#to ensure that it was actually a new article and not an old one

[pillowprincessvarric]

I swear to god that green day has had this exact same "scandal" like five times now.

#saw the headline about switching redneck agenda to maga agenda and had to check like three times #to ensure that it was actually a new article and not an old one

[squigglebottom]

A Birthday Surprise

*Decided to do a role reversal of “A Welcome Home Surprise” in which Joe is the Dominant and reader is the sub.*

I did NOT realise this was going to be a mini novel! 😂 Would’ve had this out on Joe’s actual birthday but I got the Rona for the first time ever and was too sick to write.

Minors just go away and continue being innocent children this isn’t for you!!

***Warnings-obviously BDSM, domination, use of sex toys, p in v, blowjob, anilingus, cunnilingus, teasing, use of the word cunt, ddlg***

This was going to be your first birthday with Joe since you officially became a couple. You wanted to do something extra special because of it as well as it being a milestone birthday. You had explored BDSM for the first time a couple weeks ago and it opened up Joe to a new world. He began asking questions, wanting to learn more about the sexual practice.

You had asked if he would be interested in a role reversal in which he would be in charge. He was reluctant at first, he’d never want to accidentally hurt or disrespect you in any way. You ensured him that that wasn’t the point of all this, it had a deeper meaning.

“Did you feel degraded or disrespected at all?” You asked.

“No. It felt…liberating. Like I was finally able to let go of all stress and control. I prefer to be in control, yet no longer being in charge felt exquisite.”

“And did I hurt you?”

“No. Everything felt incredible. Full of passion and trust.”

“And if I were hurting you, that’s what the safe word is for. I want you to experience pleasure. If you were in charge, you’d have that control back and be able to direct me to do what you want. But it’s not all about you, it’s about me…it’s about us. The two of us finding this release.”

Joe looked down furrowing his brow.

“But what if I get too into it and call you something degrading? I don’t want you to think that’s how I see you.”

You place your hand on his soft cheek, smiling.

“My darling boy. I know you could never think such awful things about me or any woman. You’re so pure and kind. You wouldn’t believe the names I’ve been called during love making but I know it’s not real, it’s just a release. It often turns me on if I’m being truthful. If you don’t want to do this…”

“That’s not it!” Joe quickly interrupts. “I do…I really do…I want to explore all aspects of this lifestyle. I know it will bring us closer together. I’m just…nervous.”

“You sweet boy. Well, one thing that helps is good old fashioned research. Read some articles, watch some videos, write down what you want to try….just have a good think…sleep on it.”

“Ok, love. I’ll be the ever studious pupil.”

Joe smiles and kisses your lips softly before departing the dinner table.

*The Week Of Joe’s Birthday*

You and Joe had decided that his birthday weekend would be the time you tried out the role reversal. Saturday was the best time considering all the festivities on his actual birthday would take up most of the day.

You gave Joe the day to rest up, relax, and prepare for the evening by letting him be alone in the apartment while you spent it with your cousin.

You come home to see a familiar sight…a small table with your name written on an envelope.

“Hello, my Darling. I’m ready for my present. Meet me upstairs in the Red Room. Be a good girl and have your clothes removed. Kneel on the floor and wait for me, my love.”

You proceeded up the steps and into the Red Room. Classical music can be heard through the speakers, apparently he liked it before and decided to play it again. You remove your dress slowly, followed by your bra and panties and lay them on the chair.

You kneel on the floor and await Joe’s arrival. Moments later, you hear his foot steps. You are not sure of his rules yet but keep your head down as to not meet his gaze. In your peripheral vision, you can see that Joe is fully clothed except for his feet.

“Hello, my Darling.”

You do not respond in case he wants you silent nor do you know what he wished to be called. Normally, this would all be established before the activities commenced but not this time. You were going in blind, feet first.

“I’m talking to you, little girl. One should not forget their manners. You speak when spoken to.”

“How should I address you?”

“Well…since I referred to you as little girl…I feel it would only be fitting to call me…Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy…hello.”

Joe walked around to the table to grab a hair brush and band. He brought the chair right up behind you and sat down.

“We are going to be engaging in some rather strenuous activities and don’t want all that luscious hair getting matted to your pretty face, now do we?”

“No, Daddy we don’t.”

Joe softly ran the brush through your hair, his finger tips lightly gliding along your head. He did it with such precision and kindness. Once your hair was tied up, he lifted you so that you were sitting on the chair between his legs.

You laid back on his chest, your head resting on his shoulders. His left arm holding onto you across your waist, his right hand caressing your breast, as he started kissing your neck. You could feel his hard breaths going up your neck to your ears as he sucked on the lobe. It felt so good your eyes went in the back of your head.

Joe moved both his hands down your torso to your thighs as he widely parted them. His left fingers rubbing your clit as his right were inserted in your cunt. They curled up to find your g-spot and you let out a loud moan.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come for Daddy?”

You were in such a state of arousal that his words barely registered. That did not please him. With a whack on your clit, Joe then grabs your throat, “Speak when spoken to!”

“Sorry, Daddy. Yes Daddy…I will come for you. Please let me come.”

Picking up the pace, you found release and came all over Joe’s hands. He let you catch your breath for a moment before standing you both up.

“Well…I seem to be rather overdressed. I think we should take care of that. Remove my clothes.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You untucked Joe’s shirt and began unbuttoning, then sliding it down his shoulders. You could feel Joe staring at you with such intensity as if he were burning a hole into your head. Unfastening his pants, you slowly pulled them down along with his boxer shorts. He was already so hard that his cock flung up.

“On your knees.”

Doing as your told, you lowered down to the floor. You went to grab him until he stopped you.

“No hands, love. Just open that mouth of yours.”

Joe grabbed both sides of your head and began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly inching down your throat further and further. Sultry moans escaping his lips had you getting wet all over again. Close to his release, Joe began moving your head faster, it had you slightly choking developing more saliva over his length.

“Open your eyes. Look up at me. I want to see those pretty eyes staring into my own.”

You look up to see Joe staring at you enjoying every moment of this. As if he needed you to look at him just to finish, he does.

“Swallow every drop baby. Don’t let Daddy’s come to go waste.”

