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#Story Geeks
gravitycoill · 9 months
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lil comic i’ve had in my head for a bit
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queenoftheimps · 23 days
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I love that the vibe of Théâtre des Vampires is "What if Rocky Horror was hosted by the Emcee from Cabaret and he fucking HAAAAATED you"
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marzipanandminutiae · 7 months
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if you're terrified for your country's elections next year because a lot of people seem to think the solution to the government handling an international conflict in an abysmal and deplorable way is to let a group of total monsters who would handle it MUCH worse AND also potentially doom huge swaths of oppressed people at home as well as our entire literal planet get into power, by ignoring the way our deeply flawed but also deeply entrenched system realistically works
clap your hands...?
(I cannot understand trying to stop heinous and unnecessary killing- which disgusts and saddens me, too! how could it not?! -by handing the election to people who want to do even more of that exact thing. the math isn't mathing, as they say)
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bemusedlybespectacled · 7 months
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"But what are we considering a 'nerd'?" Literally whatever definition resonates with you. This is about personality vibes.
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cosplaypandared · 6 months
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My biggest challenge in crafting cosplay
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It was the year 2015 when my cosband decided to make a perfect cosplay on, suddenly, the card game Magic the Gathering. We chose planeswalkers because this setting has a lot of characters, but only planeswalkers are more popular and well-known than others.
We met at a café to decide which characters we would choose to participate in the big event in another big city. My friend made a great choice, beautiful Lera picked up terrifying Elesh Norn, very tall Albert decided to make furry Goldmane Ajani, and the lightest Lin chose the heaviest Chandra. But I decided to make my dream come true and craft a dragon. So my choice was Dragon-God, Nicol Bolas.
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When I mentioned my decision, one friend answered, Really? You will never make a huge dragon, with your height, your Bolas will look like a silly Pokémon. Ha! I said, "You don’t have any idea what I can create!" After this, I understood that I had embarked on quite an adventure. This was this challenge!
I had only three months to create this monster. Almost the whole costume I made myself, but when I realized I ran the risk of being late, I started to ask for help from family and friends. My husband helped me with sanitary pipes to make the wings base, my mom worked as a model; and when I tried to make this creature more proportional, my friends assisted with armor and painting wings. I finished the costume at night, with just 4 hours left before my train took off to the big city.
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We ordered this taxi, arrived at this station, met with our friends, and didn't get on the train! My costume was too big to take on this train. My friends left without us. So we decided to buy other tickets for us and a ticket for a special place in the luggage compartment for the dragon four hours later. It was an emotional challenge, I realized that my creature required special attention everywhere, even with transportation. It is just this dragon's doom, I calmed myself down.
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When we arrived at the next train one hour before departure. This new train master said, "We can’t accommodate the dragon because this costume is too big for this luggage compartment". This was contrary to what was said by staff at the station and this previous train director. It is just this dragon's doom, I was repeating in my head. This Dragon-God is just testing me. We ended up just buying a third ticket, and my little monster rode like a king in his own seat.
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After an exhausting 3-month journey, I finally reached this contest. And here I am. This music is playing. I’m ready. My friends are going to the stage one by one, and each time this roar of this crowd becomes louder and louder. I make the first step on the spot and hear this woman's heartbreaking scream. This is it. I’m This Monster! I am the mind-ripper, the deathbringer, the winged dark that terrifies your dreams. I AM THIS DRAGON!
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Of course, we won the Grand-pri in this contest. It was the Sony PlayStation II, but the brilliant thing I've won is the passed challenge. I crafted it, we brought it to the contest, and together we made the coolest group cosplay from MTG. And I’ve created the biggest mowing dragon cosplay in Siberia and possibly in all of Russia.
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More Cabin 5/Children of Ares Headcanons
When their father saves them/gives a helping hand when they're in trouble, Ares would never admit to helping them. But their children naturally know since they can feel his presence. So they get children embarrassed of having their own god-parent help them, but thank him.
When they’re not training, they take care of their hands and feet. They get bruised up a lot during practice and endless marathon tunning or PE.
They hate it when their hair cant be put into a proper ponytail and have cried in anger out of it and hit thenselves with their hairbrush.
Most of the time, they cried when they're frustrated: which is an emotion they feel the most. They usually dobt feel angry very often-especially without any reason. Lets end tbe stereotype that they all have abger issues and insyead say they feel more entitled to intense emotions most if the time bc of their energetic nature that they got from their father.
