#note the hamilton reference at the end ;)

[cuteniaarts]

In @rokurookajima’s Metalbanders AU, Suiren and Vaatu often study together at Suiren’s place after school. The effectiveness of said studying is… questionable

[separatetheyolk]

Like Real People Do | Lewis Hamilton X Male!Reader

ʚɞ Featuring: Lewis Hamilton

ʚɞ absolutely no one asked for this but I give you Lewis Hamilton aftercare

ʚɞ warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing overly explicit mainly just in passing

ʚɞ note: this is a long one. I’ve got a one for Charles finished (though I’m not sure if I like it so may scrap and restart) and Carlos in the works. As with all my male!reader posts this can be read as trans!reader too. Trans masc too but there is he/him, boy and boyfriend used to refer to the reader in this. I’ve read this like ten times but there may still be some mistakes and shit so sorry in advance

ʚɞ wordcount: 3.6k

ʚɞ requests are open!

You trembled on the bed, curled up on your side ever so slightly, twitching and jerking every so often as you came down from your fifth high that night, your brain turned practically to mush, gripping to the pillow set under your head.

You let out a weak cry as Lewis ran his thumb over your abused nipple. Causing the man to pause. Pulling himself away from the session for a moment he checked you over. Studying your body. You looked spent. Utterly spent. Chest heaving for air, tear tracks down your cheeks. Face flushed red and that neck.. that poor, abused neck. “Colour, baby.” He asked softly, moving his hand down from your chest to your hip. Rubbing small circles on the bone in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t form words, your brain couldn’t make the connection to your tongue to work. To your mouth for your lips to move. Instead, you let out a whine. High pitched and exhausted, shaking your head quickly. Lewis took that as you wanted to end the session, nodding softly.

You felt the bed shift beside you, opening your eyes for your gaze to meet your boyfriends. Instinctively you moved to him the best you could with weak legs and trembling arms. Lewis helping you the rest of the way. “You done so well, baby..” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The praise caused you to melt slightly. Letting out a small noise of adoration. “You done so good for me.. so proud of you..”

“I love you so much.. took it all so well..” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head again. You didn’t know how long you spent like that. Your concept of time blurred. But eventually Lewis started to pull away. All too soon in your opinion.

You let out a whimper, moving to grab ahold of him a little more. Hearing a deep chuckle from the man. “Oh I know..” he whispered. “I know you want cuddles. But I gotta get you cleaned up, sugar.” He slipped from the bed, crouching down on the floor beside it so he could see your face again. Taking in every small imperfection on it. Drinking you up like he couldn’t get enough. Like he hadn’t just fucked you for two hours. “Could you be a good boy? Wait here for me?” He asked, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Hmm?”

You could be a good boy.. you wanted to be a good boy. You craved the praise that came with it. Craved that love and affection. Nodding quickly, you watched as Lewis smiled. Pressing a kiss to your temple as he stood. “There’s my boy. You just stay here.. I’ll take care of you..”

You watched as Lewis left the room to the ensuite. Stomach sinking slightly but you done as instructed and stayed put. Grabbing the blankets and pulling them to your shoulders. Not caring that they were dirty. And judging by the water running, you had a feeling it didn’t matter regardless.

Lewis ran his hand under the tap, making sure the water to the bath was warming up. Realistically, he knew it wasn’t the cleanest option. But he had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to stand long enough for a shower. And he wouldn’t be able to carry and wash you at the same time. So a shared bath it was. At this point, he had aftercare on lock. Lighting a few candles he knew you liked, adding some muscle relaxer into the water along with some bubble bath and a lavender bath bomb. Once the tub had filled, he made his way back to you. Stopping at the doorway and lent against the wood, just taking in the sight of you.

Taking in the sight of you curled up on the, admittedly, ridiculously large bed. One leg poked out from under the duvet, hugging one of Lewis’ pillows, face pressed into your own, hair ruffled and messed up. Swallowed by sheets. He almost didn’t want to move you, but he wasn’t exactly keen on sleeping in those sheets tonight.

So, reluctantly, he moved to the bed, hand coming to rest on your upper arm and began to stroke up and down it gently. His hand was rough against your skin. Something you’d always loved. “Baby?” His voice came out almost as a whisper, smiling wide when you opened your eyes. Your own face up lit when you’d realised he was back. “Hey.. hey, sugar. Ready for your bath?”

You nodded slowly, arms held out to the man. And Lewis didn’t need to be told twice. He picked you up with a groan, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the tub he double checked the temperature of the water. Pouring some onto your thigh. “How’s that, baby?” He asked, feeling you nod against his shoulder.

He then carefully lowered you into the tub, mindful of your bruised ass. You let out a small whine as it hit the bottom, Lewis whispering quiet “I know..” to you. Once you were situated, he lowered himself into the bath behind you. Leaning back and whispered a quiet “C’mere baby..” allowing you to lean into his chest, rubbing up and down your sides gently. He didn’t immediately move to wash you. Instead he let the two of you soak in the water first. Pressing kisses to your shoulder and the darkening hickeys on your neck and behind your ear like they’d sooth them some. All while keeping his hand moving up and down against your skin. “I got you..” he whispered, rubbing your side gently. “Right here baby..”

You whined quietly, trying to spin round to face him. Beginning to grow upset that you couldn’t. Past that point of exhaustion and now to where any minor inconvenience was enough to upset you. Lewis smiled softly, tucking your legs into your chest and carefully spun you round, letting you go wherever you wanted which you decided would be to straddle his lap, arms wrapped around him. Legs tight around Lewis’ waist. Face pressed to his neck.

Lewis wrapped his arms gently around your waist, loose but enough to let you know he wasn’t leaving. He slid down in the water a little more. Still making sure your head was above it but more of the warmth wrapped your body. The lavender bath bomb began to have its desired effect after about half an hour, drowsy and oh so tired. Just ready to curl up into Lewis’ side wrapped in warm blankets and comfy clothes.

You let out a whine of “Lew..” when he sat up again. The man looking down to you with a smile. “Well, welcome back baby..” he kept one arm wrapped around you a little tighter, the other squeezing body wash onto a loofa that was floating around in the water. “You’re okay.. I got you..” he reassured.

He felt you remove your head from his shoulder, looking around the room to grasp your surroundings. You had a vague idea of what had happened during the time Lewis had been taking care of you. More veiled behind fog than anything. Like the moment Lewis lay down your brain switched off in a completely different way. “You just relax, baby.. just gonna wash you then you can curl up in bed again.” Lewis spoke, keeping his eyes fixed to you. Studying you, making sure your mood wasn’t about to plummet. “Okay? You doing okay?”

You looked to the man for a moment like he was speaking in tongues. Either way, you’d have let him. Whether you understood his self appointed mission or not. You’d trust this man with your life.. this didn’t work without trust. Sex, aftercare, your relationship as a whole. You nodded slowly once you’d managed to grasp what had been said, nuzzling back into his neck.

Lewis wasn’t sure whether that nod was in response to him washing you, if you were feeling okay, or both. Sighing softly. “Darling, can I?” He asked, removing your face from his neck and held the loofa in view. Again, another nod.

He’d started with your back first, then your sides, chest, legs, then used a separate cloth for your armpits and afterwards he rinsed you down. Humming softly as he done so, hand rubbing circles onto the small of your back. He then began to wash himself. Lewis then made quick work of getting out and drying himself, turning back to the bath when finished towel wrapped around his waist. Eh.. you could stay in there while he changed the bedding.

He slipped on some clean boxers and comfy joggers before he got to work. Stripping any and all bedding, throwing it into the corner of the room, rummaging through drawers to find a particular set he knew you liked. Extremely soft to the touch and likely the better choice for not only your bruised arse, but his clawed up back. Finding it with a little bit of trouble. He threw on the fitted sheet, changed the pillow cases, stripped the duvet of its cover and replaced it with the clean one. Picked up any used or unopened condoms, threw them in the bin, set the lube away in his middle drawer and decided that would do for the night. He could do a deeper clean in the morning if you weren’t as dependant on him then.

He rushed downstairs before getting you out the bath, grabbing a protein bar from the cupboard for himself, favourite snack for you, and two bottles of water from the fridge. Setting them down on his bedside table for the time being.

Last but not least, he moved back to the bathroom with some clean underwear, fresh towel and a few of his own shirts in hand. Hanging them up on the hook on the door, Lewis then moved over to pull the plug for the bath, stealing a kiss as he stood back up. He cleared a section of the counter then carefully picked you up from the bath. Not caring about water dripping onto his joggers. He set you onto the cool marble, dried you off and let you pick out which shirt. Then helped you get changed into it along with the clean boxers. “Handsome man..” Lewis murmured when done, kissing your temple before picking you up for the last time tonight.

He carried you back through to the bedroom after letting you blow out the candles, pulled your side of the blankets back with one hand and then propped up your pillows slightly. Setting you down onto the mattress and tucked you in. You watched as Lewis moved to his own side of the bed, slipping between the sheets and wrapped an arm around you. Grabbing one of the bottles of water. “Come here, baby.” He muttered, holding the plastic to your lips. “Drink some of this for me.. there we go.” He smiled softly as you tipped your head back. Lewis tipping the bottle to follow your lead. Making sure not to drown you or waterboard you. That would be far from ideal. Once about half the water was gone, you shook your head, wrapping arms around Lewis and set your head on his chest. With a smile, Lewis shuffled further down into bed, holding you to his side.

Food and your little chat could wait until morning too..

The next morning or well afternoon when you woke up, your entire body was stiff. Whining quietly from the slight pain as you stretched. You turned to the door when you heard shuffling making it’s way up the stairs only now realising the lack of Lewis’ presence beside you. Smiling when the man came round the corner and into the room holding a tray. Seemed to have some form of food and a glass of orange juice on it.

“Hey..” He spoke softly, spotting you half awake. Lewis set the food to the end of the bed for the time being, slipping back to his side of the bed again. “Was gonna come wake you up..”

“Wha’ times it?” You mumbled closely followed by a yawn, rubbing your eyes. “M’ sleepy still..”

“Well that’s probably because you overslept gorgeous..” Lewis replied, turning round to his bedside table briefly to grab his phone. “It’s..” he glanced up briefly as Roscoe made his way into the bedroom, clearly not happy that he hadn’t had access to it at all the night before. He then turned back to his phone, pressing the power button. “Half two.”

“Damn..” you’d slept that long? You weren’t entirely sure what time you’d ended up actually going to bed last night but it couldn’t have been any later than three in the morning. You’d slept eleven hours? “What time did you get up?”

“Around twelve.. had some zoom meetings at one. Something about the car next season I can’t really remember.” Lewis shook his head, leaning forward to grab the tray. “Come on, sit up and get this down you.” He rose the tray ever so slightly.

Reluctantly you done just that. Torso leaving the warmth of the blankets, groaning as you pushed yourself up and whining when your ass bore the weight. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Lewis asked almost immediately, concern rising in his throat.

“M’ just a little stiff n’ my ass is sore..” you told him, shaking your head. “Just the norm..”

Lewis frowned at that, nodding slowly and carefully set the tray on your lap. Not a whole lot of food but just the right amount that you’d eat after just waking up. “You start eating, I’ll grab some painkillers for you.” Lewis spoke softly.

You watched the man turn to head to the ensuite, pausing when you spotted the state you’d left his back in. Usually? You found it hot. Something you both liked.. but this looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a tiger and came out the other end mauled. “Your back..” you practically whimpered. Lewis immediately turned back around, wanting to kick himself for not even thinking about that.

