#the dark green one is philip

[ghostember]

woagh…… what’s this………

[pinksilvace]

“It’s cold." “I know. I know, but we’re going to be alright. Do you hear me? You’re alright now. You’re going to be okay.” “I want to go home.” “We can’t go back home. We’re—we’re orphans now, remember? Nobody’s waiting for us back there.”

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[rayroseu]

The Ordeal of Finding a Friend

(This is based on the theory that if Meleanor is in the dark mirror,,, then does that mean that she's responsible for recruiting students for NRC--?? then does that mean that she also chose someone to be Malleus' friend(Prefect🔥)-- with a little assistance from Levan if he's Crowley🐦‍⬛🐉

also inspired by that scene in Maleficent 2 where Maleficent was displeased about Aurora's engagement and the mini plan to just turn Philip as a goat cuz she thinks its better than a human--

Thus,,, on the day of the Orientation...

I like to imagine that this is Meleanor and Levan's dynamic ykyk its a nice callout to Maleficent and Diaval where Maleficent is dubious on Philip but Diaval is just supportive of Philip's proposal because it makes Aurora(in this case Malleus) happy 😭✨

I also like to imagine that Meleanor slowly opens up to humans like she isnt easily fond of them- so if you introduce one to her, you'll need to 'work' for it

so during those times where Meleanor still disapproves the Prefect and Malleus' dynamic... even though Levan and Lilia repeatedly confirms that theyre a green flag... they'll just annoy her like the annoying partners they are-- (also Lilia living the life‼️finally✨ he gets to bother Meleanor🔥(cuz she always bother him with her troubles lol))

I really want other faes to react that Malleus first normal social experience was through a magicless human too‼️

they sheltered their prince out of humans (except for Lilia w/ Silver ehehe💖) but the first one to befriend him normally was a human too

like,,,, fr this nation is destined to get along with humans,,, no wonder Levan was trying to convince anyone to sign the peace treaty already 😭

Baul reacting to MalleYuu and he's just having war flashbacks about his daughter eloping with her human husband whldhsk

[lotusthekat]

Living behind my own illusion:

[IDs: A short The Owl House fancomic centered around Gus, read from left to right.

1) Hunter is seen in the kitchen, wearing a light yellow apron. He looks behind him and requests, "Hey Gus, will you get me the "paring" knife?". Hunter's hair is slightly grown out but it's before he cuts his hair in Thanks to Them.

2) Gus, who has been washing the dishes with his magic, replies, "Oh, sure thing!". In the next panel, he's bending to the side to get the knife.

3) We see Gus from behind, looking inside a drawer. He puts away the dishes. Then, he seems to have found it, however we don't see the knife.

4) Smiling, Gus offers the still not exposed knife to Hunter. "Here you go, Hun-", only for him to open his eyes and see flames around him, the background darkening as well. He completes, "... ter?"

5) Gus' body is the one framed, his left hand holding the paring knife. We see the top of someone's head, a familiar blond hair with the one rebellious hair strand. This other person says, "I know you're still in there."

6) A close-up of Gus' mouth, sweat drops rolling down his face.

7) A shaking, white-skinned hand holding another knife. The other person begs, "Please..."

8) Caleb is in the middle of the flames, terrified. He's trying to calm Gus down instead of fighting back, since he doesn't point the knife at the boy. Caleb has dark bags under his eyes, similar to Hunter's. He pleads, "Don't do this, Philip."

9) As Gus watches the scene, a couple voices can be heard, represented by each color:

Willow (green): "... Gus?"

Luz (purple): "Are you okay?"

Amity (pink): "Can you hear us?"

Vee (dark green cyan): "What's wrong, Gus?"

10) A voice stands out to Gus, in brown (supposedly Camila): "... Why are his eyes blue?", only the last word colored blue. However, instead of Gus, we see Monster Belos' glowing blue eyes. /End ID]

(I apologize for the format here, Tumblr hates me)

Anyway, I've been writing this idea but I thought drawing it would've been cool. I also missed drawing comics in this format :)

I really wish we could've seen something like this on the show. I know for a fact that Gus would've been horrified by Belos' memories, one because he's the youngest of the group, and two, imagine him seeing Hunter dying over and over again. And yet we never actually see Gus and Hunter talking properly.

Hopefully I'll finish the fic soon, but for now have this little thingy. I hope Gus looks okay, I'll try to draw him more often

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Don't tag as ship.

[oepionie]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR & THE UNWILLING DAMSEL IN DISTRESS. silver vanrouge

"And you don’t have to say anything now, of course, I just thought I owed you an explanation as to why i acted the way i did…”

Synopsis: Dragged into another one of Azul's contracts, you're forced to go on a date with some doe-eyed prince named Phillip and it seems that Silver has offered to serve as your bodyguard.

Character/s: Silver Vanrouge x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Reader wears Heels&Dress, Silver cries, Bodyguard! Silver, Prince Phillip, Hidden feelings, Confessions, Im just thirsting for Silver here tbh

Word Count: 1k+ | 🎸Event Masterlist

Nervously taking a sip of your drink, you smoothed out the wrinkles on your dress and attempted to act normal. Well, as normal as someone in your situation could be. After getting dragged into a contract by the one and only Azul Ashengrotto, you were made to meet up with a client of his.

The octopus needed valuable information from him and told you to "use your charms" on the boy.

Whatever that means...

Sighing, you glance over at the shadowy figure sitting a few tables away from you.

Azul was suprisingly generous enough to grant you some protection. Protection which came in the form of a bodyguard named Silver Vanrouge.

Now, he was hardly the worst person in the campus but after your argument with him a few days back, things were still a bit...tense.

Obscured by the curtain drapes and dimmed lights of the lounge, you could barely make out Silver's sharp auroral gaze piercing through you. In all honesty, you were taken aback by just how well-hidden he was. For someone with his stature, he sure was remarkably stealthy.

Silver was casually leaning back against the plush couch, legs spread with his leather-clad hands clasped between his thighs. Instead of his usual outfit, he was dressed in a silky light green button-down shirt.

His legs donned black high-waisted slacks which was held up by a leather belt. Azul had given him the outfit to serve as a "uniform" of sorts. In addition to that, he carried his magic pen and sword, both of which were sheathed at his left hip.

Before you could continue ogling at your "bodyguard", a hand waves itself over your face. Blinking, you look up to see a bright-eyed brunette beaming down on you. The boy was slim but fairly built. He had on a grayish-tan vest over a black turtleneck shirt, dark brown pants, and black boots. Most notable was the red cape draped onto his shoulder, the vibrant crimson an odd contrast to his otherwise muted outfit.

"Hello there, are you the prefect?" The stranger smiled at you, revealing two dimples on the sides of his cheek. Stammering, you hastily scrambled to your feet.

