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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

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I was wondering at what point do you think the Sussex’s reached the point of no return, and when the actually penny dropped for H and M (actually do you think he realises that somethings are literally unforgivable even now.) Obviously we probably know a small fraction of what was happening behind the scenes, and the beloved son making a new life is studiously polite, even if many think KC3 would have his son back in an instant.

So it's a few things for me. I think the Oprah interview and Philip's funeral got the ball rolling; the Platinum Jubilee was the "make or break" moment; and The Queen's funeral was when the penny dropped.

Here's the long version...

First, the Oprah interview and Philip's passing/funeral. Here's a super quick timeline of what happened:

2/16/21: Philip enters hospital to receive treatment for an infection.

2/20/21: Charles is papped leaving Philip's hospital looking upset and very emotional.

2/28/21: First promotions of the Sussexes' interview with Oprah debut in the US.

3/1/21: Philip is transferred to a different hospital to receive treatment for his heart condition. Paparazzi photos of him being transferred via ambulance are published, immediate criticism.

3/3/21: Philip has a heart operation. Palace says it went well.

3/5/21: Philip goes back to the first hospital. Meghan tells people she thinks the palace is making up or using Philip's health to silence them and keep them from releasing the Oprah interview.

3/7/21: Oprah interview broadcasts in the US.

3/8/21: Commonwealth Day Service; Oprah releases new clips cut from the final edit of the broadcast; the interview is broadcast in the UK.

(This is just a small piece of what was happening in those days. There was a ton of other stuff going on too.)

I think Meghan leaking to her friends, who talked to reporters, that they don't think Philip is as ill as the Palace reports was the beginning of the end for them. Okay, so maybe the palace wasn't keeping Harry fully updated on everything that was happening as it happened, but the signs were all there that it was a serious hospitalization.

(And I do believe that that leak about Philip's health is why Harry flew immediately to Charles after the King's cancer diagnosis. Karma served him hard with their public on-the-record denials of how ill Philip and The Queen were so now Harry wanted to do the right thing and go see for himself what was really happen.)

Then there's the whole Oprah interview altogether, which many in the firm - family members and courtiers alike - didn't receive well. Using today's measure of "Piers is what Camilla thinks," then if he was hopping mad over it, then she and the family were hopping mad.

Then Philip died and the way the Sussexes behaved - among them: Harry preempting much of the family with his statement about Philip, Harry's demand to wear his uniform, Harry dicking up the procession, Meghan telling everyone the flowers on Philip's casket were from her, Harry allegedly confronting William and Kate about the Oprah interview, the Sussexes using the family walk for olive branch PR, and (if Harry is to be believed) the Harry-Charles-William peace summit in the Frogmore gardens after the funeral - was the final nail in the coffin about what privileges or support the Sussexes would get from the BRF.

Especially when you consider that on February 19, 2021, the Palace announced that the Sussexes had declined to return and the one-year trial/review was terminated as of March 31st. So on April 9th when Philip passed away and the Sussexes began asserting precedence and privilege, they had no right to any of it. They were non-working royals, bottom of the totem pole.

(Then seven weeks later was the whole Lilibet fiasco and we all know how that went.)

I think the Sussexes' behavior and attitude around Philip's funeral, plus the Lilibet debacle (which we didn't fully learn about until after The Queen passed) directly led to certain decisions for the Platinum Jubilee, which became the "make or break" moment for everyone, not just the Sussexes.

The Sussexes saw the Platinum Jubilee as their chance to relaunch and rebrand as royals because they needed the royal glow to make their soon-to-be-released projects successful and well-received. The firm saw the Platinum Jubilee as a chance to rein the Sussexes in to their new status as "family members" vs "royals."

And, well, we know what happened at the Platinum Jubilee:

The Sussexes were kept away from the Cambridge family.

They weren't allowed in the Trooping carriages and the Trooping balcony.

They weren't invited to the Trooping rooftop party with the rest of the family or to the cousins' lunch afterwards.

They were scheduled to take the "Minor Royals Motorcoach" to the service of thanksgiving.

They were booed on arrival (and departure) at the service of thanksgiving.

They weren't included in the official procession with Charles and the Cambridges.

They were seated on the other side away from the working royals and demoted to the inside of the second or third row "after" Beatrice and Eugenie, instead of being on the aisle.

They were not invited to the post-service of thanksgiving guildhall reception/luncheon and had to do the walk of shame to the car by themselves. (Hence the boos.)

No one went to Lili's birthday party.

Meghan didn't get her "Lili meets Lili" picture with The Queen and Lili.

The Sussexes knew it was game over for them from there. The Platinum Jubilee wasn't the "make it" moment they needed and they didn't get anything they wanted. We know they got nothing they wanted because they threw a hissy fit and left early than planned, suggesting they felt very snubbed.

So I think that was the point of no return as far as the firm was concerned - if the Sussexes could behave themselves at the jubilee and the public was accepting of their presence, then the firm could've worked with them. But the Sussexes didn't behave (Meghan's photo stunt with Peter and Zara's girls, missing their pick-up for the service of thanksgiving, and Meghan's stunt rolling down the car window after a whole fuss about security) and the public made their feelings very, very clear.

I think the Sussexes were probably in denial with how badly the jubilee went, and that's why the interviews Meghan did later that summer were bitter and venomous towards the royal family. I also think the way they were treated at the jubilee weekend also informed some of the things they did and said in the Netflix docuseries as well.

So while the Sussexes were fully aware that they were out after the jubilee (I don't remember now who said it, but there's the famous quote "You never really know if you're in with the royal family, but if you're out, you definitely know") I don't think they understood the impact of what being "out" meant, though. I think they thought they could continue using the BRF for PR as they always did and that The Queen/Charles would always welcome them back with open arms because that's what they always did.

Which is what led to the penny dropping with The Queen's passing and funeral. It's clear that Harry thought he'd be given precedence and priority as The King's Son. which didn't happen. He made demands for it, still didn't happen. He tried to take it by force with the Netflix walkabout, still didn't happen. He caused a PR ruckus to get the public to demand it, it still didn't happen.

I do fully believe Harry was grieving at The Queen's funeral and her committal service. But I believe he was grieving the loss of his royal status a bit more than the loss of his grandmother that day, judging by his body language throughout the day. He knew it was all over then and there, and that bitterness came through in his interviews for Spare, when he demanded that the BRF needed to apologize first and his "they know what they did" comments.

I kind of feel like Harry saw the coronation as a test, where he felt "If I go and they treat me well, it'll all be fine but if I go and they treat me horribly, I'm never coming back again." And, well, the latter happened and he went straight from Westminster Abbey to the airport to go home, which was as big a tantrum as the one they pitched at the jubilee to leave early. And if Charles hadn't announced his cancer diagnosis, or if he didn't have cancer at all, I feel pretty confident saying we wouldn't have seen Harry in London until the May service of thanksgiving for Invictus Games.

#ask #brf #sussexes #in this essay i will

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ausetkmt · 7 months

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Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

Anne Naves knew something bad had happened to her uncle when her male relatives came home from fishing, each wearing a pall of silence. Dad wasn’t cracking jokes like usual. Grandfather looked grave. And her uncle, Rubin Stacy, hadn’t come back. The next day, someone from the funeral home said a body had been dropped off.

Naves, 8 years old at the time, only discovered the full gruesome truth about her uncle years later. On July 19, 1935, acting on an unproven accusation from a white woman, a masked lynch mob strung up Stacy under a Fort Lauderdale tree, hanged him and shot him 17 times as spectators gawked and children laughed.

The brutality and silence of Stacy’s lynching is revisited in the new documentary, “Rubin,” which will screen on Tuesday, Oct. 3, at Nova Southeastern University. In the hourlong film, the farmhand’s death is recounted through the eyes of his surviving descendants, but mainly through Naves, who was the last living eyewitness to the trauma — and to the secrecy — that followed.

The film, the first to be made by relatives of Stacy’s family, also chronicles the history of lynchings in America, used as a tool of punishment and to foster silence.

“I think (my family) knew that, without telling us (kids) what really happened, they would save us a lot of trauma,” Naves says in the documentary. “The neighbors and our church members respected our silence, too, because they knew that if it could happen to our family, it could happen to theirs.”

For “Rubin” director Tenille Brown, who is a cousin of Rubin Stacy, the film has in recent weeks also morphed into something else: a posthumous tribute to Naves. After filming her interviews for the documentary, she died on Sept. 18 at age 96, leaving behind a strong legacy: She was a Broward County educator for 25 years, teaching at Pines Middle and other schools.

“The biggest piece of the film was Anne,” Brown says in an interview with the South Florida Sun Sentinel. “Without her, there’s no story. She’s the driving force. She was ready to talk. She told me to record her. She really pushed me when I didn’t feel confident and said, ‘Record me anyway. Just go.’ ”

The rest of America witnessed the cruelty of Stacy’s lynching long before Naves did. A series of photos immortalize the moment when a white crowd gathered around Stacy’s body hanging from a tree. These images ran in newspapers nationwide, were published by the NAACP, Life magazine and National Geographic, and are now archived in the Library of Congress.

It was a tale of Jim Crow-era racism that Fort Lauderdale would’ve rather forgotten — the brother of a corrupt Broward County sheriff participated in the lynching — but city officials have made strides in recent years to acknowledge the tragedy by placing memorial markers around Fort Lauderdale. One is on Davie Boulevard and Southwest 31st Avenue, also known as Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, near where Stacy took his last breath. There’s another on the 800 block of Northwest Second Street, where he lived, and a third at Woodlawn Cemetery, his final resting place. In February 2022, a section of Davie Boulevard was renamed Rubin Stacy Memorial Boulevard.

“I’m glad they acknowledged it,” says Brown, of Pompano Beach. “These stories make some people in the state uncomfortable, but if they are based on fact, we need to tell the truth. You can’t turn your head. These are things you can’t ignore.”

For Brown, it was these memorials — and Naves’ willingness to break her silence — that motivated her to reconstruct Stacy’s story. To do so, she also interviewed Ken Cutler, Parkland commissioner and historian, and Tameka Bradley Hobbs, library regional manager of Fort Lauderdale’s African American Research Library and Cultural Center.

“My family didn’t want to talk about it out of fear for years,” Brown says. “There was shame. There’s an element of hurt, and you can hear that emotion in Anne’s voice. Now it feels freeing. This is a story that was suppressed for years and by sharing it, this is how we overcome.”

Michael Anderson, a producer for “Rubin,” says the film also tackles what too many school textbooks don’t stress enough: the history of Black lynchings.

“For Black youth to know their stories, they have to know the history of lynchings,” Anderson says. “They still don’t know how lynchings were used as a weapon to keep a community quiet. That’s exactly what it did to Rubin Stacy’s family.”

IF YOU GO

WHAT: “Rubin”

WHEN: 7 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 3

WHERE: NSU’s Rose & Alfred Miniaci Performing Arts Center, 3100 Ray Ferrero Jr. Blvd., Davie

COST: Free, but tickets must be presented for entry

INFORMATION: 954-462-0222; MiniaciPAC.com

#https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/other/lynching-victim-rubin-stacy-s-story-being-told-by-his-family-in-film-screening-at-nsu/ar-AA1huFAr #Lynching in america #Black People #Black American Lynchings #Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

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ailithnight · 1 year

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A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

"What the actual fuck?"

#Tagslist will go in a reblog cause there are #a lot #Dp x DC #A King in Arkham #I'm sure everyone wants to see Red Hood swoop in #And whisk Danny away #I promise we'll get there soon #Next chapter if I don't get careies away again #But for now #I simply could not resist giving Danny clown trauma and making him feral about it #Enjoy!#Mentions of suicide #Mentions of self harm

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the-kingshound · 11 months

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Part 3 of the series about MC's siblings reaction to discovering MC is going to marry King Arthur.

Emyr

With his head hung low, a curtain of hair falling to hide most of his face, Emyr sits at his desk. His chambers are dark, with a very minimal amount of sunlight managing to seep through the curtains obscuring the window.

Three knocks, insistent and loud, break the silence Emyr desperately tries to hide in.

When he doesn't answer, nor react in any way aside from sparing a numb glance towards the closed door, a very muffled voice comes in its stead.

"It's been two weeks, Emyr. I think I gave you enough time."

He doesn't answer. His eyes fall on the letter on the desk, slightly crumpled at the edges.

He hears a sigh. The voice that follows is curt, filled in equal parts with resignation and annoyance. "Fine, then. Do your work and you can hide away in that room as long as you want. I'm going to leave some documents here to review."

Then, he hears the familiar sound of his wife's steps get finally away from the door. He doesn't move for hours. The little amount of light coming through the curtains slowly dims and Emyr, joints aching and almost locked in place, raises.

He looks at the letter.

In the dark, his mind provides the words written on it, memorized by heart. His ears ring and all he can feel is the anxious, excruciating demise of his hope.

They were all meant for this. Powerless pawns in unkind hands.

He is no exception. His youngest sibling is no exception.

He can't even remember their voice, Emyr realises as he stands on unsteady legs, gripping the desk for support. His knuckles white, he feels a quick spark of anger that whispers him to destroy the letter, to burn it.

Of course, it dies down soon after. Emyr would never do that.

He can't fight back. He never has and never will.

Aiding himself with the furniture in the room, he walks cautiously towards the door. The sound of the door opening in the empty hall is loud, at least for his tastes, and makes him flinch. He takes the documents inside in silence, locking the door once again.

The next day, on the floor outside of Emyr's bed chambers is a pile of parchments and official records.

#emyr #mc's siblings #suffer.

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

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i'm outta my head over you Pt. 5

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | AO3 | playlist

today's @steddie-week prompts: hurt/comfort and familiar

While he waits for Wayne to get home so he can confront him about the ‘Teddy’ thing, Eddie thinks back on everything Steve had added to this tape.

He remembers that first time he actually talked to Steve; he was well aware of his existence before the King had so graciously graced him and Gareth with his presence that day, but was that really the time Steve was talking about in his notes? It had to be, there weren’t any other times they talked until the spring break from Hell.

It was only ever burning jealousy for Nancy Wheeler before (and after) that first time. Bitter thoughts of ‘I’d be much better for you than her,’ when he’d spotted them kissing against Nancy’s locker.

“I was made for lovin’ you, baby..” Eddie mumble-sings to himself at the memory. That was weird.

Then Steve had gone and dropped his haughty King Steve persona, bullied out of it By Hargrove. He lost Wheeler to Byers, and somehow didn’t become more of an asshole?