“Nono- no hey..” he rushed back over, moving to sit beside you. “I can’t even feel it, baby.. forgot they were even there.” He quickly took your hands, shaking his head. “No- hey don’t cry..” he squeezed them gently, giving you a reassuring smile. “If it hurt i would have said for you to stop..” he heard something along the lines of “but they’ve been bleeding..” causing him to sigh softly.

“They did, yes. But really not that much..” he watched your face, studying how it dropped, kept your eyes fixed to the food in your lap but that interest in eating no longer there. “Hey.. how about this..” you looked up to him ever so slightly, the man peaking your interest. “You eat your food, have a some painkillers and if you really want to, you can give them a clean.”

You thought about it for a moment, turning your eyes back to the food. “I..” You sighed softly, knowing for a fact he wouldn’t take any other compromise. You loved Lewis.. but sometimes that habit of not putting himself first annoyed you to no end. “Okay..”

With a smile, Lewis stood again. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before turning to head to the bathroom once again. Coming back with two ibuprofen both snapped in half. “Hand out baby.” He spoke, sitting down on the bed beside you and dropped them into your palm when you’d done as instructed. Throwing them into your mouth and quickly swallowing them down with the juice. Shuddering once you’d managed to successfully get them down.

“That’s it.. you finish eating I’ll clean up a little.” Lewis spoke, soft smile on his face. He grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe to not upset you any further. Just an old one, print practically gone the only remnants being a shiny patch on the cotton fabric where it used to be. What used to be black now washed out to a light grey.

You heard him hum softly, the sound of a washing machine door opening and closing, then the same for the dryer. You heard the beep of it starting up, Lewis coming up thirty seconds later with some pillows and duvet from the spare room. He carefully switched the pillows over with the ones on the bed, being sure not to strain you too much knowing your muscles were sore and then swapped the duvet round, taking them both downstairs. Rustling came from the laundry room of which you assumed was him stripping the covers from the bedding followed by two doors opening and closing, a curse, sound of a tap running so clearly Lewis had spilled liquid detergent and finally the sound of the doors closing and two beeps signalling the two machines had started washing their loads.

After that, it was mainly just standard day to day sounds. Like washing dishes, the odd clatter, sound of the vacuum. After about half an hour Lewis came back up to an empty plate. Instead of taking it downstairs like you thought he would, he simply set it on the table in the corner, nipped into the bathroom and came out with a damp clean cloth. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to, babe.” He spoke, moving to sit beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Pulling you into his side.

“I know..” you muttered, resting your head onto his shoulder and held your hand out for the cloth which he reluctantly handed over. “But I want to.. I caused it, I want to help make it better.” You heard the other chuckle, looking up to him confused.

“I mean, I’d argue that I was the one to cause it. You don’t exactly go around clawing at my back like it’s a norm.” He smirked, looking down to you briefly before pulling his arm away. He pulled the shirt off with one swift motion and then pulled the duvet back, moved to lie down between your legs and hugged your thigh. “But I do like when you do it..”

You smiled softly as the man got comfortable. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for Lewis to be searching comfort from you. Usually you were on the receiving end. Or you’d have to reach out and offer that comfort. You didn’t mind reaching out at all but often you found yourself wishing he’d do it a bit more. You wanted him to know he could come and ask. You were sure he did. You just didn’t know why he didn’t. “Is there anything you didn’t like?”

The question snapped you from your thoughts, looking down to him for a moment before beginning to gently clean the scratches covering his back. “Uhm.. not that I can think of?” You spoke, sounding in thought as you tried to recall anything. “That break after the third was a little short, not enough for me to be like ‘woah no stop’ just more ‘fucking hell already?’ If you get me? Like I was still okay to do it was just a little tired kinda thing.”

You felt Lewis nod against your leg, kiss being pressed to your thigh. “I’ll remember that for next time.. anything you wanted to ask? Anything you want to try?” You felt the man relax against your leg the more you ran the cloth against his back, a small sigh escaping past his lips which caused you to smile ever so slightly.

“I can’t.. think of anything? But if anything comes up I’ll let you know.” The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. Neither of you feeling any need to break it as you continued to clean the others back. Eventually, you did speak up after realising you hadn’t asked how Lewis was doing. “What about you? Did you like it? Anything you didn’t? How are you holding up?”

“Me? Oh I’m feelin’ fine babe. Little sore like you but that’s normal. I can’t think of anything that I didn’t like. A few things I’d want to try but I’d like to wait for you to come to me and bring them up.” Lewis didn’t want to pressure you.. he knew that seemed to be a reoccurring theme with other couples. Dom mentions something they want to try, sub agrees purely for the fact it’s their dom without even considering if it was something they’d want. He knew you could stand up, tell him what you wanted, when you wanted to stop. You’d demonstrated that last night. But it was still a fear none the less.

“Alright well.. you can bring it up. ‘M all ears.” You spoke. To some, it may have come up as trying to pressure him. To Lewis? He knew it was simply some reassurance before you’d both drop the subject. Again, the room fell silent. Roscoes snores and the muffled sounds of birds filling the room. Eventually, his back was cleaned. “Alright.. baby you’re gonna have to scooch. Need the bathroom.”

Lewis reluctantly sat up from inbetween your legs, rubbing his face with a yawn. “You need a hand getting there or no?”

“Nah.. I think I got it.” The trip there was slow, you had a slight waddle in your walk. But you did eventually make it. Turning the light on as Lewis got comfortable on the bed. Turning the TV on. Not even five seconds later there was a shout.

“Lewis!” He turned his head to the door, smirk already plastered on his face. Just knowing you’d saw the absolute state of your neck. Then, your head popped from the room. “I’ve got work tomorrow!”

ʚɞ I actually really liked how this turned out?? I was originally going to post Lewis, Charles and Carlos together but I got like 2k words in for Lewis and thought “who tf is going to read like 6k words of just aftercare”.

ʚɞ Not to mention I was struggling to find a way for it to not be repetitive? There’s only so many times I can x, y, z gave reader a bath in one post before it gets a little boring. So I decided to leave them as separate posts and if people want to go back and read the others they can 🤷‍♂️

ʚɞ Honestly no idea when the next of this little mini series will be up. My social battery is six feet under and I’m so goddamn tired lol so give me like a few days see where I’m at

ʚɞ As for requests, I know there was some interest for a one someone left a few days ago, I’ll get to that asap I was planning this one out when the request came through so I decided to finish this one first instead of immediately working on the request so I didn’t forget about it (this took so long to write omg usually I’m able to bash like three posts out in one sitting but this took days 😭)

ʚɞ Anyway I have a strong headcannon that Lewis would call you ‘sugar’ and I don’t know why because whenever I think of that I think of it being said in a southern accent by some guy who works on a ranch not a British guy who drives cars around a track for a living so 🤷‍♂️

ʚɞ This entire post is long enough as it is so I’ll leave it here. Bye now 👋🏻

[averagecygnet-blog]

one thing I absolutely adore about tgwdlm is how completely and irrevocably a stage musical it is. it HAS to be a stage musical - the medium is so deeply baked into the story that it truly would not translate to another medium.

some reasons why:

the musical style is old-fashioned in a way that screams classic broadway. you can't get away from it, especially in songs like "lah dee dah dah day" and "show stoppin number". and it's not just the music, it's the dancing too - have you ever seen a kickline in a movie musical, once, ever? or jazz hands? gimme a break

along similar lines - all the broadway references! hamilton of course, but also wicked and mamma mia and jekyll & hyde

all the attention deliberately brought to the lighting and set! the performers in "la dee dah dah day" loudly saying "lights down!" when it's over; ted, paul, and emma striking the stage after "show stoppin number"; the lighting panels used as sirens, TVs, showcasing hudgins' alexa, and more; ted wheeling the big meteor prop off the stage after "let it out". they don't let you forget that we're in a theater.

all the hokey ass miming and special effects???? charlotte and hudgins having their guts ripped out is flashy and fun onstage because of the intestine props. emma and ted having blood capsules in their mouths. paul, emma, and zoey violently shaking when pantomiming being in a helicopter. ted running in place, moving forward or back to suggest movement across the road. it's all so fun and consistently reminds you that this is a stage

double-casting as intentional obstruction of the truth. we're used to seeing one actor play several roles in a musical, so when a familiar face shows up in a new costume we assume it's a new character. but it was zoey flying the helicopter to clivesdale, and I think it was zoey in the hospital at the end as well. you couldn't pull that shit in a movie because movies don't double-cast.

the role of the audience, the laughter and gasps and reactions and applause, especially the applause at the end when emma is begging the audience members to let her use their phone and demanding to know why they're clapping; sure movies have audiences too but the presence of the audience as part of the story makes a point about societal ideals as something we all have a part in that a movie just couldn't make in the same way

on a related note - emma's sudden awareness of the stage and the audience as the horror trope where the person realizes they're trapped and will imminently die. she knows she can't escape because it's just a fuckin loop. she knows no one will save her because they're all clapping. you couldn't do that in a movie because in a movie there is a fourth wall, whereas on a stage there's nowhere for the characters to run away. on a stage the characters can look you, the audience, directly in the eye, with no camera or screen between you

I will literally never shut up about that curtain call

god damn what I wouldn't give to watch this show performed live

[deepdisireslonging]

Hidden in Plain Sight

Jason is still considered dead by the public. That doesn’t mean he can’t lovingly irritate you while in disguise during a gala. You’re on a mission with Nightwing, but Jason keeps distracting you. When the mission takes a turn, he becomes your refuge.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings/Promises: cw alcohol, “Hamilton” reference, characters objectifying the Reader, angst, canon-level threats, SMUT, p-in-v, cliffhanger

Word Count: 4450

Notes: I don’t know where the plot came from. When do I ever know? It just kind of appears. There’s not a part two this; I like how it ends. Please let me know how you guys like the fic with comments and reblogs <3 Happy reading!

“Would you like me to refill our glass, Miss Wayne?”

You glanced at your champagne flute, full except for the sip you had taken a moment earlier. “No, thank you.” You took another sip without looking at the waiter. On the stage at the front of the room, the mayor of Blüdhaven was shaking hands with his newest “friend,” who publicly went by Kenneth Dormeer. Actually, according to your research, the man was a face for The Society. The secret collection of “the powers that be” had their fingers in every pie, and they wanted to rule the world, same as every other secret society. But this one had a case of the explosions if they couldn’t get their way. They were planning something big. You, Nightwing, and Oracle were doing your best to figure out what that was before it happened. And before it could hurt anyone.

But the waiter at your side was insistent.

“Perhaps I can sneak you a glass of the stronger stuff? Do you still have a preference for tequila shots after a public appearance?”

How would he know that?

“Jay!” You hissed at him as he grinned. Looking him up and down, you tried to hide a smile behind your glass. “You shouldn’t be here. Why are you dressed like a butler?”

He looked down. “Alfred picked it out. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

Mumbling under your breath, you asked, “I thought that’s what the weapons trading was for.”

The room thankfully broke into applause, covering up his humored snort. He kept close to you as the audience began to disperse. There would be another round of speeches later, but this gave Blüdhaven’s best time to discuss how much they wanted to “donate” to this pipe dream the mayor was laying out. These donations were why you were here. Every stake-out, every high-speed chase, and every gunfight couldn’t stand up in court was well as a paper trail. How did that musical put it? “Follow the money and see where it goes.”

“How’s it going down there?”