"A-Ah, yes! That w-would be me. I'm assuming you're Philip?" A wobbly smile spread across your face as you held your hand out for him to shake. The boy chuckled and took your hand in his, swiftly pressing a kiss against your knuckles. "Yeah, I'm Philip. Well...Prince Philip."

"P-Prince?!" You squawked, eyes wide open. Just who did Azul set you up with?

"Ah, it's no big deal. I'm not too big on any of that royal stuff." The young prince winked, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Now, shall we carry on with our date?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Great Sevens. When was this going to end?

While initially charming, you soon found out that your date had no respect for your boundaries whatsoever. Prince Philip was extremely touchy. If him being pressed up snug against your side at this very moment wasn't enough proof of that.

"You know, I think I've actually met you before." Philip mused, tapping his fingers against your waist. "In a dream that is. Ah, which reminds me! Do you dance?"

"I trip over my feet all the time. So no, I don't." You chuckled awkwardly, twiddling with your thumbs. Philip snorted and stood, pulling you up with him. "Oh, but you must try it! Come, let's-"

"Philip, I'd really rather not." You frowned and tried to pull his hands off of you, but the prince refused to budge. His grip tightened and you whimpered. "Aw, it's just one little dance-"

"I believe they said no." Before Phillip could continue, Silver appeared and swiftly yanked the boy's hands off of you.

He guided you behind him, shielding you from the young prince with his body. "I think you've overstayed your visit. Come, I’ll guide you to the exit."

You watched helplessly as your bodyguard dragged the prince out of the lounge, ignoring each and everyone of Philip's protests.

Well...there goes your date.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I can't believe you did that, Silver." You grumbled.

You sat on the pavement, pulling your tall heels off and massaging your feet. The back of your ankle swelled red, evidence of all the hours you spent in this fancy get-up. Hours of hard work wasted and ruined in a single minute. "You didn't have to kick him out! I nearly got him to spill the secret!" 

"He clearly couldn't understand what a simple 'no' meant." Silver murmured. The look he sends you is one of concern, and probably disappointment, as he strides to your hunched over form. 

Silver placed his hand onto your back, but you pushed him away, far too disheartened to accept his aid. His eyes flashed hurt for a brief moment before he regained his composure, brows pinching together. "I was trying to help."

"Well, you weren't! I'm not some damsel in distress." You scoffed, slipping your heels back on. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"If that's the case then why didn't you tell him to stop?" He spoke, voice cracking. When you didn't respond, Silver stared at you with a wounded look in his eyes. "Do you like him?"

"Enough, Silver!" The back of your head throbbed and your eyes burned, the frustration from earlier finally sinking in. Throughout the entire night, you were left to deal with both Philip's advances and Silver's icy demeanor. It wasn't surprising to say that you were at your wit's end. 

You rose from the pavement, dusting your dress off before walking in the direction of your dorm. Silver blinks at you and swallows painfully as something shifts in his features. "Where are you going?"

"The night's over. You don't have to play bodyguard anymore. I'm leaving."

"Don't." You snapped your head around, fully prepared to start arguing once more, only to end up clamping your mouth shut when you saw his eyes glistening with tears. Silver ran a hand down his face, fingers roughly rubbing at his eyelids. "…. I'm sorry. Please don't."

"Silver...I got frustrated. I-I didn't mean..." you whispered, cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch - afraid that he might crack were you harsher with him.

"You don’t have to say anything...I-I just think I owe you an explanation as to why I acted the way I did." His hands cupped atop yours, squeezing tight.

"I know I do get overprotective at times, but I mean no harm. I just..." Silver trails off as he hesitated, which coaxed you to look up and meet his gaze.

"....I love you." He gently took you in his arms and wrapped you in a tight embrace, sighing deeply as he felt the welcome weight of your body against his. "I really love you."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisoniousheart @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost

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[thatbanditqueen]

Louisiana Saturday Night, a new fic.....

I have been working on a new WIP set at the Louisiana Hayride from 1954 - 1956, and will probably post chapter one in the next few days. It starts in October 1954, when 19 year-old Elvis had never played outside the small clubs of Memphis, except for that once. At the Opry. And that didn't go too well.

Now he faces his biggest audience ever at the Lousiana Hay Ride: over three thousand people in-person (a thousand more than the Opry!) and millions over the radio. He has only recorded two singles, never been away from home much or gone beyond second base with a girl, and doesn't know much about life as a touring musician. But he's eager to learn and grab every opportunity he can with those long, inexperienced slender fingers.

This fic will have my usual blend of poorly executed dry humor, fluff, smut and angst.

please comment or reblog if you want to be tagged - here is a preview.

Here is a snippet from Chapter 1: Hot Wax

Approximately 9:15 p.m.

Saturday, October 16, 1954

The Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, Louisiana

The first time she saw Elvis up close he was hunched over the sink tapping his fingers along the porcelain rim. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he reminded Freddie of a bottle rocket about to blow. She smiled at the thought of him bursting through the ceiling like a comic book hero, his oversized sports coat trailing behind him like a long pink cape.

She wasn’t sure if he was recovering from his first set or talking himself into the second, but what she did know was that this kid was as green as they came. Horace had been reading Pappy the riot act yesterday when she walked by his office, yelling at him for booking “some hillbilly who just fell off the turnip truck, cuz Sam Philips brings you a bottle of Jack every time he comes through town.”  The audience out there had been so taken aback by his country bop they’d forgotten to clap, and she doubted Pappy would be allowed to invite him back.

As she watched the show up in the control booth, Freddie had wondered if Elvis’ performance had gone over better with the radio listeners who hadn’t had to watch his stilted, awkward movements on stage. There was a ragged emotional tenor to his voice, and now that she was standing right in front of him she had to admit he had a dark, sultry allure that was strikingly different from all these other boys doing their best Gene Autry impression.

But geez, now the poor kid began to mutter into his reflection and she hoped he wouldn’t cry. Freddie barely knew how to deal with the girls she found balling in the bathroom. 

“Um, hey there. You ok?”

Elvis jerked around and ran his hand through his sopping wet hair and straightened up, stiff like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Most folks are nervous their first time. That’s a big crowd.”

“Don’t you worry about me, honey, I ain’t nervous.” He looked her over, a sneer forming at his mouth. “Didn’t you heard the man? I’m the hottest thing on wax. Mr. Logan just asked me to play a second set.”

“Oh - uh - well, I guess I was wrong.”

“MMhmmm. Just getting geared up to go back on stage.” He settled his hands at his waist and shot her a sulky fierce glower, then waggled his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Oh, well that's good. Maybe you can answer something for me then.”

“Anything baby.” 