But some of them do have anger issues. But anger issues isn't just screajing and hurting objects. It can be isolation for long periods of time, bc they’re afraid of hurting othera hut mowtly because they get tired of if their own emotions so they would like to shut down instead of dealing with it. Feeling that nobody actually likes you is an insecurity many of them have, which do make them reactive from time to time.
Ares is one if the few Gods that respond the fastest ti any request. Clarisse asked for a submarine and an army, and Ares delivered it pretty quickly. Any weapons they want to make Hephaestus make, Ares will send a message to the God and put it as "priority".
Children of Ares will often hyperanalyze their emotions until they dont feel anything because theyre so used to feeling TOO MUCH, that they have learned how to switch off their emotions.
They joined the battle against Kronos only because they had a heavy discussion about it. And their father told them to fight.
Children of Ares have this special ability, they’re able to make others mad but also get rid of their anger and make them think rationally. This would have been effective against Luke, if not for the fact that its not something Cabin 5 know much about.
Many of the abilities tirs that the kids in Cabin 5 inherit from their father, is actually a bit unknown. Not many people know of a lot if skills apart from mastering all kinds of weapons.
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cinamun · 5 months
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2017
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2023
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OKAAYYYYYYY I'm done but damn the full circle is full circlinggggggggg
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the RIPPLES
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Aaravos at the bottom! ^
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katiekatdragon27 · 6 months
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More Flatland stuffff~~~
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[Cursive transcript: I'm so sorry this is so sudden, but I had to keep my Chosen safe!]
So, uh, the 4th dimension, am I right?????
So, on my last post, people were more interested in A. Tesseract than I thought. I did not expect her to stir so much interest, but here you go lol.
More under the cut lol / lots of notes:
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Some basic information on 4th dimensional beings:
They refer to themselves as "hypersolids" and "polytopes". Only Tesseracts prefer a different name than just "hyper(insert shape here)". When talking to other dimensional beings, they call themselves "Spacelanders".
They usually keep their eyes closed, and they do not emote much.
Their bodies naturally morph as they talk. They are also partially transparent, so you can see their inside movements. Not organs or anything, but the next emotions or actions they are going to express. Sort of like key frames or a fade in effect.
They call "Spacelanders" "Heightlanders".
Their civilization is located in space. They are able to breathe through little pockets of air on their rings that recharge when they enter the atmosphere of other plants. (This is why they are spotted relatively frequently)
Buildings are constantly moving spirals. They also fly everywhere, so they require a lot of energy to maintain their health. Luckily, any stars nearby tend to charge them up just fine.
Also, everyone goes by they/them along with another pronoun if they choose. Gender constructs be damned (or certain groups are fighting for that).
There will be more once I think of it, but that's what I have in the world-building department right now.
Some basic information on Angelica "A." Tesseract (she/they):
She tends to say "I'm sorry" after anything they might think could have been of inconvenience or offensive.
They are relatively soft-spoken, but they are incredibly smart compared to her peers.
Her quiet nature causes others to disrespect and step all over her.
She overthinks LITERALLY EVERYTHING. You could tell her something that is even the slightest bit vague and they have the chance of spiraling.
She KNOWS there are more than four dimensions, but they are struggling to prove it with science.
They are much more emotional compared to other hypersolids. They tend to cry easily.
She chose A. Sphere because of his confidence and drive to get his points across. They admire him for that.
Some basic information on A. Sphere in this:
He's much less snarky. His whole vision of the world was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and he's stuck in another world completely unknown to him. He's going though it currently.
He's still blunt about everything. If you suck, he'll tell you. If you are cool, it'll take a little longer, but he'll tell you.
He got his eye busted after the attack on Messiah Inc. When getting removed from "Heightland", his eye got caught in the blow last minute and it got damaged. He can still open it slightly, but he can't see out of it.
He was relatively indifferent to seeing his body transparent. He was more worried about his eye injury over anything else.
At first, he did not like A. Tesseract (cuz kidnapping), but he learns to appreciate the gesture and does his best to help her out.
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[Cursive transcript: For now, I'm afraid so... sorry. / I'm so sorry. If I was just a but faster, I could have saved your eye.]
Yeah, their friendship starts out really rough.
