside and swallow it whole, taking care to first bite off the beak so we don’t choke to death. He takes care to reiterate that as it’s an important safety tip. He proceeds to demonstrate for us and I’m completely horrified. Like I think I might throw up just watching him, but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else at Pretty Please Pumps.Everyone just like steps up and grabs their egg to get practicing. I

I reluctantly take mine and first of all, it’s not so easy to get the top off an egg with a spoon, especially while walking down a runway in high heels. That seemingly simple activity is enough for me, I don’t need to be doing a complicated kitchen maneuver, but anyway, I manage to get my egg open and I’m thinking maybe I’ll just put a little egg white in my mouth and no one will notice, but I can’t help but think back to the whole earlier thing with the dude swallowing the whole baby bird and I just start vomiting right there on the stage and everyone is standing around comforting me saying, “that’s ok, that happens to everyone the first time...”

As if the situation weren’t stressful enough, my mother is at the fashion show and she is complaining to my boss that he is making me wear a mini skirt, not because she thinks it’s sexist, but because she thinks my legs are too fat. When my friend Stella jumps in to defend me, her father (who has been dear for like 5 years IRL) pops up in the audience to point out loudly that “he didn’t raise a whore” and neither did my mother and insists that we be allowed to wear longer skirts. It was at this point that I woke up.

#Pretty Please Pumps #this has to be one of my favorite dreams in a while #and honestly I kind of WANT a pair of pretty please pumps now

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thekuroiookami · 6 years

Text

Haute couture (in which Shigaraki gets a makeover)

It was a quiet day at the headquarters. Shigaraki looked blearily around the room as he shuffled to the computer. Kurogiri was mixing drinks at the bar, Dabi was dozing off on the couch. Jin and Spinner were arguing in a corner, while Himiko read something on her perch at the counter, kicking her feet merrily.

Shigaraki took one more step before pausing.

Wait.

Since when was Toga Himiko literate?

He turned around and narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you reading?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. "Oh, a fashion magazine."

He put in as much disdainful disbelief into his voice as he could without actually having to change expression. "Why, is cutesy bimbo going out of style?"

She ignored the barb and giggled. "No, silly! It has dating advice, look. I'm fortifying my maidenly heart for the next time I run into Izuku."

He was a little disturbed. She knew what fortify meant. "I'm glad you're taking this villain thing so seriously."

This time she did roll her eyes. "You know, Tomura, being a villain isn't that different from setting out to date someone."

"Really." He stretched out the first syllable in a contemptuous drawl. "Enlighten me."

"Yup, it is. The principles are the same, you see. You gotta make a good first impression, you have to be convincing and-" she held up a finger - "you need to dress well."

Spinner and Twice stopped squabbling, momentarily mesmerized by the idea. Kurogiri also seemed interested.

"It's true," said the bartender, "that all the famous villains had distinctive appearances. Hitler. Al Capone. That one president."

The first tendrils of a fire prickled under his neck as he digested this. She may, very distantly, and in her own, simplistic ameoba-like way, have had a point.

"So what? Are you saying I need a bowler hat and sequins?"

Dabi finally cracked open one eye to peer at the discussion. Himiko jumped off the counter in excitement. "Noooo, but a makeover sounds fun! How about it, Tomura?"

They broke into the department store around midnight. Nothing was actually broken, because that would set the alarms off, and what was the point of a Kurogiri if something as trivial as a door stopped them, anyway.

Himiko threw some lights on and dragged him over to a mirror. "Okay, so we need to decide what kind of look you want. Evil goth? Evil preppy? Evil preppy goth?"

He shrugged off her touch and buried his hands in his pockets. "I'm fine the way I am."

Spinner, Twice and Kurogiri arranged themselves on a couch like bridesmaids waiting to criticize his dress. Dabi leaned languidly against a mannequin with a mild yawn. Spinner shrugged awkwardly. "Dude, the hands are a cool touch and all, but if we think about it, you're just wearing slacks and a coat. That doesn't exactly scream menacing. More like, 'it's Monday morning and this is the most I could be bothered to do.' "

"Also," added Jin, "that trench coat sometimes gives me the impression you're a different kind of villain."

Shigaraki gave him a look that could have crisped ashes. "Did I hear someone asking for a live autopsy?"

He heard Dabi mutter something about it being called a vivisection, but ignored it. Spinner dove into the shadowy racks of clothing and came back with an armful of…something.

He gingerly picked apart the tangled mass. There was a military coat that buttoned up to the neck, knee high boots and a belt with a heavy buckle. Shigaraki dangled the visor cap in fingers, squinting at the skull insignia. "I'm not wearing this."

The group spent the next few minutes trying to persuade him otherwise, but Shigaraki was an immovable rock and refused to budge. Himiko suddenly hopped on one foot.

"I could wear it!"

They took a moment to absorb the implication.