He softened and bit his lip, giving her what she took to be his version of a come hither look. He looked like he was fighting back a sneeze and Freddie had to swallow her laughter. 

“Why are you in the Ladies’ Powder Room?”

Elvis paused and looked down for a beat as he shook his head and laughed.

She nodded toward the shelf of perfume bottles, powders and the basket of dainty pink sanitary napkin boxes with Kotex printed along the sides.

He let out a low whistle and rubbed his mouth.

“Man o man, I guess you got me, might be jus a lil nervous. I ‘spose I really weren’t watching were I was going, huh?”

Freddie couldn’t help the way she dumbly smiled back, noticing up close how long and thick his eyelashes were as he looked down at her through them. She suddenly had the urge to take his hand and lead him to the green room where she could make him a hot cup of tea and comfort him and give him all the advice she had from her four years of working at KWKH. But instead she took a deep breath and fidgeted with her cardigan.

“I won't tell anyone you were in here. It can be our secret."

other fic taglist - i won't tag you again on this unless you comment you want to be tagged:

@whositmcwhatsit

@from-memphis-with-love

@vintageshanny

@shakerattlescroll

@peskybedtime

@be-my-ally

@ellie-24

@missmaywemeetagain

@powerofelvis

@arrolyn1114

@lookingforrainbows

@eliseinmemphis

@kingdomforapony

@everythingelvispresley

@richardslady121

@dkayfixates

@artlover8992

@freudianslumber

@amydarcimarie

@toreigh

@18lkpeters

@yynneessmons

@ashtag6887

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@returntopresley

@rjmartin11

@louisejoy86

@notstefaniepresley

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@j-v-9-2

@beeandheroddobsessions

@doll-elvis

@burningloverdoll

@ohjustpeachy1

@everythingelvispresley

@velvetelvis

@horror-movieshoes

@ooihcnoiwlerh

@moonchild-daniella

@lialocklear

@obsessionisthecure

@tacozebra051

@elvispresleywife

@bisexualwvtson

@father-of-2cats

@lillypink

@godlypresley

@crash-and-cure

@misspresley

@daffieapple

@louisejoy86

@burningloverdoll

@stargirllily19

@amydarcimarie

@elvisrealgf

@littlehoneyposts

@eapep

@stylespresleyhearted

[sepublic]

All right so the way the Demon Realm’s grass being red in contrast to earth’s green is a way to differentiate these worlds. As is the rain of one being cool to the touch, the other being boiling hot.

And these are differences that Belos makes note of. When reminiscing on how his home is SSSOOOOO much better!!!

But in the end, his green mass, a dark mimicry of the green, green grass of home, is defeated by the red leaves of the Boiling Isles that Luz conjures! Red life born of the Titan’s flesh that she summons with his magic!

AND THEN BELOS IS KILLED BY THE BOILING RAIN. Burned to death as he can only pitifully beg for mercy before the facade literally and figuratively melts away, revealing his twisted truth as he snaps and gets impatient.

And then he’s stomped in by Raine... With an E!!! Raine the RED bard! And Belos is a green witch melting, modeled after one of the most iconic scenes of one of the most iconic witches in all of media!!! The Wicked Witch of the West!!!

Red VS Green, opposite colors. Wonderful. And Luz isn’t hurt at all, doesn’t even need an umbrella because this world, because the Titan accepted her, while he rejected Philip. The Demon Realm heals her and destroys him.

[sintowinemily]

17 Minutes - Spencer Reid

pairing: Spencer Reid x unnamed female!oc (can be reader if you so wish)

summary: Every Monday morning, Spencer is exactly seventeen minutes late to work. The team have no idea what is holding up the young genius.

warnings: third person, pining, one-sided pining, unknowing party, obsessive Spencer, (kind of) stalking (??), unhappy ending.

word count: 1145

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Spencer Reid is late to work every Monday, and has been for months. If he wasn’t so integral to the team, SSA Aaron Hotchner would have him disciplined by now, but knowing what he knows at twenty-four, there is no way Hotch would risk him being on disciplinary leave. 

Hotch doesn’t know why Spencer is late on the same day every week, neither does Derek or Elle, not even Jason Gideon knows why Spencer fumbles his way into the round-table room 17 minutes late every Monday clutching at a take-away cup of coffee, red in the face and satchel hanging around his elbow. Spencer would never tell them what could be so important. Gideon worries it’s his mother, Derek teases him that some girl is keeping him up late on a Sunday night – so unprofessional. 

What they don’t know is that it is a girl. But she isn’t keeping him up late on a Sunday night, she isn’t begging him not to leave their bed on a Monday morning. Although Spencer wishes, so desperately, more than anything that she did. 

Every Monday, on his way to the Metro stop, Spencer stops at his favourite coffee shop. It’s a quaint independent little place, with long leather couches and oak bookshelves mounted on the walls. It’s dark and the walls are painted olive green, it has old espresso machines that whine loudly and exposed lightbulbs hanging low from the ceiling. Spencer goes in every morning and orders a flat white and empties half of their glass sugar dispenser into it. But every Monday, he orders a large latte and takes a seat on one of the large couches, and watches. All he does is watch.

She has long dark hair, which falls down her lower back. Spencer observes that she has to pull it to the side to stop her from sitting on it. Her short nose, which curves up at the end scrunches whenever she turns a page of her book. She’s there every Monday, and every week she has a new book perched on her right knee, which is crossed over her left one. Every week she is wearing some variation of the same outfit, a long skirt and a knitted jumper which is too long in the sleeves. Her hair is occasionally tied back in a black ribbon, but Spencer prefers it when she lets it hang loose, free. 

The first week she approached the old 1970s vintage jukebox, which looks like it is an original but is loaded up with modern records as well. She chose Bella Donna by Stevie Nicks. This is what sparked Spencer’s interest, he would have expected someone of her [their] age to have chosen something more modern but as he watched her go to sit down and properly observed her floor-length dress (which surely had to be altered as she didn’t look over five foot four inches), he realised she was different. He continued watching as he stood at the counter and waited for his coffee, to-go. What he observed next made his heart skip a beat.

She pulled out a battered copy of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment.

Instead of leaving with his take-away cup, he sat at the couch on the opposite side of the room and watched her. He was 17 minutes late to work.

And so began the unprofessional habit he entered into, every Monday he was 17 minutes late to work because he was watching the beautiful girl read some piece of classical literature. Sometimes English, sometimes American, sometimes Russian, sometimes German. One week it was All Quiet on the Western Front. Another week it was Philip Roth’s alternative history. The next it was Kafka’s The Trial. Then for three consecutive weeks after that it was a different Ray Bradbury book every Monday. And so on, and so forth. (Of course, Spencer had already read all of these.)