A. Sphere adjusted to the environment very poorly at first. He was very standoffish and snappy, but it then soured to just sorta feeling sad all the time. He gets better eventually the more he learns about the world, but it takes a lot of effort out of A. Tesseract to get him there.
I mean, he expected to die, lost his eye, everyone in "Heightland" hates him now, he lost his business and research, and he fails to take the blame for anything for a while. I would also be super pissed and sad.
A. Tesseract was not any better. She feels an incredible amount of guilt for not stepping in in time to prevent A. Sphere's eye damage, and she constantly apologies to him for everything. This sucks for A. Sphere since he finds it super annoying.
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[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: You weren't supposed to bring them HERE! / A. Tesseract: I'm sorry, I had to save him- / N. H.Sphere: I should fire you-!]
N. H.Sphere is a mega grouch. He is A. Tesseract's boss who treats her terribly. Discrediting her work, ignoring their research, and just not valuing her opinion cuz women, he is not fun to talk to or just be around in general. No one knows how HR lets him stay in charge, but some theorize that he pays them off or something.
Despite all of the traumatic crap A. Sphere has gone though in this story, he still does not stand for disrespect from anyone. When he learns that A. Tesseract is constantly being pushed around by her bitchy boss, he decides to defend her.
This solidifies their friendship and later science partnership when the story ends. This also makes N. H.Sphere more resentful towards both A. Tesseract an A. Sphere. This leads to A. Tesseract actually getting fired from her job. Thanks A. Sphere.
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[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: Why are you so scared? He's fine! / A. Tesseract: It's my un-medicated anxiety!!]
One of the downsides of being in the 4th dimension and living in space is that the gravitational pull is super sporadic with no real patterns. Some areas have super powerful gravity while others have zero. 4th dimension beings have learned to adjust perfectly fine.
The pressure changes and general lack of oxygen negatively impact A. Sphere's body, however, so to help him be okay, he sits in those vacuum boxes that allow for added pressure to be put on him to help even his breathing. He usually isn't put in unless he is fading in and out of consciousness, since he hates the confined space. It freaks out A. Tesseract every time it happens.
Her boss thinks she's stupid for worrying so much and using company tech. A. Tesseract worries more for A. Sphere than keeping her job, so she ignores N. H. Sphere.
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[Cursive transcript: Care to see him again?]
Outside of the partial angst and stuff, this dimension is the reason why A. Sphere shows up in A. Square's hallucination.
During A. Square's trauma-induced hallucination, he shows up in the 4th dimension briefly with the Monarch of Pointland. A. Sphere and A. Tesseract take notice, and she offers him the ability to talk to A. Square one last time for closure reasons.
In this version, this scene would be longer, with A. Sphere possibly apologizing for denying the existence of the 4th dimension and not being able to assist A. Square in the way he wanted to. It's more wholesome and conclusive than transactional like in the movie. The other stuff is there too, but having more sentimental moments would be so cool.
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I am very sorry how messy these particular doodles are, I was drawing all these super late at night during my shift, so I was not paying much attention to the flow of the images. When the inspo hits, you don't really realize how incohesive they are until you start photographing the images to post lol
Thank you once again for reading this whole thing, and have a wonderful day :)
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davesbigwhirlwind · 8 months
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My uncle made me into a nerd
I just wasn't that academic I used to tell my mum - she disagreed - she thought I was just lazy. She was probably right.
I was 16 and leaving school and I didn't have any plans. So my mum announced that she'd spoken to my uncle, who had kindly offered to give me a job as the office junior at the firm he owned. As he lived and worked far away, it had been agreed that I would live with him.
The following Sunday I got the 2 hour train to my uncle's, where he met me at the station.
My uncle was quite a traditional man - he had a fully, neatly trimmed beard, fairly short coiffured hair, and generally wore tweed jackets and cardigans, and was seldom seen without a tie, and loved to smoke a pipe. He was a serious man, and definitely not one to have a joke - he could also have something of a short fuse, and could be a man of few words. Despite this, we had a good chat, and he seemed genuinely pleased that I was going to be working for him - he said that he felt I had great potential, and that he was sure I would do well - I just needed to follow his instruction and do my best.
I knew my uncle would want me to be fairly smart for the office, so I'd brought my old school trousers and shirts to wear in the week. I mentioned this to him, and he said we'd sort everything in the morning.
I settled into the spare room, which was a big, comfortable room with a double bed, chest of drawers, TV and big wardrobe which was currently half full of all sorts of stuff, such as an old computer, boxes of paperwork and some old clothes.