Much like the KISS song from a second ago, Eddie sings “Disaster and disgrace, the King has lost his Crown..” without even thinking about it. The song yanked up from whatever recess of his mind holds onto ABBA songs.

Huh. Wait a minute…

Eddie hops up and starts shuffling through his and Wayne’s admittedly impressive record collection. KISS’s Dynasty album he needed was not too hard to find, but Voulez-Vous? That’s…gonna be harder. It’s gotta be around here somewhere though, ABBA is one of Wayne’s guilty pleasures.

Shit…he and Steve have much more in common than he thought…

Eddie moves onto thinking back over those couple weeks spent hiding out with Steve while he hunts. He’s got a few hours to kill.

-------

The days spent at Casa Harrington both felt like they’d crawled by at a snail's pace, and were over and behind him all too soon.

It was awkward in the beginning, but they quickly fell into a pattern.

Eddie was in the guest room on the main floor so he didn’t have to walk more than he needed to with the fresh graft wound on his leg, and Steve was on the couch in the living room (much to Eddie’s dismay).

“Steve, for the love of all that is unholy, PLEASE just sleep in your own bed? I’m perfectly fine down here, promise.”

“Not happenin’ Eds. My couch is super comfy anyway.”

Steve helps him to the bathroom whenever he needs it, and when he’s at work, Eddie uses those short trips to stretch his leg like his doctor said to.

Luckily for Eddie, the initial bandages on both his donor graft wound and his grafted wound (the biggest on one his left side) came off while he was still in the hospital, so he was able to shower and clean the areas with the mild soap Steve got for him.

Steve would help him over the lip of the tub after he got undressed (another time to slowly work on stretching the areas a bit), and take his towel from around the curtain once he was in.

Then he’d hover (every. time.), pretending that he had things to clean in the main floor bathroom until Eddie was done, and help him back out once a towel was around his waist.

The first couple days were the worst; Eddie had next to no energy at all for doing anything , but Steve is nothing if not a gracious host; so when he was led to the bathroom on the first day he needed a shower, Eddie found a small stool in the tub already, the usual bath mat outside the tub, plus some of those stick-on grippy things were stuck onto the floor of the tub and laid out in a path on the tile to where the sink was.

They were shaped like ducks.

“Ducks, huh?”

“Yep! ‘Rubber Duckie, you’re the one’ and all that. You like ‘em?” He sang (in a perfect imitation of Ernie), genuine as ever.

“Yeah Stevie, I love ‘em.” What else was he gonna say?

Steve had set him down on the closed lid of the toilet and started the water for him, aiming the shower head away from the curtain.

“Okay, let's get these bandages off, huh? Arms up!”

Eddie obliges, raising his arms up over his head as far as they could go for Steve to carefully pull his shirt over his head.

“Sit up straight for me.” He does, and Steve gently works the two large sections of gauze and tape across his torso off.

By time he’s done, Eddie’s shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“Okay, okay, relax,” Steve coos, “I just have to get the one on your face now, then we’ll worry about your leg.”

Eddie nods, leaning his uninjured cheek into Steve’s large palm while he works the bandage off his other cheek and jaw.

Steve’s hands are so warm, he starts to fall asleep.

“Wake up, sunshine, gotta stand you up.” Steve says, the smile evident in his voice.

Eddie nods, keeping his eyes closed while Steve helps him up, and guides him to hold onto the towel bar.

“Okay, I’m going to take off your sweats, and then I’ll lift the leg of your shorts to take the bandage off. Is that okay, Eddie?”

Eddie nods, still tired.

“Eddie, please tell me what I’m going to do so I know you heard me.”

“Pants off, leg up.”

Wait.

“Wait, that sounded wrong.”

Steve just chuckles, “At least I know you were listening.”

He does exactly what he said he was going to do, and stands back up.

Oh no, now all that’s left is his boxers.

“OK, I’m going to put this over your shoulders and clip it in front,” of course he’s already got a plan for this. Eddie’s heart swells in his chest. “Then all you have to do is shimmy outta your shorts; you’ll still be covered up. Is that alright?”

“Yeah Stevie, sounds great.” Eddie chuckles, and Steve wraps a huge fluffy towel over him. “Where’d you get a giant towel?” he asks as it’s clipped around him with a just-as-giant claw clip.

Eddie feels Steve’s chuckle against his back and fights the urge to relax backward into his arms forever.

“It’s called a bath sheet. You can take some with you when you leave if you want.”

“Hm…A few will have my plasma all over ‘em.” Eddie rationalizes, getting another chuckle from the other man.

“Alright, smarty pants, you should be secure. When you’re ready, I’ll help you get over the edge of the tub so you can sit down on the stool.”

Eddie nods, and starts working his boxers down. Once off, he looks behind him for Steve.

If he wasn’t holding onto this rack for dear life, he’d probably keel over with how hard he laughs.

“What?” Steve feigns stupidity.

“Nice mask, Steve-o.” he’s wearing a leopard print eye mask, his hair sticking out goofily on the sides from where the elastic cinches above his ears.

“I can take it off if you wan–”

“No! Leave it!” Eddie laughs, grateful Steve can’t see how red his face is right now. “Can’t have ya getting a sneak peek of the goods.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll just wait for the premiere, then. Now!” he brushes past that (and Eddie’s spluttering), “Let’s get you settled.”

He reaches forward for Eddie’s hand on the rack, dwarving it in his, and gently guides the two of them forward, his front to Eddie’s back as support. Damn, his legs are tired.

Steve reaches out ahead of them and blindly swipes for the shower curtain once, twice, catching it on the third swipe and sliding it open.

“Okay Eds, be very careful.”

Eddie steps slowly and carefully over the edge of the tub, realizing why Steve turned the showerhead earlier. The spot he’s stepping onto is still bone dry, much safer.

“Both feet are in, Cap’n. Hold this?” He swaps his hand in Steve’s for the corner of his towel. “Gonna take the clip off and you can take the towel.”

“Got it,” Steve says, and once he’s thrown the towel behind him: “Hand please?”

Eddie puts his hand back where it belongs, and lets himself be supported while he sinks down, slowly, onto the stool.

“I’m good Stevie, thank you.”

“‘Kay.”

He straightens, letting go of Eddie’s hand and snaps the curtain shut briefly, opening the other end to reach up for the showerhead.

“Ooh, fancy.” Eddie snarks when he catches the handheld head from Steve’s outstretched arm (it was almost too far to his left to grab).

“Shut up.” Steve chuckles and closes the curtain again, talking through it now. “The head should fit between the wall and the bar there, so you can put it down if you need to, the soap you should use is on the shelf on the left with a washcloth, and I snagged my mom’s curly-hair shampoo and conditioner,”

Eddie feels like he’s gonna cry.

“...Doc said not to let the water beat down on your wounds so make sure you keep the spray away, yell if you need me or when you’re done, okay? I’ll grab my blindfold and be here in two seconds flat.”

“Got it, thanks Steve.” Eddie manages through the lump in his throat.

“No problem Eddie."

Steve’s just as careful, gentle, respectful, on Eddie’s way out of the shower; blindfold on, he keeps his arms out for Eddie to lean on while he dries the majority of the water off himself, holding him steady while he pulls on a new pair of boxers.

“I’m taking the blindfold off now,” Steve says, then does, when he doesn’t hear any complaints from his friend. “You gotta stay standing for a little bit longer, okay? Gotta get your leg wrapped up first.”

Eddie nods, trying his best to hold back how heavy his breaths are coming with the constant exertion over the past half hour.

As soon as the last piece of tape is in place, Steve lowers him back onto the lid of the toilet.

“Here, drink this whole glass.” He says, handing Eddie a glass of water and the painkillers he needs.

By the time the water is gone, he’s air dried a bit more.

Steve carefully scrunches the water from Eddie’s hair, expertly twists it up into the claw clip, and drapes the towel over Eddie’s don’t slip and die bar.

He coaxes Eddie to sit up straight again with the promise of a Star Trek marathon in order to properly apply the prescribed cream and new bandages over the worst of his wounds (“Just a little bit longer sweetheart, you’re doing great!” he says proudly).

Steve ends with the one on his cheek, and once again, Eddie is drifting off; Steve lets him doze, leaned forward onto his stomach with his head turned slightly to get bandaged.

It’s like that every time. Even after Eddie gets stronger and can get in and out of the shower on his own, bitching at Steve in frustration for his damn hovering, he’s there, ready to help him when, by the end of his shower, he’s fully beat and sick to his stomach for being mean to his friend.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, they slowly load Eddie into the beemer, Eddie would suffer through physical therapy, and Steve was there to half-carry him back to the car (and there to order Eddie’s favorite flavor of ice cream for him when he inevitably zonks out in the front seat).

Steve’s always there.

-------

“You were made for lovin’ me..” Eddie sings, continuing his song-thought from before (though it’s marginally worse after recording the track to the B-side of Steve’s mixtape)

It’s the first song in response to Steve’s side.

“Buckley, you’re a genius.” he mutters to himself.

The front door squeaks open then, oh shit, is Wayne’s shift over already?

---

“…shut up..” he says, after agonizing through the memory of his and Steve’s first kiss. Knowing now that Steve had meant it, well, not actually, but actually wanted to have it be more of a deal… Yeah, Wayne and Robin are right. Doofus to Steve’s Dingus! Right here!

“You’ve at least got your shit together now, right? You got a plan?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, “Speaking of, where’ve you hidden Voulez-Vous ?”

“S’that why all our albums’re out?” Wayne slumps down into his recliner with his mug (this time, it’s the Campbell’s Soup one).

“...I’ll put ‘em away, I promise.”

Wayne sighs, but reaches down the side of his chair nearest the wall with his free hand, and returns with the album in his hand.

“Aw what the hell, I never would’ve found that!”

“A man’s recliner pockets are a sacred place.”

“Ew..?”

“I’ll leave it here fer ya, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ with it now. You’re going to bed.” Wayne emphasizes the ‘you’re going to bed’ part.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie tosses his hands up, “I’ll worry about woo-ing my man in the morning.”

Wayne’s responding “Ew.” is both muffled and amplified by his mug.

He spends the early afternoon after waking up cleaning up his mess like he’d promised, packing away all the vinyl into their designated cabinets under their kitchen bar before pulling out Voulez-Vous .

As soon as he hits stop on recording The King Has Lost His Crown (seriously, the tape had just clicked to a stop), his front door bursts open.

“The hell??” Eddie shoots up from his spot on his bedroom floor to the front door.

Dustin and Will are on either side of Max, supporting her over the threshold..

“Is she okay? What are you all doing here? You shits are lucky I just stopped recording!” he fusses.

“We were bored at my place, so we came to visit. Now stop being a Steve and grab my chair from outside.” Max commands.

“Rude.” Eddie scoffs, but does as she demands. “Your throne, m’lady.”

The two boys lower her into the seat and wheel her back in line with the couch before collapsing down on it themselves.

“So what are you recording?” Dustin asks, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the cushion.

“Uh…” Shit! “…It’s a party mixtape, a couple songs for each of ya.”

Will lights up “Can we hear?”

“What songs did you use for me?”

“Yeah, what about me? I’m assuming you got some Kate Bush.”

“Calm down! Calm down, it’s a surprise, okay?

“Whose did you just record?” Will asks, ever the calming presence.

“It was one of Steve’s obviously.”

Eddie blanches.

“How d’ya figure?” Dustin asks Max, incredulous. “You can’t just know these things.”

“He came out here with ABBA in his hand. Obviously that’s one of Steves”

He did? Eddie looks over at the kitchen counter; yep, there it is. Tossed haphazardly onto Wayne’s stack of old pay stubs.

“Ooh! Let us pick the other Steve song! Where’re your other records?” Will looks around, Max starts to move.

“Why should I let you? It was my idea!”

“Uh, we've known him longer. Duh”

“I think I’ve got things covered Dusty–”

“Damn you’ve got a lot of music” Max found their stash. “And it’s a lot of regular people music too, I thought you were a metalhead.”

“Careful, Snoopy, I most definitely am. But music is music, and music is good.”

Will and Dustin are already crowding around her chair to get to the vinyl. Well, there goes all the organizing he just did.

“What about this one?”, “No way, gotta use this!”, “He doesn’t even like them, though..”

Finally, Max stops the assault on his cabinets. “Wait, you guys, I've got it!”

Eddie sighs, giving up. “Whatcha got, Mayfield?”

Part 6 here!

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND WHO WILLINGLY PROVIDED HIS HANDWRITING FOR EDDIE!!! WE LOVE HIM FOR THAT!!!! ❤️

eddie calling max 'snoopy' may or may not come from my parents also calling me that when i was little and would snoop around the house looking for presents when it was close to my birthday

tag list cause y'all asked so nice to be tagged!: @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, and @manda-panda-monium

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bloodynereid · 1 year

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a warren rojas x reader one shot where the reader is apart of the six (and Italian) and suggests a song for the album and Billy just disregards it. Warren is very angry and has to comfort her. But she ends up doing the song with another singer once the band breaks up and becomes very successful in her own country and warren is a proud husband

I love your writing, thanks 💕

Innervated Love

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x reader

a/n: hiii tysm for ur request. I kind of tried to do this request justice since I loved it sm so I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

tw: swearing, billy is his own warning, drinking mentions

description: being a songwriter was in your blood but billy just didn't want to see it, thankfully warren was around.

for @djatsappreciationweek day one: favorite character - warren rojas my unproblematic king <3

Y/N: I loved being in the band, I would never trade that experience for the world but Billy… fuck yeah he was a real fucking asshole.

You were sitting on the floral duvet that covered the bed you shared with Warren on his boat. Somehow he had convinced you to move out of the dingy old place that was the house in Laurel Canyon to his slightly cramped houseboat… it was an easy yes. You and Warren were always a will they won’t they kind of situation until after the first tour. That tour changed everything and left you with one of the best men in the world as your boyfriend.

Currently you were working on getting some finishing touches done to an array of lyrics that had evolved into a song over the course of the past couple of weeks. Ever since you picked up your first guitar the words that wove themselves into songs had quickly followed. Not that you ever showed anyone your little creations.

That was until Warren found a few of your songwriting journals when you were unpacking boxes. And let’s just say he was incredibly excited. He eagerly became the first person to hear every single one of your new creations.

So later that night as he finished listening to the most recent piece of your little side gig, Warren grants you a huge smile before carefully taking off your guitar strap and giving you a huge hug, followed by a rather passionate kiss.