Spencer wasn’t sure if she read one a week, or one a day. But he became as obsessed with finding out what the stranger was reading as to what she was wearing, or whether she had ordered an americano or an oolong tea. He would watch as she held the book in her right hand, her left hand balled into a fist, nestled into her hair, which she rested her head on as she read. She licked her lips every four minutes and twenty-seven seconds; she would crane her neck from side to side every six minutes and twelve seconds. Spencer had become so enamoured with this girl, this girl who was devouring all his favourite novels. He knew on the seventh week of watching her that he might well be in love with her, despite not even knowing her name. 

If Spencer was a different man, he would have approached her, he would have asked her thoughts on the tension between Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, he would have asked her if she had read any of his favourite obscure Russian novels. But he wasn’t that man, he was too reserved, too nervous.

On the eleventh week Spencer walked into the coffee shop with his head held high. This would be the day he would be the man he wanted to be. He would at least introduce himself to her. 

It was a shock to him when she wasn’t sat at her usual spot, but instead was the only person in the queue in front of him, waiting to be served. (She ordered an oolong tea.) She stood to the side and gave him a small, nervous smile as he made his way to the counter to place his own order. He was too in his own head to even return the smile. He ordered his latte and stood behind her again to wait for his order. She was staring into space in front of them, tapping her foot on the ground. A to-go cup was placed on the counter to collect, and she stepped forward to collect it, Spencer is watching her in a fashion which he knows is creepy but as she is facing away from him, he knows she won’t notice. 

But as you can imagine, to Spencer’s surprise she spins around quickly and looks direct at him.

‘Sorry, I think this is yours.’ She says, the to-go cup in her outstretched hand, her left hand.

That’s when Spencer realises, he had never studied her left hand before. If he had he would have noticed the ring. The large diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. He gives her his thanks and hurries out of the coffee shop and makes his way straight to the metro stop. He should have known that the girl destined to be his soulmate, destined to be the love of his life, would already be taken. 

And, Spencer Reid was never late to work again. 

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A HUGE sneak preview from Chapter 4 (Original Spinet Theme) of my big chapter fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" (Fic is very canon divergent).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

A fun piece.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Redraw here.

First snippet, second snippet. (Read in numerical order for context.)

This is the final snippet that I will be sharing for the chapter.

Next up is the entire chapter.

Enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

As Kid Philip bolts into his shared bedroom, Caleb follows behind him at a slower speed, wielding a quill in his left hand.

The brunette proceeded to press his back against the wall behind his room door as he stood up straight, smiling fondly at his brother as he looked forward, sweet blue eyes gazing into warm brown ones.

Caleb, smiling back at his younger sibling, placed the pen horizontally above Philip's head, its tip facing the wall.

Moving the tip across the wall, the blonde creates a short, straight mark over Philip's head.

After Philip steps away from the wall, Caleb begins to record both his brother's height and age on it, with his height being written on the left side of the mark while his age is written on the right.

4. 5 feet - five-years-old

...

The early summer sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky, casting warmth across the atmosphere as Caleb cheerfully assisted his mother in churning butter on their farm, her hands over his as they cranked away at the churner.

Chirp-chirp-chee!

As Caleb gazes at the trees on the other side of the farm, believing that's where the chirps came from, the short, soft trills continue as a bird with vibrant red plumage flutters down and finds a comfortable spot to perch on.

Chrip!

Looking to his collarbone, Caleb spots a small male cardinal on his shoulder as he beams, brown eyes filled with excitement and wonder at the northern bird.

Patience gave a small, sweet laugh at her son's excitement, smiling fondly at both him and the cute little cardinal that he had.

She moves her hand over to gently pat the bird's head with her finger, being careful not to mess up his smashing hairdo.

...

The churned butter is quickly incorporated into a combination of wet and dry ingredients to create a cake topped with strawberries for Philip's 6th birthday, which is quietly celebrated in secret among the family.

...

Philip and his father exited a shop on All Hallows' Eve as the full moon illuminated the dark night sky.

The new carving knife Cadman had purchased to carve pumpkins at home with his boys was put in his pocket.

On their way out of town, the two heard a chorus of slow, lifeless moans coming from behind them and stopped in their tracks.

Cadman and Philip felt danger approaching as they slowly turned around and saw dozens of undeceased "witches" who had emerged from the dead, clearly seeking vengeance for their unjustified killings.

They were lumbering forward toward, in their eyes, two living sacks of human flesh that they planned to bite and have join in on their revenge crusade.

With wide eyes and a pounding heart, Cadman's instincts to protect his child quickly kicked in as he grabbed Philip's hand and soon bolted away from the pale green fiends.

Seconds later, Philip charges back at the death-dealing savages with his wooden sword, ready to send them all back to Heck where they belong, only for Cadman to bolt back after him.

Hurriedly snatching his son back with his right arm, Cadman takes off out of town, carrying Philip under his arm to prevent him from fleeing again.

...

With his boots and farm attire on, Cadman was ready to harvest his November crops.

His wife pulled out his brown leather hat from behind her back, placed it on his head, and planted a gentle kiss above his brow.

...

Cadman started cutting his crop stalks at a faster pace with his sickle as dark clouds surrounded the sky, not paying close attention to the sharp metal blade of his tool.

While working, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and the agonizing scream he exclaimed pierced the air.

As he slowly raised the hand he used to clutch his stomach, he noticed a dark crimson stain on his hand and quickly went wide-eyed.

He had a horrific look on his face as lightning flashed across the sky.

It was clear to him that his accidental cut could lead to more serious complications if he didn't return home promptly and have his wife take care of it.

As he stood, he made an effort to move quickly, but his injury was causing him to stumble while hobbling.

...

The furious storm continued into the night as Patience rested back in her rocking chair, reading a Bible story to her boys as they both listened keenly, sitting criss-crossed on the rug.

An urgent and loud bang on the door startled the three as Patience set her husband's Bible down and went to answer it.

The shrill scream from their mother caught Philip and Caleb off guard as she quickly rushed past them.

She directed the two to remain where they were while she went to retrieve a dampened cloth.

Although the boys had no idea what was happening, the sound of their father moaning in pain made their fret visible on their faces.

...

The dark, dreary skies matched the sadness that was brewing in the air as an undertaker laid Cadman's body to rest.

Patience sobbed heavily into her hands, unable to watch her beloved being buried as she and her sons stood on the side.

During her crying, her boys begin to shed tears.

They both clutch the lower half of their mother's dress, tightly holding onto the fabric as she wraps her arms around them for comfort.

...

Patience found it difficult to adapt to widowhood and life as an independent mother, but it was something she had to endure.

She frequently blamed herself for the death of her husband.

However, the presence of her boys made things less dreadful for her.

Caleb and Philip consistently assisted Patience with household tasks and always knew how to make her smile.

...