Monday morning came, and when I got out of the shower and there was a multi-packet of briefs and white vests on my bed. My uncle passed my room and said to put on the underwear and then he would be back - I explained I already had underwear that was fine to wear, but he said it made sense that I wore what he had got for me as it was new, and could I just do it please.
I did as he asked, to save starting off on the wrong foot, and then my uncle came in "Right, we'd better get you ready for your first day at work! Are you excited?" I assured him I was, and was ready to get stuck in. He said he had sorted some clothes for me to wear, but I reminded him that I had already brought some trousers and white shirts with me. "Oh no, you don't want to be wearing your school uniform! You're an adult now, so it's only right that you look the part. Now, I've looked out some clothes I don't use that will be perfect, given that we're a similar size - and you're welcome to keep them." I said I could buy anything that I needed, but he said that wasn't necessary, and I should save my money, and he was only too happy for me to make full use of these things that had just sat in his wardrobe. This was clearly an instruction rather than an offer. 
I looked at what my uncle was wearing - a pair of bluey-grey wool trousers and a pale grey check shirt, with a dark grey tie with cream stripes through it - he always looked a very washed out, as he generally only wore shades of grey or bluey-grey, with only his brown shoes adding any colour, and everything always looked very old fashioned. I could only hope that the clothes he was offering had been rejected by him for being too casual or colourful.
He went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of chocolate brown socks which he passed to me. I looked a bit confused. "Put them on" he said - I genuinely hadn't understood, as I could believe that anyone would think that a 16 year old boy would wear brown. I slipped the socks on, and he instructed me to pull them up. I did so. He then went to the wardrobe and pulled out a shirt that was very similar to his - a cream colour with a check running through it. I buttoned it up. It seemed very baggy and long in the body, but my uncle assured me that was the style. Next, he pulled out the most horrible pair of flannel trousers. They were a mid-brown colour, made with thick wool and tailored loosely - again, I said I'd just wear my own trousers, but this time he was clear "put them on." I grudgingly took the trousers from him. They were very rough texture and surprisingly heavy. I slipped them on and as I pulled them up my legs I could feel the coarse material rubbing against my leg. It felt horrible. I pulled them up and on buttoning them up I found they fitted my waist perfectly. The twin pleats meant there was extra fabric which then made for a wider trouser than the normally skinny jeans I'd normally wear. Sharp creases ran down the middle of each leg and then a turnup at the bottom gave extra weight which anchored the trousers which then hid part of my foot, due to being wider than I was used to. 
I was then told to do up my top button. I did so but it was really tight! I was then passed a brown tie with beige stripes. I tied it and my uncle then clipped on a solid tie bar about a third of the way down which attached to the shirt - very similar to one he was wearing. "You'll always want to wear one of these as it stops your tie getting in the way"
"Now, shoes," he said digging into the bottom of the wardrobe. "I bought this pair but they were too big for me, so I bought another pair in the size smaller, so I'm thinking these will fit you perfectly. He then presented a pair of highly polished tan brogues. They were covered in intricate stitching and decorative small holes in the leather and with a row of very fine laces running up the middle. I recognised them. They were identical to the pair my uncle was wearing. I said something about hard leather not being good for my feet, but he assured me I would soon get used to them. He pushed them onto my feet and then tied the laces tightly. What between the collar cutting into my neck and now the shoes restricting my ancles, I was not feeling so good, and that was before the horror of the suggestion of having to wear this outfit out of the house!
My uncle had one last surprise up his sleeve, as he showed me a tweed blazer in a light tan colour, wide lapels, and a longer, boxy fit. it was again heavy and felt too big. My uncle did up the top button of the two on the front and declared it perfect. I was then shepherded downstairs to be paraded in front of my aunt, who declared me to look very handsome, and that the colours really suited me. 
My uncle explained that he had tried wearing shades of brown for a short time, but he felt grey suited him better, so he relegated those clothes to the back of his wardrobe. I thought back to when I'd looked in the wardrobe and the various being brown, fawn, cream colours in the wardrobe - it now dawned on me that these weren't just random clothes that had been put there for storage....
