#ms creative sense

[barbwritesstuff]

I wanted to talk quickly about my writing schedule because I've had a few questions about it (mostly because I was sick a couple of days ago but also just in general). My schedule isn't fixed in stone but it usually looks something like this:

Monday - Prose writing

Tuesday - Prose writing

Wednesday - IF writing (Thicker Than)

Thursday - IF writing (Thicker Than)

Friday - IF writing (Thicker Than)

Saturday - Relax (write if you want, but no pressure)

Sunday - Relax (write if you want, but no pressure)

I try to write roughly 1k words a day.

This means, every week, I should get a couple of thousand words at least on whatever prose project I'm working on, and also on Thicker Than.

Sometimes this schedule changes because of how I'm feeling on the day.

Sometimes, I'm just not feeling creative and can't write very much.

Sometimes, I feel awesome and write a whole bunch in one day.

Sometimes I'm feeling inspired by a particular project, and end up working on that and not what I'm meant to.

It's all very artsy fartsy.

The reason why I didn't update this week is because on Wednesday I had to do a bunch of stuff outdoors and couldn't work on Thicker Than. To add insult to injury, I gave myself heat stroke and was puking all Thursday. I couldn't get much done on Friday either because I was still in recovery mode.

I also wasn't very productive in my prose project because I've been hunting for new writing software (because I can't figure out how to get the AI out of MS Word) and that's taken up way more time than it should've.

I hope all that makes sense.

I wanted to share this because:

I like sharing things, it makes me feel more connected and more human.

I feel like some people are worried I'm going to abandon Thicker Than and I need everyone to know, that's not the plan.

This list looked empty with two things on it, so here's a third.

Anyway.

I'm not sure how to end this now. I know there's a lot of nonsense in the world right now. I hope everyone is staying safe. I also hope you haven't forgotten to hope.

Suck blood, fuck the moon, and don't forget to defrag.

Peace.

💙

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (12/15) - Part II

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @tremendousstarlighttragedy @henneseyhoe @serpenttines-library @f1-football-fiend

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

The warehouse stood inconspicuous amidst the arid Palm Springs landscape, its weathered exterior masking the creative pulse within. Inside, the vast space was a stark contrast - state-of-the-art sound equipment lined the walls, and a professional-grade stage dominated one end of the room. Soft, ambient lighting created an atmosphere conducive to artistic expression, while the air conditioning fought a constant battle against the desert heat.

Rorie stood center stage, her voice resonating through the cavernous space as she ran through the chorus of "The Zone."

"I never meant to make you feel alone, a non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home..."

Ms. Tee, her vocal coach, nodded approvingly from the side, occasionally calling out suggestions. "Remember to support from your diaphragm on that high note, honey!"

Van, the choreographer, moved in sync with Rorie, demonstrating the fluid movements that would accompany the lyrics.

Rorie nodded, sweat beading on her forehead as she repeated the sequence. The knowledge that Beyoncé had once rehearsed in this very space for her legendary Beychella performance added an extra layer of pressure.

From his seat not far from the stage, Lyric's voice piped up. "Go, Mama!" he cheered, his little hands clapping enthusiastically.

Ms. Tee chuckled, shaking her head. "That baby is too cute!"

"And he knows it," Rorie quipped, shooting a wink at her son.

As they moved into the next song, Rorie's mind briefly wandered to the mysterious text she'd received weeks ago. The sender hadn't responded when she'd asked who it was, leaving her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

After running through the set twice more, Yael called for a lunch break. The team dispersed, grateful for the respite from the intense rehearsal.

Rorie scooped up Lyric, making her way to a table laden with an array of healthy options. As she settled in next to Yael, balancing Lyric on her lap, she couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this all felt.

"So," Yael began, taking a bite of her salad, "have you given any thought to the Mercedes event? They're really pushing for you to be there for the G Wagon unveiling."

Rorie nodded, helping Lyric with his lunch. "Yeah, I think we can make it work. It's after Coachella, right?"

"Car!" Lyric exclaimed, pointing at Yael's phone which displayed an image of the new G Wagon.

Rorie laughed, ruffling his hair. "That's right, baby. It's a big car."

"He's growing up so fast," Yael remarked, smiling at Lyric. "Seems like just yesterday he was saying his first words."

Rorie nodded, a mix of pride and nostalgia washing over her. "I know. It's crazy how quickly they develop. He's stringing two or three words together now. The other day he said 'Mama sing pretty.' Nearly made me cry right there in the kitchen."

Yael chuckled. "Well, he's not wrong. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about the performance? Three songs is a lot, especially with the choreography."

Rorie took a sip of water, considering. "Honestly? I'm nervous as hell. But also excited. I've never been on a stage that big."

"You've got this," Yael assured her. "The rehearsals are going great, and the crowd is going to love you."

As they continued to discuss the logistics of the upcoming events, Rorie felt a familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. Coachella was a big stage, one that could make or break careers. She absentmindedly stroked Lyric's hair as she listened to Yael outline the schedule for the next few days.

"We've got two more full rehearsals here, then we move to the actual festival grounds for a tech run," Yael explained, scrolling through her tablet. "Lil Yachty's team will join us for the final run-through."

Rorie nodded, her mind already racing with all the details she needed to perfect. "What about wardrobe? Have we finalized the looks?"

"Almost," Yael replied. "The stylist wants to do one more fitting tomorrow. She's got some ideas for a quick change between songs."

As they delved into the intricacies of the performance, Lyric began to fidget in Rorie's lap. "Mama, play," he said, pointing towards the small play area they'd set up in the corner of the warehouse.

"Okay, baby. Just for a little bit," Rorie smiled, setting him down. She watched as he toddled off, his little legs carrying him with determined enthusiasm.

"He's handling all this travel and chaos like a champ," Yael observed, following Rorie's gaze.

Rorie sighed, a mix of pride and guilt washing over her. "Yeah, he is. Sometimes I worry it's too much, you know? But he seems to thrive on it."

"He's resilient, just like his parents," Yael reassured her. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Lewis? How's he feeling about the DNF in Australia?"

Rorie's expression softened at the mention of her husband. "He's frustrated, of course. But he's channeling it into preparation for the next race. You know Lewis, always looking forward."

Yael nodded, then added with a hint of sympathy, "It's a shame he'll miss your performance at Coachella though. The scheduling conflict is unfortunate."

"Yeah, it is," Rorie agreed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. "But he's got the GQ Global Creative Awards in New York that weekend. It's a big honor, and I wouldn't want him to miss that." She brightened a bit as she continued, "Besides, the Biebers will be there, and my sister's coming too. They'll make sure Lyric has plenty of support in the crowd."

"That's great," Yael smiled. "It's good to have your people there. And I'm sure Lewis will be watching the livestream, cheering you on from New York."

Rorie nodded, grateful for the support system she had. "Absolutely. We've always made it work, no matter the distance. This is just another one of those times."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lyric's delighted laughter. He had discovered a small ball and was attempting to bounce it, his coordination not quite matching his enthusiasm.

"Should we get back to it?" Rorie asked, her eyes still on Lyric.

Yael nodded, standing up. "Absolutely. Let's run through the transitions one more time before we call it a day."

As they made their way back to the stage, Rorie felt a renewed sense of purpose. The nerves were still there, but they were overshadowed by excitement and determination. This performance wasn't just about her; it was about showing Lyric that dreams were worth pursuing, no matter the challenges.

With one last glance at her son, happily playing in his own world, Rorie stepped onto the stage. The music began to play, and she lost herself in the rhythm, ready to give it her all. Coachella was waiting, and she was going to make every moment count.

_____________________________________________

Rorie cruised down the Palm Springs street, the desert sun casting long shadows as evening approached. From the backseat, Lyric's voice joined hers in a sweet, if slightly off-key, rendition of Daniel Caesar's "Get You."

As the song faded out, Lyric piped up, "Bwent!"

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head. "Being toxic isn't cute, sonshine." She skipped to Brent Faiyaz's "Clouded," the smooth R&B filling the car as they pulled up to their rental.

Waving to the security guard at the front gate, Rorie parked and unstrapped Lyric from his car seat. She held his hand as they made their way inside, Lyric gleefully jumping up each step to the front door.

Roscoe greeted them enthusiastically, and Rorie let Lyric play with the dog while she headed to the kitchen. After washing her hands, she pulled out pre-made cookie dough from the fridge.

"You want cookies, baby?" she called out.

"Yes, Mama!" came the eager reply.

Rorie scoffed, muttering, "Of course you do," as she arranged the dough on a cookie sheet.

Struck by a sudden craving, she grabbed a popsicle from the freezer. Then, following an odd impulse, she dug into the cabinet for chunky peanut butter. Scooping some onto the popsicle, she savored the unexpected combination of salty and sweet on her tongue as she slid the cookies into the oven, setting it to 380 degrees.

Just then, her phone rang. Seeing Martin's name on the screen, she hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" she said, her voice cautious.

"Rorie, hi," Martin's voice came through, a mix of nervousness and hope. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone neutral. "What's this about, Martin?"

"I... I wanted to talk to you. About Athena, about everything. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie paused, conflicted. "He's good," she finally said. "Growing fast."

"That's great," Martin said, his voice softening. "Listen, Rorie, I was hoping we could meet. I know things are complicated, but-"

"I don't know, Martin," Rorie cut in, glancing at the oven timer. "Things are pretty busy right now."

"Please," he pressed. "I want to make things right. I want to be part of your life, of Lyric's life."

Rorie sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "I need time, Martin. This isn't something I can decide on a whim."

"I understand," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. "But will you at least think about it? For real this time?"

"I'll think about it," Rorie conceded. "But I can't promise anything."

As she hung up, Rorie leaned against the counter, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The timer dinged, jolting her back to the present. She pulled out the cookies, the sweet aroma filling the kitchen.

"Cookie, Mama?" Lyric's voice called from the living room.

"Almost, baby," Rorie replied, forcing a smile into her voice. "They need to cool first."

As she set the tray on the counter, Rorie took a deep breath. Coachella, Martin, the constant juggle of family and career - it was a lot to handle. But as Lyric's excited chatter drifted in from the other room, she knew she'd find a way to navigate it all. She always did.

The desert night hummed with anticipation as Rorie stood in the wings of the Coachella stage, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bass from the previous set reverberated through her body, but the nausea rolling through her stomach had nothing to do with the vibrations.

"Five minutes, Mrs. Hamilton," a stage manager called out, then paused, studying her face. "Hey, you're looking a bit pale. You okay?"

Rorie nodded, though her complexion said otherwise. "I'm good," she managed, willing her stomach to settle. Somewhere in the VIP section, she knew Lyric was watching with Aaliyah, the Biebers keeping them company.

"You sure?" The stage manager pressed. "You look like you might puke...."

"I said I'm good," Rorie cut in, more sharply than intended. She softened her tone. "Just pre-show jitters."

The opening notes of "The Zone" filled the air, and Lil Yachty's voice boomed across the festival grounds: "Y'all make some noise for my girl, Rorie!"

Taking one final deep breath, Rorie stepped into the lights. The crowd's roar washed over her as she emerged, and suddenly, the nausea didn't matter anymore. This was what she was born to do.

Her voice, clear and strong, cut through the night air. The choreography she'd practiced countless times flowed naturally, her body moving in perfect sync with the music. Each transition, each note, each movement came together in a performance that felt both carefully rehearsed and effortlessly spontaneous.

But as the adrenaline of the first song began to fade, that unsettling queasiness returned, stronger than before. Rorie pushed through, determined not to let it show. She had two more songs to go, and she was going to give this crowd everything she had.

The crowd surged with energy as Rorie finished her planned set, their cheers echoing across the festival grounds. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights.

"One more! One more!" The chant built like a wave.

Rorie exchanged a glance with her band, a slight nod passing between them. As the opening notes of another song filled the air, the crowd's roar grew even louder.

But it was the second encore that would become the night's most talked-about moment. Rorie stepped to the microphone, her breath slightly catching as she spoke.

"Y'all have been amazing tonight," she said, her voice carrying across the field. "I want to share something special with you. A few years ago, my husband and I wrote this song together. Some of you might know him as XNDA…"

The crowd erupted at the mention of Lewis's musical alter ego. A smile played on Rorie's lips as she remembered the late nights in their home studio, the two of them writing and rewriting lyrics, finding the perfect melody to express their love story.

The stage darkened, and then a recorded voicemail played through the speakers: "Hey baby, just wanted to hear your voice…" Lewis's distinctive accent filled the space, intimate and warm.

The soft melody began to build, and Rorie's voice floated over the instrumental, telling their story of love found in the fast lane of life. When Lewis's pre-recorded vocals joined in for the chorus, their voices intertwined in perfect harmony, the chemistry evident even through the playback.

"When the world's moving too fast You're the one thing that lasts Through the curves and the breaks You're the risk I'll always take…"

The crowd swayed, phone lights dotting the darkness like stars. Somewhere in the VIP section, Rorie caught sight of Lyric on Aaliyah's shoulders, his little hands waving in the air.

As their voices rose together for the final chorus, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes. This song, this moment, was everything - their love, their family, their journey, all wrapped up in melody and rhythm.

The final note hung in the air, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Then the crowd exploded, the cheers almost deafening. Rorie took a final bow, her heart full to bursting.

Walking off stage, she quickly checked her phone. A text from Lewis was waiting:

Killed it, baby. Wish I could've been there. So proud of you.

Rorie smiled, the nausea from earlier completely forgotten in the glow of the night's success. This performance would definitely be one for the books.

Following her triumphant performance, Rorie took a long drink of water before her bodyguards escorted her to the VIP section. Aaliyah immediately engulfed her in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face.

"You were incredible!" Aaliyah sobbed, overcome with pride for her sister.

Rorie's own eyes welled up as Lyric toddled over, clutching a piece of paper in his tiny hands. "Mama!" he exclaimed, holding up his drawing of her on stage. "I love you, Mama," he said, his toddler pronunciation making the words even more precious.