When Patience fell ill to an unknown sickness, it was up to Caleb to take care of her since he was the oldest child, with Philip occasionally doing what he could to help.

With the house's finances becoming more scarce, Caleb struggled to bring down his mother's fever, only with a wet rag at his disposal as Patience became more and more ill with every passing day.

...

One day, when Philip arrived home with a sack of apples that Caleb had instructed him to buy, he heard a faint echo of crying.

The reverberation spread throughout the hallway.

When Philip neared the dining room, he saw his brother with his head down on the table, wailing almost grievingly.

As Caleb slowly raised his head, he saw Philip and felt the weight of everything weighing heavily on him.

He stood up and ran to hug his brother tightly.

Philip was able to quickly understand what had occurred based on Caleb's emotions and was unable to move.

When the sack fell from his grasp and hit the ground, apples tumbled onto the floor.

Caleb was embraced with the same level of tightness by Philip, who quietly cried in his brother's arms.

...

At least Cadman and Patience were now buried side by side, as both Philip and Caleb couldn't imagine the two being apart even in death.

...

The death of their parents made neither boy want to remain in the house, as it was not the same without Cadman and Patience present.

Not only did the atmosphere lack the love of their parents, but the house's structure was starting to break down as well.

They needed a new house to live in.

...

Before they set off on their search for a new home, Caleb went into the chicken coop and said goodbye to all the birds that came into contact with him while Philip went into the stables.

Approaching his favorite brown stallion, the two proceeded to have a heart-to-heart as Philip reached up and gently ran his hand through the horse's mane while the horse pushed his nose into his palm.

A hug was soon given by Philip as he wrapped one arm around the horse's neck.

...

While the two brothers were walking hand in hand through the woods, they came across a brown wooden cottage at the end of the woods.

The wood was slightly worn, and shutters were dangling from their hinges on the two front windows, as observed by both of them.

As Caleb contemplated whether or not he and Philip should enter the house, an enthusiastic Philip ran toward the cottage.

Surprised by the sudden action, Caleb followed after, catching up with his brother as they entered the house.

Based on its current weathered condition, the wooden house seemed to belong to no one.

Well, no one except for the Wittebanes now.

...

At night, Philip had trouble falling asleep in his shared room as he heard Caleb's muffled cries, the blonde quietly sobbing into his pillow.

Caleb's current state left Philip feeling sad and sympathetic, prompting him to turn his gaze to the ceiling, fold his hands, and silently pray for God to bring his brother joy again.

Subsequently, he thanks God for taking care of the souls of his parents while they are in heaven.

...

Caleb awakens Philip the next day with a smile and eagerly urges him to get out of bed.

He wants to mark his height on their wall.

4. 6 feet - eight-years-old

Philip's growth excites both him and his brother as they cheer.

Caleb lifts Philip up and spins him around with joy, while the brunette giggles in delight as the music and montage come to a satisfying end.

[thebibliosphere]

Hey! What are the lightbulbs you used to help with your migraines? A coworker is struggling with theirs and lights/screens seem to be a big part of it right now.

We fitted the house with Philips color changing light bulbs so I can yell at Siri on my phone to make all the lights green during migraine attacks. But any green bulb that’ll fit into their light fixtures will do.

If they want to look into the actual frequency used for green light therapy, the official lamp is the Allay Lamp.

It’s pricey, but I’ve found it worthwhile to use. You’re supposed to do 30 minutes in the morning in a dark room but I also just sometimes leave it on during the day if I’m going to be doing a lot of screen work.

I used to have green LED lights wrapped around my screen, but they were a little harsh. (Also hard to find ones that don’t flicker.)

A green acetate film over screens may also help, though as I’ve since learned from my neuro-ophthalmologist (who also ascribes to green light their for chronic migraines) that red blocks more blue light than green, and am switching to red acetate.

I also leave all my devices in night mode—which is different from dark mode. Night mode depletes the blue light backing on your screen and softens it to red. Even before I got my rx red glasses I noticed that helped a lot.

A pair of cheap red uv blocking sunglasses may also be helpful to them for lessening light sensitivity during attacks. I used to wear black sunglasses all the time but red makes so much more of a difference for me.

Hope that helps!

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Queer Themes Masterlist

Colour Me Free (ao3) - realeyesrealize

Summary: Over the next few days Dan draws and redraws a tiny triangle on his bicep every morning with a sharpie, because he’s never been one to take decisions lightly, because he’s still afraid of commitment but the need to have those three lines on his skin is stronger.

Or: queer signaling, a triangle, an earring and Russia.

Come On Down To The Lavender Luck Lounge (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Mr. Philip Lester is the suave, flamboyant owner of a queer casino and resort, Lavender Luck Lounge. Mr. Daniel Howell is the uptight and dry accounting manager for the casino.

Demons That Dwell (ao3) - realeyesrealize

Summary: He put those feelings, along with the passing comments that were thrown his way during his teenage years in a closet, as a replacement for himself. But they happened and they left a mark.

or: phil and pride: a character study.

Edelweiss Green (ao3) - orpheusTestifies

Summary: 'The employee had given them a strange look, like it was weird for two people to have an argument about paint colors in the middle of the paint aisle. Dan, despite his attempts to repress everything about his previous employment, was absolutely confident that it was not.'

(Or, in which a house is built, improved upon, and lived in, more or less in that order.)

every ounce of me (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan and Phil being (mostly) soft on October 19th, 2009—with a bit of introspective Dan (and also him trying to avoid it)

Formless (ao3) - truerequitedlove

Summary: Dan wished he was formless.

Goalie (ao3) - kitkattaylor

Summary: The thing is, everyone thinks they know everything about Dan. They hear enough about him. But they don’t remember the boy who hid in hoodies, who was soft-spoken and embarrassed. They were never witness to his self-doubt, to his neediness, never had the privilege of seeing his genuine smile, his uninhibited laughter.

Of course Dan had changed, but Phil would be (might be) damned if he didn’t believe there was something of the boy Phil used to know still inside him.

If you wanna be like me (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: A sequel to Experience is Key in two parts, the first of which is a bit serious and the second of which is just more self-indulgent porn

in a simpler world (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: It was never really an option to make Dil gay.

(or, “how the Sims series [and Dab and Evan’s relationship] hits differently”)

King of the Queens (ao3) - ThoughtaThought

Summary: What if Dan never messaged Phil?

Prism (ao3) - realeyesrealize

Summary: Dan's story, now in colour. A few spoilers: a dark night, Jamaica's orange, the Isle of Man's turquoise and a blue box of Domino's.

Queer Eye for the Non-Straight Guy (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: Dan watches "Queer Eye" Season 2 episode 1 while on the plane to America and gets emotional

Role Model (ao3) - gorgeousnerd

Summary: "It meant a lot to me," Dan said again, carefully. "You and your friends being who you were. Still does."