There was a big mirror in the hallway, and I stopped to stare. I looked ridiculous. If you chopped my head off you'd think I was a middle-aged man (or older!) as no-one under 50 would wear any of these clothes, or in any of these colours. And this look definitely didn't suit me, and nor did it go with my lovely hair which flowed freely to just below my shoulders and with the gently tussled look that I had perfected after getting out of the shower. At least my hair was there to express my personality.
"Right, will we go then?" my uncle said. I nodded grudgingly. He opened the front door and gestured for me to walk in front of him to head to the car on the drive. I took one step 'clack.' And another 'clack.' I then walked closer to the car 'clack. clack. clack.' I lifted one of my feet and looked at the sole, fitted with metal plates. I then remembered you can also hear my uncle coming a mile off. I'm used to it now, but it always used to take me by surprise, as, on any hard surface you would hear his shoes clacking as he walked. People would look up and stare. Now this was me too. Though, to be honest people would stare anyway given what a 16 year old boy was wearing, but this would mean they'd get an audible alert.
We travelled in silence to the office. I was reflecting to the last half hour. It was really bad. the only saving grace was there was no-one I knew was there to see me.
We arrived. I got out the car. I took a couple of steps, still trying to get used to both the slippery soles of my shoes and the noise they made. My uncle strided off towards the door. I followed him into the office, both off us clattering down the polished wood floors in our polished brogue shoes. Everyone instinctively looked up. With that racket, who could blame them, and also I guess in heralded the arrival of the boss. Many pairs of eyeballs stared at me.
We reached the corner and he pointed to a desk as part of a group of 4 "this is yours, take a seat" now this is Sally, Daniel and Mark. And this is Alexander" I said hi to each of them. Sally was probably 60 and I knew to be my uncles secretary. Daniel was around my uncles age and I found out was office manager, while Mark was a graduate who had joined the firm the previous summer. 
"Make yourself comfortable, and we'll talk through your induction shortly" I sat down, and Mark sat next to me did a bit of small talk, and we got onto the fact I'd just left school. "was it public school? by any chance?" Mark asked. I said no and asked why he'd said that. "Well, it's just based on your outfit, I can only imagine that someone from public school might have clobber like that!" I explained that my uncle had had a guiding hand in the outfit. "Ahh, that explains it - I'm surprised you got away with that hair in that case" I queried this "well he made me get my hair cut shorter because he said it looked too messy." I looked at Mark's hair it wasn't long but it just about reached the collar of the shirt he was wearing, and just above his eyebrows, brushed to the side. He looked a bit surfer-like. "I love my hair, so there's no way I'm cutting it" I said.
The morning went quite quickly. Everyone was friendly. I took my jacket off as soon as I could, as all the other men were just wearing open shirts, so I felt over dressed (as well as being downed in a sea of turd-coloured clothing).
It got to 12.30 and my uncle said "right, grab your jacket, we're going out." I grabbed it and clicked along behind him. He turned round "well put your jacket on then" which I did while trying to keep up with him as we headed to the car. 
We parked up and headed to an open doorway, and I found myself in a barbershop. My uncle had a few words of greeting and then pointed to me "This is Alexander. He needs smartening up, as we discussed" I was told to take my jacket off and sit straight in the chair. 
I said I just wanted a light trim, as I was being caped up, but the barber patted me on the shoulder and told me to just relax, as my uncle had already sorted everything.
My hair was about a maximum of about 10 inches long at the front, and maybe 4 or 5 inches at the back - it was all swept back in quite a loose, bohemian style that I loved. I really didn't want to loose that style.
Before I could say another word the barber had his clippers in his hand and with a comb he was pulling out my hair from the side of my head about an inch or so and then cutting off the remaining hair. Massive long stands of hair were falling to the ground. This was years' of growth. "I really want to keep the length on top" I blurted out. The barber just smiled vaguely. This combing and clipping continued round the back and to the other side of my head, so that the hair on the sides was now drastically shorter, though still a little bit shaggy, and just nestled on the top of my ears. It was already way shorter than I would like. He then started on the top though this time leaving maybe 3-4 inches of length. I was devastated. He then dragged the comb down my head causing a slight pain on my head, and leaving a very precise parting down the left side of my head, as he combed the hair carefully to each side.
This done, he now turned back to the sides and using his comb, he now angled it downwards and swiped more hair off the side of my head. This time about half an inch of hair fell, and I could soon see that he was leaving shorter hair of only about an eighth of an inch at the bottom and blending upwards to maybe half an inch higher up, and progressing round my head once more. He then took a smaller razor and went round my ears and then also cut a line across the top of my sideburns, and I could feel him carving a line across the back of my head.