You jumped as Nightwing talked in your ear. Oracle’s new comms design was really put to the test tonight. There was nowhere to hide a communication link when your hair was swept back, exposing your neck. The deep V of your dress was to hopefully distract any of the men who tried to talk to you. And the borderline gaudy necklace borrowed from Bruce’s safe of his mother’s jewelry was to distract the women. You took another sip to cover up your speaking to “no one.”

“It’s the usual hot air down here. The Masons are speaking with the Jacksons. That’ll be at least five million there. And Mrs. Smith is… well, worse for wine. Mr. Dormeer is paying heavy attention to her. If she’s not careful, he’ll have eight to ten million out of her by the end of the night.”

“Not that she can’t spare it. Just wish she’d push it somewhere useful for once.”

Jay flashed a tray of drinks in your face. “How is the night bird doing? Is he out in the cold on some perch?”

You flashed your eyes at him, trying to get him to go away. He didn’t budge. Covering your ear, and hopefully keeping Nightwing and Oracle from hearing, you bumped your hip with his. “I’m working. Do you mind?”

“Not very well.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s never changed, resurrection and all.” Glancing around, the other waiters were moving quickly, but deftly through the crowd. “You’d better get moving if you don’t want to lose your ‘job.’ I’d hate for you have to go crawling to Bruce when you end up on the street.”

Jason slid a hand across your stomach. He pressed his body close enough to your back for you to feel the tactical gear under the suit. His lips pressed a light kiss to the spot behind your ear. (The one without extra listeners.) “We both know I’d never do that. The streets were my home once before. As they were yours. Besides, I wouldn’t go to Bruce. As his only ‘daughter’ who has accepted the Wayne funding he kept trying to push on us… I would come to you. And it wouldn’t just be for your company.”

His hand on your waist kept you from pulling away. To push him away would cause a scene. You both knew it. He knew you couldn’t afford to draw attention to yourself. And you knew he was there for more than catering to the rich attendees in the room.

“Take the comm out.”

You placed the tiny device into his palm. With a groan, you bemoaned the dressing-down Oracle would give you later when she found out you “dropped” it into your drink. Jason boldly kissed your cheek.

“Does dear father Bruce know you’ve been secreting a portion of your allowance into shell companies around the globe?” He leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath ruffling the hairs on the back of your neck. “Does the flightless Dick know you’re planning an escape route?”

His startled face was close to yours when you suddenly turned. “What would it matter to either of them? What does it matter to you?”

The silence cut between you. Jason’s chest heaved. So did yours. The movement fluttered the front of your dress, catching his attention. It was a lure, after all. But this former bird caught in the snare was the only one who had seen you without a stitch on. He inhaled to speak. 

“Is this man bothering you, Miss Wayne?”

You quickly stepped away from Jason as Kenneth Dormeer came to your side. “No. He was just leaving. He’s going to bring me a shot.” Staring down Jason, you silently promised to continue that conversation later. You turned on the charm. And you couldn’t help but smirk when Dormeer’s gaze drifted down the front of your dress like a fly to honey. Two catches in quick succession. “I hope you don’t mind me ordering around your catering staff. It’s a strange habit of mine. Tequila keeps the nervous edge off at events like this.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That is a concept. I’ll have to try it sometime.”

“Would you like me to flag the waiter down? I’m sure he can bring us a double.”

He quickly waved away your offer. “I think I should wait until after all my speeches are over. If I may inquire…” he moved close to you. Again his gaze drifted as you adjusted the front of your dress, actually pinching a secondary listing device into action. “What are your opinions of our goals here tonight?”

This was it. If you could capture audio of Dormeer asking for money to pay off the Mayor or other goals of The Society, it would jumpstart the file of evidence your team was building. You flashed him a smile.

“I am curious as to why you’re taking the private funding route. And why you’re doing it in a closed gala. If this is for the benefit of Blüdhaven, why can’t the public know we’re doing this? Millions of dollars are being raised tonight for hospitals, libraries, and the new central park.”

Dormeer didn’t flinch. “With so many high, that is, heavy rollers such as yourself, we kept this little shindig on the low to protect our investors. And this money is going to do so much more than help Blüdhaven.” His voice lowered. “Tonight, we are going to strengthen each other. What goes around comes around. Each one of use that shows our… loyalty tonight,” he nodded, “will be rewarded in the future.”

“That is good to know.”

“So we can count on your support?” Before you could reply in either direction, he took your hand. He kissed your knuckles. Oblivious to the way the people around you whispered behind their hands, he pressed in as close as Jason did earlier. You nearly recoiled from the overwhelming sense of feeling like a rabbit quivering in front of a wolf. “I know you have deeper pockets than you let on. You’ve done well for yourself with your father’s money. If you give me your backing, I can protect you from Blüdhaven. Our city is a dangerous place. When I hear things, I can give you the heads up you need to be out of town. Perhaps to that little flat in London you rarely visit. Funding me helps build the network of this city’s true leadership. The right people in the right places. Those who pull the strings. Everyone else will be left in the dust. And the rubble, should the need arise.” He flicked his thumb across an imaginary speck on your cheek. “Think about it. The donations will begin soon.”

When he left, you couldn’t move. Something in your spine had been turned to ice. No one knew about that flat in London. Not the public, Wayne board, your crew, or even Jason. You only went there in times of extreme emergency. And mostly as your vigilante’s alibi identity. It was one thing for Jason to know about your back-up plan. It was another for a member of a secret society to know about your alter ego and her habits. Mentally you tallied every move you had made in the past six months. You looked for any chink in your personal armor. Anything loose that might have given Dormeer and his overseers access to your life. Worse still, with your team listing in on the recorded conversation, they now knew about your secret plans too.

“Here’s that shot, Miss Wayne.” Jason appeared by your side with a smile. It faltered as he spotted your eye twitching.

You downed it in a gulp.

He frowned. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Across the room, the Mayor and Dormeer began another round of speeches to plea for aid towards Bludhaven’s future. You wondered how many attendees had been borderline blackmailed into giving money tonight. The Society’s man made eye contact with you. He noted the empty shot glass in your hand and saluted his champagne flute.

“He knows.”

“What?”

You swallowed hard. “He knows. How could he know?” Snagging his wrist, you dragged him out of the hall and into a back room, some office. On the way, you pinched the listening device off. With your necklace, also modified by Oracle, you scanned the space for listening devices. It was clear. “When you were following my money trail did you leave anything open?”

Jason squinted. “What are you talking about? Who knows what?”

“Dormeer. He knows what you know. And more.” You shivered. “This is bigger than we thought. If he did that much research into me…”

“Hey.” He caught your shoulders and shook you before you could begin to hyperventilate. “He doesn’t necessarily know anything. Maybe it was a lucky shot in the dark.”

“You don’t understand. I set up that London apartment with Oracle’s program. Barbara can’t even break into her own system. She’s told me. But if The Society can-“

“What flat? Wait. You’re here for The Society?”

You glared at him. “You wanted out of the Bat’s circle, and you left. Don’t start asking those kinds of questions now.”

“I’m not asking questions about the bat and my fellow bat-siblings. I’m asking about you. The Society is too big to move against like this. They thrive on paperwork. Digging into their files and way of thought works like a bridge; it’s a two way path. Tell me you haven’t done that. Tell me you haven’t looked into their pockets.”

Your wide terrified eyes told him everything. He closed his with a sigh.

“Did – did I let them in?” Your hands gripped at his shirt, wrinkling it. “I – I just wanted a way out. A life outside of all of this. Preferably without dying for it.”

Jason shrugged, trying to make light of the situation before it crushed you. “Dying’s not so bad.”

“And look where it got you. You’re still in the game. Still fighting, but from inside the dark. That’s not an escape, Jay.”

He didn’t have a reply. Instead, he held you close while you began to shake. “Shh. Shh, I’ve got you.”

“I’m scared.” You had built up your imaginary life in freedom too much. Now that it was crumbling around you, you felt like you were being buried alive by your own failures. Before you knew it, your tears were soaking the front of his shirt.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He tilted your head up to kiss you quick and hard on the lips. “We’ll get through this. We’ll – we’ll think of something.”

Outside the door, a loud cheer went up as the bidding began.

“I should go back.”

Jason nodded. But he didn’t let you go.

“I’ll be missed.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s daughter. According to the tabloids, you’ve picked up some of his… social habits. Bruce may not be happy with what the public gossip says tomorrow, but he’ll understand. I hope he’ll be able to see the irony.” He kept his arms around you as your tears lessened. He began to sway. Rocking you back and forth, he let his thoughts tumble out loud. “You could come hide with me.”

“What?”

“Like you said. I work in the shadows already. Take a break from the Nightwing’s proceedings. You could be my Oracle. It would get you away from Dick and Barb’s questions-“

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Publicly, you could still be around in Gotham and Blüdhaven, but I could watch out for you and keep you from The Society.”

“And just how would you do that?” You gently pushed away from him. “I can’t work like you do. You… take an easier path.”

He frowned. “You sound like Bruce. You mean I kill people.”

“Yes.”

“Only those who can’t be redeemed.”

“Everyone can be redeemed.” You flicked your nails across one another; it was a habit you picked up instead of biting your nails. “I have to believe that. Even if it’s hard and takes a lifetime. If I’m going to keep Bludhaven safe, I need to do it the right way.”

“The right way,” Jason sneered. “You really are Bruce’s daughter. That golden dream of his won’t hold up when the end comes in sight. The Society isn’t going to let themselves be found out. This isn’t Falcone with a mile-long line of dirty laundry that the Batman and Company can air out. The Society always has a fall guy. Dormeer may end up in court and in jail. But he’ll go mysteriously missing or dead. The Society is too practiced to catch the legal way. They have lawyers and paper trails for that. But work with me. We’ll take them out at the root. It won’t be pretty, and it won’t end up on the news as some glorious moment for Blüdhaven’s salvation. But you’ll be free. And we’ll still save lives in the process. Come with me.”

Jason wouldn’t let you look at the floor for too long. He knew, as you did, that if he caught you in his bright eyes that you would waver. Within a few steps, he had you pressed against the back wall of the office. He tilted you chin up with the crook of his finger.

“Sweetheart, please. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself.”

His thumb traced over your bottom lip. “It doesn’t have to be permanent. Come hide out with me for six months.” He continued quickly over your objections. “I know we won’t conquer this that quickly. But we can reevaluate when we get there. If we need to send you into deeper hiding, we can. Or we can keep working. Then you can go to London, Metropolis, or wherever you want to live without being attached to all this.”

You gave him a shady side-eye. “I would never move to Metropolis. If you thought Bruce’s reach was bad, can you imagine living within close earshot of Superman?”

Jason grinned. “Aright. We could probably pull some strings with Diana and get you into Themyscira?”

“But it’s all women!”

“So? You used to complain all the time that the men around you never had enough braincells. There would be a whole island of competent women to hang out with.”

He was trying to make you laugh. It was working. “That may be a dream for you, being surrounded by women, but I don’t think I could live without at least one guy around. They don’t allow male visitors to linger long on Themyscira.” Maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was your fear warping into another bad decision, but you tugged him close by his lapels. “No. I don’t think I could join the Amazons.”

Jason’s mouth parted with a gasp. He tried to come up with a reply, but the way your eyelashes kept opening and closing over your eyes was distracting. He’d forgotten how effective your gaze was on his ability to think too. He wavered. “Alright. No to an island getaway.” His knees almost gave out as you slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders. “Living up to that legacy? I’m game, but…” he paused your hands from unbuttoning his shirt. “But you will have to make a decision. Tonight.”