Rorie dropped to her knees, gathering him close as tears spilled down her cheeks. The Biebers joined the group hug, everyone congratulating her on the spectacular show.

After a while, Justin excused himself to prepare for his set with Tems and WizKid. Rorie and Hailey settled into comfortable chairs, falling into easy conversation and shared laughter.

When a waiter approached, Rorie ordered vodka, water, and lime. "What about you, Hails?"

"Just water is fine," Hailey replied.

Rorie shot her friend a questioning look. "When do you ever say no to a drink?" she teased.

Hailey grew bashful, shrugging. "I'm fine with water."

"What's going on, Hails?" Rorie pressed.

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but closed it as the waiter returned with their drinks. Once he left, she gave Rorie a sympathetic look.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ror, especially with what's going on with you and Lew," Hailey explained.

"What do you mean?" Rorie asked, setting down her drink.

Hailey shrugged again. "With you guys going through IVF again… I don't think..."

"It's fine, Hailey. We're fine," Rorie assured her, taking her friend's hands. "It's okay."

"Honestly?" Hailey questioned.

"Yes, Hailey. It's fine."

They stared at each other in silence before Hailey opened her oversized leather jacket slightly, revealing a small rounded belly. "Justin and I are pregnant," she confessed, tears running down her face.

Rorie felt a complex mix of emotions - genuine joy for her friend tinged with a hint of sadness for her own situation. But happiness won out as she pulled Hailey into a tight hug.

"It's still early, though," Hailey said after they separated. "I'm barely ten weeks, but I'm showing really soon for some reason."

"It's a boy," Rorie said instinctively.

"How can you tell?"

"I was showing early with Lyric. It's definitely a boy and he probably has a big head," Rorie joked.

Hailey laughed. "Just like his father."

As their laughter subsided, Hailey grew serious. "I want you to be a godmother. You're an amazing friend and Justin and I love you so much."

"I would love to be the godmother, Hailey. Thank you," Rorie replied, wiping away fresh tears. "Damn, tonight is making me such a sap!" Hailey's smile widened. "But thank you. Seriously. Not only for asking me to be a godmother but sharing this and taking note of everything. I love you so much."

The two friends embraced again, the desert night wrapping around them like a warm blanket, full of joy, hope, and the promise of new beginnings.

The week after Coachella felt like a whirlwind. Rorie scrolled through her phone, taking in the flood of coverage about her performance.

@/MusicInsider: "Rorie's surprise performance of XNDA collab brought Coachella to its knees. The chemistry is undeniable, even through a recording. #PowerCouple"

@/ChartData: "Rorie's Coachella performance garnered over 2M livestream views, highest for a guest appearance this year."

Of course, there were also the less favorable takes:

@/PopCultureTakes: "Sure, she can sing. But is anyone else tired of the Hamilton PR machine? #Coachella"

Rorie rolled her eyes at the last one. Her nausea had finally subsided, and she was grateful to chalk it up to pre-Coachella nerves. With Lewis in Shanghai for his race, she missed him, but they had a packed schedule ahead - the WhatsApp collaboration in New York, Miami Grand Prix, and then the Met Gala. The thought of reuniting made her smile.

Stepping out of her G Wagon onto the black carpet at the Mercedes-Benz G-Class premiere, Rorie was immediately engulfed in camera flashes.

"Mrs. Mercedes! Over here!" "To your left, Rorie!" "Give us that smile, Mrs. Mercedes!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the nickname - an extension of what they called Lewis. As she posed for photos, a familiar figure caught her eye. Miles was making his way down the carpet, pointing at her with an exaggerated gesture. She returned the gesture, and he came bounding over. They posed for several shots together before heading inside, arm in arm.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" she said as they stopped at the bar.

"Sort of last minute, honestly," Miles revealed. "But look at you, Miss Superstar - that Coachella performance though…"

"How was it?" Rorie asked, genuinely curious.

"Off the fuckin' chain, lil' sis. You did that."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

As Miles and Rorie made their way through the event, they were stopped every few feet by familiar faces. Kendall Jenner pulled Rorie into a warm embrace, gushing about the Coachella performance.

"You absolutely killed it," Kendall beamed. "And that song with Lewis? Everyone's still talking about it."

Before Rorie could respond, Ciara joined them, her megawatt smile lighting up the space. "Girl, when were you going to tell me you were performing again? That was incredible!"

The conversations flowed easily, punctuated by genuine laughter and warm exchanges. Tracee Ellis Ross swept by, wrapping an arm around Rorie's waist as they posed for photos, while Snoh Aalegra complimented her vocal arrangements.

The evening progressed with typical Hollywood glamour - Travis Scott's performance had the crowd energized, the bass reverberating through the space as he commanded the stage. During dinner, Rorie found herself engaged in easy conversation with those around her, the kind of mindless chatter that filled these events.

As the night wound down, Rorie decided to head home early, missing Lyric and feeling the weight of the day settling in her bones. The drive started peacefully enough, the lights of LA streaming past her window as she thought about the upcoming reunion with Lewis.

Then her phone lit up with an unknown number.

Rorie hesitated before answering, but something compelled her to pick up. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, her blood ran cold.

"Rorie—"

"You must have a fucking death wish," Rorie cut in, her voice sharp with anger.

"Please, just hear me out—"

"I'm calling my lawyer," Rorie snapped.

"Wait!" Deja's voice was urgent. "I want to meet in Miami. We need to talk face to face."

"You've lost your rabbit ass mind!" Rorie couldn't believe her ears. After everything - the lawsuit, the leaked information, the media circus - Deja really thought they could just meet? The audacity was mind-blowing. Rorie clenched her jaw, her hand gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles went white. She could almost picture Deja on the other end, probably desperate, maybe even smug, as if she’d thought Rorie would just give in to this little stunt.

Deja doubled down. "I'm not settling until we talk. Face to face."

"I don't give a fuck what you want. We're going to win anyway - you violated my privacy, remember?"

They went back and forth, Deja pleading her case while Rorie's anger mounted. Finally, Deja suggested Rorie bring her lawyer if it made her feel better, but insisted they needed to meet.

"I'll think about it, bitch," Rorie spat before hanging up.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her hard. "Pull over," she managed to tell her driver, who immediately complied.

Rorie barely made it out of the car before emptying the contents of her stomach, her hands braced on her knees.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Hamilton?" the driver asked, concern evident in his voice.

Another wave hit her, and she groaned as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. "Call my husband, please."

The driver quickly dialed Lewis, putting the phone on speaker just as Rorie retched again.

"Baby, are you okay? You're scaring me!" Lewis's voice rang out.

"It's Deja…" Rorie managed after a moment.

"What about her?"

"I'm going to kill that bitch, Lewis."

Lewis let out an exhausted "Fuck," followed by, "Let me call Julian."

Rorie stayed bent over, the cool night air doing little to settle her churning stomach. This night had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and somehow she knew it was just the beginning of whatever Deja had planned.

The Miami Grand Prix was a spectacle of color, sound, and energy—a vibrant mix of fans, press, and celebrities, all eager to catch a glimpse of the action on the track. Rorie moved through the paddock with an effortless confidence, dressed in a chic Tommy Hilfiger ensemble—a red mini dress paired with a tailored jacket that bore the iconic brand’s colors. As a Tommy Hilfiger ambassador, she was there to represent, but her mind was constantly pulled to her family, to Lyric, who was wide-eyed and curious, soaking in everything around him.

Julian, their lawyer, had been adamant about his involvement from the start. He wasn’t thrilled about the meeting, and honestly, neither was she—but at least they’d agreed that Julian would be there too, ensuring Deja wouldn’t pull any more stunts. When Julian had looked her in the eye and said, "We’re not letting her turn this into another circus," Rorie had felt an odd sense of relief. Knowing he’d be present gave her the peace of mind to enjoy the weekend with Lewis and Lyric.

Rorie’s attention snapped back to the present as she felt a tiny hand tug at her fingers. Lyric was pointing excitedly to the rows of cars lined up, his face lit with pure awe. She bent down to his level, taking in his excitement with a soft smile.

"Vroom! Vroom!"

"Yeah, baby," she murmured, brushing a soft kiss over his braids. "Those are Daddy’s friends’ cars."

"Where Dada?"

Rorie grinned. "He’s around here somewhere."

Just then, as if on cue, she spotted Lewis, looking impossibly focused and handsome in his race suit, his head bent as he spoke with one of his team members. When he looked up and saw them, his face transformed, a wide grin spreading across his features. He lifted a hand in greeting, then broke into an easy jog to close the distance between them.

"There’s Daddy," Rorie murmured to Lyric, moving aside so he could see his father approaching. "Look, sweetheart."

Lewis bent down, scooping Lyric up and spinning him around, making their son laugh with pure joy. Then, Lewis turned to her, his eyes softening as they met hers. "You’re a vision today," he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Rorie smiled, feeling her cheeks flush a little. "All part of the ambassador duty," she teased, tugging lightly on the lapel of her jacket.

The three of them shared a quiet moment, standing close amid the bustling paddock. For a while, it was easy to forget about Deja, about the upcoming meeting, about everything that threatened to intrude on this moment. But she could still feel the tension, a low hum of anxiety that sat just below the surface.

Julian’s text from earlier that morning flashed in her mind: Remember, we’re handling this our way. She doesn’t get to make the rules.

It was a reminder she clung to, something that kept her grounded even as she stole another glance at Lewis and Lyric. This weekend, she’d focus on them, on supporting Lewis and creating memories with Lyric. Whatever Deja had to say could wait—she wasn’t about to let that woman spoil the joy of watching her husband race, of seeing her son’s eyes light up in wonder.

But just as she settled into the moment, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of KiKi, striding over with her typical swagger, dressed in a sharp, stylish outfit that turned heads as she passed.

Rorie raised her brows, genuinely surprised. "KiKi? What are you doing here?"

KiKi grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Lewis called me in for backup," she said with a shrug, flashing Lewis a knowing smile.

Lewis, still holding Lyric, gave a small, guilty grin. "Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra support this weekend," he said, adjusting Lyric on his hip. "Especially with everything going on."

Rorie couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief. Having KiKi around meant an added layer of support, someone who understood the intricacies of their situation with Deja and who would have her back if things got tense. But she was also wary; KiKi wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety, and Rorie wanted this meeting to be as low-key as possible.

"I don’t know if having you there is the best idea, though," Rorie said, keeping her tone light but firm. "You know how things can get."

KiKi put a hand on her hip, feigning offense. "Girl, please. I can be chill when I need to be," she replied, but the glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Rorie sighed, giving her friend a look. "I mean it, Ki. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a showdown."

KiKi held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Promise, I'll keep it cool. I’m just here to have your back. Besides, I’m curious to see what Deja’s got to say for herself."

Rorie gave a reluctant nod, knowing KiKi meant well. She’d always been fiercely protective, and Rorie knew that no matter what, KiKi wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her or her family. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how Deja would react to seeing KiKi there.

"So, what’s the plan with her anyway?" KiKi asked, lowering her voice slightly. "You really think she’s trying to play nice?"

Rorie bit her lip, glancing over at Lewis, who was now trying to entertain Lyric with exaggerated car sounds. "I don’t know. She claims she wants to talk about boundaries, but I’m not sure I buy it. It feels like another setup."

KiKi snorted. "Wouldn’t put it past her. But hey, at least you’ve got Julian there to keep things on track. And me, if she tries any funny business."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for KiKi’s support even if she was apprehensive about the meeting. "Yeah. Julian’s already set some strict ground rules. We’re meeting in a neutral space, and he’s keeping it professional. He won’t let her turn this into another circus."

"Good," KiKi replied, crossing her arms as her gaze turned serious. "Just remember, she doesn’t get to call the shots here. You’re in control."

Rorie took a deep breath, nodding. "Right. I just don’t want her stirring up drama when all I want is to focus on this weekend with my family."

KiKi gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You’ve got this, Ro. And if she steps out of line? Well, I’ll be there, chillin'... but keeping an eye out."

Rorie laughed, the tension easing slightly as she glanced back at Lewis, who had Lyric balanced on his shoulders now, the little boy giggling as he held onto his father’s head.

"Thanks, Ki. I appreciate you being here," Rorie said softly.

KiKi smirked. "Girl, you know I’d be here even if you didn’t want me to. Now, let’s enjoy the day and not let her mess with our vibe. Besides, your little one looks like he’s having the time of his life."

After watching Lewis' Free Practice, Rorie found herself alongside Mick Schumacher at the Tommy Hilfiger pop-up store in the paddock. Their easy rapport made the ambassador duties feel less like work and more like hanging out with a friend.

"The new collection's fire," Mick said, adjusting the collar of his Tommy polo. "But I think Lyric's stealing the show."

He wasn't wrong. Lyric, now dressed in a miniature version of the collection, was charming everyone who passed by.

After wrapping up the promotional duties, Rorie made her way to watch the F1 Academy practice sessions with Susie Wolff. The sight of female drivers commanding their machines around the track filled her with pride.

"It's amazing to see how far we've come," Susie remarked, her Scottish accent warm with emotion. "These girls are the future."

Lyric, perched on Rorie's hip, pointed excitedly at the cars. "Fast! Mama, fast!"

"That's right, baby. They're very fast," Rorie agreed, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Later, they ran into Kevin Magnussen near the garages. Lyric immediately perked up, looking around expectantly.

"L'waura?" he asked, his little face scrunching up in confusion when he didn't spot his friend.

Kevin laughed warmly. "She's with Mommy today, but we can FaceTime her later. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" Lyric clapped his hands excitedly.

The lightness of the afternoon stood in stark contrast to what awaited Rorie that evening with Deja. She wanted nothing more than to end whatever bullshit Deja was on, but she knew that not everything will be easy coming from her.

____________________________________________________

Later that evening, away from the excitement of the track, Rorie arrived at the offices of Ocasio & Associates, one of Julian's trusted colleagues in Miami. The sleek high-rise office space felt appropriately neutral and formal for what was about to unfold.