On the side of the brand new part he then continued with clipper and comb taking the length of all of the hair to the part line progressively longer, but the maximum length still only being about three quarters of an inch. Then across the top of my head he did some snipping with the scissors but with only very small specks of hair flying off. He then went around the upper sides blending the shorter sides with the longer length. This was all looking very short.
Finally, he then brushed down the long hair at the front and cut across my forehead at a diagonal, leaving long hair by the part which hung just above my eyebrow and finishing near the top of my head on the right side of my face. 
Suddenly the chair was tilted back and shaving foam slapped on my face. My little facial hair was quickly removed, and I could feel him shaving off my entire sideburns. On being returned upright, I could see that my face looked very pale following the removal of my attempts at facial hair - while the hair on my head made me look like some sort of preppy American Highschooler with the side part hanging loosely over my forehead. The barber took some gel in his hands and ran it through my hair working outwards from the part line. He then took the hair at the front of my head and flicked it upwards and to the side creating a small ridge. 
"Done" he announced proudly. My uncle stood up "excellent, now Alexander looks like a man you'd be proud to walk beside. Excellent work."
The barber showed me the back, which was a short blocked taper, where less than an hour before had been my beautiful mane. My neck was so pale! I saw what was a very standard business man's haircut. I guess it's exactly what my uncle would choose. In fact, it was just a shorter version of his haircut really. We definitely had matching side partings now. It was too grim for words. But he was the boss.
Back at the office, I felt even more embarrassment and we both clacked through the office, and me - not just a vision in brown, but now with my short business man's haircut. On sitting down, Mark whistled "that's some haircut you got there. Thought there was no way you were cutting it?" "Well my uncle made me realise that shorter hair is easier to manage when you've got a job." Neither of us bought that - it was blatantly obvious from the style of what was on my head that only one person had had any input into my new conservative haircut, and my new outfit, and it wasn't me.
Back at the house, my aunt was thrilled with my cut, and said how I looked like my uncle when he was younger!
I took my jacket off and sat down. I undid my top button, and started untying my shoes as my uncle jumped in - "we don't take out ties or shoes off until we retire to bed", he admonished me. I grudgingly re-tied. 
"Now, I've a treat for you - as a working man, you deserve a treat, and I'd like you to join me in a pipe." Now, he smoked regularly, but I had no interested - and in fact, I hated even the smell. I'd never smoked, and didn't want to. I politely declined.
He opened his drawer next to his seat and took out two pipes. One was newly boxed, he passed that one to me. I unwrapped it. He showed me how to roll tobacco and pack a pipe. He gave me a tobacco pouch, and lighter. Mine to keep he said. He then lit my pipe for me and put it in my mouth "now breath it" I tried not to breath in much, but even the little I did made me cough. "and again" I tried and coughed more. We continued this for about 20 minutes until the nicotine was making me feel faint. It certainly wasn't a treat.
By the end of week one I was hating it. The daily outfit remained identical, other than alternating between tweed blazers, shirts and ties, all in earthy shades. And he kept making me persevere with the pipe. I was coughing less but really didn't like it, and I now stank of tobacco.
I'd been getting on well with Mark - I think he felt sorry for me, and invited me out on Saturday with my mates. My uncle was happy to agree. I explained I'd like to wear my own clothes, but my uncle couldn't understand it - if you have good quality smart clothes available, why would you want to wear lesser clothes. And also all my old clothes had mysteriously disappeared. This wasn't a new work wardrobe. This was my only wardrobe.
Mark smirked when I entered the pub - "do you ever not dress like a grandad" he said.
We had a company away day which included some drinks afterwards. A couple of the guys said they were going for a cigarette, and my uncle said we'd join them. He got his pipe out and nodded to me. I shook my head, but he gave me THE look. I grudgingly got my pipe out. We lit up. Mark looked at me with disbelief. I could understand it. Here I was dressed in brown tweed, with the geekiest haircut and smoking a pipe. I was a lost cause.
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ride-thedragon · 24 days
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In my anticipation, I've been spiralling about the future seasons of Bridgerton. If we get past Eloise and her season, we get Leg of Mutton sleeves on everyone. In the modern zeitgeist, it's the princess sleeve scene on Ariel and Giselle, but it's so pretty, and it's basically flared out regency silhouette.