“I’m assuming you liked it then.”

“Oh you have no idea, baby.”

“Well good cause that one was written about you.”

“I will gladly be your muse for the rest of my days.”

“Aww stop it you big sap.” You say as you lightly slap his shoulder before giving him a quick peck and taking another swing of your beer.

“I think I should be calling you the sap since you wrote a song about me.”

“Most of my songs are about you.”

“You are only further proving my point.” You snorted as you settled into his arms and felt him pull you tighter against his chest as a soft breeze blew over the boat.

Warren: Y/N is a genius. She’s one of those incredibly talented people that just has that spark, you know.

You took a deep calming breath as you nervously fiddled with one of the corners of the paper where your song was carefully printed out. It was a love ballad but with obvious rock and roll influences, you had even tried to sneak in a few things you had noticed from the array of punk records you had started to collect.

It felt as if you were back in school, about to give one of those presentations that you felt would end the world if you ended up messing up. Billy wasn’t known for being one who listens to anyone other than Daisy, which was also a rare occurrence. He was bullheaded and controlling about every little detail on the album. So this was like trying to talk to a brick wall, but you were still determined to at least try.

At the sound of Billy walking into the recording room you nervously stood up and eyed Warren who gave you a reassuring thumbs up.

“Hey Billy.”

“Oh hey Y/N.”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you…”

“If this is about your bass lines, I already told you that you can change them if you want for the riff.”

“Uh no this is about well this.” You kind of shoved the paper into Billy’s hands and his eyebrows raised as he quickly skimmed over the lyrics and notes.

“What the hell is this?”

“Well since I know you were looking for something extra for the album I thought I would suggest this.”

“Yeah well, uh it’s not what we need. And I finished up a song with Dai-”

“Yeah it’s fine Billy. Whatever, I’ll start setting up.” Billy just nodded at you before walking off to the side to talk to Graham. Warren just looked at you and titled his head, you just shrugged. That was when you realized you had never really seen Warren truly angry. It was as if a secret rage suddenly brimmed in his eyes. You quickly made your way over to your boyfriend and gave him a hug.

“Hey look it’s fucking whatever okay, don’t worry about it.”

“That song was amazing mi amor, it deserves to be on the album.”

“You don’t think, I think that too.”

“I am so sorry mi amor.”

“Thanks Warren.”

“Do you want me to punch him?”

“Nah, better not cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Okay fuck him then.”

“Yeah fuck him.”

Warren: Y/N deserved to have that song on the album. I’m not just saying that because she’s my wife, I’m saying that because that song was a chart topper. And that is what it became, even without the addition of Daisy and Billy singing it.

Y/N: So after the band broke up, Warren convinced me to send the song around to some of my producer friends I had made through Teddy. After that it kind of blew up.

Warren: Honestly I couldn’t be more proud of what Y/N has built. I mean to be part of 2 of the most popular bands in the world has got to be some kind of record.

You let out a laugh at Warren’s choice of words as you enveloped his hand with yours as the camera zoomed out to allow you into frame.

Y/N: It was kind of crazy that people actually wanted to listen to my music. So yeah I formed a little band with a few acquaintances and I worked out of London for a few months. Our first single, the song I wrote for Warren, was an instant hit. After a few weeks the album came out and well I was suddenly catapulted to fame once again.

Daisy: Y/N deserved everything she ended up doing. We’ve even done a few features on each other’s albums.

Y/N: So yeah I ended up with my own band, the best husband in the world and two bundles of absolute joy. And I owe it all to that song. Innervated Love will always be one of my favorite songs I’ve ever written.

Warren: You are still such a sap.

Y/N: Oh you love it.

Warren: Of course I do.

missed writing for my man warren <3

taglist: @pinkdaiisies @yesshewrites1

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Quinn Hughes Edition (Part Ten)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: nine

next: eleven

**reminder: i was out of town for a week and missed multiple games. this is me playing catchup!

TUESDAY MARCH 21ST

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, and 9,502 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box update: my best friend edition! tonight, quintin lost his four game streak without a penalty, and is back down to zero for a hooking call.

i support huggy rights, but most importantly i support huggy wrongs (this also applies to tito tonight! throw them hands next time my dude). quinn was on the ice for 3 minutes and 13 seconds when he acquired this penalty, and he definitely did it on purpose to get off the ice. quinny baby was huffin and puffin in the sin box.

on the huggy rights side, QUINN BEAT HIS OWN RECORD OF MOST ASSISTS BY A D-MAN IN CANUCKS HISTORY!! HE NOW HAS 62!!!

i could not be more proud of you, quinn. this season for you has been full of record breaking, and there’s no doubt in my mind you’ll do it again. i love you with all my might <3

tagged _quinnhughes

_quinnhughes i love you, too, y/n/n💙 (scrapbook moment?

yourusername two page layout bestie

trevorzegras that’s not fair!!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras all’s fair in love and war

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes what war???

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras you not helping me tame tweedle dee and tweedle dum

yourusername @/jackhughes dibs on dee

jackhughes @/yourusername *insert curse word here*

user1 quinn hughes is actually the only defensemen in the nhl

titobeauvi91 thank you for supporting my wrongs

yourusername always🫡

user2 y/n really is president of hughes nation

user3 i want quinn to do wrongs to me

jackhughes proud of you quinny! (this comment is my own y/n didn’t even have to force me) @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes thank you (proud of you for that)

yourusername brb crying

lhughes_06 proud of you q! you’re my favorite big brother! @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes thank you, favorite little brother

jackhughes HEY

yourusername @/jackhughes you’re my favorite jack does that help

jackhughes @/yourusername no

yourusername @/jackhughes *insert curse word here*

user4 quinn hughes was really quinn hughesing

trevorzegras nicely done, quintin. nicely done

_quinnhughes suspicious

trevorzegras I CAN BE NICE

yourusername @/trevorzegras ofc you can baby ur very nice

trevorzegras SEE

_quinnhughes fine. thank you <3

trevorzegras i take it back

user5 waiting for the day quinn and trevor have the same streak

_alexturcotte so proud of him! king!

_quinnhughes thanks turc!

yourusername all hail king quintin

#penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #jack hughes #luke hughes #alex turcotte #trevor zegras x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes insta edit #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey fic #vancouver canucks

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hooked-on-elvis · 3 months

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A filming day during the '68 Comeback Special production (June, 1968) 🎥⚡

— Recollections by ANN MOSES, editor of TIGER BEAT and NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS MAGAZINES, as published in her Facebook on January 8, 2024, Elvis' 89th birthday.

Happy Birthday in Heaven to ELVIS PRESLEY , born January 8, 1935. He would have been 89 today. I feel the best way to honor Elvis is to share some of my in-person memories from his incredible Comeback Special from 1968 — Ann Moses

THE CONTINUING STORY OF ELVIS AND ANN MOSES (EDITOR OF TIGER BEAT) FROM NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS:

ELVIS TAKES OFF TINY TIM AND RICHARD HARRIS

Last week I told you how I was chosen to sit on the steps of the stage when Elvis was performing before the tele-film camera in Burbank. They were recording the hour-long Spectacular to be seen in American on December 3. I promised to tell you about my further encounters with Elvis this week, so here goes: As Elvis left the stage, his face dripping with perspiration, his straight hair hanging over his eyes after such an energetic half-hour workout, everyone expected the end had – too soon – arrived. Wrong! After a few moments the executive producer appeared to inform us that this had been a dress rehearsal and Elvis would be back as soon as his leather suit dried out, and go through it all again.

Great News

It was great news because to have a small taste of greatness would have been cruel. The first set whet our appetites and the gathering was openly happy that the appetite might now be satisfied (if that’s possible)! During the half-hour break, Priscilla Presley, Elvis’ wife, descended from the seats where she was watching him and glided backstage to see her husband. She did not return. Meantime, the executive producer stayed on stage to entertain the audience by answering questions about El. I asked how much he had contributed to the creation of the TV Special. The producer said El had done about 75 per cent of the creating. He also said El was easy to work with and his professionalism had cut the time allowed for filming. To fill time and keep us occupied, as if we weren’t content to merely sit and wait for him to return, the producer called the Blossoms on stage to do a song. This Negro (remember this was 1968 and the correct way to describe the black girls) girl trio, who performed on the old “Shindig” show and have aided the Righteous Brothers on their tours, backed up Elvis vocally in the special. “We’d like to sing a gospel song for you,” one of the girls said. “You know, Elvis really loves gospel songs. Every time we’ve had a break in the past two weeks he drags us off to some corner to sing gospel tunes, isn’t that a groove?” she went on.

The Blossoms (American female group): Photo 1 from 1966 (left), clockwise from top: Fanita James, Jean King, and Darlene Love. The group's formation changed over the years but those are the female vocalists of the Blossoms that worked with Elvis.

On the '68 Comeback Special, the full group appear onscreen during the Gospel number (second picture from 1968 — from left to right, Jean King, Elvis, Fanita James and Darlene Love). Darlene Love also sings the female vocals for 'Let Yourself Go' song, used for the bordello scene.

The Blossoms also have uncredited roles on the film 'Change of Habit' (1969) on which they act as Elvis' character's neighbors performing as his backing vocals for the song "Rubberneckin'", right at the beginning of the movie, although the female backing vocals for the actual song was recorded by other female artists during the American Sound Studio sessions in January, 1969. I'm not sure if for the movie version they recorded the song again, with the Blossom's backing vocals, but probably no — if that's so, the girls participation on the "Rubberneckin'" scene is specifically with their acting, dubbing the original recorded song. The movie was filmed between March and April, 1969. Still for the "Change of Habit" movie, the Blossoms sing the female backing vocals for "Let Us Pray", song used during the closing scene in the church. The Blossoms recorded a few more songs with Elvis.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

Then they sang a gospel tune and it was a groove too. I would have loved to hear Elvis join with them, but anyway. . . A few more minutes, in which the executive producer introduced all of Elvis’ buddies and then HE was back. This time he was much more at ease in front of the audience. He began to joke with those of us close by, sitting on the platform. “I hope you don’t mind if we do a few of those numbers again,” he smiled, “I really goofed up some of them the last time.” The band was ready and it began again. But this time seemed even more exciting because it was likely we knew him better. That may seem hard to comprehend since we’d only been there a couple of hours, but that’s the way he makes you feel!

Some new twists

Some of the songs had been recorded previously and when he’d get to them in the medley he just cut up the original lyric. Like when “Love Me Tender” came around again he sang “. . .you have made my life a wreck and I hate you so. . .” then he’d laugh and go on to the next tune. Once through the whole medley and everything stopped for a prop change. A special set had to be set up for the finale. Instead of leaving this time, Elvis bent down to me (are you ready for that – me!) and said “What would you like to hear?” I blurted out, “Your Time Hasn’t Come yet, Baby.” * He gave me an inquisitive look and I said: “The new single.” “Right,” he said and started singing the song.

youtube

Movie soundtrack: "Speedway" (1968)

"Your Time Isn't Come Yet Baby" was released a few weeks before the movie, as a single, on May 21, 1968, with "Let Yourself Go" on the opposite side (the second song, is part of the '68 Comeback Special setlist, used during the bordello scene where Elvis acts opposite to Susan Henning). "Speedway" movie was released only a few weeks before the filming for Elvis' NBC TV Special had begin, on June 12, 1968 (although the film was completed in the early summer of 1967), while the videotaping for the "'68 Comeback Special" was filmed from June 27-30, 1968.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

The microphone was turned off. He called to have someone turn it on. Another girl said, “Sing ‘U.S. Male,’” and he said in a deep voice “I’m a U.S. Male. . ." but still the mic was off. Others ere calling out songs now and while he waited for someone to turn on the mic he bent down to sign some autographs. He got back up and strummed the electric guitar and tried again, but still no sound. So he left. It’s really awful to complain in light of what we were all experiencing, but to think we would have had private little 15-minute concert except for that rotten dead-mic, well. . . it would have been great. The set was ready. It was a black box some 25 feet long and as high and wide as a room. At one end there were flashing colored lights darting in all directions. At the open end was our platform and the microphone. Elvis returned, casually, but things were not quite ready. The mic was on now. Someone asked “How’s your daughter?” Elvis answered, “Oh, about this long,” he held his hands out about a foot apart as he smiled broadly.

I found this moment on Youtube Shorts (Elvis talks about baby Lisa Marie and also sings one verse of a song we'll talk about soon, recorded by Tiny Tim):

As we know, Lisa Marie Presley was born in February 1, 1968. By the time the '68 Special was being filmed, little Yisa was close to reach 5-months-old. An infant, the King's little Princess. ♥

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

“How long have I got?” he questions the director, “I’m getting embarrassed.” There was no answer, so he began singing “Tiptoe through the tulips” in Tiny Tim style. It was hilarious and even he couldn’t help breaking into laughter.

youtube

“Tiptoe Through the Tulips” by Tiny Tim. Also known as "Tiptoe Thru’ the Tulips with Me", is a popular song published in 1929. Singer, Tiny Tim, release his version in April, 1968. It was a new tune when Elvis was singing it out of fun during the '68 Comeback Special filming, as Ann Moses remembered happening.

You can hear Elvis singing one verse of this song on the Youtube Shorts I shared previously when Ann Moses mentions Lisa Marie). What a funny guy, our Elvis. ♥

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

“Well, how about. . .’someone left the cake out in the rain’. . .” He was now mimicking, in an extra-deep voice, Richard Harris’ hit record “MacArthur Park.” Again, he laughed.

You can listen to Richard Harris' song on Youtube, here.

Everything was ready now. He took that special stance and GLARED at the camera. The music started. . .”If you’re lookin’ for trouble. . .you’ve come to the right place.” Rough and tough, he was singing “Trouble,” twitching lip and all. But then he called, “wait, wait. . .” and the tape stopped. He looked at us and said: “Did you see that?” He was laughing again. “I got my lip caught on the microphone!”

youtube

This above isn't the take Ann is referring to (I didn't found it [:(], but one of the takes he sings "Trouble" during one of the '68 Comeback Special's stand up concerts). You got the picture.