“I thought we had. I’m going to hide out with you. For six months, at least, and then we’ll reevaluate.”

“Heaven forbid you agree with me outright.”

You silenced his further protests with a quick kiss. Then a deeper one. His body rocked into yours. It took several passes to at least open the tactical gear over his chest. He fumbled with the voluminous fabric of your dress until he found the flesh of your thighs. Along the way, he found the knife strapped to the holster.

“You certainly haven’t changed either.” He smiled against your cheek.

With your hands roaming the broad expanse of his chest, you couldn’t argue. No. You hadn’t changed. You had mourned him as a child. Then celebrated his return as a man. Nighttime missions sometimes needed an outlet. And then there were the times you helped patch each other up. But Jason was gone from the public eye. You weren’t. You played into Bruce’s player legacy while you remained alone. Until Jason needed your help again. Or you his. You kept up your barriers, only crumbling them down for one person: him.

His hands pulling you closer were comforting. How his hands squeezed his fingertips into your flesh felt like coming home. You would never tell him this. But the desire for him, to always be by his side, spilled into the way your lips pressed into the curve of his jaw. How you sighed into his chest, licking at the dip of his pectorals. You breathed him in. The closeness of him turned your trembling into an ache under your belly. Your kissing became more fervent. Jason returned in kind.

Your mouth fell open as his fingers parted your lower lips. With a curl of his finger, he made you keened out his name. Jason pressed close, muffling your sounds with his lips and pressing your face to his chest. He kept moving. Curling, then scissoring two fingers through your slick. Soon it didn’t matter how much he muffled your noises. The wet sound of your dripping arousal could probably be heard from outside the door. But the more and more he teased you towards the brink, the less and less you cared.

“So close, Jay.”

“I can feel that.” He circled his thumb over your clit. His heart stuttered in his chest to watch your gaze glaze over. “Gonna cum on my fingers?” If it was possible, he pressed in even closer. If he pushed against you any harder, you were going to break through the drywall. He began to suckle a mark onto your neck.

“Mhmm!” You pushed him away. “Don’t. Can’t leave evidence.”

Jason pouted. “I was hoping to leave a little evidence.”

“Nothing visible.”

“Fine.”

Pushing aside your dress strap, he suckled a mark into the top of your breast. He hiked you up onto his waist so he wouldn’t have to hunch down so much. Which meant he had to remove his fingers from where you wanted them. Your whine was placated with the ready bulge trapped in his pants. He ground it into the apex of your thighs, uncaring if you made a mess of his clothes.

By then, both of you were desperate for what came next. When he finally sheathed himself in you, he had to cover your mouth with his hand. You were too blissed out to comment that he was just as loud as you.

Jason waited for your breathing to even out before rotating his hips. He worked up to bouncing you on his length. Your hands dug into the hair at the nape of his neck. Once he was satisfied with the mark he had sucked onto your chest, he buried his face in the curve of your neck. You could feel his breath coming out in hot pants. Every other breath, he murmured your name.

“Will always look out for you,” he moaned. “Always.”

“I know, Jay. I know.” Your nails raked across his chest. You hummed as he hissed with the pleasure of the thin red welts that trailed in their wake.

His pace increased. Your keens and whimpers took on a fevered pitch. Jason’s desperate breaths rang with his own high-toned sounds. He grunted something that sounded like a warning. Then he spilled into you. Despite the overstimulation that had to ravage his ability to think, he kept moving until you squeezed around him. His mouth fell open against your forehead. His legs quaked, threatening to topple you both. Your thighs quaked on either side of his torso, tightening around him as your inner walls fluttered with release.

Jason leaned an arm against the wall, heaving with the effort as you wobbled one leg off his hip, then another. He held up your skirts out of the way until your stance was steady. The sight of his cum dribbling down your legs gave him no small pleasure. His length bobbed with the threat of another round.

“See? Evidence.”

You rolled your eyes at him. But you also squeezed your thighs together as you tugged your skirts out of his grasp. You didn’t mind that he’d made a mess of you. To be fair, you’d made a mess of him too. Your pulse quickened with the sight of his rumpled shirt, and his struggle to replace his length into his pants. But when you straightened up, the weight of the evening almost toppled you over again. The sounds of the gala filtered back into the room, audible now that you had separated. You swallowed against the sudden dryness of your mouth. “How am I going to do this?”

“Just leave. I’ll call Dick tomorrow and he can yell at me then.”

“No. I have to tell them.” Jason’s dour face continued to disagree, but he helped you turn on the back-up listening device in your other ear. He seemed a little dejected at its presence, but you assured him it could only be turned on by touch. It was too dangerous to turn on remotely. He nodded when it flashed red once. A second later, the light disengaged, and it was the same color as your skin.

“There you are. Is everything alright?”

You swallowed. “Yes. Hood is here.” A shallow breath rattled through your lungs. “Nightwing, about London-“

“Yes, we heard. I assure you, we’re not worried about that right now. We got what we needed, now get out of there. Keep the link open, just in case.”

“Will do. But when we meet up with Oracle… we need to talk.” Your fingers curled into the spaces between Jason’s shirt buttons as your partner’s silence lingered.

He finally answered. “Yes. We do. But be safe. Get out of there.”

Jason gently removed your hands from his shirt. He shrugged on his suit jacket. Silently, he helped untwist your dress strap. With one more look, he helped make sure you didn’t appear too ravaged. But just enough to explain your absence. You walked back into the hall side by side. Jason broke off towards coat-check to gather your things.

“There you are, Miss Wayne.” Dormeer’s smile was brighter than an oil slick. “I thought we lost you.” He glanced over your shoulder as Jason appeared with your shoulder wrap. “Leaving so soon?” His smile sank in deeper as Jason’s hands lingered. He nodded as if he understood.

You glanced back as if seeing Jason for the first time. “Ah, yes. I have a… headache sinking in.” You shared a nod back, confirming what he wasn’t saying. It implied that you were taking this man home with you. “It’s a side effect of the tequila,” you added with a giggle. Opening your purse, you held out your hand. “Do you have a card? When I’m to rights in the morning, I will think over your offer in greater detail. Then I can give you a call and confirm a donation worthy of the cause at hand.”

Mr. Dormeer was dazzled by the possibility of a large chunk of Wayne funding. You could see his mind turning over with the calculations of how much he thought you were thinking of; an amount too much and too bold for announcing at a gala. He fumbled for a card. “Of course. I hope your headache dispels quickly.”

Placing a hand over Jason’s on your shoulder, you smiled at him. “I’m sure it will. Good evening, Mr. Dormeer.”

“Please, call me Kenneth. I’m sure we will get to know each other better as our discussions progress. Until then, good evening, Miss Wayne.”

Jason led you calmly, but quickly out of the hall. Once you were out of eyesight, Dormeer’s smile withered. He summoned over one of the mayor’s security guards. “Find out who that waiter was. His face is familiar. There shouldn’t be any familiar faces in the kitchen staff. No repeating lower-class servants.”

“Right away, Sir.”

The gala continued to glitter and shine around him. As a gaggle of elite women dripping in pearls started to head his way, he threw on another bright, but thin, smile. The waiter’s familiar face would come back to him soon. And when he found out and handled the situation, then he could further plan how to exploit the Wayne family’s fortune through the billionaire’s heir.

***

Masterlink

DC Fanfiction Masterlist

Other Jason Todd Fics:

 Familiar (F, S, A)

Two Hoods, One Revenge (S)

Midnight Run (Implied S)

Your Favorite Game (S)

His and Hers Need (F, S)

Galas with the Batfam:

Midnight Vibrations (New Years, S) - Dick x Reader

A Party for Two (S, Holiday Party) - Bruce x Reader

[merchelsea]

just maybe - lewis hamilton

pairing: ex!lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: lewis misses what you used to be, and what a better way to show it than showing up, drunk, at your house?

author’s note: felt like writing lewis today because not enough people do!

word count: 1,1k

you lay on your couch, your phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram feed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. you knew there wouldn't be anything new, but you couldn't help yourself. you had been in the same position all day, unable to shake off the melancholy that had settled over you.

it had all started because you wanted to watch a romantic movie, a harmless way to pass the time. but as the movie played on, you found yourself crying, wishing desperately for a happy ending like the one onscreen. you and lewis used to have those moments, those beautiful moments that now only existed in your memories.

every scene in the movie triggered a bittersweet memory. they weren't sad memories, per se, but the fact that they were over made them so. you decided it was time to stop torturing yourself, to stop watching movies that made you cry over your ex, and to simply wait for something to happen. but, of course, nothing did.

that is, until you heard a series of knocks on your door. you rushed to answer it, expecting it to be a friend or maybe your sister. but when you laid eyes on the familiar brown ones you had been crying over just hours ago, shock coursed through you.

"heeeeey," lewis slurred, clearly intoxicated. fate seemed to be playing a cruel prank on you.

you stared at him for a few moments before finally finding your voice. "what the heck are you doing here?" you asked, blocking his path from entering your home.

lewis smirked knowingly. "oh, didn't seb warn you?" he said, referring to his friend vettel, who must have sent you a message the moment he knew lewis was drunk and thinking about you.

because that's what happened when he got drunk. he'd think back to your relationship and regret every detail that had gone wrong. vettel always thought lewis would try to contact you, but he never had the courage to do it—until today.

lewis had qualified third in a race after a series of unfortunate events, finally giving him a shot at victory. but, unpredictably, he had to retire from the race on the first lap.

"I missed you." lewis confessed, leaning against your doorframe as if aware of how powerful those words were.

"you don't know what you're saying, lewis," you sighed. you had spent the last seven months dreaming of hearing those words from him, but this was not how you imagined it.

"oh, I know exactly what I'm saying. believe me," he insisted.

"you're drunk!" you retorted.

"and? that doesn't change the fact that I think about you all the time. about us. about what we used to be," he said, refusing to give up.

you stood there silently, thinking he would back off if you didn't give him a hint of what you were feeling. but of course he had other plans. you sighed and stepped back from the door, allowing lewis to enter. he leaned against the closed door, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his.

"I miss you when I'm at the simulator, and you're not there to beat my ass. I miss you when I go to lunch and forget to eat because I'm distracted by your smile. I miss you when toto speaks german, and we don't make jokes about it. I miss you when I'm walking, and our legs aren't in sync. I miss you when I wear my hats, and you're not there to steal them. I miss you when I see a cat on the streets, and you don't try to convince me to adopt it. I miss you when Max wins, and you're not there to congratulate him."

you were rendered speechless. every word he uttered, as he gazed deeply into your eyes, pierced your heart. you couldn't look away, but you feared that if you continued to stare, you wouldn't be able to let him go.

"I know I seem drunk, but this is the most truthful thing I've said in, like, forever. it's been almost eight months, and I still miss you in everything I do," he finally stood up and, somehow, managed to get closer to you. "tell me you don't miss me, and I'll never bother you again."

you took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. it was clear he had been drinking, but not enough to make him drunk. his little play could fool everyone, but it would never fool you.

you knew you missed him with every fiber of your being, but you weren't sure if it was the right thing to say. maybe, just maybe, he needed to move on, to find someone else who fit into his life.

but then, a voice inside your head reminded you that if he hadn't moved on after seven months without any contact, he probably wouldn't after eight. you couldn't lie to him when he had been missing you relentlessly for seven months.