Dan reconnects with Nick Grimshaw after he comes out.

rules for lovers (ao3) - dabiideviito

Summary: pride colours: an interpretation

scratch bark bite (oh, love me, i lied) (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Music & Drama teacher Dan Howell has a well-known rivalry with his coworker, English teacher Phil Lester.

An unforeseen event flips everything Dan thought he knew about Phil and himself on its head. Slowly but surely, the grudge withers, and the two of them cross the line between enemy and friend. But what will happen when their true intents and feelings get revealed? And was what they had ever really a rivalry? Was it even mutual?

Skirting Around the Subject -- a Phil Lester Gender Struggle (ao3) - TrashFan

Summary: It started as an accident, a series of small disasters that landed Phil standing in a train station in a skirt. From there, things seemed to spiral out of control. A google search here, a shopping trip there, and suddenly Phil is left not knowing who he is and what he wants for himself.

some killer queen you are (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan’s enjoyed taking a break from YouTube, but for some reason, he still feels like something is missing. Determined to fill the creative void in his life, he decides to try out something new: drag.

the june video (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan posts “the June Video” as originally planned... in 2018, right in the middle of the Interactive Introverts tour.

two lions (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Phil fiddles with another toy lion, a copy of the one his gran has taken to pay for. “It needs a mate,” he says thoughtfully, feeling an odd longing suddenly, a weird kind of sadness.

When Do We Get Our Parade? (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: During his first Pride celebration, Dan is frustrated that even the queer community doesn't seem to understand asexuality and the romantic spectrum

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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Masterlist

[rayroseu]

I think the similarity between Malleus and Grim might be because Grim is Malenoa's phantom.

To preface, I'm assuming Malenoa overblotted because of the scene in Sleeping Beauty where she snapped at seeing Diablo turned into stone? 

Additionally, both movies of Maleficent involved a "death scene." In Maleficent 1, it was Diaval being chained down by King Stefan's soldiers/Maleficent was about to be slain by King Stefan and in Maleficent 2, its Maleficent actually died from protecting Aurora.

Both scenes eventually had a "saving from their impending death." But, since this is twisted wonderland, the Disney movie is more inspired by the Original Animation where Maleficent and her goons actually lost to the humans.

—

Diablo (Maleficent's birb) in TWST, is Levan right now and in recent updates its said that the latest news about Levan is that he's missing and there's rumors about him fighting Knight of Dawn; the strongest of the Silver Owls.

Right now, the Silver Owls are ambushing the Land of Briar castle where Malenoa is. 

If it goes like this??? I think they kept Levan as hostage to officially take the land or something—

All I know is that someone must've harmed Levan because in the movie, Maleficent only attacked the kingdom or used all her powers to kill Prince Philip upon discovering the fairies turned Diablo into a stone bcs they want Prince Philip to escape and save Aurora.

From the words of Lilia about Malenoa, Malenoa is undefeatable– so I really don't believe she was overpowered by strength, but rather she was caught off guard by emotional turmoil (or for this theory, consumed by her own overblot).

—

Going back to Grim might be Malenoa's phantom… Grim is always assumed to be a phantom labeled as a direbeast for now... Its heavily theorized like that because of how, in his feral state, he devours blotted magic stones.

And, blotted magic stones are what supplies a phantom to live because they carry the magic power of a mage.

But phantoms can't be born without an overblot first... so who's mage is he a phantom of?

We know that the phantom's strength is a reflection of a mage capabilities when they were at the right state–

Malenoa was a really powerful mage so if we consider the destruction of NRC (and possibly the Sage Island? The entire sky was black out too) that we've seen in the prologue as the power of Phantom Grim, then Phantom Grim must originate from a formidable mage like Malenoa, because he easily beaten all mages on the island effortlessly and even plunged the surroundings in darkness.

If Grim is a phantom then he's a powerful one because he's ancient (assumed from his diagnosed curse from STYX), he has the intelligence of a human, and has immense destruction power (if he's not sane as shown with how he easily destroyed his cage room at STYX).

Also even if Overblot Grim is composed of different parts from the main 7 phantoms, his form is majorly resembling a dragon. And, Malenoa's a dragon.

(long post ahead)

—

On top of it, the story kind of implies that Malleus and Grim has similarities with each other.

I read a theory that Grim must be an extension of Malleus, it was a bit of a crack theory but rather than Malleus himself, I would like to believe Grim is Malenoa's phantom. That's why Malleus and him are similar because they're??? both related from Malenoa???)

does that mean Malleus and Grim are siblings then....

■ Grim Overblot is at overpowered HP, like Overblot Malleus.  No other overblot is like that. If Grim is a reflection of (Overblot) Malenoa's power, then it makes sense for Malleus and Grim to only have exclusive overpowered HP.

■ Most of Malleus' magic derived from his mother (thorns, lightning, and green fire). Both Grim and Malleus' cards shares their elements. The comparison is on this post.

■ Both Grim and Malleus has ancient magic. Papa Shroud said that Malleus' magical barrier looks like something out of a illustration book.

c: @/cymrJP on yt

STYX also said that Overblot Malleus' magic which is territorial control; where inside his magical barrier time has stopped and all life forms has fallen to sleep is an ancient magic.

So, if theres any mage from past who can do what Malleus can do, then Malenoa could've summoned a magical barrier like that once she overblotted as well.

And, you know, who's an ancient being except for Lilia? Grim.

We don't know his age but its highly likely he's older than we know because of his ancient curse. Which is proof that he must've been existed as Malenoa's phantom because he's already existing from a long time ago.

■ Both Grim and Malleus are big eaters. A little trivia about Malleus is that he's a big eater (from the Scalding Sands event), maybe even more than Sebek because it just makes sense as he is a dragon.

But, his big apetite is displayed at a classy manner unlike of Grim who just messily devours.

We can assume that all dragon faes are just like that, so Malenoa could've possibly been a big eater as well. If she's related to Grim (aka being her overblot form's phantom), then Grim's voraciousness for food, which is depicted as a comedic relief for now, can be a reference that his power/mannerism is from Malenoa.

■ Malenoa is commanding like Grim. Grim refers to us as "henchmen" and at first, thinks of us as just mere servant to gratify his demands (but he slowly got attached to Yuu in the end).

So.... You know, who else has henchmen??? Malenoa as the leading commander of Land Briar's military and her henchmen aka Lilia and his fellow soldiers.

And... She seems to order around Lilia as she pleases like how Grim orders Yuu around lol

■ Grim and Malleus' overblot forms has the same lacing patters on their faces. Their main design is very similar. And their pattern both adorns their forehead.