Continuing Ann Moses' article:

He goofed the famous lip twitch. Of course, it had to be right. It all started again and this time it was perfect. In the middle of “Trouble” the tape broke into “Guitar Man” with Elvis singing “well, I’ve come a long way from the car wash. . .” and he sings about heading back down the road with a guitar slung over his back. He picks up his guitar, slings it over his back and walks off down the black corridor into the flashing lights symbolizing the future. The audience was hysterical and that’s good because the reaction is all on tape too. It was so spontaneous and so beautiful. What I gather the special is all about is sort of a life story of Elvis through his music, ending of course, with him walking into the unknown future, that for him can only get better. All I can say is I didn’t sleep for two nights and I’m still having dreams. I guess that’s what can happen when you’re touched by magic! — Recollections by ANN MOSES, editor of TIGER BEAT and NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS MAGAZINES, as published in her Facebook page on January 8, 2024.

Pictures 1-2: Elvis '68 Comeback Special. Picture 3: Ann Moses on "Elvis: That's The Way It Is" (1970, theatrical version).

ON ANN MOSES: Ann is one of the girls appearing on "Elvis: That's The Way It Is" (1970) documentary on the fan interviews portion of the film. In one of her interviews years later, Ann says that she was a fan of Elvis previous to the '68 Comeback Special but her love for him hibernated for a while during Elvis' Hollywood years (60s) due to all the new music for the youth that was happening at the time, but then ever since 1968 and Elvis' comeback to performing live in 1969, Ann was again a die hard fan, instantly — and that she is until today. Every now and then she talks about Elvis Presley on her Facebook page, sharing articles she wrote on him to the magazines she was an editor for back in the days, also about her experiences watching Elvis performing live, the time she visited him on a movie set in 1969, and so on. Ann Moses published a memoir book where she talks about her experiences as a young woman living among big stars in the 60s and 70s - obviously she mentions Elvis there. Her memoir book is entitled "Meow! My Groovy Life with Tiger Beat's Teen Idols", published in 2017.

Picture 1-2: Elvis and Ann Moses during and after his press conference at the International Hotel (August 1, 1969 - the press conference was held right after Elvis' opening night at the hotel's showroom). Pictures 3 and 5: Elvis performing at the International hotel on August 2, 1969, both photos by Ann Moses. Picture 4: Ann Moses.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis the king #68 comeback special #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #60s elvis #1968 tv shows #60s tv #Youtube #tiger beat magazine #new musical express magazine #vintage magazines

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yiga-hellhole · 9 months

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Twilight Forest, Twilight King CHAPTER 9

chapter 9 is LIVE! this time, we're finally making sure our favorite rat bastard can competently hold his own on the battlefield. what's a little bit of violence between boys? ABOUT 6K WORDS UNDER THE CUT!

ao3 mirror HERE!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Weary eyelids lazily batted open and closed, peering through the shroud of darkness in the room. Unless his eyes deceived him, the first light of dawn was entering the room through the cracks of Zant's nigh-impenetrable shutters. Though, it was always hard to tell under the shadow of Death Mountain.

Their days had flown by. Never did they get to enjoy the luxury of Master's Palace for longer than a couple of days at a time, and the past week had been no different. They were already back in the Eldin Province, busy with directing skirmishes and raids to gather enough resources for their next advance. The Hyruleans were closing in, which meant either trouble or easy money. Given their track record so far, things were shaping up to be the latter… Unless another of their Lieutenants showed up, at least.

To Ghirahim, such concerns had to wait a little longer. This morning, he found himself quite the busy boy. He laid stretched out under the covers with the Usurper King, who slept so soundly beneath him. The Twili's warm back rose up and down slowly against his chest, pressing against the weight of the metal man on top of it. This was now perhaps the fifth night they spent together like this, and it was already becoming disturbingly routine.

You see, Zant was not kidding when he spoke of "restless dreams". Every few hours or so, weak sobs and whimpers would break out of him in shudders. Yet, his mind never allowed him to escape from the clutches of whatever plagued his resting mind so. Ghirahim, with no need for sleep, took it upon himself to daydream atop him, shushing and stroking him were he to grow panicked. Most of the time, this would work. The sniffling and trembling would soon die down, surrendering to a semblance of peaceful slumber. Other nights, Zant would snap awake and throw himself out the bed, pacing and weeping. No matter Ghirahim’s best attempts at coaxing him back, he would always request his leave, as he was so used to doing. The next morning, Ghirahim would pretend, then, that he didn't see the bruises that would besmirch his skin afterward.

But tonight, it was peaceful. Zant was still, interrupted only by the slightest shifts and jitters. It left Ghirahim with perturbingly little to occupy himself with. Still, truly bored he would never grow in his company, even when he was asleep. When he got tired of dwelling in his own mind, he instead found his hands wandering, stroking through his far-more graceful-looking hair, or lacing their fingers together. Otherwise, he could simply lay there and stare, intently observing the odd anatomy of the creature that made himself so vulnerable below him. Ink-black skin stretched over the protruding bones of his spine and shoulders, looking deceptively thin like paper, but he knew better than anyone that the Twili was much sturdier than he appeared. Zant’s ceaseless acrobatics were emblematic of astonishing core strength, that even the Sword Spirit’s counterpart could hardly hope to rival. Not to mention, he recalled several occasions where, by some miracle, the Twili managed to pick him up with relative ease. Even laying on top of him, now, he pondered how puzzling the arrangement was. At the end of the day, even if his disguise made him leagues more light-footed, he was made of solid metal. Being treated as, essentially, a weighted blanket, when to anyone else being squeezed for hours like this would be torture, was unprecedented. Above it all, every morning, without fail, he would be greeted with a pleased, eye-squinting smile, to boot. It was as baffling as it was cute.

His eyes trailed to the markings on his neck and shoulders, swirling and geometric, set into his skin like they’d been carved. Those markings were dark now, only occasionally pulsing with a weak glow. Were he anyone else, the softly blinking lights might have driven him mad throughout the night, but without his need for sleep, he found himself oddly comforted. Whenever he would drift away in thought, those lights would be there, luring him back to the realm of the living. Drawing all his attention back to that softly snoring being below him, with his eyes squinted shut and his lips slightly agape, who would wake up to refer to him affectionately with an unintelligible term he’d refuse to translate. How ironic it was, to be anchored by a man who was so thoroughly far gone himself.

He supposed he understood now why Zant was so fascinated with those small, meaningless gestures of affection. Now that he laid there, the sleeping Twili at his mercy, it was hard not to poke at him. To see him at rest, his features almost appeared softer than usual. The tensions of what plagued him during the daytime had left him to slumber, for now, the spirit of sleep gently caressing him until it dug its claws in his throat with capricious abandon. Until it could, Ghirahim would entertain his own ridiculous musings. How much could he fiddle with an organic being so deep in slumber, let alone an alien one, before he snapped him awake? With the utmost care not to wake him, he lightly brushed the top of his nails across the soft skin of his back, watching intently for a reaction. None came; not even a slight shift. It was jarring how tranquil he was, he thought to himself, reaching over to brush his hair out of his face. His eagerness to get a closer look at his porcelain-like visage was swiftly punished. He bumped into his ear by accident, causing it to twitch on reflex. Slowly but surely, twilit markings began to pulse with color. Teal faded in like the light of the rising sun, and Zant stirred in his waning sleep.

Ghirahim was, frankly, a little embarrassed, but with the impending daybreak, they couldn’t be laying around much longer either way. Almost apologetically, he leaned down to press light kisses to the back of his shoulder.

“Waking up?” he asked, before kissing him once more. He chuckled softly when Zant responded with nothing but a groan, and the burying of his face into the pillow. It was a novelty to find him so eager to keep sleeping. Now that he was undeniably awake, though, his own fickle mood was setting in. The Demon Lord did not like to be kept waiting!

So be bothersome he did. He traced along the markings on his back with his finger, fascinated by how they would light up under his touch. When that didn’t work, he leaned in even further, grazing his teeth over the long, finned ear that stuck out easily within his reach. Zant hummed, turning around to peek at him with a pink tinge on his cheeks. That was an interesting development!

“I trust that you slept well? You were remarkably quiet tonight.”

A thin membrane blinked vertically over Zant’s eyes as he blearily looked back at him. Eugh! “Indeed, [my cherished one],” he responded, his voice still thick and murky with sleep. “Perhaps… My sleeping mind has grown to be comforted by your presence.”

Ghirahim laughed. “So I assume you’re going to ask me to come lay on you to be bored more often?”

The somewhat dejected look on Zant’s face made it clear that his teasing didn’t land. “Ah, well. If it’s a bother, then-“

Quickly, he interrupted. “I’m pulling your leg, dear,” he cooed, continuing to caress along his patterns. “I find there’s plenty to occupy myself with. Such as…”

That was not a lie. He simply had to trace back the steps of his trail of thought from that night, and try to remember what he had wondered about which discovery. One glance around the slowly brightening room was enough.

“… That sword,” he pointed across the room to his armory. There stood displayed an absolutely incomprehensible weapon, with asymmetrical, curving shapes, and intricately smithed patterns. Looking at it, it looked more as though it was hewn from stone than fashioned from any kind of known metal. “What’s its story?”

Zant’s eyes followed his gesturing. “That, would be the Scimitar of Twilight,” he replied, resting his head down on the arms he’d crossed over his pillow. “An ancient artifact, hailing from the days of the Interlopers. I took it with me from the Palace, I thought I would put it to better use.”

“And yet, you never actually wield it. A shame of such a beautiful blade,” he scolded him and inquisitively leaned his chin on his shoulder to get a closer look at him. “How come?”

He was lifted temporarily by a heaving sigh from the man under him. “Truthfully, I’ve grown so used to dual wielding, I find my confidence in handling a two-handed weapon far too lacking to bring it with me.”

Oh, Demise help him. Lacking confidence? Completely involuntarily, images of Zant’s behavior on the battlefield flashed before his eyes. The barbaric and haphazard ways he swung those poor, defenseless scimitars around were already difficult enough to witness. The stumbling footwork, the massive gaps in his defenses, and the constant threat of slicing his own arms clean off… It was a matter of time until something went horribly wrong! That was his idea of confidently wielding a blade? He could not stand for it.

With an unimpressed grunt, Ghirahim pushed himself off his bedmate and back upright, greeting the day with a mechanical creak and pop of his shoulder. “Come on, now. Time to get up.”

Zant rolled onto his side, the glow of his awakened markings now lighting up the pale skin at the front of his lithe body. Self control, Ghirahim…

“You appear to be in a rush,” he yawned, pointy teeth popping out from their sockets.

Ghirahim responded by summoning a comb from nowhere at all, and brushing his bangs back where they belonged. “Well, yes. You still need to do your ungodly stretching routine, and I have plans for the both of us. I’d like to be out of here before the Cuccos cry.”

Zant sat up next to him, greeting him with a nuzzle of the splits in his lips. “Plans?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he firmly told him, but not before acknowledging his affections with an encouraging pat on his lower back. “I’ve decided I can’t stand for this lackadaisical treatment of priceless weapons any longer, so I’m going to teach you how to properly swing that thing, even if it kills me.”

——

As any proper (self-ascribed) nobleman, Ghirahim valued discretion. Even moreso, he valued a lack of busybodies, who would undoubtedly be shocked to see him kick his co-lieutenant around like a sack of flour. Sparring out in the usual training field, therefore, was completely out of the question. But in the light of the rising sun, the dry grasslands of Eldin were not exactly their ally in finding a proper, secluded spot. That was, until they stumbled upon a rock outcropping near the base of Death Mountain, where craggy rock formations would obscure the view of any possible adversaries. Yes, this was where he was going to beat the tar out of his boyfriend in full courtesy. He warped the both of them there and sauntered around the perimeter to gauge the amount of space they had for this tomfoolery. Zant, meanwhile, wordlessly watched him. His usually so impenetrable, stock-still-looking stance now moreso made him exude the confidence of a newborn heron getting used to its own legs.

Either way, the cavern was ideal. The gaping maw of the rock shelter opened up to the north, meaning they would be out of direct sunlight for pretty much the entire day. And even then, the trees right outside would keep them out of view. Ghirahim dragged his feet through the dirt somewhat and found that the dust beneath had built up to a decent layer. Now, this is plenty of padding, he thought to himself. Any meager reservations he still had about throwing Zant repeatedly to the ground were promptly discarded. To top it all off, there were only a few stalagmites and boulders scattered about, and they had plenty of space to spar. Thus, opportunities to push him into the rocks and lasciviously pin him against them would be limited to a tastefully small degree… Agh, focus!

Still, Zant evidently had his reservations. His sword hung uneasily from his hand as he began to speak. "Are you quite certain teaching me is a wise course of action? I am the first Twili you've met. Such novelty in biology may impede on your ability to instruct, to the point of reluctance.”

"Oh, please. Advising anyone the art of swordsmanship, regardless of their anatomy, is my primary duty," he frowned, before strutting back over to him, leaning on him with a sway. "Besides, out of anyone, I'm quite confident in being the most intimately familiar with your anatomy," he purred, his tongue darting out toward his helmet. Zant let out a flustered squeal in response, ducking away from him.

"Point taken," he stuttered, before carefully examining his sword. Ghirahim had equipped both of them with simple training swords, and Zant’s was a decently weighted longsword. He didn’t want to risk either of them damaging anything more important, given the False King’s affinity for wild swings. Speaking of risks…

Promptly, he stepped away from him, throwing his arms to either side with a flourish. “Allow me to slip into something a little more comfortable,” he proclaimed, before showering himself in a mighty cascade of diamond magic. Bit by bit, his exterior began to crack, sending clothes and false skin alike to fade away into naught but energy. The metal of his body creaked and groaned as his true form was finally unveiled; larger, sturdier, and with delectably defined musculature. His hands thrust forward out through the shroud and dismissed it with a showy sweep of his arms. A deep sigh of joy and satisfaction left his lips, now reverberating through his canny throat. Hands stroking through his opalescent hair, he relished in just how good this felt. Certainly, his usual form was his own customized, chosen appearance, and as special and perfect as it was, like this… He was powerful, unencumbered, and complete. His eyes fluttered back open while his hands glided over his smooth, glittering skin, and his gaze pierced straight through Zant’s helmet.

“There. Now you couldn’t hurt me, even if you tried.”

Zant stood there silently for a moment, and Ghirahim then remembered he hadn’t seen his true form up close all too often. Perhaps the last time was a full month ago, and even then, it had only been a glimpse into the heat of battle. Well, he would make sure to let him savor it today.

Still, it wouldn’t be a morning with that oaf if he didn’t ruin the moment. “Even though your core is right in the open?” Zant inquired, gesturing with a nod at his chest.