"NO." Shigaraki looked her in the eye. "I'll kill you if you try."

"Then you gotta try 'em on, Tomura."

"No."

"Say yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Great, the dressing room's that way!"

After a brief scuffle in which Shigaraki tried to put his bare hands on Himiko's face and Himiko tried to a put a knife in his, Kurogiri somehow managed to calm them down enough to compromise. Shigaraki gave her a drop of blood with extreme reluctance and watched with an equal amount of trepidation as she ran off.

"I hate you all," he mumbled to no one in particular.

"Here she is," announced Jin importantly.

Shigaraki watched in dawning horror as he strolled out jauntily - he'd never been jaunty in his life - and struck a pose in front of the mirror.

"Tada," came his familiar rasp. "Whatcha think?"

"Hmm, can you spin?"

The churning in his stomach grew as his three-dimensional reflection twirled beautifully on one foot.

"It's a bit…" Kurogiri trailed off meaningfully.

Shigaraki said it for him. "I look like an underpaid chauffeur," he intoned flatly.

His doppelganger drooped. Twice timidly held out an outfit. "How about this one?"

Himiko took and it and - Shigaraki swore creatively at this - skipped away. On him it looked…he couldn't bear to think about how it looked. She came back equally cheerily a minute later. "I like this one."

For the first time during the whole ordeal, Dabi reacted. The mannequin toppled over with a crash, followed by the sound of wheezing. The itch came back to life under Shigaraki's skin and he wanted to claw someone's eyes out.

"I. Am. Not. Wearing. THAT."

THAT was a full set of ninja gear, only stupidly impractical. The outfit had no sleeves, and had a chunky scarf obscuring his face up to his nose. That's what Father was for, thank you very much. The only real decision to make here was whether to kill Jin on Tuesday or Wednesday, because his schedule was a bit tight. Shigaraki settled for right now.

Shigaraki 2.0 put his hands on his hips and examined his reflection critically. "Okay, so maybe Tomura is a bit too skinny for this."

"Bitch, come here and say that to my face."

"But he has a nice chest," said Jin dreamily, "and his collarbones are good too…"

There was an awkward silence which Shigaraki used to calculate how many volts were needed to fry Twice's brain.

"It's certainly better than the last one," Dabi cut into the thickening silence. "You could use it for your final form or something."

"It's mind-meltingly stupid. Do you know how clammy fourteen hands get when they're directly on your skin? I didn't think so."

Spinner tilted his beaked head. "Why do you even need that many anyway?"

"Because I'm a sad, lonely child inside and this is the only loving embrace I've ever known- Why do you think, dumbass?"

Kurogiri cleared his throat. "May I suggest a more formal look? It worked well for All for One."

Himiko disappeared into the darkness and reappeared in yet another outfit. "Better?"

Shigaraki didn't absorb the colour of the suit until she angled his body into the light and he nearly disintegrated her on the spot. She sauntered out in a lovingly cut tuxedo, which was tolerable, but firstly: it was velvet. Secondly: it was the colour of wine. Burgundy.

How the hell had he ever thought this League was a good idea?

"Oohhh," said the others in unison. "Nice."

"Thanks." Himiko adjusted her - or his, rather - posture, slouching a bit and tilting the head down. He found her skills of observation terrifying and moved her further up his mental hitlist. "How about now?"

"It's very suave. It says, 'I'm a man of the world' but exudes a certain aloofness at the same time," opined Kurogiri thoughtfully.

"Kurogiri, I'm trying to take over the world, not seduce it."

Not-Shigaraki threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're so high maintenance for someone who can't even be bothered to brush his hair."

"Fuck you too, Toga."

"You could always go for the basic catsuit and personalize it," Spinner said hopefully. "Like Twice here did."

"Spinner," he said blandly, like there weren't fire ants crawling along his veins, "I want to distract the public with my villany, not the outline of my dick."

Jin frowned, confused. "But no one ever gets distracted by my suit?"

"Exactly."

Dabi stopped wheezing long enough to speak. "What's wrong with his current gear anyway?"

Shigaraki felt a surge of something like gratitude, but quickly tamped down on it before it got out of control. Everyone else looked at each other.

"Well," started Himiko slowly, "for one thing, it looks like yours."

They simultaneously looked down at their dark clothes. "Oh."

Irritation crackled along Shigaraki's spine. "So all this time, you could have played dress-up with him instead?"

They looked bewildered. "But Dabi looks cool," said Spinner, like that explained anything.

He gritted his teeth. "You're talking about a guy wearing a wife-beater under a half-assed jacket. Not that I care who beats their wives, but that shit should be illegal."

Dabi looked down at his tank and shrugged. Himiko shook his head. "No, no, Dabi's got the high collar and the stitching and whatever those braces are. Tomura has a hoodie. It's different. Also, have you seen his pecs?"

He had, actually. More than once. But that wasn't the point.