Julian was already there, reviewing documents when Rorie walked in with KiKi. They settled into the conference room, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Miami skyline at dusk.

When Deja walked in with her lawyer, her face immediately darkened at the sight of KiKi. "What is she doing here?"

"I'm here for moral support, honey," KiKi drawled, her tone deceptively sweet.

Julian cleared his throat. "Let's focus on why we're here."

What followed was an hour of increasingly tense discussion. Deja insisted on rehashing her version of events from All-Star Weekend 2017, her voice growing more animated as she described what she claimed was a meaningful connection with Lewis.

"We had something real," Deja insisted, leaning forward in her chair. "Before she came along—"

"You're delusional," Rorie cut in, her patience finally snapping. "You had a drunken hookup - if that even happened - and now you're trying to rewrite history."

"You don't know what—"

"No, you don't know what you're talking about," Rorie stood up, her voice firm and final. "Julian, we're done here. No more settlement talks. Take her ass to court and drag her to fucking filth."

As they left the office building, KiKi fell into step beside her. "You good?"

Rorie nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm done playing nice. She wants to live in her fantasy world? Fine. But she's about to learn what reality feels like."

As they walked down the quiet Miami street, the humid evening air thick around them, Rorie suddenly felt her stomach lurch. Without warning, she lurched toward a nearby trash can, barely making it before emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Rorie!" Julian rushed out after them, producing a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her as she straightened up, her hand trembling slightly as she wiped her mouth.

KiKi was at her side instantly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Girl, are you okay? What's going on?"

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to settle her churning stomach. "I'm fine," she managed. "Just stress, I think. This whole situation with Deja…"

"Nah, you need to calm down," KiKi said firmly, keeping her hand on Rorie's back. "This isn't worth getting sick over. Remember that wine bar we used to hit up when I lived down here? The one with the amazing cheese plates?"

Despite her queasy stomach, Rorie felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "God, that sounds perfect right now."

"Then let's go," KiKi decided, already steering Rorie toward the street to hail a car. "Julian, you good?"

Julian nodded, still looking concerned. "Call me if you need anything. And Rorie? Try not to worry about Deja. We've got this handled."

As they climbed into the car, Rorie leaned back against the cool leather seats, grateful for KiKi's steady presence beside her. Maybe what she needed right now wasn't more strategy sessions or legal talks. Maybe what she needed was just this - a night with her best friend, some good wine, and a chance to remember who she was beyond all the drama.

"Thanks, Ki," she said softly as the car pulled away from the curb.

KiKi squeezed her hand. "Always got your back, girl. Always."

TO BE CONTINUED....

[thestorycomesalive]

And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and “Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

 You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

 Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

 The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

[pyroclastic727]

The Marvels is being scathed by critics, and that's a good thing.

I finally saw The Marvels today. I'm a bit late to the party, so all I saw about the movie was the teaser at the end of Ms Marvel, and way too many critical reviews of it.

Now, obviously on Tumblr you find the good reviews, like, the cats outnumbering the white men and how Kamala Khan is, like, basically all of us. But in person, I've had someone tell me that it's bad because Rotten Tomatoes rates it 43%, which-- besides wondering why anyone would listen to Rotten Tomatoes, I'd have to wonder why the website would give it such a low rating. The easy answer is that the Tomatoes review committee is populated by white men, who, upon having no one to relate to, react badly to the movie. But I think there's more to it.

The Marvels is a revolution. Through its character-driven writing and brazen exploration of morality, it rewrites the superhero formula completely, by questioning what exactly it means to be a superhero.

The Marvels was directed by Nia DaCosta, an award-winning Harlem native and creative visionary whose approach to this film was to define these characters as humans, not as superheroes. Her approach to heroism directly addresses that the idea that a hero is not always right. A hero, DaCosta claims, is "someone who's trying their best with the information and tools they have at the time. They'll always get it wrong." Carol Danvers's arc directly addresses this, as the resolution of her subplot involves her re-igniting the sun that she snuffed out. Her heroic act is to undo the damage that she wrought.

When compared to old Marvel, this message just doesn't come through. In WandaVision, Wanda's grief is for a family that was killed by the Avengers. Yet, she is painted as a villain, even as she searches for a happy home, even as she at one point joins the Avengers. The Avengers cannot undo what they did, and don't really try. They defeat the big bad, sacrifice their lives, but nothing brings back Wanda's family. Nothing undoes that war. No one searches for Wanda after the event, to try to help her with her grief, except for Monica, and she's working against orders. Their heroics are militant, but while they excel at destruction, they leave the people they hurt in the dust.

This antiheroic plot of old Marvel is precisely what appealed to so many American audiences. Their protagonists are: a rich corporation, a super-soldier, a privileged teenager, a scientist who makes weapons, an ex-convict, a man born into godlike power, and I'm sure there are others but I don't actually care that much... (these would be iron man, captain america, peter parker spiderman, hulk, antman, thor, and etc). All these archetypes appeal to American ideals that the wealthy would sympathize with. They claim that there are people who are inherently bad and seek the power that they have, in the way that a poor person might want a job that a wealthy person wants their child to secure. They claim that it is their business to save those which cannot save themselves, and use this to get involved in wars that are not theirs, and beat up badguys whose backstory they have no way of knowing-- and they punch before they stop and listen.

They are cops in every sense of the word. The responsibility of the vigilante is to defend against evil, but part of that responsibility is to figure out who exactly is evil and who is in need of help.

The Marvels creates a team that tries to distinguish evil from good, and delves into the grey area between them. The final battle between Carol Danvers and Dar-benn has the superhero pinning the grey-haired antagonist to the ground as she begs for, then demands, that Carol fix what she damaged. Monica urges her to listen. Through this, The Marvels argues that a hero does not always beat up the bad guy and fight against unrelenting evil, but that a hero can be wrong, and that a hero can reconsider. It's kindness in the way that is revolutionary, where it's much easier to choose cruelty.

The fact that the movie is getting torn apart by critics, then, is not just because it is a "girls movie" or it doesn't have a strong white man for the white male viewer to sympathize with. The Marvels cannot appeal to Marvel fans because it rewrites the genre itself. It takes a film series whose purpose was to depict the struggles of cops, of the wealthy, of people with too much power who are trying to learn how to responsibly wield it, but don't. And it gives that power to people who have watched superheroes try and fail, who are slowly learning to be better heroes than the ones before them.

The next generation is a critique of the last, a group trying not to make the mistakes of the chosen ones that came before them, and as such, the movie exists to critique the movies that came before it. Therefore, a viewer of Marvel who would positively review it, due to sympathizing with the previous heroes and enjoying the power fantasy, would dislike it out of its existence being critical and contradictory to the films they like themselves.

The Marvels is not for Marvel fans-- at least, not those who saw the Avengers as purely heroes. Instead, the film reaches out to people who would have been against the old Avengers, who want a story that dismantles the unquestioned idealism of superheroes and writes about people trying to protect their communities and the people they care about.

So, let the critics complain. The MCU is shedding its roots as a pro-cop and pro-colonialism power fantasy, and evolving into an exploration of what it means to be a true hero.

[onceinawhilemoon]

The Tale of The Empty House Quest and The Power of Imagination

There's something that I haven't noticed before in the ending credits of SHCO.

The credits show Stonewood Manor in a “past vs. present” sequence. We see the rooms as they were in the past: vibrant, warm, and beautiful, before they transform into the present: dark, cold, and ramshackled.

But the present here isn't just the present; it's Sherlock’s present while he was staying in the manor, and we can see ALL THE AUCTIONED PIECES THAT WE'VE BEEN BUYING THROUGHOUT THE GAME and even that sketch of Ms. Nini's fugly thief in Sherlock's room.

Like, I did wonder how Sherlock managed to refurbish and repaint every room and make them look as good as new all by himself with just a scant few items of furniture, but I never really gave it much thought, simply attributed it to game logic and rolled with it.

BUT THAT'S THE THING. He never really did.

I did wonder how Sherlock put his hand through the lit fireplace to retrieve Mycroft's key, and didn't give it much thought either because again, game logic, but that fireplace was never lit to begin with.

To Sherlock, when he set to “refurbish” the manor–which entailed him buying whatever auctioned items he could find still being sold around Cordona because like a decade had passed–and to us playing as him as we progressed in the Tale of the Empty House quest, the house started to look warm and colorful and beautiful:

In reality, though, they were just those items that he restored here and there and everything else HE WAS SEEING IN HIS OWN MIND and the ending credits show us what the manor actually looked like while we were in it:

Which means that the entire time that we were running around the house with Jon and that beautiful soundtrack as we reminisced and lovingly renovated and decorated it with trophies and case memorabilia, we were running around that same dark, cold, decaying building from the start of the game, except for those little additions here and there...

And if you look at the restored items, you’ll notice how the family portrait is still unveiled, the carpet isn't fully rolled out, Jon’s bed isn't positioned against the wall like it should have been, and there's a covered painting atop the closet in Sherlock's room that didn't originally belong there.

Everything that we reclaimed from the shops looks messily and hurriedly put together–Sherlock is a one man after all and a very busy one–and yet, his creativity and imagination were powerful enough to fill in the rest.

All this time we spent in the “refurbished” Stonewood Manor, we were simply living inside a memory. We were in Sherlock's mind seeing a product of his imagination so vivid that it created a real sense of presence in the revived manor–as real as Jon was to him–despite the actual state of disrepair.

I don't know why it never occurred to me before. It's pretty obvious now, and it makes so much sense; there was no way Sherlock was going to find everything that was auctioned still being sold and intact (and he didn't, the items he found were like 10 or 13 tops) and make the house look like that all by himself. He could have hired people to repaint and clean and bought similar furniture, I guess, but that's just far-fetched to me. He barely even spent time in the manor to put all of this extra effort on renovations.

I sobbed uncontrollably when I realized this sgsjiwise (the ending credits already make me so weak, especially with that damned music UGH).

I don't know. There's something so bittersweetly pure about him trying to reclaim the space that was once his own with whatever minimal resources he had available. Whatever he couldn't find, he simply substituted with creativity and imagination, and that was enough to imbue the space with warmth and a real sense of home sweet home. It's almost reminiscent of the way a child plays make-belief. I think it's a beautiful testament to the power of imagination, how it has the ability to transform environments and create a sense of belonging.

And then, just like 10 years ago as if he still lived there, he went around and put up posters and trophies and memorabilia, despite knowing that he wasn't staying there for long, and that once he left, it was forever. It's like he wanted to experience what it was like living in the manor one last time, leaving one last imprint saying, “I was here.”

I wonder what Mycroft thought of it all when he came back later to check on Sherlock. He must have at least gone through the entire ground floor in order to get to the back garden, so he must have seen all the restored items and the very personal traces of his brother's short-lived presence scattered among the junk and clutter of their dilapidated old home. I imagine they starkly stood out not just because they were not supposed to be there, but because of how they were like little touches of life in an otherwise dead and quiet space that'd been dead and quiet for a long time..

I really admire how FW managed to set up the sense of nostalgia in this game. Not just nostalgia, but “vicarious nostalgia”. I kept having that wistful longing for places I haven't personally been and experiences I haven't personally lived but felt very connected to through Sherry's (and Jon's) memories and stories (there's like a German word for this phenomenon I'm pretty sure but I forgor) but I guess SHCO does tab into something for all of us, right? Childhood innocence and memories, imaginary friends, leaving your childhood home and coming back years later... There's a little something there for everyone to relate to, I think.

[minecraftbookshelf]

Traffic Life Scars: Ethoslab

All updates will be made to this post specifically as we get new seasons and new final deaths.

Welcome to my series of MS Paint diagrams following the headcanon/concept that every minecraft death leaves a scar, and while most of those do not continue past the end of the server, the final deaths leave permanent marks on the cubito. (And also some other deaths that have significant impact on the story, the cubito, or both, these are extremely rare.) I did take some creative license with the deaths, mostly in the sense of figuring out how to handle Fall Damage in a slightly more realistic context, as well as figuring out approximately where final blows would land based on the respective positioning of the cubitos in question. This project has also shown some interesting patterns in how some of them tend to die. On with the show!

The fact that Etho isn't even the worst off.

Third Life: Etho died to fire damage dealt by Impulse during the Battle of Dogwarts. I chose the location based off the direction the attack that initially caught him on fire came from.

Last Life: Joel killed Etho before dying himself when the later-game red lifers banded together to take out him and Grian. Etho struggled with his shield during that confrontation, which let Joel get enough hits in to kill him before being killed immediately after by Scott. I placed that injury as a glancing blow off the top rim of his shield.

Double Life: Etho and Joel died to a lava-trapped nether portal. The scars are from the lava flow. Etho died first, so his scars are a bit more prominent than Joel's.

Limited Life: Etho (like so, so many other people this season) died to fall damage. He was fighting the Mean Gills on the edge of the Bad Boy Manor and lost his balance. The "camera angle" of the ground as he fell is pretty much how i decided where the impact probably was.

Secret Life: Scar killed him by catching up and passing him via enderpearl as he fled to "die in my home." A combination of the high ground and whatever Scar was on that session got Scar the win very quickly. The scar for this one is a sword strike that lines up almost perfectly with the scar Etho already had that is part of his skin. (The Kakashi Scar) At least that one will be covered by the mask. I guess.

-

[Bdoubleo100] [Bigbst4tz2] [Geminitay] [GoodTimesWithScar] [Grian] [ImpulseSV] [InTheLittleWood] [LDShadowlady] [Mumbo Jumbo] [PearlescentMoon] [Rendog] [Skizzleman] [Smajor1995] [Smallishbeans] [SolidarityGaming] [TangoTek] [ZombieCleo]

SERIES TAG

[mrghostrat]

Hello!! I'm not new to writing but I am absolutely new to writing fanfiction and have been extremely nervous to even start doing that, do have any suggestions on where to start so I don't make it accidentally it's own story just using someone else's character names? ( I mean that in a sense of accidentally altering their personalities and other components that would be really important) Because chances are I probably won't notice while doing it and probably think it's fine. I'm really really bad at not noticing mistakes until it's too late to fix them but I have a fic idea that I think would be really cool and I don't know how to go about it without doing it terribly.