Immediately, his graceful pose fell into shatters, and he threw his hands up in frustration. “Why do you think I’ve left our actual weapons back at the keep? Non-magical weapons such as these mass-produced wastes of ore can’t even hope to scratch me, core or not!”

Zant similarly raised his hands, though in a gesture of peace. “Forgive me for inquiring.”

"Right then, Zant. Please get into position."

He watched on as Zant, far too bashfully, lowered himself into a hunch. Before they could even get to the sword-fighting part, Zant’s posture and footwork were in urgent need of improvement. Standing there swaying like seaweed in the current wasn’t going to hold up when wielding a longsword. It was painfully obvious that even something this basic needed some real work, even though he knew Zant had such impeccable muscle control! Despite his perfect example, that lanky fool still had the gall to mess it up.

Nigh instantly, Ghirahim clicked his tongue. "Your front leg is bent too far. Holding that any longer than a minute will injure your knee. Come on! Watch closer," he demanded, narrowing his eyes to scrutinize every little twitch of the Twilight King's muscles. Zant shifted his weight again, this time leaning back rather than forward. The front of his foot lifted. It was time for a lesson.

Within the blink of an eye, he darted towards his pupil and took out his front leg with a low sweeping kick. Zant shrieked, threatening to be thrown to his side, but he somehow righted himself with the wild swinging of his arms. That unique quirk of his was ripe with potential, but he ought to cover the basics first.

"Surely you must now see how unstable your footing is!"

Zant huffed in frustration, straightening his legs and looming over him. "Then tell me what is wrong!"

He would not be intimidated by a man so easily kicked over, even if his core was right within hand's reach, and Zant fully able to harm him through it. Mostly, he didn't want him to give up and stomp off just yet.

"Of course. I merely wanted to show you the consequences of such clumsiness," he padded over beside him again and lowered himself. "Knee above the ankle, feet flat on the ground, and weight carried in the middle. Show me!"

Zant did as he was told, uncertain of his footing at first, but surely, eventually, he stood. Ghirahim took a moment to circle him, lips pursed in thought as he observed his form.

"That's better," he nodded. "Alright, I'm going to push you now. Try to stay upright!"

"What-" Zant attempted to speak, but interrupted himself with another screech as two rock-hard hands shoved him flat on the back. Though his torso bent drastically forward, one solid stomp of his left leg prevented him from tumbling fully.

Standing alone being this much trouble was a foul omen for the rest of their crash course.

And foul it was, indeed. Though choreographically there was astoundingly little flaw in Zant’s stance and footwork after some work, his reflexes and endurance were abominable. They had been shuffling back and forth towards each other long enough for a beaten path to wear down underneath, and his opponent’s strength was rapidly fading. Of course, the punishments he delivered did not help his withering stamina whatsoever.

Of which an opportunity presented itself, right this second.

Zant had failed to notice the additional step Ghirahim took towards him, and thus, ended up directly within his weapon’s range. Before he could so much as blink, Ghirahim already swiftly smacked him in the forearms with the flat of his blade, sending him tumbling to the ground with a yelp.

Blade held at his waist, he stepped over towards his prone body. “This is your problem, Zant. You have the strength and the quick thinking, but you haven’t the endurance! Falling into your horrid habit of panting and giggling just will not hold any longer,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re getting sloppy already, and we’ve hardly been at it for a quarter of an hour.”

“A mere quarter! It feels like an eternity,” he whined, splayed on the floor with the approximate grace of a squashed snail. “There isn’t much I can do when you keep beating me down like this.”

Ghirahim twirled his blade in his hand, resting its heft on his shoulder. “The rules are simple. You fail to get out of the way of a swing, and you die. You’ve been on the battlefield many times now, you know this!”

“Yes, but usually I am at least capable of defending myself before that happens!”

“It hardly makes sense to me to teach a child how to write before it can even walk properly,” he sighed, pretending for a moment to understand mortal lifespans.

Not appreciating such language, Zant merely growled in response, fists balling in the dirt below him. Was he truly going to let him throw a tantrum in the middle of, what was essentially, their date? The Shadow King was known, first and foremost, for his horrible temper. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to put up with it. And so, he decided to throw him a bone.

“… Fine. Get up,” he bemoaned, holding out his hand. “We will go over a few strikes, and perhaps if we have time, I will show you some guards I think would suit your posture.”

Zant latched onto his hand with frightening eagerness and pulled himself upright.

It was not hopeless, exactly, but it certainly took a while. Endearing as his attempts were, Ghirahim would prefer if he could see whatever that bumbling fool had up his oversized sleeves. He watched from the sidelines as he had Zant repeat the same few motions, hoping to spot improvement in his fluency of grip and stance after his very best instructions. But his improvement was such a hodgepodge of different snapshots, Ghirahim could hardly keep up. Sometimes, he would swing his sword around with reckless abandon, scoring himself another kick to the chest as punishment. Other times, he’d suddenly move with striking elegance. There was serious potential locked away in there, somewhere, if only he knew how to tease it out… "Perhaps this is just easy for me to say, but you truly must view your blade as an extension of your own body. You shouldn't even have to think which is the false or sharp edge!"

But really, if he didn’t simply engage him in battle, then he’d never learn. Ghirahim left him there to spar with the air, walking off to snatch his blade from the rock he’d left it leaning against, and quickly occupied the empty space Zant was just swinging at. It was time to bolster him through this training something fierce.

"I can teach you every technique under the sun and moon, but it will be useless if you do not manage to outsmart your opponent. It’s not about speed, it’s about timing.” He emphasized with a furious strike, which Zant retaliated with his own, hitting the two blades together in a truce. Ghirahim lashed forward, pushing against him with a grunt. “The moment you realize your opponent attempts to overpower you, you push back, and turn the tides,” Ghirahim continued, pushing his sword forward. Steel edges shrieked and sparked under the sudden force of the movement. Suddenly, he relinquished his pressure on the binding of their swords and allowed his blade to be carried by the force of Zant’s quaking strength. To Zant’s chagrin, he noted far too late that it sent the blade whacking right into the side of his helmet, sending him stumbling, but not yet into a fall.

Ghirahim demanded him again to stand and lunged at him a second time. Again Zant blocked him, but was now reluctant to push back. It was like he played into his hand on purpose! How delicious. “And when your enemy hesitates, all you have to do is take control.” With a twirl of his wrists, he swiveled his sword against the now flexible hold Zant had against him, and drove his blade directly into the padding around his gut. The Twili stumbled back with a screech, hand clasped over his now undoubtedly bruised hip.

“Not unlike taking a lover, really,” Ghirahim chuckled, his tongue darting out to lap at his sword.

“Then quit fooling around,” Zant spat, “and let me try!”

Just for the sake of demonstration, he lowered his guard just a touch. He wanted the both of them to have some fun in the end, either way. Their swords struck one another with resounding clangs time and time again. With varying degrees of clumsiness, Zant managed to lock their blades in his favor and slip past his defenses. If Ghirahim didn’t know any better, he would almost think he was starting to enjoy himself behind that hideous helmet, leaving him to deal with the negligible pinpricks of his blade. This was all well and good, but he shouldn’t let him grow complacent. He waited for a decent rhythm to settle between them; back and forth, blocking and redirecting strikes, before he kicked his mischief into gear. Right as their blades stuck together in their bind, he smirked up at him. Before Zant could even think of reacting, he lunged in to hook his arm around his neck and lanky torso, and pushed. Chest pressed against chest, he snickered mischievously, pressing that struggling and whimpering buffoon closer to him.

One swift kick to his calf was all it took to knock him off balance. With a yelp and a wave of his arms, Zant protested, but hit the ground all the same. All of the defenseless Twili’s breath was forced out with a wheeze under the weight of Ghirahim’s metal body, and he laid there squirming, trying to wiggle out underneath from him. Of course, hooking a leg around his thigh for good measure, Ghirahim wasn’t going to let this happen.

He snickered, lifting his head to look at that deadpan helmet. “You were doing quite well, right up until you got distracted, there.”

“Your point has been made. Please get off of me,” Zant grunted, writhing again for good measure. He delighted in the subtle stutter of the man’s voice. Such a valiant attempt at hiding his fluster! Even when pinned under him like this, heaving and drenched with sweat, he was dead-set on properly practicing fighting with him. It was oddly sweet, to be so serious about a sparring session.

As much as Ghirahim was enjoying his time as the personification of a bear trap, he too had to relent, both for Zant’s and his own sake, and released him from his clutches. “Let’s try that again, shall we? And pay attention to me, this time.” A statement that went without saying, if you asked him!

Keese resting high, high upon the ceiling of the cavern huddled together with bulging eyes and watched carefully, shielding their ears from the monstrous clash of weapons below them. It certainly wasn’t that Zant was incapable. Though he wouldn’t admit it, bestial strength was hidden behind those stringy arms, and he hesitated not to remind him of it every time their swords smacked together. Still, each match lasted three seconds at most. The Twilight King was used to battling with his fists laced with magic, which made him a thoroughly fearsome opponent. However, the whole point of this exercise was to increase his martial skill. For all Ghirahim cared, he could fiddle with ways to combine proper sword-fighting techniques with his ancient magicks in his own time. Frankly, he couldn’t wait until he showed him what glorious recipes of death he managed to concoct. But he actually had to know how to handle a sword to do that, first. Every once in a while, Zant would slip past his guard, but each time, he could deliver not more than a would-be nick. Ghirahim, in the meantime, was showing him every corner of the cave, literally and metaphorically, sending him flying and skidding across the floor with every other thrust and kick. There, his footing was too far apart, and there, he left himself wide open for a stab, and there — He was losing count of the number of times he managed to punish him with gleeful violence. Zant wailed in frustration as Ghirahim knocked him over once more, laughing as he watched him fall.

But if there was one thing Zant was good at, it was pushing himself to his limits, and far beyond it. He endured such beatings, such humiliation… To see such a side of him would be a privileged novelty, but truth be told, this was par for the course. But to do so even without the will of their Master, or the mortal threat of true battle… He couldn‘t help but dig around for hidden implications, and for just a moment, entertained the thought of it being all for him. This escapade was just far too exciting!

Zant, too, was fired up. The thrill of getting to cross blades appeared to do wonders for his willpower. No matter how many times Ghirahim smacked him against the helmet or jabbed him into the shoulder, he would keep lunging for him, or flinging the oncoming assault away with his own strike. Such harsh attacks were powerful and effective, certainly, but posed a serious risk to the durability of his blade… Well, to try and beat that fighting style out of him was much like convincing a fish to stop swimming. Ghirahim decided it was pointless to drill him on it during his first lesson.

And yet, right when he thought he had him cornered once again, Zant managed to trick him. With one step to the right and a swift turn of his wrists, Ghirahim had the tables turned on him. With his sword locked on Zant’s crossguard, he could only watch. Within a split second, his blade slid down his own, and the curled tip jabbed him right at the base of his neck.

A smile graced his black, metallic lips. “I see you’ve finally decided to stop messing around.”

Zant giggled, stepping back to return to his starting position, freeing Ghirahim from the (non-existent) threat of his blade. “I have simply been closely observing you, as you’ve said.”

That snake! How long had he been fooling him for? From their battle with Midna, he should have learned that Zant was not beyond self-sabotage, to reach the goal of analyzing his enemy. With a twirl of his blade in his hands, Ghirahim smirked, and held his guarding blade in front of him again to force a wall of steel between them. “Then show me what you’ve learned.”

Zant paused, but did so steadfastly, observantly. He felt those eyes crawling on him, to the wiggle of his fingers and the slight bob of his legs as he braced himself with the right amount of spring in his step. Right when he was about to launch forward and catch him off guard, Zant struck first.

… With his elbows too far apart.

And so, he ducked right underneath the much taller man’s swing and smashed him right upside the chin with the pommel of his sword.

Even with a helmet on, such a blow was painful and staggering, and as expected, Zant lost his footing and landed flat on his back with a gasp. The hand that once held his sword, but no longer, dropped down defeatedly into the dust next to him, and he laid there, motionless.

Until he started to giggle.

Ghirahim shook his head, standing over him with his hand at his side. “I’ll have you know this is no laughing matter. Had I been serious, I would have shattered all your teeth with that maneuver.” Yet, those words only made him laugh harder. Zant’s chest shook with the force of his chortling, and he sat up, head hung limply down.

“Stop laughing. You’re dead! I’ve killed you!” He scolded, but completely involuntarily, the corner of his mouth crooked into a smile. For good measure, he decided to smack him on the side of the helmet, hard enough to make it bong like a temple bell but not enough to topple him over.

“Oh, this is hopeless,” Zant wheezed, shaking his head with defeated laughter. This only got him another whack of Ghirahim’s sword on his helmet, who was now similarly unable to hold back his laugh.

“Get up! Or I’ll kill you again,” he threatened, though the distraction of his giggling significantly hampered his power. His once so swift and furious swipes were now reduced to half-hearted taps.

“Then my life is yours to take,” Zant swooned. He flopped backward, his arms falling limply and spread out by his sides. “I am exhausted.”

An unexpected pang shot through him at the Twili’s words, even though he knew very well they were intended as a joke. In an instant, he dropped his sword to the ground. The flimsy blade clattered for a moment, before coming to a standstill, dust kicking up under the impact. Before the cloud of sand could dissipate, he had already dropped down to straddle him. His hands slid down Zant’s sleeves and intertwined their fingers. He needed to make sure the Twilight King understood the weight of those words if spoken to a weapon. Zant was dense, but had he perhaps understood? Had he noticed, that his invitation today was not simply out of annoyance toward his lacking skill, but something more? Leaning close enough to hear the heaving breaths from behind his helmet, he whispered. “Do you promise?”

“… Ah.” Zant was frozen in place, both from his restraints and from the unrelenting thump of Ghirahim’s core, pulsing into him through his clothes. He understood, then, that accepting this invitation, and entangling in battle with him… It was never a matter of simple sparring. With a gasp, the visor of his helmet retracted, exposing the lower half of his face. “Ghirahim,” he uttered, his name like a confession on his lips. The whirring of the retracting shutters hardly had time to cease. Ghirahim already dove down, pressing a solid metal kiss against that mouth, before the sweetness of his tone could fully leave it.

… And it was met with a yelp.

“Oh! You’ll have to beg my pardon, I don’t know what came over me,” Ghirahim stammered, quickly freeing up his hands to fuss over his face. Zant groaned, rubbing at his sore lips. “That will leave a bruise…”

Against all odds, Zant appeared to still be in good humor and laughed off the petty injury. “I suppose we will have to leave further practice for some other day.”