Joe falls back onto the chair, demands you go to the bed, and get on all fours. You do as your told, then Joe walks over and pushes you head down to the mattress. It startled you enough that your legs fell down as well.

“Chest down, ass up nice and high. I want to have full access to each hole.”

He started spreading your pussy lips, “Oh, wow…your still pretty wet naughty girl. And..” he stops to quick lick inside you making you shudder, “mmm mighty tasty…but that’s not the hole I want to concentrate on right now. We need to get your tight little ass ready for Daddy’s huge cock.”

Joe spreads your ass wide, making it so he can get his tongue as deep as possible. The foreign sensation made your head spin. Soft moans turned into loud ones as Joe switched up his tongue for one finger, then two. He pulled out briefly to retrieve a small box from the drawers.

“Put this in your mouth, get it nice and lubed up.” Joe took the plug, inserting it into your mouth. You lapped your tongue over the object all the while staring at him. He walked back behind you, spit on your hole, and slid the plug inside your ass.

“Oh fuck.” You exclaimed once the item was completely inside you. Joe smacked your ass hard as you yelped.

“Tsk tsk. Such language little girl. You haven’t even seen what this thing can do.”

Apparently, this plug came with a vibration feature. It radiated down to your core that left you mewling. You were getting so turned on you couldn’t take it much longer.

“Now, lay on your back baby girl.”

Joe grabbed the cuffs on each point of the four poster bed strapping your wrists and ankles. He looked down so proudly at your naked form. He could tell how badly you wanted to be touched.

“My god, love…you really are a glorious sight. Something is missing though…”

He turns around and spots the blindfold on the table.

“Now we can’t have you knowing what’s going to happen…it needs to be a surprise.”

Joe places the blindfold on you. Your senses are now heightened with anticipation as to what he was up to. It seemed that he had quite a bit of fun in your toy box. Laid out on the bed was a crop, flogger, feather, and a pinwheel. He used every toy one at a time-the feather slowly all across your body, the pinwheel along your nipples, the flogger on your breasts, and the crop on your clit.

You were in delicious agony and was dying to have him inside you. At one point you started to weep and begged him.

“Not yet, Princess. Daddy still has more in store for you.”

You then felt a tight pinch on your nipples as Joe clasped a clamp onto them. He gently flicked his tongue on each just to torture you more. A buzzing sound (besides the one made by the plug already inside you) could be heard. It was one of your vibrators, the Rabbit. Joe slowly slid it inside you, watching you wiggle around because the sensation was so strong.

He began to fuck you with your toy as literal screams came roaring out your mouth. There was no way you were going to last long. Only minutes later, you came so hard you ejaculated.

“Holy shit!” Joe yelled out from shock. “That shot out so far! Oh wow…wonder if I can get you to do that again.”

“Oh please no, it’s too much!”

“Now see, you say that…but I don’t believe you because you haven’t said the safe word. So I think…my baby girl can take a little more.”

Your breathing slows down as you nod your head. He was able to get another out of you…and another…and another. By then, Joe was satisfied and decided to move on. He undid the cuffs, the clamps, took off the blindfold, and took out the plug.

“We’re almost done, baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

Joe leaned down on the bed, caressing your face and planting sweet kisses on your lips. He gently picked you up and carried you to the curved chaise lounge. He laid you down on your back with your ass resting on the bump that lifted it up so it was at the perfect angle. He took the lube he had waiting next to the furniture and rubbed it all over his cock and inside your ass.

“Are you ready, Darling?”

“Yes, Daddy! I need your cock now.”

Joe slowly entered your tight hole so you could adjust to his size. The look on his face was exquisite as a huge smile ran across it. He could feel every inch of you around him. He never wanted this to end.

“That’s it, baby take all of me. You feel so incredible. You’re so tight. Oh fuck.”

His speed increased, he didn’t want it to be over so quickly, but the build up had taken its toll. Your legs were closed and resting against Joe’s chest. He wrapped an arm around them holding on to dear life against the chaise and your body as he came. Pumping continuously letting every drop out. Joe fell on top of you trying to catch his breath.

His head laid on your chest as you caressed and played with his tiny curls. He turned his head to look at you and had a wide smile.

“You good babe?” You asked.

“That was fucking fantastic.”

“So…best birthday ever big boy?”

“Best. Damn. Birthday. Of. All. Time.”

#joseph quinn #fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut

[goodnightmoonvale]

I saw your tags; please tell me about the rioting pants from Orderville.

Okay so

To fully understand this, I have to go into a bit of Mormon history. The first thing you need to know is that at some point in the early days of the church, Joseph Smith receives a revelation that he calls "The Law of Consecration".

Essentially the revelation says the law of consecration was for the support of the poor and to ensure that all members would be "equal according to his family, according to his circumstances and his wants and needs" (see Wikipedia), and involved giving all your property to the church, and the church redistributing it to everyone as they saw fit.

(Yes, this sounds a lot like communism. Yes, this is where you learn that the Mormon's church's long-standing hatred of communism comes not because living communally is bad, but because doing it without god is bad. This information comes as a surprise to many conservative Mormons who are deep in the libertarian brainrot and think private property is somehow sacred.)

This went through a LOT of variations over the years, as what exactly being "equal according to his family, according to his circumstances and wants and needs" is open to a lot of interpretations. One of the strictest variations occurred in a little Utah town called Orderville.

Orderville was set up completely communally - all land & resources were held collectively. Everyone ate together in communal dining halls. Everyone was allowed to take clothes and personal supplies as needed. (I recommend you look at the Wikipedia article for Orderville, Utah to learn more about how it all worked; it's actually super fascinating)

One of the ways to keep costs low and to ensure equality was that everyone's clothes were the same. Everyone's clothes were handmade from the same patterns, with the same types of cloth, with the same few variations in color. In fact, it was often joked that you could recognize an Orderville resident by their straw hats and home-made clothing.

Some teenage boys were not too happy about this - they wanted stylish clothes. So one boy started saving up little bits of discarded wool until he had enough to sneak away, sell the wool, buy himself a new pair of storebought pants, and come home.