"I miss you when I'm doing laundry, and I don't find your shirt in the wrong basket. I miss you when I'm taking a shower and don't hear the pre-qualifying comments. I miss you when I see a Mercedes on the road. I miss you when I play uno with my friends, and you don't win. I miss you when you're racing, and I'm at home, but not because I have things to do. I miss you when I'm not missing you because of racing."

you also took a step closer to him. "then let me make you miss me the right way again, please."

as you stood there, locked in a moment of intense longing and emotion, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you had been waiting for. lewis had come back, admitting his feelings, and you couldn't deny your own.

with tears welling up in your eyes, you took another step closer to him. in that moment, you both understood that some things were too strong to be denied or forgotten, no matter how much time had passed.

you whispered softly, "lewis, I'll miss you no matter what, so please make me miss you the right way."

lewis' eyes lit up with hope and joy, and he gently pulled you into his arms. as you embraced, you both knew that this was a chance to have a fresh start, to rebuild what you once had. it wouldn't be easy, and there were still obstacles to overcome, but you were both willing to try.

in that moment, as you held each other tightly, you realized that sometimes, fate had a way of bringing people back together, even when it seemed impossible. and maybe, just maybe, this was the happy ending you had been longing for all along.

[saturnville]

t- shirt, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x malika (black fem oc) content: in which wearing his shirt brings her comfort. warnings: 18+ steam + sexual situations and descriptions song reference: t-shirt by destiny's child wc: 1.5k

In-season was her least favorite season. Sure, she enjoyed seeing her partner in his element--world champion and multi-title holder leaving his heart on the track. But, the innermost parts of her, the selfish parts of her, hated when he was gone. It had been over 14 days since she’d seen him and she was losing patience as the days went on. 

She could travel financially, but leaving her students behind was not a sacrifice she could make frequently. The life of a professor, she noted. So, while he was in another country with timezone hours ahead, she sat on his side of the bed, propped against a pillow that smelled like his hair products, twiddling the rings around her left finger and staring at reruns of old reality television shows.

The quart of ice cream was long forgotten and she almost regretted finishing her chips so early on in the day. She hummed softly and tapped her fingertips against the remote, the tips of her nails singing an unclear tune. 

Her phone buzzed rhythmically along the side table. Her eyes darted toward the screen. Lover flashed across the screen in bright white letters. Her heart leaped as she swiped her phone from the table and answered in one breath. 

“Hi,” she greeted cheerfully. She was laser-focused on his face as it came into view. He was looking toward the right and she caught the most beautiful view of his side profile. The sun of the country he was in seemed to do him well as his complexion was deeper but just as stunning as it always had been. His earrings glistened beneath the lights of the bedside lamp. Her eyes traced the tattoo across his neck and wondered how long it’d be until she’d trace it with her lips. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” The hat he wore covered his eyes, but she caught a glimpse of them as he adjusted the camera angle. They were so big and brown, just sparkling and full of contentment. Her body warmed. 

She smiled bashfully and her cheeks warmed at the nickname. It would never get old and she loved it just as much as she did years ago. She propped her phone against the empty ice cream pint and shuffled toward the headboard. “How was today?” 

“It was good, I can’t complain. How was yours?” He then mirrored her actions and propped his phone on a nearby surface. He looked comfy, she noted. Dressed in the sweatpants she purchased for Christmas and an oversized shirt. 

“I miss you,” she said shortly. Her husband turned his head and cooed softly, reassuring her that he’d be back with her in due time. His adventures were soon ending, and within a day, he would be right where he was before he left--with her. She wasn’t amused, however. “I know, I know.” 

“Cheer up, love,” he tapped the screen with his index finger. “Flight leaves soon; give me a few more hours and I’m all yours. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow to confirm his promise. He raised his pink to the sky and brought it toward the phone. She did the same. “Promise. Get some rest, I’ll see you soon, alright? I love you.” 

She exchanged the same sentiments, blew a kiss, and hung up the phone. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

-

Her favorite article of clothing gripped her frame in a way that reminded her of his hands. He wore a simple short-sleeved, navy blue tee shirt often, but she swiped whenever she had the opportunity. It cuffed at the sleeves and his scent was etched within the threads. Normally, the sweater fit loosely on him, but with the fullness of her hips and the plushness of her belly, it clenched her sides comfortably in a way that both he and herself enjoyed.

She was wrapped in her favorite gray blanket. It was a recent gift he bought for her at random. She remembered him telling her he was eyeing it when he was out and about and knew she’d love it, and love it she did.

She fisted the blanket underneath her chin and leaned further into her pillow, her eyes trained on the television ahead of her that was playing an episode of Graceland. The show kept her company while her husband handled business. 

She hoped he would be home at a decent hour, but it was going on at midnight and she had yet to hear his car entering the garage. She sighed deeply, at least he’d have something for dinner when he came home. She had the intention of sharing a good dinner with him and cuddling the night away, but those plans were diminishing as the minutes ticked by.

Temporarily, she tore her eyes away from the television screen and swiped her hand along the bed in search of her phone. She sent him a quick text.

Malika

I miss you, baby

It took only a few moments for her phone to alert her of a message from him. A smile graced her lips.

Hubby

I miss you too. Packing up the car; I’ll be home soon. Another 30 minutes, baby.

Malika

K, be safe. I love you

Hubby

Love you more.

She then tossed her phone to the side and resumed watching her show until her husband arrived. She didn’t realize sleep almost had its grasp on her until she heard the robotic voice of the alarm system and a key rattling within the door lock. She flicked the blanket off her body and sat up slowly, stretching her tired limbs. She swung her feet over the bed and slowly padded out of the bedroom and down the dark steps.

She followed where the light led and saw her husband leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring at the timer on the microwave.

“Hi,” she squealed out softly, making Lewis turn his head. His braids, tied in a ponytail under his cap, swung slowly. He smiled at her, dropped his arms, and beckoned her near. “My gorgeous girl…” he said lowly, running his fingers across her sprawled hair. His hand traveled down her face and his thumb traced her lips. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“Mhm,” she hummed. She pulled away just slightly and eyed his physique with no shame. Her husband was a good-looking man and she enjoyed basking in his beauty. He tilted his head to the side, noticing her lowering eyes and swaying body. “Sleepy?” Malika nodded. While her day wasn’t as long as his, she was tired. Being a professor wasn’t for the weak and she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. 

“Get in bed, love,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands along her arms. She shook her head. “I will when you come upstairs.” She missed him so much and just wanted to be near him.

The microwave beeped behind them.

“I’ll stay down here,” Malika insisted, pulling away from him to sit at the dining room table. “tell me about your day. You raced well.”

His smile was charming as he swirled his food around with his fork and recapped the days he spent away. Of course, there was sightseeing, food tasting, drinking, and fellowship, but it was still work. So, none of the frustrations about the car, the managers, and other stressors were bypassed during their discussion. He even let it slip that a group of enchanted fans had a minuscule concept of personal space, especially about a married man. Malika shrugged. It came with the territory and as long as her husband knew how to handle it, that was her primary concern. 

“Well, baby, some people are bolder than others. They can look but never can they touch.” Malika giggled, leaning forward on her elbows. He took a bite and nodded with pursed lips. He’d be damned. 

Lewis leaned back in the seat and dropped his hands to his lap. He smiled for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. He said, “I feel like I’m talking about me too much and not enough of you. How was your day?”

Malika shook him off, enjoying hearing his voice after only getting a good morning, have a good day, and I love you before they both had to rush out of the door for their jobs. “I like hearing about your day.”

“Nothing arguing with managers and being in a hot suit for hours is amusing, baby,” he chuckled. “how’d that test go with the students?”

Malika’s students had a test over legal precedents and the historical events that prompted their passing and implementation into law. Most of them passed, which fueled her pride but also made her realize that she needed to change her methods in one way or another to ensure the other three students who struggled got the help they needed. The course was difficult and it should have been, but she was willing to make changes once she received feedback from the students.

“They did so well,” Malika gushed. “except three, so I need to talk to them, but I’m glad everything went smoothly. I was nervous, this was the first test I’ve given.” Being a new professor at the collegiate level, (after having dropped out of her doctoral program and then returning), she was nervous about how good she’d be as an educational instructor, but the growth of her students proved that she was great at her job.

Lewis caught how her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke about and smiled softly. He was more proud of her progress over the last years, seeing that her hard work had been paid off. He took her hand into his as his lips brushed over her knuckles. “Proud of you, my love.” Malika gushed and thanked him. They spent a few minutes going into more miscellaneous details of their days before standing to take refuge in their bedroom.

His eyes followed her frame as he closed the door behind him. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, closing the door behind him. Malika turned over her shoulder with a small smile. She nodded and pulled back the comforters. 

“It is,” she replied. “as much as I like it on you, I think it looks better on me.” She turned towards him. “Might look even better on the floor though.” His eyebrows lifted in interest. The look on her face was teasing. Her eyes sparkled with familiar mischief, the corner of her lips was raised, and her eyebrow quipped slightly. Her fingers danced along the hem of his shirt, curling along the edge to lift it, but, his quick strides and strong hands stopped her. 

He stood in front of her at the side of the bed. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but the confidence he possessed and his muscular frame gave the allusion that he towered over her. The warmth in his eyes grew hot and flames threatened to burn her insides. She could feel her loins stir with desire the longer their eyes stayed on one another. 

“You sure?” he asked, replacing her hands with his own. His palms were warm as they slid up her thighs, slid over her bottom, and gripped firmly. Her eyes fluttered closed and a whisper, yes, came from her. He hummed and hooked his finger around the thin panties that covered absolutely nothing. He pulled. She yelped. “On the bed.”

Malika moved faster than lightning. She brought her hands to her hair and prepared to pull her locs into a ponytail, but her husband’s headshake of disapproval made her arms fall. She’d forgotten how much he loved them. She laid on her back, hair sprawled against the pillows, chest heaving in anticipation, and thighs shaking from the sight of him alone. 

He was now above her, pulling the black headband off his head. He tossed it across the room. His shirt followed. Malika couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his skin. Her fingertips traced the large compass in the middle of his chest. They trickled downward toward the waistband of his pants, which they tugged on roughly. “Careful, darling.” His tone was teasing but she wasn’t in the mood for games. 

“Just love on me, please.” Always prepared to please, he took her hands in his, brushed his lips over the knuckles, then pulled his shirt over her body, dropping it on the floor. Even though they’d been together for years and love-making was not uncommon, he was in awe every time he looked at her. As a result, she felt shy under his gaze, still in awe about the fact that he loved her, all of her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as he gave her everything she wanted. The intensity, the passion, the desire. It had her writhing and shaking beneath him, all a beautiful sight to see. Her mouth was open and her lips damp from her tongue darting out to moisturize them. Her neck stretched as she struggled to stay still, her skin decorated with small marks that would bruise by the morning. And her eyes, her big brown eyes were glossy as her end was near.  “My pretty girl. You love me, baby?” 

Words were caught in her throat and all she could manage was a nod. Lewis tsked. “I asked you a question, love.” He slowed his movements, which pulled a sorrowful sigh from her. His eyebrow quipped. 

“Yes, yes! I love you, baby! Always…” 

Her confessions brought him to an end he wasn’t expecting to reach so quickly. Malika whimpered quietly as her husband worked her down from the high she rode. Slowly, her eyes opened and he smiled dopily, caressing her lover’s face with trembling hands. 

The gaze they held was filled with so much love and adoration. They looked like the lovesick teenagers they were when they met years ago, so enamored and full of one another. After some time, she said hoarsely, “I’m glad you’re home.” 

He pressed his lips against her cheek. “Me too, baby.”