Happy to not have ruined the mood too terribly, he decided he was laying quite comfortably on top of him, after all, and didn’t see any need to leave him. He casually folded his arms over the Twili’s chest and reclined on him. “The good news is, today was not as disastrous as I’d expected. But, but but but,” he tutted. “You are far from ready to wield that gorgeous blade you have stashed back at the keep.” He reached over with a finger, and sternly, yet playfully, pushed it on the flat of his nose. “I will want to train with you like this every morning… And perhaps the nights, too, if I don’t see enough improvement.”

Zant sputtered. “Every morning!?”

Clicking his tongue in response, he retracted his hand, tucking it back under himself. “Yes? As do our troops. What, are you scared it will take too much time away from snuggling before duty?” He bantered, cocking his head playfully.

With surprising strength for someone who just spent an hour getting clobbered, two stringy arms suddenly wrapped around him. Just like that, he was trapped in boney limbs and stiff fabric. “Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

“You — Childish fiend,” he spat with the undying confidence of someone who wasn’t maddened by affections. Of someone who wasn’t wrapped so thoroughly around some maniac’s little finger. “I’m taking us back to the keep.”

“That is, if you manage to untangle us,” Zant giggled, trapping him in an impenetrable barrier with his arms and tassels acting like a snare, and he the unsuspecting hare. “You wish to be discreet around our men, no?”

He struggled, wrestled, by all means, capable of ripping himself free now that he was in his true form, but knew he couldn’t. A smile involuntarily crept up on him when he realized just how little he wanted to.

“You’re impossible!”

#beararts #ghirahim #zant #tp zant #legend of zelda #hyrule warriors #bearwrites #ghirazant #tftk

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lilydaisylily · 27 days

Text

I Love you (part 3)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Y/N (reader)

Hi lovely readers! Here comes part 3 for this series and I really hope you'll enjoy it! If you have some spare time, would really appreciate it if you can hit like and repost this post so other reader can read it too! Love you lots!✨️

Happy reading!✨️

🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋

Jessica fucking Thompson.

You knew that voice anywhere. The very voice that always there to take whatever it is that belongs to you, but always so fucking unlucky for every second of the time. Thank heavens for that.

"Y/N! What a coincident! What are you doing here?" Jessica ask you with a very annoying high pitch voice.

"Do I look like I'm here to cook, Jessica?" You swear she'll annoys you to death by just breathing.

"Aww, don't be like that! Looks like you hurt your hand with, let me think, umm like some kind of an acid accident? How unfortunate." A wicked glint flashes in Jessica's eyes as she eyeing your injury, gloating for your bad luck.

So she's the mastermind here. How predictable.

Sometimes you wonder how on earth does this stupid human being can live and kicking until today, unscattered and happy? Who in their right mind will casually admitting to their crime in broad daylight? You really don't know what kind of good deed she did in her past life to be blessed with this life that she have today.

On the other hand, being a sharp person that she is, Rebecca swiftly turn on her phone recording rightly after she noticed Jessica coming towards you a few second ago. She have this hunch that it will be worth it to record your conversation. Hence, the unofficial confession from the villain has been recorded successfully.

Taking your silent as a yes, Jessica continues to provoke your emotion, "Looks like I'm right, 'ey? Aww poor Y/N! Have you cried to Cheollie about this yet? Oh, wait! You guys are not together anymore, right? Oh my god, I am so sorry! Double boohoo for you, Y/N!"

Before you can even retort her, Jessica continue, "You know what Y/N, you better stop pestering Cheollie from now on because," she paused her word for a second as she look down on her stomach and caressing it gently before she carry on, "Well, because he's going to be the father to our child! I'm pregnant with Cheollie's child, Y/N! It's wonderful, isn't?" Armed with a lovely and gentle smile as her disguise, the bomb of a news that she throws at you makes your heart shattered completely, making you feel empty inside like a broken doll.

"What did you just say?" You can't help it but to question her again, as you're unwilling to believe the news you just heard.

"I'm pregnant with Cheollie's child, silly Y/N! Well, it's just been for like, 3 weeks old, but-" you cannot bring yourself to listen to the rest of her words as you cut her off with an emotionless 'congratulation' and make a bee-line towards your car outside the ER. Rebecca silently followed you out, not missing the evil, psycho grin from Jessica after you left.

"You've got the recording, right?" You asked Rebecca once you both boarding the car. "Yes, President. I'll settle this matter as soon as possible."

"Good. Make sure she reap a dozen of what she sow this time. I think I had enough of her antics in this life." You gave her your final sentence grudgingly while holding onto your injured hand.

"Boss, we found her. She just came out from AV Hospital after her appointment with an O&G specialist. We've looked into the system and found out that," a little hesitation coming from the other side of the line before gathering their courage to continue the report, "well, we discovered that Jessica is currently bearing a child, about 3 weeks old."

There you have it. The deathly report has been conveyed to the hell king and its only a matter of time for the hell to break loose.

"Find out who's the father is no matter the method and don't let this news spread, especially not to Y/N. If she come to realize this because of your incompetant, you know whats coming for you." Before Seungcheol got their acknowledgement on their new mission, his henchmen disclose the information he dreaded the most where you already knew the pregnancy news from none other than Jessica herself.

An eerie silence from Seungcheol's side makes them break into a very cold sweat.

All hell will break loose soon indeed.

"I can work anywhere I want, right? Right Becca?" Your ride from the hospital has been masked with a serene silence until you broke it by asking the question out of the blue.

"Of course, President. Wherever you are, I'll tag along and do my best to assist you." Determined to stay by your side, Rebecca will go anywhere with you as long as you bring her along. That's her promise when she started her service in your company.

"No, Becca. I need you to stay here, to keep all the staff in check for me. I won't be out for long, maybe a couple of months, or maybe a year, top." Smiling, you carry on with your words, "I think my heart needs some healing I never knew I needed, Becca. And its definitely not here." A stream of tears gushing out from your eyes as you can't seem to hold back your sadness any longer. Rebecca can't help it but to engulfed you into the tighest hug ever as a way to console you, even for a little while.

You asked the driver to drop you off at Mingyu's house and once again, you can't keep your tears in when he's already standing tall on his yard, barefoot and looking anxious while waiting for you. He streched his long legs towards your side and give you a big bear hug that you deserve. Rebecca bow respectfully to you both and quietly leave you with Mingyu as she knew you are in good hands.

After Mingyu heard the shocking revelation from you, he can't help but to narrated a long, colourful curses to both Seungcheol and Jessica for doing this to you.

"I swear I'll give them a piece of my mind when we meet up. Gosh, this is so frustrating! What's in his mind that he have the heart to treat you like this?!" Said Mingyu while angrily chopping poor potatoes and tomatoes to make you some of your favourite hot soup of his. His cooking has never ceased to amaze you and you love every single thing about it.

You both take your seat at the dining table once Mingyu finished his cooking. Gosh, his cooking definitely a precious gift from the heaven. "Gyu, may I ask you a favour?" You meekly asked Mingyu about the decision you've made this afternoon. Mingyu put down his spoon to give you his full attention and motioning you to continue.

"I want to go somewhere far away from here. A place where Seungcheol can't find me eventhough he might not and I know you're the only one who can outsmart him on this, well maybe Jeonghan too. Will you help me?" Taking your uninjured hand in his, he agreed readily to your request and he already got some place in mind that he'll share with you later. You thank him for always be there for you before you both heard the door bell ringing.

Bethany and Wonwoo both engulfed you in a tight group hug, well, with a carefully hugging session of course, to avoid any more injury there is.

"I wish I could just chop both of that bitch's hand! Why is she not changing at all? After all these years and she's still playing this snatching game? What a loser!" Bethany can't contain her anger as she stabbed the poor potato in her soup bowl.

"Actually, I just have this one speculation on my mind after the day we found out about your breakup with Seungcheol hyung." All eyes and ears are on Wonwoo and he continue his theory after he got the attention he need.

"I just don't understand why Seungcheol hyung suddenly acted this way. Like, we all knew him for a long time even before you two started dating, right? He's not someone whom will cheat on his partner no matter how short the relationship last between them. Look, I know people can change anytime but old habit die hard, right? So my conclusion here is, I think what is currently going on between the two of you and that bitch Jessica might not be 100% of Seungcheol hyung's fault. Something more might be behind it than the one that meets the eye."

Quietness engulfed everyone in the dining room with all eyes on Wonwoo, feeling both amazed and shocked. Hence, Bethany decided to fill it with her witty remark.

"Wow. I never knew you can speak that long, Wonu-ya. That's a very suprising fact about you that I've learn today. Maybe we can give you some more brain exercise for you to think rather than letting your brain to rot with all those games that you played."

Loud laughter erupted throughout the house and Wonwoo just smile shyly while eating his soup.

"Well, Wonu does have a point there. But no worries. I'll help you investigate this matter while you're resting, love. I might also deliver Seungcheol hyung a punch or two as an early payment." Another laughter erupted and it's caused by Mingyu this time.

After some movie marathon and a few bowl of popcorn, you all decided to retire for the night and retreat to Mingyu's guest room upstairs.

"Have you inform your parents about your upcoming departure?" Beth cuddles you on the bed.

"Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. I guess they'll be cool about it, right?" Your parents is not strict, but they do appreciate it if you and your brother update them about your life every now and then. They did sent their own men to guard you from afar but, hearing from you personally is much better.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Seungcheol has been comfortable long enough that he forgot to cherish you the way you should be. For now, just focus on your own healing and let the past stays in the past. The truth will come out eventually and all we have to do now is to wait." Bethany stroke your hair gently and soon you both slowly drift into your own dreamland, feeling safe and sound in each others arm.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

That is all for part 3 of I Love You.

I don't know if you like them but feel free to your two cent in the comment so I can improve my future writing🫶

Thank you for reading, my lovelies and we'll see each other in the next chapter!^^

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paper-gold-theories · 7 months

Text

Villainous Theory: The Set-Up

(posting this before Chapter 10 gets uploaded this week and this might get debunked 😂)

I feel like Porccini is the one who set up the Villains to be captured in Chapter 9.

[Translation]

TO ALL UNITS.

TARGETS ARE LEAVING THROUGH THE EAST DOOR.

He probably made a deal with Captain Estrada and lured a bunch of Villains like Iluminarrow and Mawrasite, who are desperate for money, to the hero rehab facility to be captured in exchange for Miss Heed, who he is still simping for.

In Chapter 6 Miss Valdoom says that Porccini was a Miss Heed fan, who was not even hypnotized, and assumed that he wanted revenge on her for choosing Flug over him, despite everything he did for her.

But I feel like this is just from Miss Valdoom's point of view.

[Translation]

Miss Valdoom: WHEN THAT PROBLEMATIC KISS APPEARED EVERYWHERE.

HIS HEART BROKE.

HE FELT DISAPPOINTED BECAUSE HIS "BELOVED QUEEN" PREFERRED ANOTHER DESPITE EVERYTHING HE'S DONE FOR HER.

[Translation]

Miss Valdoom: OBVIOUSLY

HE IS SURELY AS DISTRESSED AS THE REST OF HER "FANS".

AND WANTS TO MAKE HER PAY FOR BREAKING HIS HEART

IT'S THE MOST STUPID, RIDICULOUS, AND CHILDISH REASON IF YOU ASK ME.

(Note: Initially I thought the dart board with Miss Heed's vandalised face was the same one as the poster Porccini had, but looking back it's a different one that probably belongs to Miss Valdoom. That might be internationally used to serve as a red herring)

My theory is that Porccini wanted to rescue Miss Heed, who everyone abandoned and had nothing left, so that she would feel indebted to him fall for him afterwards.

____

Evidence to support is in Chapter 3, when Porccini got a call from an important person and in Chapter 9, Captain Estrada was notified of the Villains in the hero rehab facility from an unknown number.

Who was probably Porccini...

[Translation]

Captain Estrada: ESTRADA HERE.

DO YOU HAVE THE KEY?

AFFIRMATIVE.

In Chapter 9, After the P.E.A.C.E. officers arrived and Illuminarrow and Mawrasite escaped the facility and concluded that a traitor set this up to betray the Villains and The Porccini family and they will get a reward if they warn him.

[Translation]

Iluminarrow: WE MUST BE CAREFUL MAWRIE. WHOEVER IS THE ONE WHO BETRAYED THE VILLAINS AND THE PORCCINI FAMILY COULD COME AFTER US.

Mawrasite: SO WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ELI?

Iluminarrow: YOU HEARD WHAT HUMIKO SAID. WHOEVER PLANNED THIS WANTED TO BETRAY THE PORCCINI FAMILY, MAYBE WE CAN GO WITH HIM TO EXPLAIN OUR INNOCENCE ... AND MAYBE HE WILL REWARD US!

Mawrasite: WHAT?

Iluminarrow: THINK ABOUT IT MAURIE, MAYBE WE DON'T HAVE HEED'S REWARD OR V.I.R.U.S. BUT MAYBE PORCCINI CAN OFFER A REWARD TO WHOEVER WARNS HIM THAT THERE IS A TRAITOR WORKING FOR HIM!

What might happen in Chapter 10 and how the comic will end

My theory is that Miss Heed was probably long gone by the time all the Villains arrived in Chapter 8 and live feed was just a pre-recording planted to fool the Villains.

[Translation]

ROOM HEED

PATIENT: HEED, MISS

INTERIOR

LIVE FEED

[Translation]

SHE'S GONE!?

In Chapter 10 Miss Heed will probably be there with Porccini when Illuminarrow and Mawrasite come back to warn him, much to their shock.

How the comic will end might be that Illuminarrow and Mawrasite will get captured by Porccini to be sent to P.E.A.C.E. but they will manage to escape, possibly with the help of Humiko who most probably followed them at the end followed them at the end of Chapter 9.

However Illuminarrow will still not have money to pay her rent in Chapter 1, so she will end up having to move in with Mawrasite.

Or alternatively, both of them might get some money out of this from King Casino who sent his personal assassins after whoever destroyed his casino in Chapter 6 and might use the two to go after The Porccini Family who is as mentioned in Chapter 4, is their rival family and both of them hate each other's guts. 👀

[Translation]

6 hearts, 2 spades, 4 diamonds

Ninjas of the Deck Clan: King Casino's Personal Assassins.

Kin Casino: FIRST... FIND WHOEVER DID THIS AND BRING THEM TO ME, I WANT THEM ALIVE.