Apparently these pants made quite an impression at the next community dance-- one account says a girl literally ran up to him and kissed him because she thought his pants were just that sexy. Understandably, the other boys were insanely jealous; the parents were also shocked and appalled by the impropriety, etc etc.

It caused such a scandal and uproar that the town leaders confiscated the pants, saying they were "community property", and the town seamstresses took them apart to use them as a pattern for future pants.

Which you'd think would be the end of it, but people were only getting new, updated pants if their old ones wore out, so then kids started sneaking out to the grindstone and wearing their pants out on purpose so they could justify having new ones.

Once that was found out, the town leaders finally heaved a big sigh and said "fine, I guess everyone gets a new pair of pants." So once everyone got a new pair of fancy pants, order (and uniformity) was restored. (See this fantastic article from the Great Basin Museum)

#just mormon things #the orderville pants riot #weird mormon history

[thesaturn1nez]

Hit me with your Lenard HCs!

silly guy :> pretty sure he’s a fan favorite so i hope these don’t disappoint ]:

Lenard 🎵

• i don’t care if it’ll make him happy: do not let them get their hands on a tuba.

• was one of the more popular characters, so they had a good amount of time in episodes and assets dedicated to him. even then, he never saw the others, especially Norman as lesser. in fact he always sympathetic to Norman’s distress and would always try to make it up to him by letting Norman be the first person to hear about what they got to do on set.

• somewhat protective of Norman. not as much these days, but it’ll become more evident when they both begin to regain some sanity. it isn’t in a controlling way, its more innocent than you’d expect, like Lenard trying to keep Norman from picking up a The Ugly Duckling book because No, Norman! Put it down!! That story makes you cry, badly!!!

• prefers to sing songs they knows by heart, but does not oppose to the idea of learning new ones. just make sure they’re family friendly because they will repeat it.

• very dramatic. have you ever seen that clip ‘tinkerbell dies of lack of attention’

• definitely cisn’t, just doesn’t know the actual term itself or the best way to describe it. he’d eventually find out some point post-true ending thanks to an article Gordon noticed fit the way Lenard had tried to explain his feelings. He spent the rest of the day happily running around stage four telling people, “I’m a gender :D!!”

• was the most frightened by the guns. if there was one difficulty when it came to having Lenard on set, it was how he’d try to flee the second they saw someone holding one. to anyone else, it was just annoying- like having to deal with a little kid who was scared of getting a flu shot. Lenard could care less if you hold the gun to his head nowadays, mostly due to losing his mind and any sense of fear they previously had.

• there were so many times in the old episodes where he stole the show just with his acting. now, he’s having a tough time getting back to his old roles, due to developing something akin to stage fright during the shutdown.

• remember that guy i mentioned who was fond of Norman and tried getting him more roles? he was Lenard’s handler. unfortunately he wasn’t as caring towards Lenard. he tolerated them at first, but over the years the dude started viewed him as an attention seeking brat who was too self-assured for their own good. he’d kick Lenard away if they ever got clingy, usually targetting the puppet’s legs just to ensure he’d topple over.

• he doesn’t really consider his handler’s treatment of him as anything severe, just a couple of .. bad days. he’d probably bring them up to Gordon casually like he’s talking about missing the bus 😭

• his cane used to just serve as a theatrical one, but when they figured out Lenard had some difficulty getting around Al got them to make him another specifically to assist them with walking. unfortunately others did not get the memo and would sometimes put away Lenard’s cane without permission :[ this is where that ‘lenard sidequest’ comes in.

• the original Lenard is noticeably shorter than the others, so it’s easy to identify him. not that you’ll have to, he’s always either following Gordon or being carried by him. Ricky loves bringing this up. not to mention Lenard always talking about how he and Gordon look so similar, even going as far as to use the word ‘twins’. Ricky also likes to bring this up.

• in the show’s earlier seasons, there would be ‘story time’ parts where the puppets would reenact classic fairytales. Lenard and Ricky usually got to play as the ‘damsel in distress’ and girl leads because Junebug and Lilianna always wanted the roles with more action. the kids found it funnier this way, so why not.

there’s a newspaper clipping somewhere discussing the ‘banned’ episode where George and Lenard definitely clearly did not fake kiss in their renedition of Snow White.

#my friendly neighborhood #mfn #mfn lenard #implied past abuse #mfn headcanons #headcanons #the mail comes everyday #kiss hc wasnt made with shipping in mind but feel free to ship #i need a whole post dedicated to the gordon and lenard friendship i was tryin to make this as lenard centric as i could #i ended up removing the more angsty hcs youre all spared for Another day #he/they lenard supremacy #lottie sucks at headcanons

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

Old Wounds - Wenclair Fanfic, chapter 24

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)  

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

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Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

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Following their latest tryst, Wednesday and Enid indulge in their privacy for a considerable amount of time. The day is still young enough that they have no need to rush back downstairs… and despite it’s unique appearance, Wednesday’s dark and dreary bedroom is quite the perfect backdrop for them simply enjoy each others company away from the prying eyes, ears, and other limbs of whomever lurks in this grand family home.

Which, considering the entrance they made earlier in the day is quite the blessing.

For Enid in particular, it allows her time to lay in a gleeful daze. She murmurs gentle affirmations about her experience those precious few minutes ago, and makes self-sustained small talk as she curls up by Wednesday’s side. It is hard to ignore how Enid is glowing. Truly she is on cloud nine – but despite this, she is still wary; still cautious. Ensuring Wednesday’s comfort is second nature to her at this point, and so Enid knows when and where to bring the energy down.

Right now is certainly one of those times – as their bodies and brains settle following their impulsivity. Wednesday is quietly thankful for Enid’s empathy. It is a trait Wednesday often considers a flaw in many people; a trait that makes them susceptible to manipulation...but Enid wears it with a piercing level of sincerity that it’s almost disarming. In fact, Enid sometimes uses it in her work to flip the narrative on others and make them the one being manipulated, all in pursuit of the latest gossip for article. It’s rather devious. Wednesday is quite fond of it, actually.

And of course, in this particular moment, Enid’s empathy brings both calmness and understanding. Perhaps it is not such a bad trait after all...

Wednesday watches Enid with a fond yet pensive gaze.