Here's a random pic I took this afternoon, I dunno just the way you describe scenes I figured you'd enjoy the atmosphere of it?

1. this picture is stunning, my god, it's giving me chills. so beautiful, thank you for sharing 👁️👁️

2, i think dialogue is probably one of the biggest components of characterisation, so linking back to canon dialogue can be a really helpful and easy way of keeping your characterisation in check. quite literally an exercise in "would he fucking say that?"

you've probably noticed how much i love using canonical lines from the show like this, even though i'm usually taking them out of their original context. as a reader, hearing dialogue in MS/DT's voices can be very grounding, and as a writer, it can keep you in line as you write their conversations.

i also like trying to create a parallel between events and decisions in my fic vs the canon. something tiny: in ATWS chapter 3, crowley orders takeaway and convinces aziraphale to get something too. in my initial plan, he was going to say no and wave crowley away/be a bit holier than thou, but when i made the takeaway food bbq ribs (like the ox rib), i realised it was literally aziracrow 101 for crowley to tempt him successfully into things, especially food. so i made aziraphale say yes, and simply act put out about it.

you'd think these kinds of parallels would be more important on a grander scale, but i like comparing every little decision to the canon, even if it's only for a moment, to think about how they'd act in that situation. it could be an entirely different universe but they can still be the same characters who make the same decisions as an angel and demon would.

3. a lot of people would say that it doesn't matter, that you can write whatever you want even if it's wholly out of character and just has their names attached to it. even though that's not the kind of fan fiction i like to read and write, it's still valid, and the most important thing is that you're having fun and being creative. basically, don't sweat it if it's not perfect.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ahoy!Hoy! How are you today, Ms Raven? I hope you're well and all is well.

Out of curiosity, Which of the twst boys have their unique magic and what/ how do their unique magic work?

The UM names, chants, effects, and restrictions we know of so far are below the cut. Please note: JP uses the term “unique magic” and EN uses the term “signature spell”; I will be using the abbreviation “UM” throughout this post to refer to it. Note that some incantations are taken directly from the official localization; others come from fan translations that I happen to like or prefer over the official ones, which I will indicate with "***".

Please also know that we don’t know the same amount of information about each UM nor their effects or limitations. I’ve done my best to compile what information we do know for certain though. I’ll update this post as more information comes out!!

***Beware of spoilers, as this post has information from TWST JP!!***

Riddle

"Off With Your Head" collars a target and seals their magic away, preventing them from spellcasting.

The collar cannot be removed by any means unless Riddle himself chooses to do so.

“Are you ready for your sentence? The verdict comes afterwards. Any last words? Off With Your Head!” (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: prologue-3 of the main story

First instance of incantation: Episode of Heartslabyul manga chapter 1

Trey

In JP, Trey’s UM is called “Doodle Suit”. In EN, it’s called “Paint the Roses”, which likely derives from how the UM is written literally as “(Let’s) Paint the Roses”.

His UM allows Trey to temporarily override or “paint over” a targeted aspect of something or someone else, usually the senses. For example, he can rewrite taste as well as rewrite “other people’s magic” as “his magic”.

***"White to red, and red to white. Paint the Roses/Doodle Suit!”*** (by Mystery Shop TLs)

First use of UM: 1-14 of the main story

First instance of incantation: Twisted Wonderland Novelization Volume 1

Cater

Cater’s UM is “Split Card”, which allows him to create clones of himself. The clones can act independently, but the more clones Cater creates at once, the more strain is placed on him.

In the manga, the clones are shown to revert to playing cards when they’re no longer needed or damaged.

“I am he and we are they. Split Card!” (TWST Episode of Heartslabyul manga official localization)

"I’m him and he’s them! Split Card!!” (TWST EN official localization)

***"I am he, and he is me. Split Card!"*** (by the Turtle Soup Scans team)

First use of UM: prologue-3 of the main story

First instance of incantation: Episode of Heartslabyul manga chapter 7 and/or P.E. Uniform vignette

Ace

No information available yet other than we know he’s shocked that Deuce manifested his UM before he did.

Deuce

His UM first manifests in book 5; in JP, it goes by the name “Bet the Limit”, whereas in EN, it’s “Double Down”, both of which are betting terms.

Bet the Limit allows the caster, Deuce, to send back all the damage he has taken at double the power.

"It's payback time! Get a load of this! Bet the Limit/Double Down!" (TWST EN official localization)

***“I’ll make you pay for that! Grit your teeth and take it! Bet the Limit!”*** (by Mystery Shop TLs; some creative liberties taken)

When Azul uses Deuce's UM in Glorious Masquerade, the chant is: "... It's time to pay up! You're in for a world of hurt! Double Down!" (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 5-45 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 5-64 of the main story

Leona

“King’s Roar” turns anything Leona commands into sand. It also seems to induce a dry environment. The UM is called “The King’s Roar” in EN.

According to in-game dialogue, anything Leona touches after casting King's Roar turns to sand. Due to the limitations of the visual novel style of the game, it's unclear whether or not Leona's spell requires physically touching something. If we reference other official materials (such as the animated trailer) it doesn't look to be a hard requirement.

He can control the sand he creates.

Leona's UM has the capability to kill (since it has an effect on even living beings); this terrible power is part of the reason why he was gossiped about and feared by the palace servants (seen in his post-OB flashback).

"I am the one who hungers. I am the one who thirsts. I am the one that robs you of your future. Kneel before me! King’s Roar!" (TWST EN official localization)

***“I am your hunger. I am your thirst. I am what steals the light of your tomorrows. Kneel before me! King’s Roar!”*** (by twstarchives!)

First use of UM: 2-25 of the main story

First instance of incantation: Leona Dorm Uniform vignettes (part 3)

Ruggie

“Laugh with Me” lets Ruggie control the movements of other people by forcing them to copy his own body.

The more people he's controlling, the more difficult it is for him. (It's possible to take magic-enhancing potions to increase the number of people he can control at once, seemingly without negative detriment.)

***"Both kings and hyenas are my friends! Laugh with Me!"*** (by MysteryShopTLs!)

First use of UM: 2-2 of the main story

First instance of incantation: Episode of Savanaclaw manga volume 2 (I think chapter 7)

Jack

"Unleash Beast" gives Jack the power to turn into a large, powerful wolf form without the help of a transformation potion or other outside means. In EN, it has become "Unleash the Beast" to comply with English grammatical rules.

In his wolf form, Jack has heightened strength, speed, etc.

Jack had to train himself to be able to stay in his wolf form for long periods of time.

First use of UM: 2-25 of the main story

First instance of incantation: TBD

Azul

"It's a Deal" grants Azul the ability to confiscate an agreed-upon ability or spell of his client; Azul is then able to use these abilities or spells for himself.

If the client is not able to fulfill their end of the contract or breaches its terms, the client is forced to comply with Azul's every command (via the anemone they'd sprout on their head).

The agreement is valid as long as the golden contract which seals the agreement is left intact; however, the contracts are fragile like real paper. For this reason, Azul electrifies them with magic in order to create the false impression that the contracts are indestructible.

Azul is also able to take abilities without consent or without a contract. This method causes much more rapid blot accumulation, as normally the contracts help limit this.

He indicates that he "worked on" his UM, whatever the heck that means. It implies he trained or practiced using it to get better st it or to better understand its limits.

"The song ceases, the sun sets. I extend my benevolent hand to you poor, unfortunate souls. Now, to business! It's a Deal!" (TWST EN official localization)

***"The song ends, the sun sets. Extend mercy upon these poor, unfortunate souls. Now, sign the contract! It’s a Deal!"*** (by Mystery Shop TLs; some creative liberties taken)

First use of UM: book 3 of the main story, but he's been using it long before NRC

First instance of incantation: 5-5 of Glorious Masquerade

Jade

“Shock the Heart” forces a target to speak only the truth. It requires the target to look into Jade’s left eye in order to work.

This UM can only be used once per person and fails if casted on someone who is very alert, cautious, or are already aware of its effect. This is why Jade intentionally keeps his UM secret.

Shock the Heart is not all-powerful or absolute; in cases of strong loyalty, a target may not divulge the truths Jade wants to hear. For example, Kalim, who was very easy to initially trick, trusts Jamil so deeply that he resists Jade’s demands to tell him who in Scarabia has a mind-controlling UM.

"Don’t be afraid. I want to help you. Shock the Heart." (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 3-1 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 4-25 of the main story

Floyd

“Bind the Heart” allows Floyd to redirect magical attacks, thereby rendering him unaffected by them.

His UM is highly dependent on his mood; if Floyd isn’t feeling up to it, then the spell won’t work.

***“It was just gettin’ good, but what if I butt in?”*** (by MysteryShopTLs!)

First use of UM: 3-18 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 7-187 of the main story

Kalim

“Oasis Maker” summons a large amount of (fresh, not salt) water in exchange for only a (relatively) small amount of magical power.

Any additional effects of the water (if any) are not specifically stated; other characters just remark that the water is tasty and at a nice temperature.

Kalim says he doesn’t think his UM is all that useful, especially since the development of waterways in his home country has made it much easier to access potable water.

"Respite in the scalding sands, a neverending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!" (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 4-14 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 4-14 of the main story

Jamil

His UM is known as “Snake Whisper” in JP and “Snake Charmer” in English (which is likely taken from the way “Snake Whisper” is literally written as “Snake Charmer” in the original JP).

This spell lets Jamil hypnotize people and make them follow his commands. His targets must make eye contact for him in order for Snake Whisper to work.

The more a target resists Jamil’s UM, the more target will hurt until they finally succumb to the spell.

Long-term use and/or controlling multiple people at once can cause more rapid blot accumulation.

Mind control or manipulation magic like Jamil’s is harder to master.

"The one you behold is your master. When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent. Snake Whisper." (TWST EN official localization)

***"The one you see reflected in your eyes is your master. Answer when I ask. Bow when I command. Snake Whisper."*** (by Mystery Shop TLs)

First use of UM: book 4-6 of the main story, but Jamil has been mind-controlling Kalim before this instance

First instance of incantation: 4-30 of the main story

Vil

"Fairest One of All" lets Vil curse any item he touches and to set the conditions to break that curse. These conditions are immovable and, once set, not even Vil can lift the curse.

"I lose naught and fear naught. This shining crown was made for me. Fairest One of All." (Note: Vil denotes the conditions for the curse after the chant.) (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 5-32 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 6-55 of the main story

Rook

In EN, Rook's UM is "Arrow Afar". The original name for JP is "I See You". This is a small, slight (and therefore hard to notice or gauge as dangerous) spell that is cast upon targets. He can then pinpoint their exact location, regardless of distance.

If the tagged item or person has entered a zone which blocks off magic, then Rook cannot track their location.

"Come, see if you can flee from me. I See You/Arrow Afar." (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 6-25 of the main story (for tracking); the tagging is actually done earlier in the book

First instance of incantation: 6-25 of the main story

Epel

In JP, Epel's UM is "Sleep Kiss". In EN, it was changed to "Crimson Slumber". This lets Epel conjure enchanted glass coffins to contain people. Once inside, his targets fall into a deep sleep. Epel describes his spell as being able to “stop the activity” of people inside the coffin.

The coffins can be used as powerful barriers to protect others. It may also help in delaying or slowing the effects of a curse if a vicim is placed inside one of Epel’s coffin.

Epel manifests his UM in book 6; Rook helps guide him in using it.

"Your eyes will close, your breath will still. Sleep Kiss/Crimson Slumber." (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 6-58 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 6-58 of the main story

Idia

"Gate to Underworld" allows Idia to open and close the gateway to the "Underworld"/Tartarus which is house in STYX HQ. It is written in EN as "Gate to the Underworld". The Underworld holds many dangerous Phantoms which the facility researches.

It is implied that Idia’s UM is hereditary to the Shroud family.

"Game, set, match. Gate to (the) Underworld." (TWST EN official localization)

First use of UM: 6-68 of the main story, though technically Idia may have used it in 6-54 to let OG!Ortho out of Tartarus (we don’t get to see it explicitly being used).

First instance of incantation: 6-68 of the main story

Ortho

No information available yet; Ortho has stated that he cannot use magic, so it’s unlikely that he can have a UM at all.

UPDATE: Ortho confirms in book 7 he does not have a UM and cannot develop one. However, what makes him "unique" is his robotic nature; he is able to transfer his consciousness to new vessels.

Malleus

“Fae of Maleficence” summons thorns which causes all living beings in its area of effect to fall into a deep slumber. (Ortho speculates that people, if left in this state, will have their bodies deteriorate.) In EN, the name was changed to “Fae Maleficence”.

Malleus's UM also creates thorns which allow him absolute control of whatever is contained inside of the space the thorns preoccupy. This includes stopping time within the area. Previously, Malleus was also seen stopping time in the event Endless Halloween Night. However, it's not known whether this occurred because of his UM or not.

It is possible for Malleus to manipulate the sleepers’ dreams and to glimpse into them.

The dreams can run by themselves, pulling reference information from each individual dreamer's memories and desires. If the dreamer tries to wake up, the dream will do everything in its power to keep the dreamer asleep.

It may be difficult for Malleus to enter one’s dream if the dream takes place in a period where he does not exist (such as not yet being born out of his egg) or if he does not understand certain concepts (like technology). This is because magic requires imagination, and it is hard for Malleus to imagine particular scenarios.

"Spinning wheel of fate, spin the threads of calamity. I, the Lord of Malevolence, offer this blessing. Fae Maleficence." (TWST EN official localization)

***“Spin the thread of disaster on the spinning wheel of Fate. For I, the Ruler of the Abyss, shall bestow it (a blessing) upon you. Fae of Maleficence.”*** (by Mystery Shop TLs; creative liberties taken)

First use of UM: 7-37 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 7-37 of the main story

Lilia

"Far Cry Cradle" allows Lilia to view the memories associated with an object by touching it.