Surrounded by the remnants of their love-making, they found solace in each other's embrace. With whispered words of affection and tender caresses, they whispered sweet nothings to one another before fatigue covered them like a blanket. They held to each other tightly, refusing to loosen their grip. Their love would always be their sanctuary, the stronghold that kept them bound together, always.

[chanelle-lize]

On Thursday, February 20, 2025, I got hit by a freight train.

Let me explain…

When I saw @wizard-loving-wizard post that Aabria was teaching a free masterclass in Hamilton, Ontario, I was crushed.

I live in Montreal, Quebec, which is a seven-hour drive from Hamilton. Round trip tickets would have cost me ~$200, which would have been perfectly affordable if it wasn’t for the dire financial situation I’ve been in for the last several months. I felt like I was missing out on a dream come true because I was just too much of a fuck up to reach out and take it.

I retreated to my Aabria appreciation post on Discord and vented about my inability to attend the event. Fifteen minutes later, a fellow Aabria fan, who I will refer to as “Ruby” replied, “Tell me how much it costs to get there and back- I will sponsor you.”

I almost immediately refused. They explained that they wanted to pay my way as a birthday present for themself, because they really wanted to see me follow my dreams. So, I decided to look up the current ticket prices. I did my research and learned the most efficient route was to take a bus from Montréal to Toronto, then from Toronto to Hamilton. Four tickets, round trip. Then, I registered to get my ticket for the masterclass, just to make sure I didn’t secure bus tickets only to find that the class had sold out.

I asked around some local social media groups to see what options I had and found someone who was looking to trade a bus ticket from Montreal to Toronto on the exact date of the event. They ended up trading me the ticket in exchange for a faux fur blanket that I forgot I had. Ruby congratulated me for snagging one of the tickets, but reminded me that their offer was still available.

I kept looking, in the hopes that I would eventually find a way to get from Toronto to Hamilton, and then back home again without having to accept freely-given financial support (no, I don't have a therapist, why do you ask?), but I had no such luck. I felt like I was on a perpetual roller coaster of hope and disappointment, but every time I got discouraged, I hummed “Impossible” from Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella to myself – the Brandy and Whitney Houston rendition, specifically – and kept going.

On Wednesday, I had to accept that I probably would not be finding any more bus tickets on my own, so I thanked Ruby for reiterating the offer and told them how much I needed for the remaining three tickets. They sent me $200 regardless.

I bought the rest of the tickets and left for Toronto at 6:30 am Thursday morning.

On the way to Toronto, I got a Spill notification (Spill is a Black-owned social media app) reminding me about the weekly “Advanced Audacity” lecture series I had signed up for. It suddenly hit me that, last Thursday, I had said that I simply didn't have the funds to achieve my dreams. Naya, the audacity coach running the lecture series (yes, audacity coach) asked me what dream I didn’t have the funds for, and I said “becoming a performer/storyteller in the TTRPG space.” And there I was on a bus to McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario to watch Aabria Iyengar teach a D&D storytelling masterclass, exactly seven days later.

Wild.

I got to the venue safely and settled in for the show. It was phenomenal, unsurprisingly. Aabria was joined on stage by four local D&D players, one of whom was a Black woman named Renée. Aabria began by giving a short talk on storytelling within the context of D&D (and the sociocultural implications that come with it), before spending the rest of the show DMing a brilliantly thrilling one-shot. I took notes throughout the entire event and had a lot of fun writing speculative marginalia about the thought-process behind her storytelling choices and jotting down the insights she shared as she paused to explain why she was doing something the way she was doing it.

I was also particularly struck by Bubbles, Renée's unsettlingly over-friendly Tiefling character. At some point, I leaned over to @wizard-loving-wizard (who I met and got to sit next to at the event) and whispered, “Bubbles is the Tabby to my Evan Kelmp.”

After the show, Aabria sat on the edge of the stage to chat with audience members, and my wildest dream of being able to nerd out about storytelling with Aabria Iyengar… was immediately shattered when she looked over at me and I reacted like Troy Barnes meeting LeVar Burton. I broke eye contact and starred at the ground, absolutely furious with myself. Thankfully, I remembered that I wanted to ask Aabria to record a video message for Ruby, so I did end up meeting her.

I told her about the blanket–bus ticket trade and Ruby's generosity, and then I tried to ask for a video message, but I just said "Um," forever until she asked me if I wanted to send Ruby something. I jammed my phone into her hand, and she said, "Oh, I'm doing it?" and I said, "I DUNNO," to which she replied, "No, we're all in this now!" turned into a selfie stick, and recorded a minute long heartfelt message for Ruby with WLW and I just kinda hanging out in the background. Then she asked me if I wanted to take a photo with her. After the photo, she said something that I cannot remember, but I remember saying, "I am not here," in response, to which she replied, "No, don't dissociate!" And then I dissociated, and I don't remember what happened between that and saying goodbye, but I do remember that after I said goodbye, I said, “Flee the scene!” and legged it.

So, I didn’t exactly get to discuss any of the notes I had taken, but I did meet Aabria Iyengar, and that alone is a dream come true, even though I became a version of myself nobody has ever seen before and I hope to God no one ever sees again, because, what the fuck… was that.

Anyways.

WLW couldn’t stay for the after party but kindly dropped me off. I was starting to get pretty tired, and I was disappointed that I didn’t get to properly talk to Aabria, so I didn’t actually want to go anymore, but I also didn’t want to give up on having the opportunity to have a conversation about storytelling with somebody. So, I went inside.

I spent a long time just kind of standing in a corner by myself until I worked up the courage to approach someone else who was also just kind of off to the side, and we ended up striking up a conversation. We chatted about the show, and as we spoke, I slowly came to the realization that most of the people who came out to the masterclass were motivated by an interest in D&D.

Now, this sounds like a dumb realization to make after traveling for seven hours to attend a D&D masterclass, but it was an important one, because I don’t give that big of a fuck about D&D. I’ve never played a single TTRPG in my goddamn life. Would I? Sure. But D&D had nothing to do with how desperately I wanted to go to that masterclass. I was drawn in by something else.

Last Thursday, Naya the audacity coach said that one of the ways we think ourselves out of our dreams is by assuming that everybody would be doing what we want to be doing if it was something that anybody could just up and do. But that assumption is false. Everybody has different dreams. Not everybody wants to be doing what you want to do. And I looked around the room and saw Renée on the other side and realized we were the only Black women there.

I didn’t feel quite up to breaking the ice, but thankfully my conversation partner wanted to go ask Renée what Bubbles’ class was, because she had the other three pretty much figured out. So we walked over and joined the conversation. Bubbles turned out to be a druid, and the reason she was hard to identify was because Renée did not take a single combat action during the entire one-shot and Bubbles was still a fascinating and engaging character nonetheless. I’m not exactly sure where the conversation went from there, but I remember getting really excited because Renée said Bubbles’ whole “unaware that she’s freaking people out by being too friendly” vibe really resonated with her, and I excitedly told her that it really resonated with me too, and then there was this lovely moment where Renée started talking about how much harder it is to be a weirdo when you’re already a visible minority, and she started a phrase that ended with “when all they see is,” and she looked me right in the eyes and paused for the tiniest fraction of a second before saying, “sharp teeth and horns.” I already knew how common it is for a Black person to play as Tieflings, but using a Tiefling as a literal metaphor in order to talk about your experiences as a Black person while physically, not figuratively, but literally standing in a predominantly-white space and simultaneously protecting that expression of self from getting hijacked and repurposed as a teachable moment for the benefit of everybody else in the room but you absolutely blew my mind.

I have strongly identified with the song "In My Own Little Corner" since the first time I heard Brandy sing it as Cinderella, but "Impossible" didn't resonate with me until I watched the first episode of “Burrow’s End” on YouTube and Aabria became my Storytelling Fairy Godmother. Since then, I’ve been hearing “Impossible” playing from some vague, untraceable location in the distance that I had no real hope of finding. But, on Monday, it crystallized to a single point over Hamilton, Ontario, and on Tuesday, it started getting louder, like the horn of an approaching freight train, and it kept getting louder, until Thursday, February 20, 2025, the freight train hit, and I’m different now.

Fuck it, I’m different now.

It was Impossible for me to go to the masterclass, so somebody else sent me. And it was Impossible for me to achieve my dreams because if they were possible, everybody else would be doing it too, but I just sat in a room with 300+ people who don’t want what I want, so…

I’ve never been fired, but I did find out that I’d used up all my student funding last semester in the middle of midterms when I was too stressed to do anything about it, and I haven’t been able to pay rent since September. So, fuck it! I have the audacity. This is my Doechii moment now.

I’m going to go to a bunch of studios and ask if they have any internships open and ask questions, and by that I mean I’m going to connect with the Renées and the Aabrias, and all the other Black women storytellers, and talk to them about creating, and playing, and performing, and critiquing games, and stories, and characters, and worlds.

I’m going to message Renée and tell her I really enjoyed talking with her about her unique approach to gameplay and I’m going to ask if she’s free to chat more about it.

I’m even going to tag @quiddie and not even panic a little bit about it. Sup prof, lecture was sick, do you do… office hours…?

Anyways, that’s the story of how I got hit by a motherfucking freight train.

[hamsrevolution]

I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

[saintslewis]

before i release the next chapter of renaissance, there’s a couple of things i want to shareeeee!

it’s a long list so buckle up! 🤠

before reading pure/honey, read on the lobola concept (by me) right here 🩷

☆ - back home, nadia and her family are incredibly Zulu and i’ll explain all the ins and outs as the day goes along so you guys are prepared 🤭.

☆ - in the zulu culture, there is a lot of dancing and singing involved but of course, for the sake of writing, I won’t include all that and it’ll just be dialogue.

☆ - nadia has a very large family but because her mother took her away from them at a very young age, she never really got the chance to grow around them but they are incredibly supportive of her and love her very much.

☆ - i’ll put a few pictures so that you guys can see what nadia and lewis should wear on such a special day for them. (i’m sure you can guess what the chapter will be about!)

☆ - “amabhuto” are what we call zulu warriors here in south africa. they are a large group of men who gather for a ceremony to sing and celebrate the occasion and wholly represent how zulu men are supposed to be when celebrating something. usually in suburban areas, they are hired by a family.

☆ - there are several terms that i will be using that will be translated because writing some things in zulu to english would be a bit odd so I hope you don’t mind. there will also be several links i will put for outfits and decor so you can get a visual of the occasion along with a few singing videos at the end of the chapter so you can understand the ways of this zulu occasion 🤍

☆ - in the Zulu culture, when referring to a woman in conversation, we sometimes use their mother’s maiden name (last name) as opposed to their first name. For example, nadia will be referred to as MaSibanda as she belongs to the Sibanda family (before her mom got married to an english man and ruined her daughter’s life.)

side note on that: lots of her family members will refer to the household as KwaSibanda as the occasion is being held at the Sibanda household. (It’s actually the Hamilton household but since the house is in Nadia’s name, it is referred to as such.)

pls do let me know if you have any more questions! 🩷

the bride (and her friends) during the first part of the ceremony before the reception:

(p.s her friends are allowed to have white and gold accessories or any colour really except for that of the bride)

the groom (and his friends). this is also how amabhutoware meant to look:

hope this was informative!

love, saintslewis (a very zulu girl).

[desmon1995]

Derailed: The Anthem of Anxiety

Derailed this is more often than not held as at least one of the top five songs from the album and I wanted to make an ode to it to analyze I think why it's easily one of the best songs that shows that LMM and Eisa Davis are masters of their craft.