And Wednesday, naturally, does take this extended moment of restful seclusion to evaluate their latest sexual engagement. Now all is said and done, she mutely takes enjoyment from the intimacy, but knows herself better than to dare try and strive for more… In any case, she has enough to think on when she considers the touches, the sounds; the rush of endorphins Enid’s closeness brings.

Wednesday has never been one for drugs (unless they are of the poison variety, or being used for an appropriate kidnapping, of course), but she would wager the nature of oxytocin - that is, the brain’s love chemical – causes addictive rushes in much the same way. She feels crazy at times, but in a way that is much, much different from how she initially expected her loss of sanity to go.

Considering how she had wished for a dark psychosis to take hold of her, it is strange now to think upon how much she prefers this; how she prefers the love drunk inner chaos that Enid causes.

There is something she tries to not think too much on, however: there’s still a low grumble of need that sits in Wednesday’s lower stomach. It’s hungry and hard to ignore, like the quiet flame of a candle that refuses to snuff out… but Wednesday being Wednesday – she ignores it anyway. It’s rather inconvenient and she has no time for it just yet. Maybe one day, but not now.

Frankly, She’s still a way off addressing her own needs… but it’ll happen. Eventually.

Wednesday continues to muse; Enid continues to talks.

Enid returns to find Wednesday staring thoughtfully at a large painting of her mother and father. With a gentle nudge of her elbow, Enid offers Wednesday an amused grin at the portrait before them.

They lay together for a while longer. However, Enid eventually excuses herself to freshen up in the bathroom, which turns into an agreement to head downstairs. Conveniently enough, as she opens Wednesday’s bedroom door, she is met by their bags neatly waiting outside for them – presumably placed there by Lurch at some point or another.

Enid chucks them into the room with little effort. Wednesday then collects them and places them somewhere they’re less likely to be a trip hazard. Wednesday also neatens up the bedsheets, to ensure the room is as pristine as when they initially entered. She then exits the room, letting the door shut behind her with a satisfying ‘clunk’.

“Wondering how we’d look in our own painting, eh?” Enid jokes.

“Not at all,” Wednesday replies dryly. “Whilst I might show a preference for historic tradition, I find paintings like this to be frivolous and excessive.”

“Right? We could just take a selfie together!” Enid says with a light smirk. She pulls out her phone and wiggles it teasingly in front of Wednesday’s face.

Wednesday’s expression remains stoic. She is silent for a second.

“…Absolutely not.”

Enid rolls her eyes playfully, returning the device to her pocket.

“I’ll convince you one day,” She hums with a smile, as she quietly slides her hand into Wednesday’s own and gives it a light squeeze. “Are we ready, then?”

Wednesday looks down the staircase.

“Indeed. Let’s go discover what nefarious activities my mother has planned for us.”

Wednesday and Enid make their way downstairs. They seek out Morticia who has remained in the kitchen since their initial meeting. Thing is there too, and he casually greets Wednesday and Enid with a wave of a finger. He appears to be assisting Morticia by stirring a pot of something – A soup or strew, presumably, though considering the multi-use purpose of the Addams’ family kitchen, it could be anything – but he seems inexplicably coy for a hand who is usually so outspoken.

Enid and Wednesday exchange glances; a silent acknowledgement to each other that they now know for certain Thing must’ve been a part of Morticia’s earlier plans… but even with that in mind, Enid is far too excited to be upset and quickly scuttles over to him to have a catch-up. Wednesday is consequently left alone to the practised, disarming gaze of her mother.

“Have you and Enid settled into your room?” Morticia asks. Her voice is honeyed, a mischievous inflection leaving no room for second-guessing the true question that lurks behind her words.

Wednesday offers her signature glare.

“Yes, however Enid was intrigued and horrified by my collection of literature procured from the evidence of murder investigations,” She lies. “I am surprised you did not think to tidy them away. I had to spend 30 minutes hiding the ones with bloodstains so she would not faint.”

The falsehood rolls off her tongue naturally. On all accounts it sounds realistic too – from timekeeping, personalities; even Wednesday’s very real and beloved collection of murder books. Most people would fall for it easily... but Wednesday’s mother is not just anyone. Truthfully, Wednesday knows she won’t fall for it, but she also cannot see a world where she’d be anything but secretive concerning more intimate details of her life. Even with her mother who she trusts more than anything. Wednesday would frankly rather eat glass.

(Which suddenly gives her a great idea for a trap to set up for Pugsley.)

Morticia eyes Wednesday. She is clearly unconvinced, holding Wednesday’s challenging gaze for just a moment with a slight smirk and quirk of her eyebrow. She elicits a quiet, amused hum before she glances away to Enid and Thing across the kitchen.

“We’ll have to discuss these things later, my little raven. We must make haste with our activities for the day.”

Wednesday has zero qualms about this change in topic. Though she and Enid are both in the dark about these fun and exciting plans of her mothers’ – she is starting to think she might actually prefer the torture of painting each other’s nails than being subject to her Mother’s omniscient gazes… so long as the polish is black, and actually made from snake venom. She would be so lucky.

In any case, it would seem Wednesday’s concern about these planned activities are perhaps unfounded. Morticia directs them into her greenhouse, revealing a table overflowing with a number of dark coloured flowers, thorns, nettles, and ivies, etc. Morticia stands at the head of the table, hands clasped together. She explains that winter has been cruel to the grounds of the house and the family graveyard is looking terribly bare, which – naturally – is inexcusable for a family such as their own. As such, she would love to redecorate with a bundles crafted from the array of plant life before them. Morticia adds that it is wonderful group activity to partake in whilst they make idle chatter about the nature of life and death. Mostly death, of course.

So, flower arranging. She wants them to do flower arranging.

Enid seems pleasantly surprised to be offered such a calm and normal task, though she does stare a bit warily at the various nettles and ivies, concerned by their poisonous potential. That being said, she otherwise seems happy to start crafting after a little bit of guidance from Morticia. Wednesday, on the other hand, is hesitant… It’s not as bad as she expected, but her mother’s green thumb didn’t quite pass through the gene-pool, and Wednesday would frankly rather dig graves than decorate them. She’d even hazard a go at laying in an empty grave whilst it got filled in.