"As fast as the days pass by, take me there in the blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle." (TWST EN official localization)

***"As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle."*** (by Yaoyaobae)

First use of UM: 7-81 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 7-81 of the main story

Silver

Bear with me, Silver's UM has like a million and one parts to it...

"Meet in a Dream" essentially allows Silver to hop between peoples’ dream worlds. It can only be used when he himself is asleep and when he is aware he is dreaming.

Silver does not experience narcolepsy while he is within a dream.

“Dreamways” are transitional places between dreams. These dreamways look like a softly colored sky with birds flying through them.

Silver cannot control whose dream he goes to, although he has noted that it tends to be people whom he has a strong bond with, such as Lilia or Sebek. It's not clear how he is able to walk in Mickey's dream, as Silver doesn't seem to be familiar with him.

The dreamer is indicated by a shining white bird that flies around them. Silver must stay close to the dreamer or else he will risk falling deeper into sleep.

He can only leave the dream when the dreamer wakes up (thus dissolving the dream world) or if he uses his UM to hop into another dream.

The dreamer can be woken by a large shock, whether physical or emotional.

Silver says his UM does not take a lot of magical energy to use.

"Those I've met and will someday... Meet in a Dream." (TWST EN official localization)

***"To the one I’ve met before, to the one I’ve yet to meet. Meet in a Dream."*** (by Mystery Shop TLs)

First use of UM: 7-43 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 7-43 of the main story

Sebek

"Living Bolt" turns Sebek’s entire body into lightning. He can use that magic to attack and to travel very quickly.

However, the spell will damage his body with use.

Sebek reports developing this UM when Silver enrolled at NRC and when Sebek was training by himself. He wanted to be able to rush to Malleus’s side at a moment’s notice

Sebek says this is the first time he's using his UM and that he hasn't fully mastered it yet. He had not intended to use it until he has mastered it.

"Lightning, pierce the stormy skies! Living Bolt!" (TWST EN official localization)

***"Thrust through the clouds, o' lightning! Living Bolt!"*** (by curekibouka!)

First use of UM: 7-84 of the main story

First instance of incantation: 7-84 of the main story

Che’nya

Che’nya’s UM allows him to turn himself (whether in whole or in parts) invisible.

We don’t yet know the name of the UM or the incantation for it.

Che’nya appears to mainly utilize his UM to sneak onto NRC campus and to steal food.

First use of UM: 1-18 of the main story

First instance of incantation: TBD

Rollo

“Dark Fire” envelops Rollo’s entire body in fire. He can manipulate this fire as he likes, and the flames grow more powerful the more negative feelings there are present.

"Crimson lotus flames, burn my body and guide me. Darkfire!" (TWST EN official localization)

***“O, crimson lotus flower… Scorch my soul and guide me. Dark Fire!”*** (by Mystery Shop TLs)

First use of UM: 5-5 of Glorious Masquerade

First instance of incantation: 5-5 of Glorious Masquerade

Fellow

“Life is Fun” makes a target more optimistic and happy. They are then more susceptible to being manipulated by Fellow.

This UM is notable as the only one so far with an incantation spoken in English instead of in Japanese.

The spell has no effect on people who are already very optimistic like Kalim. It also doesn’t work if Fellow tries convincing the target to do something they would never considering doing “from the bottom of their heart”.

The spell doesn’t work on heavily guarded people or people that recently underwent a traumatic event.

Life is Fun doesn’t cost a lot of magic, so it is difficult to detect. It can be used multiple times, the effect “stacking” without risk of Overblot.

***”Come on to the theatre! Life is Fun!”*** (by curekibouka!)

First use of UM: 5-6 of Stage in Playful Land, but technically we’ve been seeing him cast it as early as chapter 1 of the event

First instance of incantation: 5-6 of Stage in Playful Land

Skully

"Scary Night" allows Skully to turn targets (whether objects or people) into pumpkins.

He is still developing his UM, so he cannot use it often. This is something Skully is a little embarrassed about; he still needs to work on it, especially since appearance-changing magic is hard to master.

While pumpkin’d, the targets can still speak but cannot move or use magic.

He can turn people back to normal by releasing the spell, or whenever he runs out of energy to maintain the spell.

Leona suggests that Skully’s magic may not work on a mage with a lot of mana.

***”Light the Lanterns! Scary Night!”*** (by Mostro Lounge VIP!)

First use of UM: 3-4 of Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas

First instance of incantation: 3-4 of Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas

[tadc-harlequin-au]

(I apologize in advance, color meaning is a hyperfixation of mine. Probably has no significance at all in your thing, but the brain has been possessed.)

Now color can have several different interpretations of meanings.

Pomni's main colors are red, blue, and grey. Red usually symbolizes aggression (obviously, look at Anger from Inside Out), but also confidence, strength and courage. Blue is seen as more a calming color, we're not even gonna bring up sadness because it's. Kind of obvious, too. But blue can also represent aloofness. Grey is neutral, yes, but also represents boredom. (The more you know).

Caine's main colors are yellow and also red. See above for some representations of red. But it also represents passion and energy, along with love and strength. Yellow is kind of obvious all around, representing happiness and friendliness. But it also represents caution. Hence the bright yellow of those Wet Floor signs.

Ragatha's main colors are red, white and blue. So uh. See Pomni above for some representations already. But I'm assuming we're going a calmer/less aggressive route for our girl over here. Red also represents love. In Ragatha's case, blue seems to be more of the conservative, stable and reliable. White symbolizes purity and cleanliness. See also: churches

Jax, red and purple. I'm assuming we're going the more aggressive representation of red for this man right here, so probably strength and probably some anger issues. Purple, in some cases, represents royalty? For some reason? Idk man. It also represents creativity, wisdom and magic. That explains why a lot of Ms. Frizzle's dresses are purple. Anyway.

Gangle is a bit of a mystery, because due to the lighting, I can't tell if it's red or magenta. I'm going with magenta. Anyway, it can represent kindness, gentleness and compassion along with tolerance. Then there's depression as a representation. So uh. Take that as you will.

Z is a very, very dark purple with grey and brown. Wisdom for purple, but brown and grey's interpretations are interesting to me. Grey is neutral, as stated previously, along with boredom, but in this case, I think practicality (my dyslexic ass probably didn't spell that right) and seriousness fit more. Brown represents warmth but also stability. Interesting.

My man Kingr is two different shades of purple with light blue thrown in. Royalty/regality for purple, along with wisdom. There is some white thrown in, so Imma throw in athe hop and/or emptiness representation of white. Blue represents reliability and loyalty, which I find ironic, considering the type of model (most likely didn't refer to that right) Kingr is.

Anyway, I apologize, I'm sleep deprived and my author brain went "hey, what if".

No no, don't apologize. Colors DO have a significance to this AU like I've admitted in my confession about who the Patriarch is.

I don't have to correct most of your observations here as they are very much accurate (well done), so I'll only point out the ones you're specifically missing.

Pomni's is not only reds and blues as a callback to TADC Pomni, but also white and yellows. Greys have a significance to Pomni's arc that I'm not yet ready to disclose as of the moment, as the arc hasn't even begun yet, though your observation is still quite accurate nonetheless. Whites represent her "purity", but in a different, darker sense; her individuality is almost scrubbed clean due to what she went through. Reds and blues are actually inspired by the ideologies of the Philippine flag too, where if reds are on top, it means a war is afoot.

Pomni's war is not all external, it is also internal to her as her soul fragments fights against the overpowering yet broken directive that's currently puppeteering her.

Jax is also accurate (though purples don't represent royalty, it represents his creativity/adaptability, with immatureness and emotional instability), but you've also missed cyan. Cyans for him represent his calm, laid-back/carefree attitude that's can also be borderline indifference.

I am curious as to what you mean by Kingr though, as he is pretty loyal to the gang to the point of putting himself in line of danger if he deemed it necessary for everyone else's benefit/survival. He's on the process of abandoning old ideals of "every man for themselves".

[otterglimmie]

Cuphead, Mugman And Ms Chalice Headcanon (+ Interpretation)

// This will be a mix of canon information i have with my headcanons and interpretation, it will be about the three main characters of Cuphead, as you can see. This post is going to be longer than the other 3 last headcanons because I'm going to be more specific, sorry.

Cuphead

• Adventurous: He likes to go out and explore the world outside, It may involve some objective like riches or whatever, but still, he enjoys trying new experiences and exploring new places.

• Confidence: He is sure of themelve and his abilities, not in an arrogant way. He belief in their own decisions and actions

• Careless and Cheeky: He doesn't think much about the consequences of his actions, Sometimes, being quite annoying to deal with.

• Charming yet Troublemaker: He is very brawler, proactive and inpulsive, he tend to causes problems alot, but he can be assertive and charismatic. He can make friends easily due to his friendliness, jokes and social skills.

• Loyal and Kind hearted: He is loyal to his family and friends, He wouldn't think twice before helping someone (his impulsive side can be good sometimes) he is friendly and kind with anyone who is nice.

• Hot Head: he's the type to Get into fights without thinking twice, If someone messes with him or his friends, he will fight and won't stop (unless somebody make him stop), It doesn't matter who it is.

• Naive but Clever: Being a child, he is innocent and tends to quickly believe in someone. But yet, he's clever, he tends to solve problems in a creative ways of own gain.

• Extras: He's a jokester. Likes seafood, honey and marmalade. His nose glows in the dark if you touch it, like Rudolph (This last one is a joke... almost)

Mugman

• Meek: He is calmer and peaceful compared to his hot head brother, He doesn't like to get involved in hand to hand fights (only if is necessary... or force to)

• Cautious: He is also more careful about not getting into trouble, contrary to his brother, He prefers to stay out of.

• Fun loving: But appearances can be deceiving, Despite being a great opposite to his brother, he loves an adventure, for the same reasons as his brother: Explore and discover new things and places.

• Observer: He is great at noticing little things, gestures and details that no one else can. (He would make a great detective)

• Dorky: There are times when he prefers to take a break from adventures and playtime to read a book or finish some schoolwork. He may be seen as a nerd for this but he doesn't care.

• Playful: He doesn't like to be bored and prefers to have fun in some creative way, he is always willing to participate in a variety of arts/sports/activities whenever he can.

• Reasonable: He has common sense and is the most sensible brother, Always trying to resolve things calmly and without discussions

• Extra: He likes mint ice cream. Likes to practice planting and botanic. His nose makes a noise, like a clown's nose.

Ms Chalice

• Friendly: She likes to be surrounded by her friends and also likes to make new ones, she much prefers to be accompanied by them than alone in an empty place.

• Curios: Having been a ghost and been trapped in the maloseum for decades, She would be dying (sorry for the pun) to know what's out there in the world. After returning to life, she didn't miss the opportunity to explore and venture outside, but she always get into trouble thanks to his curiosity.

• Extroverted: She is great at socializing and tends to make friends very easily, meeting new people is always welcoming for her.

• Plucky and confidence: she is a brave gal, who faced worse things before, she's not afraid to take risks and stand of others. She's self-assured, she's belief in their abilities and has a sense of trust in their own decisions and actions

• Headstrong but Stubborn: (On occasions) Likes to do things her way and the way she understands, She believes in what she believes and rarely changes her mind when contradicted

• Troublemaker: Just like Cuphead, she doesn't sit still and gets into trouble thanks to her challenging attitude and stubbornness, She's very vocal about what she thinks.

• Clever: She always tends to think or find solutions quickly, She is agile and ingenious to come up with an idea to solve a problem.

• Extras: She likes flowers like daffodil and marigold. She likes music and dancing. She has Kenophobia

[bihanarms]

The Artist's Secrets : DaltonxReader

warning spoilers ahead.

pov: You and Dalton are in the same art class at the university, and you notice that he has been behaving strangely lately.

Dalton and [Name] were two classmates at the university, sharing a common interest in visual arts. They regularly attended art classes together with their demanding and passionate professor, Ms. Armagan. It was during these moments of creativity that they discovered each other, exchanging ideas, supporting and inspiring one another.

But one day, as they immersed themselves in their painting project during class, Dalton suddenly found his hand covered in blood. The pain was evident on his face, but he remained mysteriously silent. [Name], alerted by the situation, felt a wave of concern rising within her. She knew Dalton as an introspective and reserved person, but something seemed different this time. He appeared lost, adrift in a world she couldn't comprehend.

Approaching him discreetly, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dalton, are you okay?" she murmured, her gaze filled with genuine concern.

Dalton averted his gaze, seeming hesitant to respond. Finally, in a calm but slightly trembling voice, he said, "It's nothing, just an accident."

However, [Name] could sense that there was more to it, something deeper troubling him. She knew it couldn't be just a mere accident.

"Dalton..." she replied softly, insisting that he share what was troubling him. "What's really going on? You can tell me. You know I can read you like a book."

"Just that..." he began, but was interrupted by their professor. "End of class. See you all tomorrow at the same time!" she announced, signaling for everyone to leave the room.

"Sorry, I have to go. See you tomorrow," said the troubled young man before hastily gathering his belongings and exiting the room.

[Name] let out a long sigh before gathering her own things and leaving the class.

_____________________________________

The next day, at the same time, as the visual arts class was coming to an end, Professor Armagan had left the room, leaving Dalton and [Name] alone. The room was calm and peaceful, bathed in the gentle light of the setting sun streaming through the large windows.

[Name] turned her mischievous gaze towards Dalton and remarked, "Well, Dalton, I didn't expect to see you at the frathouse party yesterday..."

Dalton, surprised, let out a genuine laugh. "Well, it was more of a friend who dragged me there... to make fun of them, you know. Anyway, if you saw me there, it means you were there too. So, any defense for yourself?"

[Name] shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "No, no, I'm not the kind of person who enjoys those kinds of parties. I was only there to pick up my brother. Believe me, I usually hate them. I'm relieved you didn't go there just to have fun with those people... so, how was it, then?"