And actual dress from the period first then some interpretations of what the show could give.
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elliasnovember · 2 months
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NEW STORY TEASER FROM RC OFFICIAL TWITTER: https://twitter.com/ysiromanceclub/status/1782801609531052507?s=4
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Prominently featured Black Characters?! LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO ‼️‼️🙌🏽🥳🥳💖
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ashfae · 2 years
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I showed my kids Good Omens. One was enchanted by episode three and kept going "Ohhh they *like* each other!" (upgraded to "Oh no they *really* like each other!" during the bandstand scene), fangirled over Shakespeare, and figured out the body swap very quickly. The other declared that Heaven is boring, ran around shouting "AWAY WI' YE, HARLOT!", and when we had finished the series started writing fanfiction about Newt and Anathema and the second book of prophecies (note that she is seven and I have not yet explained fanfiction to them)(or what a harlot is, which will no doubt cause difficulty in time). They then demanded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square" as a lullaby at bedtime.
I feel I'm doing rather well at this parenting thing, all things considered. ;)
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Pandora at night is just a vibe💖
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angeloftheodd · 1 year
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Story of Seasons, a new Harvest Moon game, will be released in June 2023! 🐮🐔❤️ Marvelous, the game publisher releasing this game, claims there are also two more Story of Seasons games in progress, including a multiplayer game. 🐣🥳🎊 So, there’s a lot of gaming greatness to look forward to. 🌱🌈
📸 PC Gamer
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im-not-a-l0ser · 6 months
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Okay, I want to talk about the Trans Richie headcannon. I'm not going to say anything bad about it, this is just some ideas and opinions about it, regarding it as canon.
I like the idea that if Richie and/or Trevor were trans, they'd be given an alliterative name set originally. Like Richie and Rachel, Trevor and Tracey, or Samantha and Sabrina; something like that. And then when one or both changed their names, they were so relieved that their names didn't start with the same letter anymore. Maybe they even hated it so much that they'd like... go by Chel, CeCe, Sam and Rina. Shit like that, that'd be so funny.
I would really like to see a show about how they grew up. As much as I don't know how to feel about a cis person playing a trans character, I also wouldn't want Richie played by anyone else— *the idea of Jae Hughes as Richie* Okay, that'd actually be pretty sick, and you could have both Trevor and Richie on stage without Jon having to do a bunch of quick changes, or prerecordings, and you could even have them on stage at the same time, but YOU GET WHAT I'M SAYING! Anyway, I think it'd be really neat to have a song of Richie post-transition and Richie pre-transition singing about how they feel out of place, or how they have this secret that they have to keep, pre-trans not being out at all, and post-trans having transitioned in stealth mode. It'd be cook to see 'her' looking in a mirror or something, seeing post-trans Richie there because that's what they want to be. Some fuckin' reflection from Mulan shit, y'know?
Maybe it's just that I want to see Her as a musical, maybe that's my problem... I mean, now I'm thinking about it, and I'm right. I want that so fucking bad. Like, just imagine that for me, will you? I keep specifically imagining a scene of Jeri and Jerry berating 'her' for being too masculine as a song— I'm sorry, I'm being such a dork.
If Jon Matteson did a stream where he read trans richie headcannons and fics, I would fucking cry, especially if Her was included, since I'm very proud of it thus far.
I need like... a 5+1 fic of Richie coming out to people, I'd love that.
I forgot any other thing I wanted to say, just give me a second.
Oh, okay, here we go. I like to think that Richie is a cosplayer (my sister disagrees with me, so I know that some people don't agree) but I like to think that him cosplaying masc characters is one of the things that helped him realise his identity. This has nothing to do with the fact that after I started cosplaying TSS I got more masc and embraced that side of me, I don't know what you're talking about.
I wonder what Jon Matteson (and Will Branner, and everyone else) thinks about Childhood Friend Michie, not even them together romantically. Bc like, I fully understand not understanding that ship; I don't fully understand it myself, despite literally shipping it. But them as childhood friends? It almost makes too much sense, whether or not Max knows Richie is trans. Either way, you can make it make sense in some regard. I particularly like how @24-guy handled it in their trans richie story, but I won't spoil that for you (that's also their user name on ao3)
I think that's all I got for now, maybe I'll make a part two when I'm on a proper dose of adderall that actually does anything for me.
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