But alas she concedes, for the sake of Enid and her Mother’s happiness. They are both fortunate to be two of the few people in this world she actually cares for.

And so, Wednesday collects a number of thorned vines, and begins weaving them into circular shapes – similar to a wreath. It’s simple enough, and the weaving comes naturally to her. It is much like tying her braids, and though she cares little about the task at hand, she finds it similarly easy to let herself get entranced by the repetitive motion. Over. Under. Over. Under. Again and again, until she reaches the end and passes it over to Enid for her to decorate. They become quite the machine, seamlessly crafting amongst the idle chatter that Enid upkeeps with Morticia. Wednesday will not dignify calling this activity “fun” but she doesn’t feel like stabbing pins into her eyeballs...so, that’s something. Plus, Enid is enjoying herself, which is never a bad thing.

Every so often, Wednesday pauses to asses her work, and catches her mother watching them with a fond, prideful gaze. Though Wednesday says nothing, she can predict the conversation that is slowly forming behind her mother’s watchful eyes. She knows it’ll happen as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

And present itself it does. Unfortunately.

“Enid, darling, perhaps you should take a nap?” Morticia suggests. She puts down the bouquet she’s holding, giving Enid a practised sympathetic look. “We’ve made an exemplary level of progress, and in any case, it would give Wednesday and I time to have a personal catch-up.”

They have been crafting for a few hours when it happens. Enid begins to yawn. Just once at first – It’s a small, sharp yawn of someone who has been focusing on a task for a few hours without

realising. A gentle whip of fatigue that is quickly shaken off out of dedication to a person’s own enjoyment… but then she yawns again. A longer, deep yawn that brings tears to the corner of Enid’s eyes. She blinks them back, only to yawn once more seconds later. It continues downhill from there. It would seem the activities of the day seem to have caught up with her, and Enid’s energy seems to all but disappear within a matter of fifteen minutes. She continues talking, smiling, offering Wednesday cute little glances, but it’s glaringly obvious that her internal battery is running out of juice.

Enid bears a guilty expression for a moment, and she looks to Wednesday for support. Wednesday stares back blankly. She is stuck for an answer. If Enid leaves then she knows the kind of conversation she is awaiting, but if she convinces Enid to stay then there will be an inevitable pang of guilt that will needle its way into her stomach and gnaw at her like a parasite.

Feelings. How inconvenient they are at times like this.

Enid yawns again.

Wednesday feels her resolve soften. She knows what she has to do.

“Go rest, Enid,” She says quietly; quickly, before she can think to change her mind.

Enid offers an appreciative smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” She whispers in reply, before standing from her chair. She takes a step closer to Wednesday and in lieu of a parting kiss, brushes her hand over Wednesday’s gently. Enid then looks over to Morticia and with another short yawn, she asks “What else are we doing today? I’ll make sure to set an alarm on my phone.”

Morticia waves her hand in the air dismissively, “Oh Enid, do not worry yourself,” She says airily. “Just rest, and we’ll continue our festivities when you return.”

Enid nods, and flashes a smile at both Morticia and Wednesday before excusing herself. Thing, who had been hanging around whilst they worked, hitches a ride on her shoulder – seemingly keen to leave the vicinity. He’s not the only one.

Wednesday now finds herself alone with her Mother. In person. For the first time in goodness knows how long.

Morticia looks at Wednesday with an indulgent, satisfied smile. She picks up the flowers again and gives them a sniff. She sighs happily.

“These flowers remind me of funerals, you know? Your father, despite not being a gardener, helped me plant a whole field of them just so I could see them everyday; just so he could watch my enjoyment. Incredibly romantic, is it not?” Morticia’s voice is dreamy, whimsical. She brushes her hand through the petals, and pulls one from the bunch, twirling it in her fingers. “I see a lot of your father in you, Wednesday.”

“It’s almost like I’m a genetic composition of you and him. Shocking.” Wednesday deadpans in reply.

She wishes she could refute her mother’s comparison. Despite her displeasure at being unceremoniously trapped in this conversation, she would never dare to find disgust in being directly compared to her Mother or Father – not in their presence, certainly. She did so as a teenager, and remembers the pain it caused with regret. Wednesday is happy to cause emotional damage to other people; people who don’t deserve to find kinship with Wednesday in the first place...but to her parents? No. She will accept the comparison time and time again, regardless of the situation.

Wednesday’s response elicits an amused hum from Morticia. She stands and waltzes to the seat that Enid had recently vacated. As she sits, she picks up and assesses one of the flower wreaths that came from Enid and Wednesday’s teamwork. She smiles.

“I see myself and your father in both you and Enid, actually. You’re more than just lovers, you’re partners, teammates, always quietly working together against the world’s expectations of you.”

Wednesday blinks, not expecting the emotional pang that hits her at her mother’s recognition. She forgets at times that her mother’s words hold meaning above everyone else’s… but the flicker of emotion is gone quick, buried before Wednesday can dwell on it too much. Mother or not, Wednesday will never be one for emotional displays.

“What is the purpose of this conversation?” She asks.

Morticia chuckles.

“Do all conversations need a purpose, little viper?”

Wednesday stares at Morticia blankly.

“I am simply expressing that I believe you and Enid to be a perfect match. Our phone calls had convinced me as much, but after seeing you two in person? Well… there’s no denying it.”

Wednesday softens slightly, but she can’t help offer a final bit of snark.

“The phone calls were ideal. It is always preferable when you can simply hang-up on a conversation.”

“Wednesday, you have not hung-up on me once.” Morticia bites back with a mischievous curl of her lips.

Wednesday pauses. She stares daggers into the table for a second as she realises – well shit – she hasn’t ever hung up on her mother. Frankly she would not dare. Wednesday has historically slammed the phone down on major book publishers, scriptwriters, even a Hollywood director or two without so much as a second thought – but may the non-existent Gods forbid she ever even attempt to end a call with her mother unprompted.

However, Wednesday will neglect to comment on the calls she has simply not picked up. Those are outliers.