■ Grim constantly says and wishes to be the greatest mage in all of TWST. If Malenoa is alive right now, then she'll be the most powerful.

Plus, Grim's pride for himself and the way he easily talks down others despite only having a normal amount of magic might also come from this inherent personality of Draconia's "being better than everyone" (and they literally are).

Malleus is even shown to talk down at others as well if he's triggered the wrong way, he doesn't hesitate to flaunt his strength if needed. Although unlike Grim, he has self control because of Lilia's discipline that "he musn't use his power carelessly." (what Lilia said to little Malleus after the freezing castle fiasco).

■ Malleus is referred as monstrous or similar to a monster because of his strength and no one approaches him because he might burn you because he's a dragon (from what the students has been whispering about him). Grim is a literal monster who'll blow a fire on you, he's not feared like Malleus but no one really wanted to take him in NRC except for Yuu.

Their similarity is that its only Yuu that they care for (outside of Malleus' family ofc) and Yuu is the only one who sees them for who they are.

—

Additonal Info of Why I think Malenoa Overblotted

• Papa Shroud saying that Malleus magic happens only in fiction can also imply Malenoa's overblot.

Because her death/overblot happened a long time ago, then its treated as a fairytale/fictional because its just "unrealistic."

We know that TWST History is unreliable. In one of the vignettes (of Lilia i think??) Lilia talked to Trey about giant magical pens and how its probably so long ago that the present people thinks its fictional or a myth now. (Altho we're not sure of its legitimately what happened since Lilia was telling it to make Trey, the listener, be confused whether it is real or not.)

The History voicelines has said about fairytales being the real... I can't remember much except from this voiceline from Rook where he said "Do you think fairy tales are fiction?"

Additionally, TWST is also a world where fairytales of Disney Villains is regarded as historical facts— I'm saying the Great Sevens stories in TWST is like a fairytale or ficitional because we know their true personality/their true story in their respective Disney films). But, their twisted version is regarded as factual despite it being so wrong from their actual story. (Ex. Frollo of the City of Flowers was a hero but in Hunchback of Notre Dame, he was not that lol)

• Every overblot we had must be from a student who perfectly embodies one of the Great Seven. Malenoa was the first character outside of the main characters to have a great influence from Maleficent. Which strengthes the prospect of her overblotting. She's even more resembling to Maleficent than Malleus himself.

She's referred to as snapping her goons with thunder like Maleficent, she's the most evil princess, and she seems to only have affection for Levan which parallels to Maleficent only being caring to Diablo and no one else.

• Grim doesn't remember his past. If Malenoa overblotted like Malleus and it mirrors with the magical barrier he's using right now, then it makes sense for Malenoa's cause of death and the Silver Owls to be unknown up until now.

Because her death happened inside that magical barrier where its time and reality operated differently.

• Plus, isn't it strange how Lilia immediately knew Leona was overblotting? He quickly sensed the negative energy almost as if its familiar.

It could also just be because he's knowledgeable with Magic itself but I'm putting this here as proof that Malenoa overblotted because Lilia has experienced it during his General days and thus why its familiar.

Also because... The way he yelled at Malleus before he overblotted feels like he's stopping him because he's really aware of what happens when a mage overblots... 😭

Probably had flashbacks when Malenoa overblotted and was consumed by it as well?? KJXAKJE

[seeinganewlight]

2024 books read

2024 goal: 150 books

january: 1 - heartstopper vol. 1 → alice oseman (reread) 2 - heartstopper vol. 2 → alice oseman (reread) 3 - heartstopper vol. 3 → alice oseman (reread) 4 - heartstopper vol. 4 → alice oseman (reread) 5 - heartstopper vol. 5 → alice oseman 6 - a fragile enchantment → allison saft 7 - some shall break → ellie marney (audiobook) 8 - only if you're lucky → stacy willingham (arc) 9 - over my dead body: a witchy graphic novel → sweeney boo 10 - notes on an execution → danya kukafka (physical & audiobook) 11 - murder on the orient express → agatha christie (reread) 12 - our wives under the sea → julia armfield (physical & audiobook) 13 - the invocations → krystal sutherland (arc) 14 - red string theory → lauren kung jessen 15 - the breakup tour → emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka (arc) 16 - the name drop → susan lee 17 - the secret of the old clock → carolyn keene (reread) 18 - bright young women → jessica knoll (audiobook) 19 - last call at the local → sarah grunder ruiz (audiobook) 20 - no one can know → kate alice marshall

february: 21 - worst wingman ever → abby jimenez 22 - drop, cover, and hold on → jasmine guillory 23 - with any luck → ashley poston 24 - the atlas six → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 25 - that's not my name → megan lally 26 - not here to stay friends → kaitlyn hill 27 - this golden state → marit weisenberg 28 - today tonight tomorrow → rachel lynn solomon (reread, annotation) 29 - past present future → rachel lynn solomon (arc, annotation) 30 - the atlas paradox → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 31 - the guest list → lucy foley (audiobook) 32 - in the market for murder → t.e. kinsey (audiobook) 33 - the neighbor favor → kristina forest 34 - in the mix → mandy gonzalez 35 - everyone in my family has killed someone → benjamin stevenson 36 - the seven year slip → ashley poston 37 - veronica ruiz breaks the bank → elle cosimano (audiobook) 38 - finlay donovan rolls the dice → elle cosimano (audiobook) 39 - the simmonds house kills → meaghan dwyer (arc)

march: 40 - the mysterious case of the alperton angels → janice hallett 41 - the book of cold cases → simone st. james 42 - what the river knows → isabel ibañez (audiobook) 43 - cut loose! → ali stroker & stacy davidowitz 44 - how i'll kill you → ren destefano 45 - the reappearance of rachel price → holly jackson (arc) 46 - when no one is watching → alyssa cole (audiobook) 47 - outofshapeworthlessloser: a memoir of figure skating, f*cking up, and figuring it out → gracie gold (audiobook) 48 - julius caesar → william shakespeare (rerad, audiobook) 49 - the family plot → megan collins (audiobook) 50 - if we were villains → m.l. rio (reread) 51 - alone with you in the ether → olivie blake (physical & audiobook) 52 - disappearance at devil's rock → paul tremblay (audiobook)