*Derailed* hits like a warped reflection of one of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s iconic madrigals—the kind where overlapping voices collide into a storm of sound and emotion. If it had a kindred spirit, it might be *Blackout* from *In the Heights*, but twisted into something darker, more unhinged, like anxiety given a melody.

What makes *Derailed* particularly striking is how it opens from Cleon’s first-person perspective, recounting the moment her life was literally and figuratively derailed at a train in Dekalb. If we assume the album takes place in the same gritty 1979 as the film, it’s tempting to link Cleon’s story to the infamous 1961 train derailment at Lincoln Highway and Fourth Street. The idea of her being a child caught in the chaos is a chilling one, though history complicates the narrative—this wasn’t a passenger train, and the only children involved were in cars nearby, not on board. Still, the imagery of that disaster looms large, adding an eerie layer of plausibility to Cleon’s backstory.

The crash out Cleon is having is understandable considering she saw one of her inspiration Cyrus gets shot in the head and she managed to actually witness Luther committing the murder.

(also note the Davis stated that she sprinkled some Hamilton references throughout this song and the world falls down is the first one).

I think this is where one of the more compelling parts happens because Luther and by extension his gang begin to rally everybody around the idea that the Warriors are the ones who diced Cyrus.

Musically, we can hear just how powerful Luther's voice is because this song shifts into being a Black Sabbath styled riff that has the honor of being the first time Rock being introduced into the album.

I wanted to hone in on this that Luther and by extension the cops are defined by rock and roll/metal is another really clever use of thematic storytelling.

For those who may not know, these genres WERE CREATED BY POC, primarily African Americans with Chuck Berry being the father of rock and roll along with big mama thornton, and heavy metal owing its creation to Jimi Hendrix.

Luther and his gang were given a seat at the cookout and metaphorically and literally used that opportunity to devastate said community with a full-blown hate crime while simultaneously appropriating something from that culture as if it's theirs.

Tangent asid, Luther takes advantage of all of the chaos and blames the Warriors which all of the predominant male gang members just follow because at the end of the day the loudest white voice in the room will always be a guiding voice unknowing or not in a very eurocentric country.

if you watch the movie, Cleon is literally being attacked by the Rouges and Griffs because she can't really see a place to escape and as she's being overpowered she yells for the Warriors to escape.

I do find an interesting that both Swan and Ajax are both the ones coordinating the girls through all the chaos with Ajax telling everybody to stay down and Swan trying to find an opening for them to escape.

Cochise seems to be the primary muscle during this portion as well.

Something I didn't really noticed until I actually looked at the lyric video today was that in the background you can hear the other gang saying things like " Cyrus GOES DOWN and Sirens" which is really neat.

Derailed is also super important because it's the one that introduces all of the motifs of the various characters.

Ajax near the end laments that she hates running, Luther as I said, is in the background yelling that Cyrus went down which foreshadows his own song going down, and then there's Fox's character Arc.

Fox’s melody and lyrics here are both reprised in Reunion Square, where the words ‘we’ and ‘us’ are changed to ‘I’ as Fox fights the cop; interesting to note that the cop also sings this melody underneath Fox in Reunion Square, harmonising to show that he, too, has only one goal – survival – in that moment.

Pippa Soo is the phenomenal actress that plays both Eliza Hamilton and Fox, and in many ways these characters mirror one another since both of them want to keep their loved ones alive but Fox sort of pulls a Philip Hamilton because Fox starts off as being kind of the most haughty of the Warriors and as noted on the reddit, she even speaks in a much more sultry voice during her Cypher verse and to make yourself seem on the level as her older sisters (she seems to be trying to emulate Ajax).

Another thing that I want to comment on is the Griff's " WHO WILL SAVE US"

This cry could be said to draw a comparison between Cyrus and a messiah figure like Jesus.The vision she shared with the crews of the 5 boroughs promised them a city they could feel safe in if they trust in each other, similar to the promise Jesus makes to deliver the Israelites to a land of milk and honey if they trust in him (Exodus 3:8 KJV). She also encourages them to view each other as brothers and sisters under this new truce and to protect each other accordingly – also similar to how those who follow the will of God are viewed as brothers and sisters in the eyes of Jesus (Matthew 12:48-50). Overall, this vision promised some form of salavation for the crews of New York just as a messiah promises salvation to their people.The fact that the Riffs ask who will save them now suggests they viewed Cyrus as their messiah for a promised future and that without her, that future is lost.

Masai largely echoes the sentiment later on in " Still Breathing" were after he finishes beating up Cleon he ends up puking his emotions out.

It's been talked about the death, but I feel like at that point Cyrus and the fact that you was a woman did it register she ended up becoming something completely non-binary, a symbol.

While the way her game went about it was completely wrong, it shows that her spirit can metaphorically be embodied by anybody regardless of who they are but it seems like most of the gangs saw her as more than your average woman which mistakenly causes them to revert back to punching down on others like marginalize women.

The song ends with Luther chanting his iconic "Warriors come out and play" as the Warriors run away through the cemetery.

Although you can't see it, in the movie Cleon completely dismantle Luther which again foreshadows what's about to happen to him later on.

Luther for whatever reason has headcannoned the Warriors is being a bunch of weak little girls that are running away for their lives but in actuality they're a pride of lionesses the know how to maneuver their way through tough situations even when society is beating them throughout the night.

He finds out the hard way when he and Crosby ride into their den on Coney Island and Swan gives him a one-sided beatdown.

And that's the analysis.

Derailed is incredibly loaded in a good way and out of literally any musical number I've seen for a while does a great job of establishing everything without beating you over the head.

[yourlocalravendork]

A musical history lesson

AN: I'm writing this on the way back from seeing Hamilton so once again I am hoping this reaches the right niche. Currently thinking of Spencer wincing at every inaccuracy or crying into his sweater during it's quiet uptown or who lives who dies who tells your story.

CW: reader is a theatre kid (is that even a warning?), spoilers for Hamilton I guess, references to six the musical and Wicked

You were a theatre kid. A quiet one at that. You didn't talk about it however you had your programs proudly displayed in your bedroom. It wasn't something you'd told Spencer about. It was your own little slice of personal life away from your job.

Penelope found out when you came in with a subtle reference to Six the Musical pinned on your lapel. A simple pin, 'sorry not sorry,' something that no one would notice unless they were a fan. With that Penelope had to ask you about it. Since then, she'd become your go to theatre friend.

One day, Spencer was trying to find you and decided to check Penelope's 'batcave'. Inside, he found the two of you, karaoke on screen, recreating Popular from Wicked. Needless to say the pure joy on your face was something Spencer wasn't going to forget it anytime soon.

"Hey guys," Spencer said, knocking on the already open doors. You freezed and just couldn't help but stare like a child that had been caught jumping on the bed. "Hey Spence," you managed to get out. "Wicked?" Spencer asked with a soft laugh. Penelope nodded eagerly. "Did you know your partner was a theatre kid? Honestly, I'm jealous of the shows they've seen." Unlike you, Penelope was more than happy to preach about how many shows she's seen. "They're going to Hamilton next week. I am so jealous." Spencer raised an eyebrow, unaware that was your plans. "Yeah, I'm going with one of my friends," You confirmed with a small nod. Spencer's raised eyebrow turned into a soft smile at your sheepish expression.

The day had come and you were getting ready at home. You were always one to dress nicely at the theatre. Then your phone went off. Your friend had to cancel. Great. You had a spare ticket now and you didn't exactly want to go alone. So you messaged Spencer. You explained everything and he was immediately on board. He wanted to share this little side of your world with you.

And so the two of you were sat in the theatre, Spencer adjusting his glasses and wondering why everyone was taking a picture of the stage. You were practically buzzing, hands eagerly around his bicep. The message about silencing phone played and you excitedly squeezed his arm. Then Spencer heard it. Or rather felt it. The beginning notes thundered through the theatre and Spencer was already gripped. It just drew you in and held you in a choke hold.

However, every so often, he'd wince softly. Calling Hamilton's mother a whore? Well, that was most likely a rumour started by her ex husband, Spencer thought. Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after Hamilton? Regardless of the fact that they said it was true, Spencer knew it wasn't easy to prove since there was no evidence of the feral cats records so that was up in debate. He winced again when events were mildly out of order, like how Philip Hamilton was killed after the election of 1800. But you were enjoying it and Spencer was enjoying watching you enjoy it.

The first act was fun. During the interval, you were excitedly gushing to Spencer about different tidbits of theatre facts about the show and before you knew it, it was the second act. You were loving it. Until Stay Alive reprise. Spencer heard you sniff. He looked down, seeing tears fall down your face. The tears only came out more when the opening notes to Its Quiet Uptown filled the theatre. You practically burried yourself in Spencer's side. He gently stroked your arm, trying to soothe you. You couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy. Spencer really was a sweetheart.

By the end of it, you were crying back into his jumper, the soft material absorbing your tears. Eliza's gasp only further broke you. You were one of the first one to stand for the ovation. Spencer smiled softly at seeing you in such an emotional state. It was endearing to see you so passionately invested.

"So, what did you think of it?" Spencer asked once you'd made it back to your car. "I cried at least three times and it emotionally destroyed me," you said simply, wiping the few remaining tears from your eyes, "Ten out of ten, would see again." Spencer chuckled and smiled as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Did you enjoy it?" you asked, climbing into the driver's side, eager to hear Spencer's opinion. "There were some… Inaccuracies," Spencer shrugged. "I could tell," you laughed, "You were wincing and it looked like you were mentally correcting the show." "It was good, don't get me wrong," Spencer reassured you. "So can I bring you to the next show?" you asked. It would be nice to bring him along more. A cute date for the two of you. It meant a lot to Spencer too, you asking him that. You were letting him into that little corner of your life that you kept hidden from everyone else at work. "I'd be honoured to accompany you to your next show." And as those words left his mouth, the smile that appeared on your face made every future show worth it if it meant to see that excited, pure smile.

[ilovemenlolz]

! MY INTRODUCTION !

Hello hello there !! Thanks for dropping by :D

My name is Nathan, but I go by Nikou / N as well!

• I use he/they pronouns, as well as any neopronouns ! (I'm trans as well :D)

• I am a minor, so please act accordingly around me .

• I have autism, I apologize in advance if I come off as rude / overly annoying at times ... I'd also prefer to have tonetags used while talking to me ! /nf

• I'm an artist, but I also enjoy singing, voice acting (not professionally.), acting in general, analyzing, and I write! I'm not sure if I'll ever post my works here, as I ... Am really not confident in my ability to write characters that aren't my own. But-- Who knows !! I'll definitely post an analysis or two at some point ... hopefully ......

(Current) hyperfixations ! :

Danganronpa Despair Time, Tetro Danganronpa Pink, Alien Stage, Moriarty The Patriot, Ace Attorney.

Other interests include ! :

Bang Dream! Girls Band Party, Project Sekai: Colorful Stage, vocaloid, OMORI, Pokemon, Process of Elimination, Project: Eden's Garden, Danganronpa Another, Danganronpa Deception Examination, Danganronpa Genocide Masquerade, MILGRAM, Total Drama Island, Steven Universe, Genshin Impact, Death Note, Blooming Panic, SeekL, A Date with Death, Sims, Doki Doki Literature Club, Mouthwashing, Holostars, Hololive, VShojo, Meadowlark, Dungeons and Dragons, Cradle (on book 6 currently), The Golden Idol, Escape The Night, Ramshackle, musicals (Hamilton, SIX, Heathers, Mean Girls, Ride The Cyclone, ect.), true crime, and probably some more things that I forgot ...