"I'm done here. Kurogiri, let's go."

The bartender sighed heavily and made to follow. Spinner flailed pathetically and made a very big mistake.

"Come on, at least try and be bit more like Stain!"

Shigaraki froze mid-step. The itching, which had subsided, came with a fury. Pure rage roiled off of him as he turned around.

Dabi rolled his eyes and slunk back to a safe distance. "Here we go."

The other villain shrunk back as Shigaraki loomed over him, the blackness of his clothes seeping into the atmosphere. Tomura's hair looked paler, his eyes a little crazier in contrast to the dark nothingness of his coat.

"Hey Kurogiri. This guy thinks I should be more like Stain. Me, of all people."

Kurogiri said nothing, apparently waiting for the inevitable. Spinner tried to melt into a puddle and failed.

"If he likes that talkative bastard so much, maybe I should help him out so they can see each other, huh?"

"Itsfineyouroutfitisgreatimsorry," Spinner squeaked.

"Really? Are you sure? You don't think the sneakers are too last year?"

"Nope, they're brilliant, can't believe I never noticed. That symbolic red and black, truly a stroke of genius."

"Damn right they are." He pressed one foot into the lizard-man's face. "Here, take a closer look."

"They're amazing," gasped Spinner. "Just fabulous."

"That's right. You know why? It's because I'm fabulous. Aren't I, Jin?"

Twice nodded exuberantly. "You're like God, Beyoncé and chocolate rolled into one."

"Right. I'm going to walk out of here now and all of you will give fervent thanks that you get to see this fabulous ass that is perfectly fine the way it is. Kurogiri."

And then Shigaraki tossed his coat around his shoulders and walked into the warp door.

#boku no hero academia #crack #one shot #league of villains #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #kurogiri #spinner #twice #dabi #sass #dress up #nonsense #strong language #sort of

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lamaisongaga · 6 years

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BACK IN TIME: LADY GAGA “FAME” LAUNCH AT MACY’S

Lady Gaga arrived to the “FAME" launch party at Macy’s in New York City on September 14, 2012 in her perfume-princess carriage shaped like her perfume bottle.

Her Vuitton-brown hairdo is Frederic Aspiras’ courtesy while her makeup was done by Tara Savelo, respectively. Styling by Brandon Maxwell.

Gaga hit the black carpet wearing custom-made strapless dress with detachable sculptured cape jacket from Iris van Herpen’s Fall/Winter 2012 Haute Couture “Hybrid Holism” collection, inspired by a project lead by architect Philip Beesley, called “Holozoic Ground“.

His almost living sculptures and environments suggest that a future city could operate as a living being in which “Holozoic Ground” offers a vision for a new generation of responsive architecture. Philip explores metabolic materials to connect human creations, like architecture, with natural systems. His innovative work uses concepts such as “living buildings” and “self-repairing architecture” that is self-sustainable and reacts to its changing environment.

Iris sees these possibilities of living technology as a future where design, art, architecture and even fashion will be radically changed: they will not constantly be newly made and after discarded, but they will become human creations that are partly alive and therefore able to change and improve constantly.

“Hybrid Holism” is highly complex and incredibly diverse in terms of shape, structure and materials, including mirrored copper sheeting, metallic coated stripes, UV-curable Polymer, silicone lace, Swarovski crystals, acrylic transparent sheets and leather by ECCO Leather.

Gaga accessorized the look with the copper Aliën mask Dutch milliner Irene Bussemaker created for Iris van Herpen’s aforementioned collection and…

… a pair of killer custom-made sky-high leather platform stiletto “FAME” booties by United Nude.

Rem D Koolhaas, the creative director, wanted to make the shoes as high as possible – so they measure over 12 inches high! “In the case of the shoes, we went for climbing gold men, and yes they are nude, United Nude.”

Once inside the Macy’s Herald Square, at the ‘FAME’ Black Ice Cream Party, Gaga donned a gorgeous wide V-neck LBD with asymmetric paneling, tucked pleats and back zip fastening, a duchess silk-satin version of the patchwork silk dress seen on the Marc Jacobs Fall/Winter 2012 runway.

Both her molten gold & black lucite cuff and Miss Havisham earrings are signed by Alexis Bittar.

The earrings were made from hand-sculpted wood and are accented with gold metal bird beaks.

Gaga further accessorized the look with the cap of her own fragrance styled as a hair piece and sick “FAME”-inspired nails by Aya Fukuda.

Bespoke architectural Giuseppe Zanotti black patent pumps with metallic golden stiletto heels and snake-like ankle wrap provided the finishing touch.

Gaga was photographed leaving the launch party, wearing custom-made Adrienne Landau black rabbit and wool cape with fox fur scarf and leather fringe, accessorized with black mask...

...trademark custom Pleaser satin platform boots and a bottle of ‘FAME’.

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goldlongeveninggowns · 4 years

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