Afterwards despite Porccini rescuing Miss Heed, she would still use him afterwards to help her publish her book to "clear her name" for her "comeback" as a hero.

#villainous #villanos #villainous theory #villainous theories #villainous headcanons #villainous missheed #villainous miss valdoom #villainous miss heed #cecilia amanda kelly #villainous mawrasite #villainous illuminarrow #villainous headcanon #villainous porccini #villainous king casino #villainous humiko #dr flug #dr kenning flugslys #flug

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bloodcrimsonrain · 2 years

Photo

ARCANE APPRECIATION WEEK

Nov. 13th - Nov. 19th

Arcane Appreciation Week is a week celebrating Netflix’s record-breaking original series, exactly a year after its release. While the prompts are geared towards gifmaking, any form of content creation is welcome and encouraged! Edit: please tag your creations with #arcaneweek22

PROMPTS

Day 1 (Nov. 13): Favorite Character(s)

Something featuring you favorite character, or characters, if you can’t pick just one.

Day 2 (Nov. 14): Favorite Dynamic

Explore your favorite relationship within the series, whether it’s romantic, familial, platonic, or even a dynamic never seen on screen that you really vibe with!

Day 3 (Nov. 15): Favorite Song

Arcane is full of epic music moments! Soundtrack and score and both equally welcome! Content based on the scenes with the music (ex: a fanart showing Jinx and Silco listening to “Dirty Little Animals”) is also welcome!

Day 4 (Nov. 16): Favorite Act

Do you “like” the soulful tragedy of Act 1? The growing tension of Act 2? The impending doom of Act 3?

Day 5 (Nov. 17): Color/Animation/Aesthetic

There’s a reason Arcane won that Emmy! Make something highlighting the beauty of Arcane! Alternatively, content based around whatever scene you think is prettiest (ex: a fanfic on the origin of the Firelights’ memorial wall) is also acceptable!

Day 6 (Nov. 18): Headcanon/Prediction

Do you headcanon a character as being LGBTQ+, or having a secret collection, or as being secretly bizarre in another brilliant way? If not, do you have any predictions for season 2, whether it be based on lore, a really cool fanfic you read once, or just what you think the best way for season 2 to go would be?

Day 7 (Nov. 19): Free Space

Make whatever you want! The sky’s the limit!

Tagging the Interested (people who interacted with the interest check post): @serizawazs @juniper-sunny @itsme-tori @gloriesunsung @hextechery @silcoszaun @joyfultrouble101 @sandraharissa @tykobrian @amusingelf @moodiestmags @wolftail-queerstuff @rajalagang @a-mentally-ill-nerd @starstrucksabertooth @hungry-greedy-gremlin @tistuprolafamiglia @aphelicns @voidsnarrator @avatarpotato @omniscientrose @luisvalentin @palpalbuddypal @heroinejinx @frikkinghelicopters @caffeineefairy @daydreamteardrop @nickiinator @primadonnaworm @themirokai @mordredsvoid @midnightstorm21 @paperairplanescanfly @1storywriter @idkwhatimdoingbutslay @rms-dark-soul @mintymosstoothpaste @king-sxmething @yeonsangsarchive @soupturn @karmawarhawxb16 @acreaturecalledgreed @ozukthevictor @serizawazs @iactuallytryingtolovemyself @thalle-my-honey @gloriesunsung @lbulldesigns @beckymarina @tradingjackbs @chiefmysticmia @silcoszaun @fr1d4ys @congratulationsonstayingalive @ughwtfislife @peterperkers @valenshawke @beaunydoorin @merrypembertons @fay-lans

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcaneedit #caitvi #vicait #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #jinx arcane #jayce talis #mel medarda #viktor arcane #jayvik #meljayvik #eevents #arcaneweek22

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kloppool · 4 months

Text

game analysis

darwin oh darwin i am so happy for him. A BRACE. he has stepped up in a game that could've really gone wrong. never stopped working even when we were 3-0 up.

diogo jota. i am so serious when i say he is one of the most clinical players in the world rn. he gives everyone a run for their money. teams should be just as afraid of him as they are mo. his signing is one of the best in this era, which is incredibly high praise given what the standard is

midfield put in a shift. macca was IMMENSE like holy shit. he was a stand out today imo, which should tell how good he was considering curtis is still on fire.

gomez again does a job and holds down the fort. robbo injury, kostas steps up. kostas injury, jomez steps up. this could have easily been a blow to our title ambitions, given how important this position is for our style of play, but every week he goes out and every week he gives it everything.

ibou......like i cannot believe how good he is. i cannot believe how mature and composed he is at ONLY 24. he looks like he's been doing this for a decade.

four goals while we're missing our world class and potential-player -of-the-year right back, 2 of our lb's are injured, domi injured, legendo is at the asian cup and our record breaking egyptian king is at afcon and we won FOUR-NIL.

i cannot emphasize how proud am i. immense. massive. incredible. stependous. ynwa

#lfc #liverpool #liverpool fc

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seeminglyranch87 · 6 months

Text

Taylor & Travis Timeline

November 2023 - part 1

November 1 - New Heights Podcast episode 61 airs.

Jason appears dressed up as King Triton however Travis neglects to dress up or share photos of a Halloween costume to fans disappointment. The brothers react to people dressing up in their likeness including musician Jax who portrays Taylor putting Travis on the map despite him being an accomplished athlete (x)

“She put me on the map, right there in the video.” “That’s so good, man,” Travis continued with a smile on his face. “God damn, that was golden. Hats off. That was well done. You get a round of applause for that one, I enjoyed that.”

Travis also includes Taylor in the Kelce clan as they sum up their Halloween show… “it's a Kelce Halloween”

November 3 - Travis questioned at Chiefs media conference ahead of game in Germany on Sunday

Asked in reference to Taylor: "What is the latest status and are you in love?" A team mate comments "spice it up... " Travis answers "The latest status is I got to see her last week. That's the latest status right there."

Travis is asked again if he is in love? He replies

"Im going to keep my personal relationship personal" (x 12:54)

When asked about if Taylor will be in attendance at the game Travis answers

“When I mention — or everyone knows — she’s at the game, the Vegas [line] and over-under on my catches goes up and down, The spread goes up and down. So I don’t want to mess with any of that stuff, I’m just going to keep that to myself.”

Travis nicely avoids answering the question but mentions Taylor's attendance affects his game performance and stats.

Taylor pictured dining in NYC with Phoebe Bridgers

November 4 - Taylor is out in NYC with Selena Gomez, Sophie Turner, Cara Delevigne, Gigi Hadid, Brittany Mahomes and other NFL Chiefs WAG's at Bond St Sushi and later Zero Bond.

November 5 - Chiefs v Miami Dolphins, Frankfurt Stadium, Germany. Chiefs defeat Dolphins 21 - 14. Travis becomes the new all time leading receiver in franchise history.

Note Taylor liked this IG post below by People - we love a supportive girlfriend.

Taylor remains in NYC and watched the game from her apartment with Brittany and friends (x). Some of whom are seen leaving after the game.

1989 (TV) debuts at No.1 on Billboard 200!!! This is a re-recorded album!

Nothing like a celebrity couple breaking records ❤️‍🔥!

November 8 - New Heights ep. 63 airs. Jason and Travis hint that Travis is heading to Argentina to support Taylor during his bye week (x 35:05)

“Got anything you’re looking forward to going to?” Jason enquired of Travis. Travis responded, “No, not really. I might just say f**k it and just go somewhere nice, I don’t know. My skin’s getting real pale so I gotta go somewhere sunny.” "Some place south? south of the equator?" Jason asked. “Close to the equator” replied Travis "South of the equator?" Jason questioned with a cheeky grin.

Sources confirm that Travis is indeed joining Taylor on tour in South America via People.com (x)

Taylor is named Apple Music's Artist of the Year for 2023

Taylor Swift arrives in Argentina to begin the South American leg of The Eras Tour. She heads straight to the stadium to rehearse.

November 9 - The Eras Tour, Estadio River Plate, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Taylor debuts a stunning new Lover era pink costume, including leotard, boots and jacket.

The Very First Night (guitar) & Labyrinth (piano). Our girl is falling in LOVE again.

Travis Kelce attends the 15 & the Mahomies Foundation Gala charity event in KC. Taylor donated an item to be auctioned off in support of the cause.

November 10 - The Eras Tour, Estadio River Plate, Buenos Aires, Argentina is postponed to Nov 12 due to bad weather .

Taylor receives 6 Grammy nominations for the 66th Grammy Awards! (x) ✨ Album of the Year - Midnights ✨ Record of the Year - Anti Hero ✨ Song of the Year - Anti Hero ✨ Best Pop Solo Performance - Anti Hero ✨ Best Pop Duo/Group Performance - Karma ✨ Best Pop Vocal Album - Midnights

Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff post to IG congratulating Taylor on her nominations as collaborators on Midnights.

The Messenger release an article (x)

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce Are ‘Fully Dating’ and Relationship Is Already ‘Serious’: Source (Exclusive)

"It is serious between Taylor and Travis," a source told The Messenger of the whirlwind romance between the pair. "They are fully dating and in a relationship." The source continued that "neither of them expected them to move quickly, but they have been inseparable since they first connected. They see each other as much as they can during this busy season." "When they are not together, they are constantly FaceTiming and texting," the source added. "Friends around them think it is very cute and they are a great match. Taylor is having a lot of fun with the wives and girlfriends in the league. Brittany Mahomes has welcomed her with open arms and has really been the ring leader merging Taylor, her friends and the girl groups together." "It is a new era for Taylor and she is loving this season of her life," the source continued. "It is very different from her normal group of friends but they have all been having a great time going to the games and bonding together. Taylor has really had an open mind to this new world, and the girls think she's really enjoyable to be around."

Travis Kelce arrives in Argentina. Travis and Taylor dine with Scott Swift at Elena Restaurant, Four Seasons Hotel Buenos Aires . Travis and Taylor and are seen holding hands as they leave the restaurant. (x)(x)(x)

November 11 - The Eras Tour, Estadio River Plate, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Is It Over Now?/Out of the Woods (Guitar) & End Game (Piano)

Travis was in attendance and Taylor lived up to expectation and made sure we knew she had a new love in her life!

Highlights of the evening:

Travis joining in with the crowd singing "Ole Ole Ole Ole Taylor" and Scott Swift filming him (x)

Travis dancing and singing along all evening

Scott Swift wearing a Chiefs lanyard

Taylor turning to look at Travis during "Lover"

Taylor pointing to Travis singing "That's my man" during "Willow".

Taylor pointing to Travis singing "cause you know I love the players, and you love the game" during "Blank Space"

Taylor choosing to sing "End Game" - obviously with Travis in mind and red and yellow light up bracelets during the acoustic section (x)

Taylor singing "Karma is the guy on the Chiefs, coming straight home to me" complete with a little giggle during the final song "Karma" (x)

Travis' cute response to Taylor changing the lyrics in Karma (x)

Travis hyping up the crowd while waiting for Taylor to exit the stage.

Taylor running over to hug and kiss a smiling Travis backstage after the show (x) (x)

November 12- The Eras Tour, Estadio River Plate, Buenos Aires, Argentina (rescheduled show, see Nov 10).

Sl*t (piano) & Better Than Revenge (guitar)

Travis flew out earlier in the day in preparation to return to training in the USA

Taylor flew out immediately after show still in her Midnights costume.

November 13 - Taylor photographed out with Gracie Abrams in NYC

November 15 - New Heights Ep 64 airs Travis and Jason Kelce chat about their bye week and discuss what Travis got up to in Argentina, south of the equator (x 42:20).

Our bestie Jason draws out what we are all wondering about...

"Sounds like a labyrinth of issues" says Jason.

Oh Travis, she is falling in love with you, and Jason saw the Argentina Night 1 acoustic performance of Labyrinth too.

Referencing the lyric change in Karma;

"How does it feel to officially be 'The guy on the Chiefs'?" Jason teased Travis on the podcast. With a laugh, Travis said that he had "no clue" Taylor planned to mention him during her show. "Well, I might have had a little bit of a clue," he then admitted. "But definitely when I heard it come out of her mouth, [it] still shocked me." "Yeah, you could tell in the video," Jason responded. "I was like, 'Oh shh! She really said that,'" Travis marveled.

When Jason notes that Scott Swift is wearing a Chiefs lanyard at the Eras Tour Night 3 he asks...

"What are we doing, Scott? You're gonna let this man's devilish good looks and relationship with your daughter sway you from a lifetime of fandom, Scott? Ridiculous." Travis further explained, "I might have persuaded him at dinner the night before. When I met him."

Travis commenting on the first Eras Tour he has attended as Taylor's boyfriend..

"The show was even more electric knowing that I had a little bit more to enjoy," he said of watching her perform in Argentina. "Taylor absolutely ripped it. She killed it and it looked like she was having some fun up there."

We love to see the support Travis is showing to our little Indie artist.

We are to expect to see Taylor and Travis spending time together during the Eras tour break according to ET sources (x)

"Taylor has a two-month break in her tour, taking December and January off, and the couple is planning to spend more time together" during that time.

ET reports (x)

Donna and Ed Kelce, and Andrea and Scott Swift are expected to meet for the first time on Monday as the Philadelphia Eagles and Kansas City Chiefs face off for Monday Night Football.

We can expect to see Taylor at the November 20 game too.

Go to previous update -> October 2023 Part 2

Go to next update -> November 2023 Part 2

Return to timeline

#taylor swift #taylor and travis #travis kelce #87 and 89 #taylor swift and travis kelce #traylor #killatrav #seemingly ranch #timeline #87 + 13 = 100 #tayvis #Taylor and Travis timeline

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clickerflight · 10 months

Text

Burned at the stake: Part 4

Masterlist

Part 3

One more part after this one. I'm so excited about this story, my goodness. Also, I have, like, four more vampire whump ideas and I can't stop thinking about them all and the worldbuilding for the world this all takes place in.

Content: Vampire whumpee, carewhumper turned just whumper, silver burns, toe and finger whump, dragged by the hair, talk of vampire trafficking, it as a pronoun, dehumanization

..................................................

"Kyle! Wait! I need you, I can't speak to it!"

“I won’t have any part in this, Joanna,” Kyle hissed, turning on her and using his extra inch to try and intimidate her. “You need to give him to someone who can take care of him! You can’t keep him here!”