In any case, Wednesday does not have a witty reply. She’s caught in a box of respecting her mother too much for her regular passive aggressiveness, but not prepared enough to offer any thing resembling emotional intimacy. So Wednesday silently grumbles and stares at the table.

“You find it hard to talk to me, don’t you? Especially in person?” Morticia queries. She reaches out, tracing her hand over the silhouette of Wednesday’s shoulder without quite touching her. “I understand, you have always been this way. I hope you find it easier with Enid.”

Wednesday glances towards her mother. She nods slightly.

“I do.”

A warm fills Morticia’s expression.

“Good. You deserve someone who makes emotion feel safe.

Wednesday pulls in a tight breath. Again, she feels herself soften against her mother’s fond words. Unfortunately she is still struggling to find an anchor to offer much more to the conversation, even with knowing it was going to happen; even when it’s her mother of all people.

Wednesday drags her eyes away from the table. She manages to settle them on her mother’s face, and does her best to offer an expression that does not resemble a glare… but, ultimately, she still says nothing.

Morticia’s hand snakes up from hovering above Wednesday’s shoulder, to floating to the side of her face, faux-cupping Wednesday’s cheek. There’s a pride sitting in Morticia’s eyes; a joy that can only be expressed by a mother seeing her child thrive.

“I am so, so happy for you Wednesday.”

Wednesday feels the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. It’s miniscule – practically blink and you’ll miss it, but it’s there all the same, if only for a second. It’s enough for her mother to catch though; enough for her to see what Wednesday wishes she could express.

“-And who knows,” Morticia adds after a moment. “Maybe one day you two will get married.”

Wednesday freezes.

Oh.

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3 #Hello hi #small authors note in the tags that my laptop is going in for repair #so uh next chapter might be a hot minute sorry :')

[mokkkki]

hi!! If it isn’t of any inconvenience could you do a recap of swte act 1?? Loving the story btw your characterization is amazing!!

thank you so much - and id be happy to, nothing i love more than yapping about this fic. obviously, MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT.

greyscar co is the world's biggest wizarding and muggle media conglomerate, one with enough influence to sway masses, create presidents, and destroy lives, run by narcissist orion black of the most noble and ancient house of black. as his retirement looms, he must decide the heir to this powerful company, between his two sons, blood traitor sirius and repressed regulus, and his two nieces (of the late cygnus black, who died last year), bohemian bellatrix and power-hungry narcissa- amidst the creation of a new wizard and muggle media company, the marauder's media group, run by chairman lucius malfoy who goes undercover as a data analyst at greyscar co, ceo james potter and cfo remus lupin, the childhood friends of sirius black.

during orion black's birthday, he tells the four potential heirs that at bellatrix's gala at the end of the month, they must come to a unanimous decision to who the next ceo will be (everybody, except bellatrix, desires this position more than anything), sparking tension and plotting. regulus shares a cigarette with james and insults him to the press after. during regulus' acquisition of the quibbler, malfoy purposefully tanks the deal which introduces severe debt into greyscar and reveals himself as a spy, but not before he's caught narcissa's attention. sirius and remus resume their on-again, off-again hogwarts romance, despite sirius' (open) marriage with marlene mckinnon and their two children together. the heirs have breakfast together to decide the next ceo, which goes poorly.

in an effort to provoke him, potter, when inquired about regulus' comment, says that theyre actually close friends. disgusted and ashamed of his feelings for potter, regulus distracts himself by trying to close greyscar's debt with petra pettigrew, a long-time friend of the family and a pqe, who refuses, and regulus exploits her guilt over her refusal in exchange for any behind-curtain information on mmg she has. after a night of partying to celebrate this, regulus wakes up shirtless and hungover in lily evans' apartment, james' ex. regulus also pays off the company's debt with his own personal funds, which is viewed as a poor desicion. when opening the door, regulus, panicking, slips on james' old sweatshirt that james had come to retrieve before leaving, returning to his apartment only for him to realize that while drunk, he had told the press that he was having dinner tonight, and that potter had tweeted reservations.

at breakfast with his homophobic and manipulative father, orion tells regulus to essentially seduce james to eliminate him as a threat, revealing a pattern of regulus being exploited by orion for his ability to charm powerful men, most notably tom riddle, the current (fascist) president, which mmg is notably against. james and regulus have dinner, in which james gifts regulus cigarettes and a silk scarf.

sirius, struggling to mantain his seven year sobriety, and narcissa, who is now in what appears to be a relationship with malfoy, play golf. later that day, sirius and regulus confront remus for poaching the employees of the quibbler, making greyscar's sixty million purchase essentially useless. sirius and remus argue, and then make up, with remus encouraging sirius to leave greyscar once and for all. orion, on the way to eurus, a convention for billionaires, begins to encourage him as ceo to ensure his loyalty. orion tells sirius that nobody else can possibly be ceo except for him, triggering grandiose illusions in sirius.

the new york ghost publishes an article about the circumstances surrounding cygnus black’s death as the heirs go to eurus. orion asks sirius and narcissa to host greyscars conference. orion also tasks an increasingky agitated, exploited, and disillusioned regulus to find the spy that leaked this information to the ghost (citing a pensieve leak), and to charm presidential candidate minerva mcgonagall. a dinner with minerva is arranged and petra tells regulus that lucius is the spy. regulus later attends a mixology workshop in which he is partnered with james (who he suspects of his involvement with the quibbler), which results in regulus trying to kill james but eventually forgiving each other. at dinner with minerva, regulus agrees to a bet: if he can beat the inexperienced remus (who seems to be allied with minerva) in a ski race, minerva will switch sides. remus wins. in the snow, regulus sees james’ golden bracelet and delivers it to him, only to find out that he has had sex with a waitress and a man named simon. 

in the morning, the heirs play “slut in the hut”, a drinking game in which the goal is to get eliminated as soon as possible. despite knowing that lucius is the spy (lucius is fired from greyscar that day), sirius and narcissa chose to keep regulus in the game in which he receives a punishment from his father, resulting in regulus blacking out. 

sent home early from eurus, regulus flies around new york in his animagus form, a raven, and acquires the new york ghost. his wife, emmeline, and his seven year old daughter, renée, express concern and fear at his behavior. he realizes that he does not want to be his fathers weapon, anymore. he alienates himself from his family.