Content creators I enjoy watching ! :

CarynandConnie, Smosh, Shooshimooshi, Save Data, FunkyFrogBait, Kubz Scouts, Rotten Mango, Game/Film Theory, CyYu, Amalee, Markiplier, Dropout . . . there's so many those are the main ones rn ..

Music I listen to ! :

Mitski, Will Wood, Jhariah, TV girl, The Crane Wives, Will Stetson, Laufey, Rio Romeo, Yaelokre, Steven Universe soundtracks, Mother Mother, Liana Flores, Ricky Montgomery, Bo Burnham, Sushi Soucy, Jack Stauber, vocaloid, musicals, MARINA, Pomplamoose, Miracle Musical, Kaden Mackay, Ado, Phantom Siita, ATARASHII GAKKO, Mori Calliope, Emei, Random Encounters, Leo., Shayfer James, Lemon Demon, Fish in a Birdcage, Beabadoobee, Chappell Roan, Penelope Scott, Conan Gray, YOASOBI, and. Again. A lot more. My Spotify is linked below if someone's actually curious as to what I listen to / check out my oc playlists (#shamelessplug)

Characters I kin ! :

Refer to list above .

(Akito and Ena Shinonome, Furina, Shiho Hinomori, Chiba Airi, Ace Markey, Charles Cuevas, Monika (ddlc), Miles Edgeworth, Shidou Kirasaki.)

OTHER PLACES WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME ! :

The easiest way to reach out to me is through discord, nikou.nathan .

↓ MY YOUTUBE !!! I post skit animatics (for now?)

DNI criteria + what makes me uncomfortable.

DNI:

Anyone under 13.

People who are: racist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, ect.

Things that make me uncomfortable:

Graphic descriptions / imagery of pills and needles.

NSFW jokes made about me. (In general, I don't mind them much. Depending on the situation.)

Telling me to end my life if you are not a very close friend.

All in all, I'm just a nerd . And a loser .

Don't be afraid to shoot me a DM anywhere, or ask to be mutuals / friends !! :D I'd love to !!

! THANK YOU FOR READING <3 !

[historyisdefgay]

LAMSSSSS

Idfk understand how people say Laurens and Hamilton were “platonic” like there is so much proof they were more than friends!!!

First of all the way Hamilton ended his letters to Laurens WAS NOT PLATONIC;

April, 1779-  Yours. 

May 22d.1779-Affectionately Yrs.

September 11, 1779- Yrs most sincerely

January 8 1780- Adieu God preserve and prosper you

March 30, 1780-Yr. Affectionate

June 30, 1780- Adieu God bless you.

September 12, 1780-Adieu

September 16, 1780-Adieu, be happy, and let friendship between us be more than a name

 February 4, 1781- Adieu

August 15, 1782- Yrs for ever 

Yes some of these are regular ways to end a letter but he also referred to Laurens as “my dear Laurens” now I may be being delulu but that’s GAY, cause he didn’t refer to his other friends like that 😐😐😐

And can we talk about his letter he wrote April 1779

HE LITERALLY YAPS ABOUT HOW MUCH HE LOVES LAURENS LIKE 😭😭😭 they were so cute help.

And the way Laurens last letter to Ham he said how he was sad about Hamilton stepping down from public service proves he cares about him even though they’d barely talked that year, than HAMILTON RESPONDS WITH THAT HE WAS HAPPY TO GET LAURENS LETTER. Than Hamiltons like you should do politics with me AND THAN ENDS THE LETTER WITH “Yrs for ever” an than there’s a chance Laurens never got this letter 💔💔💔 that’s the worst part

BUT THIS IS MY PROOF THEY HAD SOMETHING I LITERALLY HAVE LIKE 4 PARAGRAPHS IM MY NOTES ON MY PHONE YAPPING ABOUT THIS😭❤️❤️❤️

[gracehosborn]

Super Random Food For Thought:

@icarusbetide’s Edward Stevens AU post earlier got me to reread Stevens’ earliest surviving letter to Hamilton from December of 1777. Every time I reread this letter (and often, which I shall explain), I’m always struck by this one portion:

Why have you not written me a single Line since our Separation? Has your Anxiety for publick Affairs entirely eradicated from your Mind all remembrance of your private Concerns? Or have you forgotten those Vo⟨ws⟩ of eternal Friendship, which we have so often mutually exchanged? I am perfectly at a Loss I assure you, my Dr: Hamilton, to account for your Silence. I have written you frequently, and, as I know that you was at a Distance from New York, enclosed your Letters to some of our common Friends in that City, and requested them to transmit them to you.

“To Alexander Hamilton From Edward Stevens [23 December 1777],” The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, Volume I: 1768-1778 Ed. Harold C. Syrett, Columbia University Press, 1961, pp. 369-371. [Founders Online Link]

All I’m left to always ask is: what happened here? Did Hamilton in fact write to Stevens and his letters just miscarried across the Atlantic? Did Hamilton intentionally not write to Stevens? If so, why? Stevens left for Edinburgh after graduating from King’s College in 1774 to pursue further education, so this places this letter about three years later. That’s a significant amount of time and explains Stevens’ emphasis on Hamilton’s silence as seen above. We have later letters that Stevens wrote to Hamilton, but beyond Hamilton’s initial surviving letter to him (the famous “I wish there was a War” letter), there are no other letters written from Hamilton to Stevens that were printed in The Papers of Alexander Hamilton (see here).

The reason I’ve read this letter so many times is due to TAI which may be a bit silly. This letter is grouped with a couple of others in what I like to personally refer to as the “pillar letters” that have informed my creative decisions for the main arc of Volume I and to that end, part of the larger arc for the rest of the series. A few of these include the previously mentioned war letter, Hamilton’s letter to Laurens of April 1779, a letter Hamilton wrote Robert Troup in 1795, and some others but this is besides the point.

Of course, The American Icarus is fictional and thus I’ve decided that Hamilton simply ignoring Stevens is an interesting take to explore and build part of a character arc from, but historically speaking, I just have too many questions.

The fact that Stevens (more than once) addresses Hamilton as “my dear Hamilton” in this letter I s also interesting to note, but there’s not really much to conclude there. This post in its entirety is inconclusive, but as I said at the top this is just my food for thought.

[crazychaoticizzy]

Good Grief

Sometimes the things that seem good for us is what gives us the most grief, and that is why we should always think through our choices.

Or, when the love you once shared begins dwindling away, when he begins putting his work above everything else, what do you do?

ERWIN SMITH X READER

CONTENT: canonverse, part 1 is mostly fluff and exposition, angst, fade to black, teenage pregnancy and marriage, unplanned pregnancy, smut (later, not between minors), angst with a happy ending (depending on how you look at it, MINORS DNI

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 26,180

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was an idea I had while listening to the Hamilton soundtrack, so that is where some inspiration is taken from. I also used a lot of music references (especially Leanna Firestone) while writing and slipped a couple lyrics into the story. this story has taken me a long time to complete, and i thank everyone for their patience while I finish it I hope you all enjoy this and please leave likes, comments and reblogs <3

Part I - 15.6k words

Part II - 10.5k words

Part III - coming soon

My pain’s a testament to how much you meant to me I know it wouldn't be this hard if it wasn't good grief I hope you know that I loved you more than anything I hope you know that I love you more than anything And it wouldn't hurt this bad if it wasn't good grief -Leanna Firestone

[prismarts]

Hiiii Prism. Hey so. Wanna introduce me to Epic The Musical???? I see it on my dash all the time now but I never bothered to look up what it actually is. On purpose lol. Because at first I totally skipped over it thinking it was some Percy Jackson fanart, and then I thought it really wasn't that big of a deal, and now it seems to be a HUGE deal to so many people on Tumblr. And I enjoy the kinda not-in-that-fandom-adjacent tea-sipping vibe veeeeeery much. So. I literally do NOT know what it is. Is it like Hamilton??? Is it a Percy Jackson fanwork??? Is it neither???? You have now been given the absolute power over whatever you let me know. Because I have no clue.

Go wild. (Please haha.)

OH HI FRIEND!! HI BAB!!!

Okay okay uhhh finedje. I NEVER had to pitch something to someone without the ability to just physically sit them down and like show them before cause I'm generally bad at explaining things but LEMME TRY!!!

So so, Epic the Musical is a musical concept detailing the Odyssey that is being made and like chopped up into 9 sagas! We have 8 of them now so one more to go!!!

Made by the wonderful, and very silly, Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Mr. Jalapeño himself. He wrote it with the theme of ruthlessness in mind, as in when do we adopt the philosophy of being ruthless to other people and when do we show kindness and mercy. (I may be explaining this wrong, Jorge has so many little videos explaining his process about creating Epic, i might leave a link so you can hear from the man himself)

It's not like a Percy Jackson fanmade thing, I know Jorge has read the Odyssesy and is essentially adapting it into this musical in his own way (I say this cause some people just can't comprehend it being its own thing as an adaptation). I don't think Jorge has read PJO? I could be wrong.

It could be compared to Hadestown the Musical? BUT THE ONLY SIMILAIRITY IS THE LIKE ADAPTATION OF A GREEK MYTH INTO A MUSICAL, OTHERWISE THE GENRE AND STUFF ARE VERY DIFFERENT.

I will uhhh keep note that Epic takes heavy inspiration from video games and anime which has the musical take several creative liberties and not be a one to one of the actual Odyssesy. One example of like the video game inspirations is every saga having some sort of boss battle esque song at the end, as if you are going through a video game, level by level.

And the anime inspirations are heavy in the ways Jorge uses iconic anime imagery or like I guess visual tropes in his references whenever he commissions artists to do animatics or animations.

THAT'S ANOTHER FUN THING TOO!!! Aside from the thousands of fan animatics that come out with each saga, Jorge also just commissions art, animatics and animations from artists with each new saga that he'll debut during the album's live watchparty where we listen to the whole musical up till the latest saga. So we have like fan animatics but also in a way, canon animatics and animations on how things go down.

He puts so much care into the music and the like themes and and uhhh musical terms escaping my head but he carries over chracters and their musical motifs so well throughout the story.

He also uhhh does open auditions to EVERYONE like ANYONE could audition for Epic with just leads to so many hidden gems of singers and songwriters that he just hypes up so much, he hypes up their work in Epic and their own personal musical endeavors.

Some of the amazing cast are: Teagen Earley who plays Athena, TROY who plays Hermes, Steven Dookie as Polites, Talya Sindel as Circe, Barbara Wangui as Calypso. Of course, Jorge himself plays Odysseus and he is also just incredible vocally.

HE ALSO uhhh casts his family members in this which is super fun and wholesome and I won't spoil who they play cause its such a fun treat to discover as you listen.

Aaaaaaaaaaa what else-

It is also very silly, we get quite a few silly moments and I really enjoy that. Jorge is really good with sprinkling the silly moments in between the songs and just delivering such a good experience. A lot of the silly moments just become memes and that's also a fun time.

I just love the way he adapted the musical in this very very unique and amazing thing, it's this phenomenon of like story telling and music and also just a collaboration of art between not just the cast who come from so many places but also the HUGE community and I think that's the most special part, y'know?

I think that's all? Imma try to link some of Jorge's shorts and videos here just for fun and because he might explain things better lol.

Thank you for the ask bab! Hope this helps explain, I'm not that good at it lol xD 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 *hugs*