She began to look uncomfortable, but she bared her own teeth right back. “No! The vampire was there for the first age! The first dynasty! Who knows what it could tell us! You know we don’t have much in the way of records from that time.”

“Oh for the love of-he was a Hippo hunter!? What do you want to know? How to kill a hippo?”

“It knows something! It knew who the kings were. Even the smallest details it thinks doesn’t matter could make all the difference! We could be-”

“Rich?” he snapped, shutting her up. “Joanna, you and I have been friends for a long time, and that’s why I’m giving you a chance here. Give him over to the authorities and leave him be. You’re no better than those stupid black market treasure hunters right now. He’s not dangerous and he shouldn’t be kept in your shed.”

He stared at her for a moment and she opened her mouth, still at a loss for words.

With that, Kyle left and Joanna let him. She stood in her yard, turning to stare at the shed. She could hear the vampire moving inside, presumably trying to escape. She went to the shed only to lock the door and then went into the house to plan her next move.

………………………

In the morning, Joanna woke up with a plan in mind. She hadn’t really been able to sleep as she turned the problem over, but everything seemed to resolve itself. She would just have to teach the Vampire english. It was a vampire, a creature of strange magic, so it should learn fast enough.

As for Kyle.

She dialed his number and she was unsurprisingly sent to voicemail. “Hey, Kyle,” she said in a docile tone. “Sorry about yesterday. You were right. I’m calling some people to take it-him. Anyways, I wanted to apologize. Maybe we should take a break while I sort this all out and I’ll talk to you in a couple of weeks, yeah? Kay. Bye.”

That should take care of it. She knew Kyle and he wouldn’t be eager to see her again until his temper cooled. This sort of thing had happened in the past and they were used to having to take breaks in their friendship when they had an argument. This one would probably be longer than the ones that they’d been through in the past, but that suited Joanna just fine. She had a vampire to occupy her time with.

………………………….

The woman was back. Esial had forgotten to ask Kyle what her name was and now he was too afraid to try and get her to tell him through pantomime. She stared at him for a long moment, before taking a slow breath. She bent down and pointed to something on the floor, saying a word in her strange language. She pointed to another object and made the same sound.

“Silveer,” Esial repeated. That was the metal that would hurt him, then. She nodded and pointed to another object, speaking another word for him to learn.

The entire hour was spent like that as she pointed at things and named them. He was wearing something called a towel, though it’s purpose must not be for clothing because none of the things she was wearing was called that. There was a shirt and pants and hair and eyes and coins and shed. That was the name of the room he was in. He wondered what its purpose was when it wasn’t used to keep ‘vampires’ trapped. She had called him that and he tried to correct her that his name was Esial but she repeated the word until he understood. She seemed a bit annoyed with him by the end and left soon enough. He repeated the words in his mind for the next few hours of loneliness. He had nothing to do and he didn’t want to annoy her. He hoped she would feed him soon. He was starving.

So, he practiced the words in his head hoping to get to the point where he would tell her what she wanted and beg her to let him go.

She kept coming back and teaching him words of her strange language and he couldn’t understand the rules. The words made no sense and a horrifying feeling began to creep over him as he realized he’d just have to memorize everything. She was growing more impatient with him every time she came out, and grew even more annoyed when she saw him scratching at the cuff around his ankle. He shivered on the table, fidgeting with the now fraying towel and tried to repeat everything, but she was going too fast and none of this made sense. She didn’t explain the meanings of all of these words and he still didn’t know what a towel was for.

At the end of another session after a long period when she had been away, which only made it harder for him to remember all of the words and how they fit together, he hesitantly asked, “Towel?”

She looked up from her book full of little squiggles, annoyed.

He cleared his throat and asked. “Towel what for?”

She stared at him and a deep rage filled her eyes. She started speaking quickly, too fast for him to understand more than the occasional word. She was annoyed, though. He wasn’t learning fast enough and she was.. Running out of time? She said that a couple of times and Esial grasped the meaning of it. Running out of time for what?

“Time? How… long for…. Esial free?” he found himself asking.

The woman turned her ire directly on him and he shrank back even farther on the table, nearly falling off the other side.

“You. Are. Mine.” she said pointedly. “I saved you. I healed you. You stay until I am done.”

He lifted an arm, half sure she was about to strike him, but when he looked back, she had gone back to her book, muttering to herself.

Esial wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. There were worse things, he supposed. He wasn’t entirely bored, sure he was hungry, but he wasn’t hurting either. He picked at his nails glumly, waiting for the ‘English’ lesson to continue.

…………………………………

The vampire was becoming less willing to participate. Joanna should have seen it coming, but after it realized it wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon, it just gave up. It had only given the bare minimum to her and stopped flinching now when she yelled at it, but now it stopped caring entirely. It did not listen, it refused to repeat words, and all it said when she asked any questions was “Esial want out.” It even ignored her when she tried to correct its grammar.

Joanna was getting desperate. She had put off school and work and everything. She had everything hinging on the paper this stupid vampire was supposed to help her write and now it just glared at her when she entered the shed and refused to say anything! Her life hinged on this now! She was relying on that paper and here she sat with a useless waste of space and blood and she was going to lose her mind.

So, today, after a week of the creature’s silence, she walked into the room and continued right across the silver on the floor. The vampire realized the intent in her steps, but didn’t move quickly enough as she grabbed it by the hair, pulling its head back hard. It yelped, hand grabbing onto her wrist.

In front of her, in her mind, was not a man, but a monster that her career depended on. She didn’t care anymore. At this point, he would either speak to her, or she would sell him to someone who would actually get some use out of him.

“You will speak to me,” she said slowly. “Do you understand?”

Shakily, the vampire licked its lips, eyes darting around the room before it said, “Esial want free.”

Red hot anger licked through her and she moved, easily dragging the vampire off the table. It landed hard on the silver and screamed, writhing as it tried to shove silver away from it to keep from burning. She overturned the table, leaving nothing for it to scramble onto and left, locking the door behind her.

………………………

Esial sat hunched on a bare patch of floor. His back and sides were littered with burns, his fingers and toes peeling where he’d pushed the silver back. Dry sobs heaved through his body, the chain rattling with each movement.

The woman caused him pain. She’d hurt him because he wanted to leave and he didn’t want to play her games anymore. Maybe that had been stupid of him, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted out.

He wasn’t healing. It had been weeks without blood right after a tough regeneration and the blood had run out as his body used it slowly as energy. He was starving and all he wanted to do was go home to his little mud shack and wait till he was strong enough to kill some birds. He wanted to wrestle with hippos and see his favorite crocodiles. He wanted his Maman back.

He started rocking, sobbing and whispering for his Maman. He knew she was dead. He knew that his crocodiles were dead. Who knew how much time had passed. He got the sense that it was an enormous amount of time, and that only made him cry all the harder. He wanted to go home but he hadn’t even had a home when he had been taken and chained to that stake.

And then the door opened.

………………………………

Kyle had got a call from Mary, Joanna’s neighbor, her voice looping in his head.

Something was screaming. I know it was. She’s your friend. Check on her please.

Mary had bad blood with police in the past, and Kyle wasn’t going to bring them to her door if he could help it, but he didn’t think it would come to it. He wondered if the vampire had come back and killed Joanna. Or if Joanna kept the thing and it was screaming for help.

He took a stake with him, just in case.

He reached Joanna’s house in the evening just in time to see her get in her car and drive off. He idled in the street, surprised. It seemed like she hadn’t noticed him, though, and she looked perfectly fine if not incredibly angry.

He had a strange feeling in his gut as he parked in the street in front of her house. He took the stake out and trudged through the dew stained grass to the shed. The lock had been left open and he felt rather sick as he slowly opened the door.

The table was overturned, the chain of the ankle cuff caught under it as the vampire sat curled over his knees. There were painful looking burns covering his back and arms, his one visible hand red and blistered from clearing somewhere to safely sit. He slowly lifted his head and looked at the figure in the doorway, his eyes lingering on the stake in Kyle’s hand. There was no fear in his eyes when he saw it, and Kyle realized it was because he didn’t know what it was.

Kyle tossed the stake out and walked carefully over the silver, kicking away some of the closer objects to the vampire. He was only wearing that towel Joanna had given him in the beginning, the edges of it unraveled. He was covered in sores and blisters, and all of those looked recent, but as he uncurled a little to see Kyle better, the researcher could see every single one of his ribs and his hollowed stomach. Vampires didn’t bloat during starvation the way humans did.

Kyle crouched down and Esial stared at him.

“Esial want free,” the vampire whispered heavily.

“Yeah…. Yeah, I can do that for ya, buddy,” Kyle sighed, reaching up to run a hand down the back of Esial’s head. “I’ll find something to cut the chain. I’ll be right back.”

Kyle left the shed and crept around the yard until he found where Joanna had hidden all of her garden supplies. There was a branch cutter that looked like it might work so he picked it up and went back.

Esial looked up again as Kyle got the cutters around the chain. He strained to try and get them through the chain, and while he dented the link, it didn't do much more than that.

He instead turned to where the chain was connected. it was wrapped around a wooden support between the leg and the bottom of the tabletop. He opened the cutter as wide as it would go and bit the metal down into the wood. It gave a little, then splintered. He nearly fell over as the wood gave since he had been leaning his weight into the cutters.

He dropped it on the floor and fished the chain out from under the table, gathering it up in his arms. There wasn't too much of it, but certainly enough to trip the already damaged vampire.

Kyle held out his hand for Esial to take and the vampire did so, accepting the help up.

Kyle carried the chains and shuffled his feet to clear a path for Esial, who followed along after him.

As they stepped outside, Esial took a deep breath, looking up at the stars in confusion for a moment before he was distracted by something else.

"Blood," he whimpered, looking to a lonely corner of the garden. Kyle could faintly see something black coating the plants there and could smell the faint scent of rot.

"We'll buy you some later," Kyle promised. "We have to go."

Esial seemed to understand that and followed along to Kyle's car. Kyle opened the passenger seat door, dumping the chain onto the floor and stepping back. "Sit here," Kyle said, pointing to the chair.

Esial gave him a confused stare. "Sit? But we to go?"

"Yes. You will see. Trust me. Sit."

Esial slowly did and Kyle gently closed the door for him, which had the vampire scrambling at the door in a panic, trying to find the way out. Kyle ran to the other side and got in, leaning over to take Esial's hands. "It's okay," Kyle promised. "You're not going to be stuck here."

Esial's wide muddy eyes seemed to bleed out panic and Kyle reached into his pocket. He kept a fidget toy there for when he was reading lengthy papers so he wouldn't chew his nails down so much.

He gave the cube to Esial, showing him how some of the things moved and clicked and Esial took it, frowning at it as Kyle closed his door and started the car.

Esial jumped at that, eyeing the lights that started up on the dashboard while messing with the cube.

Kyle started driving and Esial stared out the window, eyes wide with shock as the world passed him by. Kyle wondered if he should avoid the highway, but he wanted to get home as quickly as possible, so as he got up to speed Esial gripped the cube like it was the only thing keeping him alive as he went faster than he'd gone in his entire life.

"It's going to be okay," Kyle said softly as they drove and Esial looked down at the cube in his hands, turning it over and over.

Kyle turned off into the small town he rented an apartment in. Joanna inherited her house from her grandparents, but he did not have that for himself. Still, he'd found a nice place to live and he had a guest bedroom. It had been used by a girlfriend he had at the time, but had been empty for months, and he was glad for it now.

He parked his car and pulled his jacket off, reaching over and coaxing Esial's arms through the sleeves and zipping it up.

"No one should be awake right now, but I want to be careful here," Kyle said before getting out and going around to open Esial's door.

The vampire looked around as he stepped out onto the pavement, eyes wide as he took in every detail. It had to be so alien to him, considering how long it had been since he had been conscious. Kyle almost felt bad that he couldn't explain everything to him right now. Instead, he grabbed the chains, put an arm over the vampire to try and hide him more, and went up to the house. It was a building with four apartments and Kyle lived on the top floor.

He got his key out, unlocked the door, and took Esial inside. He closed the door just as quickly and looked around. The apartment had not changed since he left of course, but he felt like he was seeing it with new eyes, imagining that he didn't have a single clue what anything in this room was.

Kyle gently took Esial's arm. "Over here. Let's get you set up."

Esial went with Kyle to the guest bedroom and stood awkwardly, looking around at everything. The room was a little cluttered becoming Kyle's storage room when Jocelyn left, so there were books and totes lined against the walls.

"Here," Kyle said, patting the bed. "For you to sleep."

Esial stepped over curiously, pressing his hands down onto the bed, eyes wide with surprise.

With the vampire distracted, Kyle steeled himself up to feed him. Everyone got lessons in how to safely feed a vampire these days in case of emergencies, so he knew what to do, but he had to steel himself to actually do it. He pulled back his sleeve and went to the adjoining bathroom to wash his arm off, which got Esial's attention immediately.

The vampire came to see what the sound was and stared in awe at the water pouring out of the sink.

Kyle shook his arm to get most of the water off before turning and lifting his arm to Esial. The Vampire stared at it before looking at Kyle in confusion.

"Blood. To eat," Kyle said, a lump in his throat as he said it.

Esial frowned. "Blood? Blood is to Kyle. Not Esial."

"It's a gift. To you."

Esial gave him a skeptical look. "Safe?"

"Yeah?"

Esial went back to looking at the arm and frowned again. "Esial.... doesn't know."

"No, it's fine, you can have it. It's yours."

Esial shook his head. "Esial doesn't know-" the vampire mimicked something that Kyle didn't catch. "Esial hurt Kyle. Not know."

Kyle was still confused so he switched to the ancient Egyptian language Esial knew.

"You do not know what?"

Esial's eyes lit up, like he had forgotten that Kyle spoke something he knew a bit better. "I do not know how to drink from a living thing. I only drank blood taken from animals. I do not want to kill you."

“Oh…” Kyle said, back in English. “I don’t really have a needle…. Can I feed you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Esial replied, still in Egyptian which worked for Kyle since the Vampire seemed to understand him mostly fine though struggled with speaking the language.

“Alright, you get some sleep here. You can use the blankets. We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Esial's Rescue Art

Esial: @whumpsday @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight

Part 5

#vampire whumpee #carewhumper turned just whumper #silver burns #toe and finger whump #dragged by the hair #vampire trafficking #it as a pronoun #dehumanization #I love this story #And I'm very attached to the world this all takes place in #in future whump bits in this world #I have plans for the worldbuilding and it's going to be epic #burned at the stake #part 4

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