Dalton seemed confused when [Name] asked about the fraternity party. His face briefly froze, revealing a hint of worry that she noticed immediately. Intrigued, she sought to learn more, wanting to understand what troubled him.

"Are you sure you're okay lately?" she asked in a gentle voice, her eyes scanning his for answers.

He averted his gaze, seeming hesitant to share the truth. "It's... it's complicated, [Name]. I'd really prefer not to talk about it."

The enigmatic tone of his response only heightened [Name]'s suspicions. She remembered the moment she had seen him with his hand covered in blood the day before. Perhaps there was a connection to what troubled him now.

"Dalton, I can't help but notice how distant you've been lately... Does it have something to do with what happened yesterday? I mean, I was genuinely concerned to see you like that, well, I mean, you've always been a weird guy, but not to this extent normally, so I'm a bit worried," she finished with a semi-smile.

Dalton felt a mix of surprise and concern reflected in [Name]'s expression. She had made a lighthearted remark earlier, but now she realized that something much more serious was troubling him. She approached him gently, placing her hand on his, seeking to reassure him.

"Dalton, I won't think you're crazy, believe me. I'm here for you, no matter what you have to say. You can trust me, and even though we haven't known each other for long, I have this strong feeling that you need support right now," she said in a comforting voice.

Dalton felt overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions as he watched [Name] provide such comforting support. A glimmer of relief began to spread within him, giving him the strength to continue.

"For some time now, I've been seeing... things," he began, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I know it may sound crazy, but I can't ignore it. Visions, apparitions... I'm not exactly sure what it is, but it frightens me."

[Name] held his hand in hers, offering silent support as she listened attentively. She understood that he was going through a period of confusion and uncertainty, and she was determined to help him understand what was happening.

"Dalton, please, I told you, I won't think you're crazy," she said gently. "There's always an explanation, even if it seems strange or hard to understand. Tell me more."

Dalton felt a surge of gratitude enveloping him as he listened to [Name]'s comforting words. He felt that he could trust her, even though they had only known each other for a short time. There was something reassuring and familiar about her presence.

"There's something else I need to tell you," Dalton continued, his voice filled with emotion. "I don't remember the year I turned ten. My parents claim I was in a coma, but... I no longer believe them. I have this feeling that there's more to the story."

[Name] tightened her grip on Dalton's hand, encouraging him to continue.

"I can see things that others can't," Dalton confessed, his voice slightly trembling. "I can travel to another world... a world where I can see the dead, I think. But I'm not completely sure about all of this."

As Dalton shared his most intimate thoughts, he felt the support and reassuring presence of [Name]. Her comforting gestures, like the gentle rubbing of his hand, eased the fears that plagued him.

"Listen, if you need me to accompany you, I can be there, okay? You seem like a genuinely good person, and on top of that, you're one of the few people I've really connected with since starting college," [Name] said with determination. "We'll search for answers, we'll understand what's happening. You're not alone, okay?"

The words from [Name] resonated deeply within Dalton. In this moment of shared vulnerability, he felt heard, understood, and supported.

"Thank you, but you don't have to," he replied.

"Hey, listen, I'll be there, okay? I'll give you my phone number, my room is not far from yours, and if there's anything, don't hesitate to send me a message or call. Let's say I'm a night owl! 

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Six*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 6k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation (kinda?), drug use, it’s the 50s/60s

Pairing: elvis, black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“There you are.”

“Were you looking for me?”

You were standing at the counter in the kitchen—preoccupied with some homework that you were desperately trying to finish in between your chores—when Elvis entered the kitchen. He stood over your shoulder for a second, looking down at what you were doing before kissing your cheek and walking away.

“Why were you looking for me?” Your eyes followed him as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

“I have some news,” He said, his lips turned up in a suppressed smile as he filled his glass under the tap.

“Good or bad?” You asked, although you already had an idea. He left the glass by the sink and leaned against the counter beside you.

“I gotta go to Hawaii, the Colonel’s got something set up for me out there.” He must’ve seen the immediate devastation in your eyes. “But,” He added quickly. “We found a spot down there and I’m takin all y’all with me.”

“Who is ‘all y’all’?”

“All y’all. You, Dawny, Cinny, the boys. Everybody.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I found a house, and it wouldn’t make much sense to get that big a place just for it to be half empty.” He shrugged. “I told Daddy I wanted all of you there to tend to it. So that way I can bring you with me.”

“How long have you been conjuring up this idea of yours?” You had to admit you were amused. “It’s awfully creative, really, but I doubt Dawn would go. Not to mention it’s a waste of money~”

“You don’t worry about how I spend my money, birdie, okay?”

“I was just saying~”

“And why make assumptions when we can ask Ms. Dawn herself?” He walked back to the kitchen door, calling out for Dawn before returning. “She’ll have to say yes once I get done with her.”

“Maybe I should go.” You didn’t want to be alone with Elvis and Dawn. You knew she was still heavily suspecting of the two of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Elvis said just as Dawn walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dawny, I was hopin to run something by you real quick.”

“Everything alright?” Dawn asked, her eyes moving between the two of you. She looked confused but you knew there was more to her expression than that. You cast your eyes back down to your homework.

“We were talking and I mentioned that I was going out to Hawaii for work and I needed to take you and Cynthia and everyone with me to tend to the house down there,” He explained in one breath, not giving her room to interject as he continued. “And she’s got it in her head that you wouldn’t be interested in goin.”

“To Hawaii?” Dawn asked in shock. “Why wouldn’t you just hire new help when you got there?”

“That’s what I was saying.”

“I know y’all, and I trust y’all,” Elvis said. “I’d be much more comfortable having you out there than hiring people I don’t know. It’s already been arranged and taken care of, all you gotta do is say you’ll go and it’s done.”

“I don’t know~”

“I’d only make you work three days a week, just like usual, nothing special,” Elvis continued. You had to bite back a smile at his determination. “You can do whatever you want with your free time. All expenses paid.”

“She has school, and there would be no one here,” Dawn said, still reluctant. “I’m sure Cynthia would be happy to go down there with you, but it makes more sense for us to stay here.”

“I’ll write a note to the school, they’ll put some assignments together and let her mail em in. I had to do the same thing for Joel ‘fore he graduated high school.” A smile started to form on Elvis’ face as he watched Dawn scramble for another excuse. “Her studies shouldn’t be affected at all.”

You peaked up from your textbook to watch Dawn as she struggled internally with the idea. If you knew anything about Dawn, you knew that she was never one to be easily swayed.

“Well…” She sighed, crossing her arms.

“Well?” Elvis smiled charmingly, matching her stance with his arms crossed.

“Well, alright, I guess.” You looked down to hide the shock on your face. Dawn caved. “When is all this happening?”

“Not for another couple of weeks.” You could hear the triumph in his voice as he laid out more of the details for Dawn. “You’ll know the rest as soon as I do. A-And if you see Cinnee, you’ll let her in on everything?”

“Sure,” Dawn replied. “She’ll be happy to hear.”

“Thanks, Dawny, you’re perfect,” He said. “Y’all take care, don’t work too hard now.”

“Alright now,” Dawn said.

You didn’t look up from your textbook, hoping that you came across as unbothered despite the way your heart was hammering away with excitement. “I didn’t think you’d let him talk you into that.”

“It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice.” Dawn clicked her tongue in aggravation. “Put that away and go sweep the porch. They went and tracked mud all up and down the steps last night, doing god knows what.”

You closed the book with a reluctant sigh. “I’m never going to finish this in time.”

“You shouldn’t have slept until one in the afternoon.”

“I already told you that I overslept.” It wasn’t a lie.

You’d been oversleeping more and more in the last few weeks. Trying to keep up with Elvis’ sleep schedule by being awake when he was awake. Sleeping when he slept wasn’t working out for you. Most nights you would stay up until you physically couldn’t anymore, exhausted from work and school. “It won’t~”

“~happen again. I know.”

You muttered an apology and went to get the broom before going outside. The air was warm that day, the boys all ran around wreaking havoc and causing a ruckus. You smiled a little when you caught sight of Elvis rough housing with Joel, pretending to teach him how to fight but really just playing tricks on him.

He called out to you when he saw you, getting your attention along with a couple of the other boys. You raised your hand over your eyes to block the sun. “Watch this, they call it the sleeper hold!”

You shook your head as Elvis maneuvered Joel into a chokehold. “Elvis, don’t hurt him!” You complained.

“I’m teachin him to fight like a man!” He laughed as Joel struggled against him, eventually breaking free before sparring with him again.

You got back to sweeping the porch, doing it in a rush so that you could get back to your homework. At least until Dawn found more busy work for you to do.

Class that night went on as usual, you got there just in time for your first class and left promptly after your last. You hadn’t spoken to Barb, Pat, or the guys since that night at the diner. They tried approaching you a few times but they eventually lost interest in you. You felt bad at first but after the first week of not speaking to them the other days went by painlessly.

Instead of going to the diner after class, you went straight back to Graceland to spend time with Elvis. You were afraid you were isolating yourself too much, but accepted that you preferred Elvis and Graceland more.

“I don’t think Dawn’s ever said no to me, she doesn’t have it in her.”

You laughed as Elvis went on and on about how easily he’d convinced Dawn to go to Hawaii. He was so proud of himself.

“It’s all gonna work out,” He said, looking up from where his head lay in your lap.

You sat against the headboard of his bed, your textbook abandoned beside you. You were supposed to be getting some work done and Elvis was supposed to be catching up on his reading but you were too distracted by each other.

“How far have you gotten on that book?” You teased, nodding at the abandoned book.

“Oh, well, pardon me,” He said sarcastically, reaching for it blindly. “It’s not my fault you’re so distracting.”

You laughed. “I barely said anything.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He opened his book to a random page without looking away from you. “How can I read when you’re sittin here lookin all pretty in your little dress?”

“Give it a shot,” You said, nudging his head with your knee until he sat up.

“You’re plain cruel.” He moved to sit beside you, kissing your cheek before settling down. “Get to work, little girl.”

“I’m trying.” You put your book in your lap again, pulling your knee up to keep it balanced as you wrote.

You both turned your full attention to your tasks, a comfortable silence settling over the room. Elvis hummed quietly to himself as he read, you didn’t think he noticed—suddenly enthralled with the book that he couldn’t bring himself to read two minutes ago.

You’d started to make some leeway on your assignment when he snuck a hand onto your thigh, resting it there without looking up from his book. You glanced over at him but he seemed to still be invested in his reading. You had half the mind to know he was up to no good but you didn’t pay him any attention. That was until he shifted in his spot, inching closer to you.

“El,” You warned.

“Hm?” He responded, his hand slipping more toward your inner thigh. He didn’t take his eyes off his book, continuing to hum along to whatever tune he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Be good.” You moved his hand. “Can you, please? For at least twenty more minutes?”

“What do I get if I am?” He challenged, meeting your eyes with a smirk. He had that look in his eyes that made you want to drop everything and do whatever he wanted—but you managed to resist.

“Be good and you’ll find out,” You said vaguely. He looked pleased enough with the response as he put his left arm over your shoulders, holding his hand out for you to hold. You intertwined your fingers with a smile before returning to your work.

You liked nights like this the most. Nights when the two of you would simply exist together in a shared space. Nights when Elvis was in a good mood, when his patience wasn’t short and he was able to laugh with you. You wanted to hold on to times like these.

Eventually the twenty minutes winded down and Elvis made a show out of letting you know it. Tossing his book to the side and using his free hand to close your textbook.

“Hey,” You complained, you were mid-sentence when the book fell shut with a heavy thud. “I was almost finished.”

“That’s time.” He took the textbook from your lap and abandoned it next to his. For all you knew he could’ve been lying about the time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he kissed your neck. “Was I good, mama?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine, sending you squirming away from his advances. “Sure.” He didn’t let you get away. He hooked his hand under your left knee and pulled you into his lap, looking up at you with an expectant smile. “What?”

“You owe me,” He said. “What’s it gonna be?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, placing your hands on his shoulders. “What do you want?”

“That’s a dangerous thing to ask, birdie,” He said, narrowing his eyes suggestively. “You give me an inch, I'm gonna take a mile.”

“I can handle a mile.”

“You think so?”

“I think so.” You leaned forward until your lips graced his but pulled away, smirking softly as his baby blue eyes darkened substantially. “What’s it gonna be?”

“I guess I’ll take you on a little ride,” He said, his eyes traveling over your body. “You look tall enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he closed the space between you in a tender kiss, his teeth nibbling gently at your bottom lip. You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, forcing a hum of approval from his lips as your nails scraped against his scalp.

He always got so caught up with kissing you. He would kiss you until he got restless and wanted more. You never got tired of the feeling, if he didn’t stop himself you’d let him kiss you for hours. You craved him in so many ways that you couldn’t focus on just one. All you wanted, all you needed was to be close to him.

He swore under his breath, breaking the kiss. “I love you in this dress.”

It was a soft pink dress with a sailor’s collar. You hated it after you’d bought it and tried it on—it made you look too girlish—but you made yourself wear it since you paid for it.

“I only wear it when I don’t care how I look.”

“I’d hate to see you care.” His hands guided your hips as they rocked against his. There was hunger burning behind his eyes—subtle but intense.

“You’re so pretty.” You confessed impetuously. If you weren’t so absorbed in the moment, you might have kept the thought to yourself. But you didn’t care.

He laughed. “No, baby, that’s all you.”

He leaned forward with a grunt and pinned you beneath him.

“You’re it.” He kissed your neck as you squirmed.

“I’m always it,” You complained with a smile.

Elvis liked to play tag. Sometimes he’d find you around the house, or you’d run into him, and one of you would whisper ‘you’re it.’ Effectively initiating a game. From there whoever was “it” would proceed to chase the other until they were ultimately lured into bed. You’d take turns cornering each other around the house, stealing an occasional kiss or letting your fingers brush ever so slightly as you passed. Things would usually escalate from there and eventually one of you would cave and beg for release. It was fun trying to dominate each other, Elvis always got a kick out of it, so he’d tag you most of the time.