two weeks later, after the rest have returned from eurus, him and emmeline attend petra’s annual halloween party where remus transforms into a werewolf, and tries to kill regulus. james helps him evade and they end up locked in a room together. after, regulus goes to work, where evan, who stayed for a week longer than anybody else in eurus, reveals that he has stolen a hard drive of minerva’s strategy from barty, a member of minerva’s party. they use this information to negatively impact her campaign and elevate riddle for second term, instead. 

at the gala, the heirs must vote for the next ceo. sirius exposes how he has his fathers favor (and in a change of heart, remus’ support), and has secretly been discussing with narcissa and bellatrix to vote sirius as ceo, narcissa and bellatrix as co-chairwomen, and regulus fired completely. lucius tells sirius that he has asked narcissa to marry him. orion gives a speech letting the public know he plans on retiring soon. a freshly rebellious regulus warns sirius to leave before it’s too late, and sirius laughs, believing that regulus is jealous. moments before the vote, regulus sways bellatrix and narcissa’s povs by telling them that if sirius wins, the position of ceo will be closed forever- but if they vote for bellatrix, who clearly isn’t a candidate, narcissa can still vie for the spot. this convinces them. 

during the vote itself, after the gala, orion allows them to cast their votes privately. when regulus asks orion to reveal the votes, he casts crucio on him (also his first time physically rather than mentally abusing regulus) but not before regulus casts a spell revealing what everybody wants, with himself and narcissa voting for bellatrix and sirius voting for himself. 

regulus tries to apologize to sirius to no avail, and sirius breaks up with remus. sirius relapses with an attendant of the gala, angel, and tries to apparate while intoxicated, causing angel to splinch fatally. guilty, sirius flees to seville for two months, and in his absence, regulus writes him letters everyday, haunted by dreams of sirius berating him. in these dreams, it is revealed that regulus knows that lucius was a spy for mmg, yes, but not the spy responsible for the newspaper about cygnus’ death. running into remus, james, and an engaged lucius, remus tells regulus he has nothing to do with his brother, and after, james speaks to regulus on the terrace of a cafe.

that night, regulus wakes up to his wife, emmeline, sexually assaulting him in his sleep. they fight, and regulus casts a spell on her, iterio, that would make her relive the last fifteen minutes in an infinite time loop until a counter cast is cast. running into his daughter on the way out of the house, he begs her to come with him. she refuses. regulus leaves her in the house with emmeline, and at his other apartment, casts  iterio on himself. 

#asks 🍡 #swte

[theunwellkingdom]

Design Deep-Dive #1: The Blank Canvas

This project started as a simple idea:

"I want to create new Magic cards I can play with friends, based on the world and characters of our shared D&D campaign."

I knew this would be a massive undertaking, but at first, I didn't know HOW massive. A blank canvas can be a terrifying thing, so I set off researching and defining scope. This brought me to several realizations, which became my guiding pillars to start making cards...

1. This will need to be an entirely self-contained set.

I do not have professional design and balance teams at my disposal. Rather than attempt to slot my cards in with 30+ years of existing Magic, I knew my best chance of creating fun, playable cards was to keep them self-contained. However! This meant I also needed to commit to a full-sized set, to ensure there's a deep enough pool for a proper sealed/draft experience.

2. I don't want any reprints of existing Magic cards.

This one's selfish, but it wouldn't feel right to simply re-skin real cards. Of course there will be staple effects in each color (burn, counterspells, ramp, etc), but a huge incentive to start this mad journey was to give my design chops a good workout... I would quickly learn that this is easier said than done. Turns out it's very easy to think you have a clever idea, only to search online and find that clever idea on a decades-old piece of cardboard!

3. I want to design new mechanics.

This goes hand-in-hand with #2, but it wouldn't feel like a proper set without a few flagship mechanics to call its own! These came surprisingly quickly, and became invaluable tools to structure the entire set. Look forward to deep-dives on each of these in the future.

4. I want to celebrate art we've already made.

Our D&D group is comprised of a bunch of artsy folks, and we've got over 5 years of stories to draw from (literally). I've made sure to get everyone's blessing to use their art and characters, and I hope it makes the set feel more personal. We even put together a zine-style artbook for it during the pandemic, so there are already some great pieces ready to get slapped onto cardboard.

5. I'm going to need a LOT more art.

Even counting all our existing work, I knew I could only count on those to cover a fraction of the cards. The good news is, I love to draw. But the honest truth is that this will be the longest part of this endeavor. At the rate I've been drawing so far, I've probably got another two-ish years to go.

(NOTE: I will absolutely NOT be pilfering art from strangers online or using any sort of AI-generated content. This project is a labor of love, and I'm in it for the long haul -- not looking for unethical shortcuts.)

6. I want to leverage my custom token template.

I've printed off several batches of custom tokens recently, and that's helped me develop a Photoshop template for stylish custom cards! It would need lots of tweaks to accommodate all the card types in a full set, but at least in this aspect, I wouldn't be starting completely from scratch.

7. I don't actually know how to build a set cube!

Cards on the table, I only started playing MtG a couple years ago. I've got a decent grip on the fundamentals, but I've certainly never tried to build a cube before. This Lucky Paper article was a perfect primer for me to get ballpark numbers, and I cross-referenced it heavily against recent set cardlists to create my own.

....And with all that in mind, it was off to the races!

🔮NEXT TIME -- New Mechanics in the Unwell Kingdom

#uwk #the unwell kingdom #devlog #mtg #set cube #homebrew #design deep-dive

[mingos]

For the question about my character meme, how do you personally think Doffy felt about the situation when he was a child and St Homing decided to give up his status to live with the common folk. We saw how badly they were treated, but I'd like your opinion on how it personally affected Doffy, if you don't mind?

　oh, it psychologically fucked him up. no doubt. not even just the beatings & extreme poverty that would come later, i'm talking everything about that situation from start-to-finish. (before i start, just to be clear, this is not a 'uwu poor doffy uwu' analysis, this is a child psychology analysis.)