april: 53 - shakespeare: romeo and juliet graphic novel → martin powell & eva cabrera 54 - shakespeare: macbeth graphic novel → martin powell & f. daniel perez 55 - shakespeare: julius caesar graphic novel → carl bown & eduardo garcia 56 - shakespeare: a midsummer night's dream graphic novel → nel yomtov & berenice muniz 57 - twelfth knight → alexene farol follmuth (arc) 58 - kill for me, kill for you → steve cavanagh 59 - murder road → simone st. james 60 - everyone on this train is a suspect → benjamin stevenson 61 - listen for the lie → amy tintera 62 - king cheer → molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, jamie green 63 - twelfth night (musical adaptation) → kwame kwei-armah & shaina taub 64 - in juliet's garden → judy elliot mcdonald 65 - fat ham → james ijames 66 - death by shakespeare → philip l. nicholas, jr 67 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread) 68 - good girl, bad blood → holly jackson (reread) 69 - as good as dead → holly jackson (reread) 70 - dark corners → megan goldin (audiobook) 71 - the one that got away with murder → trish lundy (audiobook) 72 - funny story → emily henry 73 - imogen says nothing → aditi brennan kapil 74 - people we meet on vacation → emily henry (audiobook, reread)

may: 75 - episode thirteen → craig dilouie 76 - the girls i've been → tess sharpe (reread) 77 - the girl in question → tess sharpe (arc) 78 - wild about you → kaitlyn hill (arc) 79 - just for the summer → abby jimenez 80 - my best friend's exorcism → grady hendrix 81 - second first date → rachel lynn solomon 82 - the ballad of darcy & russell → morgan matson 83 - the good, the bad, and the aunties → jesse q. sutanto (audiobook) 84 - truly, madly, deeply → alexandria bellefleur 85 - your blood, my bones → kelly andrew 86 - amy & roger's epic detour → morgan matson (reread) 87 - romancing mister bridgerton → julia quinn (reread) 88 - the viscount who loved me → julia quinn (reread) 89 - bittersweet in the hollow → kate pearsall 90 - to sir phillip, with love → julia quinn (reread) 91 - when he was wicked → julia quinn (reread) 92 - it's in his kiss → julia quinn (reread) 93 - on the way to the wedding → julia quinn (audiobook, reread) 94 - emma → jane austen (audiobook, reread)

june: 95 - first lie wins → ashley elston 96 - we got the beat → jenna miller 97 - firekeeper's daughter → angeline boulley 98 - chlorine → jade song (audiobook) 99 - what stalks among us → sarah hollowell 100 - hollow fires → samira ahmed (audiobook) 101 - part of your world → abby jimenez 102 - the road trip → beth o'leary 103 - yours truly → abby jimenez 104 - finally fitz → marisa kanter 105 - the last love song → kalie holford

july: 106 - dead girls walking → sami ellis (audiobook) 107 - home is where the bodies are → jeneva rose 108 - we used to live here → marcus kliewer 109 - the children on the hill → jennifer mcmahon (audiobook) 110 - what moves the dead → t. kingfisher 111 - my throat an open grave → tori bovalino 112 - dashed → amanda quain (arc) 113 - asking for a friend → kara h.l. chen (arc) 114 - beach read → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 115 - book lovers → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 116 - happy place → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 117 - you have a match → emma lord (reread, annotation) 118 - bonnie & clyde musical script → ivan menchell (reread) 119 - such charming liars → karen m. mcmanus (arc) 120 - she left → stacie grey (audiobook) 121 - let the games begin → rufaro faith mazarura (audiobook) 122 - death at morning house → maureen johnson (arc)

august: 123 - cleat cute → meryl wilsner (audiobook) 124 - i wish you would → eva des lauriers 125 - the break-up pact → emma lord (arc) 126 - water for elephants → sara gruen 127 - when you get the chance → emma lord (reread, annotation) 128 - come out, come out → natalie c. parker (arc) 129 - my lady jane → cynthia hand, brodi ashton, jodi meadows 130 - the lies of alma blackwell → amanda glaze (arc)

september: 131 - the spare room → andra bartz 132 - late bloomer → mazey eddings (audiobook) 133 - savor it → tarah dewitt (audiobook) 134 - triple sec → t.j. alexander (audiobook) 135 - the skeleton key → erin kelly 136 - the examiner → janice hallett (arc) 137 - the dark we know → wen-yi lee (audiobook) 138 - pretty girls → karin slaughter 139 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread, annotation) 140 - lady macbeth → ava reid 141 - the pumpkin spice café → laurie gilmore 142 - the main character → jaclyn goldis (audiobook) 143 - queen macbeth → val mcdermid (arc) 144 - the cinnamon bun bookstore → laurie gilmore (audiobook)

october: 145 - midnight on beacon street → emily ruth verona (audiobook) 146 - make me a mixtape → jennifer whiteford (arc) 147 - haunt sweet home → sarah pinsker 148 - graveyard shift → m.l. rio 149 - the bitter end → alexa donne (arc) 150 - morbidly yours → ivy fairbanks 151 - someone in the attic → andrea mara 152 - a new lease on death → olivia blacke (arc) 153 - the christmas tree farm → laurie gilmore 154 - staged → elle cosimano 155 - the reunion dinner → jesse q. sutanto 156 - a crime of fashion → emma rosenblum 157 - the nosy neighbor → nita prose 158 - one lucky subscriber → kellye garrett 159 - a classic case → alicia thompson 160 - interview with the vampire → anne rice (audiobook) 161 - horror movie → paul tremblay (audiobook) 162 - everything is poison → joy mccullough (arc) 163 - romeo and juliet → william shakespeare (reread) 164 - no place left to hide → megan lally (arc) 165 - macbeth → william shakespeare (reread)

november: 166 - dinner for vampires → bethany joy lenz (audiobook) 167 - make the season bright → ashley herring blake 168 - a bánh mì for two → trinity nguyen (audiobook) 169 - merriment and mayhem → alexandria bellefleur 170 - a novel love story → ashley poston 171 - guilt and ginataan → mia p. manansala

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

"I was a boy and I was good,

But there are witches in these woods..."

[Image ID:A digital drawing of Caleb Wittebane, Philip Wittebane, and Evelyn Clawthorne from The Owl House.

Caleb is standing to the left, dressed in a pale shirt with quarter length sleeves, dark green overalls with only one strap, and a wooden mask cared to resemble an owls face. His hair is blonde and pulled back into a low ponytail, a loose forelock falling in front of the mask. In his hand is a carving knife. In his other, he's holding his brothers hand. His pale brown eyes are looking at down at Philip.

To the right is Philip, who is dressed in a pale shirt with quarter length sleeves, dark red overalls with only one strap, and a wooden mask carved to resemble a deer's face. His hair is short, reaching his jawline, and is a medium brown color. In one he's holding Caleb's hand, and in his other, he's holding a toy wooden sword. His pale blue eyes are looking up at Evelyn.

Above Philip is the large silhouette of Evelyn. She's depicted in a shadowy form, her short hair bright red, and the gem on her chest a vibrant teal. Her ears are pointed at the end and pierced at the lobe with a gold hoop. She is smiling as she looks over at Caleb.

The moon behind them casts a dark shadow, making their eyes appear to be glowing. End ID]