“Fight for it. I know you got it in you.”

You were already breathless as he continued his assault on your neck. You forced your leg up, pressing your knee into his stomach. He let one of your wrists go to force it down and you took the opportunity to turn onto your front.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. He laughed as you got your feet up under yourself and pushed back. He didn’t budge.

“You’re losing.” You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“It’s not fair,” You complained. “You had me pinned from the beginning.”

“Alright.” He let you go. “Fair fights only.”

You faced him, standing up on your knees. He bit back a smile as you sized him up. You lunged at him with your arms out, only for him to easily evade your advance. You wrestled against him for only a moment before he turned you around by your arms and pulled your back against his chest yet again.

“Fair fight?” He asked, his lips grazing your ear.

“Fair fight,” You sighed reluctantly.

He let you go again, giving you another chance. “Come on.”

You turned to him again. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He was tense, anticipating your next trick.

“What?”

“What?”

You quickly adjusted your legs beneath you before using all your weight to fall back and pull him forward. He laughed, catching himself so he wouldn’t crush you. He let you force him onto his back and you pinned his hands by his head. You were sure he could’ve easily stopped you, but he was clearly enjoying the look of victory in your eyes.

“I win,” You stated breathlessly, a triumphant smile gracing your lips.

“I lose,” He conceded.

“Strip.”

He sat up with you still in his lap, kissing the part of your chest that was exposed by the cut of your dress. You move out of his lap, scooting away and leaning back on your hands.

Elvis moved forward to hover over you but you lifted your foot and pressed it against his chest.

“Strip,” You repeated expectantly.

He chuckled, sitting back against his heels to unbutton his shirt.

You let your foot fall, purposely resting it between his legs. He groaned under your touch and lifted his hips to meet your foot but you moved it away before any pressure could be applied to his groin.

“I’m gonna remember this,” He warned.

“Remember it.” You smiled and nudged his thigh. “These too.”

You watched with an amused expression as he loosened his belt and unbuttoned his slacks. He took them off, leaving him completely exposed.

“Good,” You hummed in approval.

“You’re gettin too good at this.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna have to stop letting you win.”

“Letting me win,” You repeated, rolling your eyes as if you hadn’t already known. “I was going to be nice but now I don’t know.”

“Be nice to me.” He positioned himself between your legs again—you didn’t stop him. “Let me make you feel good.”

You sat up and reached back to unzip your dress. You slipped it off of your shoulders, letting him remove the garment completely before he sat up to get a condom from the drawer.

“Get your motor runnin for me, baby.”

“It’s running,” You insisted, making him laugh.

“Make sure it’s nice and warm.”

He watched without scrutiny as you touch yourself. Your movements were unsure but he seemed satisfied.

“Curl 'em up inside ya,” He instructed.

You whimpered. “I need you.”

“I’m here. Just let me check.”

He replaced your fingers with his own and you cried out at the intrusion. He pumped his fingers in and out, causing the most indecent squelching sounds—only pulling away when you began to tense, anticipating your high.

You forced your eyes open when you felt him position himself at your entrance. His breath trembled slightly as he pushed inside. This was the closest you’d ever physically be yet somehow you wanted him closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your hips to force him further inside.

“Here.” He reached behind you to grab a pillow, tucking it under you, keeping your hips elevated. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

You let your head fall back against the bed. You felt the length of his arousal reaching places inside of you explored only by him as he kissed a tear from the corner of your eye. The salty taste mingled with the sweetness of his lips when he kissed you. Your lips became pliant against his as your jaw went slack in a silent scream.

“Let me feel you, sweet girl,” Elvis encouraged. You felt him quiver inside of you, his thrusts becoming more desperate as he chased his high and yours.

A moan bubbled in your chest, building and building until it erupted out of you. You came in waves—your orgasm rippling over your entire body in smooth fluid pulses.

Elvis followed quickly, the aftershocks of your orgasm effectively getting him where he needed to be before he collapsed on top of you. The weight of his body against yours seemed like the only thing keeping you from floating away. You felt his spent cock twitch helplessly inside of you before he rolled over onto his side.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” He said, making you realize that you were dozing off already.

You jolted awake again when you felt his hand traveling between your legs. “No, no, no. I can’t take it.”

“Come get ready for bed.” He sat up, taking you with him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” You said, standing on unsteady legs. “Tired.”

“Okay, pretty.” He guided you to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You smiled endearingly as he helped you clean up. He dressed you up in one of the many nightgowns that he’d gotten you before helping you back to bed.

“You’re leaving soon?” You could barely keeping your eyes open as you laid in his arms.

“Mhm,” He hummed. “You’ll be right behind me when I do.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

*

You couldn’t remember if you’d packed your necklace—the thin, silver chain that held the two rings that Elvis had given you. You remembered purposely taking it off so that you wouldn’t have to explain it if Dawn saw.

You were good about keeping it tucked under your blouse while you were working, but you were traveling over nine hours all together with her and you didn’t want to risk it.

As you sat in the window seat on the plane waiting for it to take off, you subconsciously reached to toy with the necklace.

You tried and tried to remember if you tucked it away safely in your luggage or if you’d completely forgotten it at Graceland. Whether you left it or not, your hands itched for something to fidgeting with as you anxiously waited for the plane to take off.

“It feels just like you’re going up in an elevator,” Dawn said. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“I’m not,” You lied. “I just wish we were there already.”

That wasn’t a lie.

*

There was a party that night, much like every night. You, Cynthia and Dawn weren’t asked to prepare for it as you would’ve been at Graceland, so you were free to go about the night however you wanted.

“Going somewhere?” Dawn asked when she caught you leaving your room later that day.

The house was beautiful, walking distance from the beach with a view for miles. You had your own room on the ground floor—noisy nights were bound to be sleepless. The only grievance you had was that it was directly beside Dawn’s bedroom. You didn’t have that problem at Graceland, you never worried about running into Dawn, but here you would have to be extremely cautious of her presence.

“I’m going to go do some homework on the beach.” You held your books in one arm and a towel under the other. “Is that alright?”

“You don’t need my permission,” Dawn chuckled. “The sun’s gonna go down here in a minute though.”

“I know, I was hoping to catch it.”

“Don’t get lost out there.”

“I won’t.”

You couldn’t tell if your relationship with Dawn was getting better or if you were reaching a point of formality where being cordial was just routine. You didn’t really care, you were glad that she wasn’t so cold to you anymore.

“You headed out?”

You’re startled from your thoughts to find Joel coming down the hall behind you. He smiled as he met you, his sandy curls framing his face for a change.

“Joel,” You said with a polite smile. “I didn’t know Elvis dragged you along too.”

“He didn’t give me much of a say,” Joel said walking beside you down the corridor. “I was here before I knew what was happening.”

“I know the feeling.” You chuckled. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s nice.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My folks don’t like me to fly, ‘specially with E.P. They think he’s a lunatic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you reached the main room of the house. There was music playing from the record player, a mellow tune gently serenading the several dozen strangers taking up the space.

“What about your folks?” Joel asked, stopping by the front door with you instead of continuing on his way like you expected him to. “They mind you traveling this far?”

“Well, Dawn’s really the only family I have,” You said, ignoring the ache in your heart that you tried not to pay attention to now—no matter how much it hurt. “Wherever she goes, I go pretty much. And Elvis wasn’t going to take no for an answer from her either.”

Joel flashed a smile. “Well, having you here makes it feel more like home. So I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you, Joel.” You smiled.

“I better let you go,” He chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Be careful out there.”

“I will be.” You nodded. “Take care.”

“You too,” He said before walking away and disappearing into the mix of people.

As you turned to leave you felt someone’s gaze boring into you. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know that it was Elvis, but you did anyway. Scanning the room, you found him watching you from a crowded corner—he didn’t seem to be listening to anyone talking to or around him. You didn’t let your gaze linger longer than a few seconds before you continued out the front door.

You chose a spot a few yards away from where the waves were crashing onto the shore, spreading your towel down on the dry sand before sitting down. The scenery was hard not to get lost in as you sat looking around at the private beach.

After a minute or two of taking it all in you did manage to force yourself to get to work. You were expected to mail in work every week for your classes so it was almost like you weren’t missing them at all.

You worked diligently while you waited for the sun to set, only closing your book and putting your work away when the first signs of sunset started to show. You sat with your legs crossed out in front of you, leaning back on the heels of your hands as you looked out at the sea.

“It’s almost as pretty as you.”

Your head snapped in the direction of Elvis’ voice, finding him walking towards you with a gentle smile on his face. He wore a tropical button down and a pair of khaki shorts, his feet bare. You realized then that you never noticed what he was wearing most of the time—too absorbed with his beauty to look away from his face for more than a second.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a panic. “Someone might see~”

“They’re all drunk.” He laughed as he sat down next to you. He kept a good distance between the two of you, reaching over and snatching the stack of paper your professors stapled together from between the pages of your textbook. “Whatchu doin out here all by yourself?”

“Are you drunk?” You asked humorously, taking the papers back as flipped through them with clumsy fingers.

“Maybe, yeah,” He responded with a short laugh. “I seen you talkin to ol’ Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. That boy, I tell you.” You could tell the alcohol in his system was getting to him by the way he laughed after everything he said. “He’s such a kid.”

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“His mama’s got him on a leash like a dog.”

“His mother thinks you’re a lunatic.”

“She’s not wrong I guess.” Elvis shrugged, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them as he looked out at the water. “I wanted to be here when you and Dawn got in, I got caught up with the press.”

“We got in alright without you.” You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, he was more stunning than the sunset. “Why’d you leave the party?”

“I dunno.” His words tumbled out of his mouth. “I seen you leavin so…”

“You know people watch your every move, Mr. Presley,” You said deliberately. “I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“‘Mr. Presley,’” He chortled, meeting your eyes. “Let ‘em watch, let ‘em get the wrong idea too.”

“How much did you have to drink?” You ribbed.

“I’m not outta my mind, baby, don’t worry,” He said. “We’re not doin anything wrong here.”

You looked away as his gaze grew more intense. “I’m just being careful. For both of us since you have all the liquid courage in the world right now.”

“I saw you alone and came to check on you,” He said. “That ain’t a crime is it?”

“I guess not.”

“You’re not wearing your necklace.”

You were shocked by the observation, your hand subconsciously reaching for the necklace. You didn’t think he noticed that you never went without the necklace. “I took it off so I wouldn’t lose it. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Course I noticed.” He smirked proudly. “I like that you wear it all the time.”

You smiled softly, meeting his eyes again. “I’ll put it on when I get ready tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna be gone early t’morrow,” He said. “B-But, I mean, I want you to come to my room t’night.”

“I don’t know how easy it’s going to be with you upstairs and my room downstairs next to Dawn,” You said. “She might see me.”

Elvis hummed thoughtfully, his gaze shifting downward for a moment. “I guess you’ll just be extra careful.”

“Elvis~”

“I didn’t bring you all the way here to not see you,” He said stubbornly. “She won’t catch you. Don’t worry.”

“I hope you’re right,” You said, an edge of sarcasm in your tone. “She’s been nice to me lately, I don’t want to upset her.”

“She won’t have any reason to be upset,” He promised. “I’ll make sure.”

You nodded, looking back out at the sunset. The sky was painted in beautiful shades of orange and purple. “It’s so peaceful here.”

Elvis agreed. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I am too,” You said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He smiled. “You’ll find your way to my room?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He stood from his spot in the sand, dusting the back of his shorts. “Gimme what you finished. I’ll give it to somebody to get mailed out.”

You separated the completed pages and handed them over. “Don’t forget to sign it.”

“I won’t,” He said. “Cinee’s bringing her daughter out here t’morrow. Y’all should go out, see the sights. Take yourselves shoppin if you want.”

You thought for a moment that he could see the loneliness creeping into your eyes. “Okay.”

“Don’t forget. You’re it.”

“Wait for me?”

“Always.”

He waved his hand once before turning and leaving you alone again.

You looked over your shoulder as he left, turning your gaze back to the water after he was gone. You decided not to stay until the sun was completely down—you didn’t want to be alone in the dark—so you gathered your books and folded your towel into a neat square before heading inside yourself. As you were walking in you were shocked to see most of the guests starting to filter out the front door.

You noticed Joel walking out with the guys and stopped him. “Where’s everyone going?”

“Colonel’s got Elvis on a tight schedule,” Joel explained quickly. “He wants the house quiet so he can run his lines and get to sleep at a decent time.”

“What’s it to you?” One of the guy’s asked. You didn’t interact with him enough to know his name, but you did remember seeing him around Graceland all the time. His tone sounded harsh to your ears. You shook your head and pursed your lips as if to say ‘nothing.’

“She’s just askin,” Joel said. “She don’t mean no harm.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You tried to smile before slipping through the front door, apologizing as you dodged the few people still leaving.

“Oh.” A girl stopped you as you passed her. “There you are.”

“I-I’m sorry?” You asked in confusion as you faced her.

“I was wondering where you were.” The brunette giggled drunkenly. “L-Listen, someone spilled their drink in the kitchen.”

“What?” You asked, although you heard her loud and clear.

“The kitchen.” She pointed, speaking deliberately so that you could understand her. “Someone spilled their drink. You should get it before Elvis sees.”

Someone called out for the woman, walking back inside the house and dragging her out by the arm. They laughed as they rushed out of the house after the crowd.

You stood there for a moment, staring off thoughtlessly, before walking down the hall to your room. You knew that the mess would be there tomorrow for you to clean up, so you’d worry about it then.

“‘You should get it before Elvis sees.’” You mimicked in an annoying voice as you stepped out of your sandals. You rolled your eyes exasperatedly before walking into the bathroom to get changed and showered for the night. As you turned the shower on you heard your bedroom door open. You cut the water off to go see who it was. And of course, it was the devil himself.

“Elvis?”

“You’re always so damn happy to see me,” He said sarcastically as he shut the door and turned the lock. “You’re practically jumpin up and down.”

“I can hardly contain myself.” You responded in the same tone. You cupped your elbows in your hands, folding your arms over your chest. “What are you doing? Dawn’s in the next room, and you’re supposed to be going over your lines.”

“I can’t go over no lines right now,” Elvis drawled in boredom.

“Why’s that?” You asked, biting back a smile as you watched him sprawl himself out onto your bed. “Because you had one too many?”

“I think I had three too many,” He said, making you laugh. “Y-You see, this is why I don’t drink. I feel like a sick fool.”

“Well don’t get sick, fool,” You said, crossing the room and joining him on the bed. He turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow as you sat back against the headboard. “I’ve got enough of a mess to clean up tomorrow.”

“Did you just call me a fool?” He smirked playfully. “I’d get you for that if I was in the gettin mood.”

You laughed. “You’re gonna have a headache in the morning. Why’d you drink so much?”

“I dunno, cause that sugary stuff don’t taste like liquor I guess.”

“Good answer.”

“Don’t be mean t’me, mama,” He whined, shifting to lay his head in your lap. “You were it t’night and I still came all this way to see you.”

“Aw, you poor thing. You came all the way down the stairs, you must be exhausted,” You said sarcastically, looking down at him. You brought your hand down to graze through his hair, watching his eyes close with a smile. “No one saw you did they?”

“Sonny got rid of everybody,” He hummed in response. “Colonel’s orders.”

“Elvis.” His eyes opened when your hand stopped moving through his hair. “You can’t sleep here. They’ll be looking for you in the morning, won’t they?”

“I’ll leave ‘fore anyone gets up.” He shrugged indolently. “Don’t worry.”

You nodded, twirling his hair around your fingers go. “Okay.”

“Okay…” His eyes fell shut again.

You smiled softly, watching his features soften until you heard his breathing even out. You sighed and leaned your head back against the headboard, letting your own eyes fall shut as you gently scratched his scalp.

True to his word, he was gone when you woke up the next morning. And so began the torturous cycle of Elvis’ long days of filming and short nights with you.

*

A/N: Dress inspired by this passage from The Shining by Stephen King—“She {Wendy} was wearing her blue dress, the one Danny thought was her prettiest. It had a sailor collar and made her look very young, like a girl just getting ready to graduate from high school.” (Pg. 87)

[blackdragoness]

PICK A PILE -

Pick an M&M Color &I'll describe you based off the color you chose. Lessssskoooo

PICK A COLOR:

RED 2. YELLOW 3. ORANGE 4. BROWN 5. GREEN 6. BLUE

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Pile One - Red

The color red represents:

Vigor

War/warrior

Courage  

Anger

Love

Religious fervor

Passion

Sexuality

Danger  

Desire

Strength

Resilient

Action taker

Hype

Blunt

Rebellious

Intuitive:

Bad boy/girl vibes, dark color aesthetic

Intense for no reason

Always ready to pull up on a MF that crosses you. You definitely don’t play

Fierce. Beastly. Always on 100

Huge heart & selfless

Very loyal individuals

Big dreamer but executes everything they put their mind to

Big energy

May be a sports junky or love to play sports themselves

Leader of the pack

First Pick (usually when I eat M&Ms, I always pick a red one first so whatever that means to you, let it mean that lol)

Super hardworking and very physically strong no matter your build

A temptation/seductress

Very physically attractive

May have a potty mouth but regardless is super outspoken and doesn’t mind who hears or knows

Goal oriented and determined

Short temper but quick to make amends. Sour patch kid vibes heavyyyy

Very successful individuals

Powerful manifestors

CHANNELED SONG: THE WHOLE 9 by SIONE TOKI

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Pile Two: Yellow

The color yellow represents:

Joy  

Happiness

Betrayal

Optimism

Caution

Idealism

Imagination

Hope

Sunshine

Summer  

Friendship

Intellect

Protection

Warning

Intuitive:

Your presence is like a ray of sunshine

Big artsy hippy vibes

Very optimistic and does your best to remain optimistic even in the worse of situations. Sometimes its your downfall because some things seem too unrealistic from the outside looking in. But most people wont let you know that because no one wants to break that hope with in you and that’s how it should be. You shock people in the end because things happen for you solely because you never lost hope. So keep that light within burning even if no one else believes.

You shine so bright and it’s a warmth everyone enjoys feeling. Your energy livens up whatever room you walk into.

Trend setter

Star of the show, center of attention ALWAYS (downside of this is even when something embarrassing happens to you, it seems to happen in front of a crowd also. But don’t let that stop you from being YOU! Whether they are laughing at you or with you, its your mf world & thas on periodt)

Compliment giver – you’re that friend that is always showing mad love to everybody and their dog. Might be great with animals

Very friendly and cute. You’re such a cutie

Popular loner

Its always a party when you are around

It’s a privledge to be in your presence

CHANNELED SONG: CELEBRATION by COMMON KINGS

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Pile Three: Orange

The color orange represents:

Vitality

self control

confidence

self esteem

creativity

arrogance

enthusiasm

warmth

agreeableness

vivacious

fertility

growth

outgoing

bold

superficiality

pride

satisfaction

adventure

ambition

sociability

Intuitive:

You are a great team player, very easy going and hardworking at the same time

A very balanced individual

Fits the “cookie cutter” standards regardless of gender

Very intelligent and confident

The popular nerd

High standards and carries themselves with dignity and elegance

Productive, prompt and reliable

Fashion sense is probably very preppy or nerdy but it looks trendy on you. Think of Daphne and Fred from Scooby Doo.

Hard to get close to but once you get close, they are the sweetest individuals

Loud voice or speaks very boldly and confidently

Beautiful voice. Theres an elegance or something royal about your mannerisms when you speak. Its mesmerizing.

Good girl/boy vibes. Church boy/girl vibes

Something scholarly about you. Either you’ve accomplished a lot of things in the school system or you’re a very well read and traveled person.

CHANNELED SONG: TALKING TO THE MOON by BRUNO MARS

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Pile Four: Brown

The color Brown represents:

Security

Comfort

Earthiness

Wholesome

Genuine

Organic

Steadfast

Simplicity

Dependability

Natural

Effortless

Nature

Melancholy

Structure

Support

Keen

Intuitive:

sense of duty and responsibility, takes obligations seriously

very grounded and stable

the “ma” or “pa” of the friend group

not afraid to get down and dirty. A “whatever it takes” type of attitude.

Usually looked at as the Alpha of the group

Stoic and emotionally intelligent

Very genuine. Every interation with you is very genuine and people can feel that off the rip!

Easily trusted but hard to give trust to others

You probably had to mature at a young age which made you a few steps ahead of your generation

“old soul” vibes

Depths in perception. This goes deeper than depth in emotion (which is what the BLUEs are)  because you are very logical and can block out your emotions when the emotions become “too heavy”. You can handle a very heavy load on your shoulders and hardly nothing gets you down.

Big earth vibes. Big OXEN vibes.

Heavy hittahs. Your punch packs a mighty force. I wouldn’t want to be on the other side fr FR.

Ride or die personality. Very reliable and trustworthy

Experienced

Respectable figure/ authority figure

CHANNELED SONG: BOSS by THE CARTERS

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Pile Five: Green

The color green represents:

Rebirth

Renewal

Immortality

Freshness

Springtime

Hope

new beginnings

growth

abundance

envy/jealously

lack of experience

naïve

natural

Intuitive:

natural beauties. Don’t need anything extra to enhance their beauty. Very very naturally gorgeous and handsome

someone who isn’t afraid to start over again.

Strong stamina and endurance both mentally and physically

Mentally strong and intelligent

Boujee vibes – “upper class” energyyyy

When these people love, they love HARD.

Very passionate when it comes to love. Hopeless romantics.

Fueled by progression and future potential.

Very chilled back and relaxed yet very focused and determined on their goals.

Very patient individuals

People can easily become jealous of you but you also have your own jealous streak to be aware of.

Steady and sturdy

Enjoys their own privacy and solitude

Unafraid to stand alone

Influential

Humble but confident – very humble confidence that is hard to ignore

Mesmerizing and hypnotic type of beauty

CHANNELED SONG: STEAL THE SHOW by LAUV

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Pile Six: Blue

The color blue represents:

open spaces

freedom

intuition

imagination

inspiration

sensitivity

depth

trust

loyalty

sincerity

wisdom

confidence

stability

faith

intelligence

communicative

emotional

calming

serenity

ocean vibes

 moody

Intuitive:

This pile has a very deep perception of life. Their emotions run deeply through them.

Probably one of the kindest souls walking this earth.

Very in tune and connected with their environment and those around them. Usually the one who can read and understand the room better than any one else.

May lack boundaries and may struggle setting boundaries with others.

A deep well of knowledge.

May tend to cry easily whether it be from a sad thought, a cute cuddly animal, or a tear jerking movie.

Daydreamer and in your own world

Mystical and magical even in your mannerisms. The way you walk, the way you talk the way you glide across a room, seems so fluid and mystic.

Mermaid/Siren vibes

May have a beautiful talking or singing voice. Sexy and sultry.

 Everyone’s best friend – easily liked and easy to get along with.

Major eye candy

CHANNELED SONG: WATER by TYLA

[onmyyan]

Well, the best work, or writing in this case, is done in collaboration with others amirite? The prev ask responding to my ask got my gears turnin and taking a break from writing by writing helps my creative juices flowin

When reader starts out they may have had their fair share of run ins with Catwoman, Harley, and Poison Ivy in their own way. But that was when they were a small fry, certainly not noticeable to their old family much less the femme fatales of Gotham.

It isn’t till they begin to rise from the dredges of Gotham that the three begin to take notice.

For Selena Kyle, she’s an opportunist at heart. She’s not wholly evil nor is she wholly good. At the end of the day she just wants to bathe in the lap of luxury with her feline friends and if that means introducing herself to reader, the hottest thing since sliced bread, and getting in their good graces then so be it.

What she didn’t expect was recognizing that pretty voice from months ago when some goodie two-shoes stopped her from stealing a diamond ring from Cairo. Sure, it was going to be auctioned for some stupid thing like newly paved streets or whatever but Selena could care less.

She was a rooftop type of gal anyway.

At the end of the day though, Ms. Kyle is a professional, that means bygones can be bygones for the right price.

What she doesn’t expect is just how profitable it is to take down the baddies. After all, the Gotham black market alone brings in millions- billions of dollars every year through illicit goods. Untold wealth stolen from museums and the wealthy sold to the highest bidder, reader sometimes playing the role of a seller, sometimes the role of a buyer.

But always coming out on top.

It’s a stroke of genius too, when reader hires Selena for a job, at first it makes sense. You want a painting stolen from some corrupt politician? Get Catwoman to do it. What truly confused her though is why you wanted her to put back the damn thing in the basement of the guys place a week later.

Turns out, art insurance companies are more vicious than one might think, and art insurance fraud can get you a lifetime in prison… and forfeiture of all your assets.

Assets you could happily sweep up on the dime now that that pesky obstacle was out of the way.

For Selena you aren’t just an adorable kitten flaring out her claws for the first time, but a beautiful independent woman just like her. And ladies ought to stay together in a town like Gotham, right?

At least, that’s what she’s telling herself…

Harley is much quicker to warm up to reader. She sees herself so much in the up and coming super villain. How many times has she gone to Arkham or sacrificed some part of herself for the Joker? How many times as she tried to appease the sociopath only to be ignored or even worse, have her efforts thrown into her face?

Speaking of faces, thing about being a brilliant psychologist means that she can be good with recognizing faces. She certainly recognized yours ages ago when the tabloids talked about a Wayne kid that left the nest early, paparazzi all vying to get a shot or two of the illusive member of the dynasty.

You were a rich kid, but seeing you now certainly could convince anyone otherwise. Harley sees that fire in your eyes, the emptiness and the hurt she long ago overcame to be her own woman in this town.

It runs through her head like a list when she analyzes reader’s movement. Symptoms of childhood neglect vary, naturally, but reader has the tell tale distrust in strangers and aversion to affection that has Harley’s mind buzzing with theories and thoughts, lots of thoughts.

It’s interesting to see when teaming up with reader to spread some chaos, the idea of using controlled unrest in rich neighborhoods to lower housing costs brilliant in her mind. Plus, rich suckers get to suck so why not?

Seeing reader like that just sparks something fierce in her. Maybe it’s a remnant of her more humane side, of the old doctor and psychologist, but she’s determined to be by your side like it or not.

You’re partners now, Puddin. You pinkie swore when teaming up so there’s no stopping now!

Pamela is honestly a whole lot harder to warm to reader. She’s a solo act for the most part, an antisocial eco terrorist that barely has friends outside of Harley and … Selena, but even the jury’s out on that one sometimes.

Her connection with nature makes her jaded with the vile parasites that walk about the street, the news of a new crime lord making the woman roll her eyes dismissively. New crime in Gotham? Please, be for real.

It’s only when Harley comes barreling into her greenhouse babbling on and on about reader that Pamela realizes maybe she ought to take a second look.

Who knew doing “good” as you put it, would involve her world so much. The plan was simple, destroy a few gas stations and car parks, break into some oil or gas executive event and make owning a car in Gotham all the more painful.

Growing pains according to reader.

Then with all the slush funds reader has, fund and develop a robust subway and bus system. Less cars, less subsidies, less pollution.

It was simply a coincidence that the reader had started a company specializing in public transport mere weeks ago, promise! And what’s more, building these tunnels meant that there’d be a perfect opportunity to carve out secret bases, paths, and caches all around the city. And as the system spread, making travel more green and efficient, so would your influence.

If you kept your thinking like that then… just maybe, Pamela might stick around more (Oh who is she kidding, the moment Harley was down for you Pamela would undoubtedly be there for her friend and you lol)

Incredible addition omfg??!?! I adore the way your mind works omgggg

Literally perfect I love your characterization of the sirens so much sjsksks