-

i know his shock & anger at the beginning before anything 'bad' happened was meant to illustrate "see, he's always been an evil little shit" but honestly, his base reaction is perfectly within the realms for a kid who has had his entire life & belief system essentially just upended. he wasn't an adult with a fully developed brain, he was a child with a child's brain. eight years old is actually around the time kids start thinking logically & understanding the world around them on a deeper level.

picture it: you're essentially one of the richest, most powerful children in the world, raised in an environment where you are deified & you can do no wrong, that everyone beneath you (humans) is less than dirt (whether that's right is not the point) and one day your dad is like... "hey, i want to be that". and you overhear your peers mocking your dad and essentially kicking you all out of your home and forcing you to move to an unfamiliar environment. like, moving schools as a child, but worse.

you've also been conditioned to think you are entitled to anything you want, and are allowed to be as nasty as you want to humans without consequence. but, suddenly, not only are they not serving you anymore... the moment you talk to these humans the way you have been conditioned by the adults in your life to talk to them when they 'disrespect' youーthey burn down your new house & start threatening to murder you. they are essentially in the position you used to be in now.

-

yeah sure "taste of your own medicine" and all thatーbut doflamingo is eight. he barely knows what that even means, at that age children are still learning basic concepts of morality & social norms, and at that point basically every social norm doflamingo has been conditioned into for those first eight years of his life were turned on their head & now all the sudden he was punished for believing them rather than praised. for the first time in his life, he's starving. for the first time in his life, he's been hit. he's poor. he's forced to wear rags. nothing he has been taught makes sense anymore.

also, at that age, your world tends to revolve around one thingーyour parents. they understand the roles of "child" and "adult" and understand that the adult's purpose is to give them guidance & protect them. homing, in doflamingo's eyes, did the opposite. he put them in harms’ way. another thing in his world that has been proven totally wrong.

-

child brains generally do not handle stress or trauma well; i forget the exact wording or study so don't quote me, but i've read articles over the years that make the argument that children who grow up in violent home environments (like witnessing/being subjected to domestic violence) or split home environments (like parents undergoing a messy divorce) essentially can have levels of ptsd equivalent to war veterans.

(on a personal note) as a very ill child who spent my first 12 years in & out of hospitals, i have medical ptsd; just hearing a heart rate monitor, seeing a needle, or smelling that very specific 'hospital' or 'anesthesia' smell is enough to give me a panic attack sometimes, even at 27.

that kind of trauma really does stick with youーeverything goes back to your childhood.

　taking his power back was, in part, to ensure that nothing close to that ever happens to him again.

#‘ 007. ’ (headcanons) #child abuse // #poverty // #medical //

[fikradmalgalin]

Make Money Online 2023

in today's article we'll take a look at three new ways of making money online in 2023. 

these are three new platforms that can help you make up to ten dollars every single day if you are interested in that ensure to stick with

7 Money Tips For Teenagers To Become a Millionaire (Make Money Online)

I became a millionaire literally one day before I turned 20. so I can say that I was a millionaire as a teenager for one day and believe me I know it still looks like I'm a teenager but I'm actually 22 years old and the things that I did as a teenager set me up potentially for the rest of my life and it's because of those things that I did within my teens that I now make millions of dollars per year now whether you're a teenager or literally any age I truly believe that, these 7 money tips will help you a ton now in this article.

#emporium #stickers #sale

[ohc-and-the-music-tapes-archive]

Article about Elephant 6 collective (with a big part regarding the Music Tapes) in Flagpole, 31 March 1999, by John Britt and Melissa Link.

transcript:

ELEPHANT 6: THE MUSE GROWS UP THAT LOOSE GROUP OF TREEHOUSE POP FANTASTICS IS MATURING. ITS CIRCLE IS WIDENING. AND ITS NEW MUSIC IS PRIMED TO INVADE THE ORCHESTRA PIT, THE PROPS CLOSET, AND THE FAR REACHES GF OUTER SPACE. It started as a bedroom daydream, but the dream leaked out into the waking world. Now it’s spreading. The musical collective Elephant 6 — that sprawling, somewhat amorphous umbrella group of young pop bands, the one whose imprimatur ensures a taste of sweet aural psychedelia, the one in all the national magazines, the one that has made Athens, Georgia, its de facto headquarters — was once just a name for the four-track fantasies of four kids messing around in Ruston, Louisianna.

Back in the early 1980s, Rustonians Will Hart, Bill Doss, Robert Schneider and Jeff Mangum invented Elephant 6 as a fictitious label for the tapes they made for each other. The product wasn't necessarily intended to merge with the real wor|d — few imaginative children actually grow up to be cowboys or astronauts — but eventually the four friends amassed enough good material to warrant public consumption. They started getting serious. Schneider moved to Denver and formed the core of The Apples In Stereo. In Athens, Mangum established Neutral Milk Hotel, while Doss and Hart eventually formed The Olivia Tremor Control.

Over the last four or five years these three bands, the heart of Elephant 6, have recorded albums that have drawn worldwide critical acclaim. At the same time, Elephant 6 has expanded to include a difficult-to-count array of friends and compatriots who share in one way or another the original Ruston vision — to put out, as early E6 propaganda put it, “innovative, quality pop music” that hews to a prescribed set of values. “We believe in four-tracks, and beautiful sounds and ideas,” the old motto went. “And most of all we believe in SONGS.”

This spring sees the release of CDs from four Athens-based Elephant 6 groups: the sophomore effort from The Olivia Tremor Control, as well as new albums from Elf Power, Of Montreal, and, in a few weeks, the performance project Music Tapes. This new wave of music shows major strides forward in E6’s thematic, conceptual and sonic evolution, yet much of it remains true to the original vision.

With real record deals, these bands have been able to flesh out the limited lo-fi palette of the first E6 recordings: four-track operating methods are now augmented with digital 16-tracks and studio mixing, and while some of the inspiration still comes from home, much recording now takes place in professional studios. This new freedom has allowed these bands to explore a wider range of composition and arrangement while still remaining true to their aesthetic roots. And while the music style broadens, the E6 gestalt continues to expand beyond music itself: though there's always been a multimedia component to the collective, a group like Julian Koster’s Music Tapes is pushing beyond notebook artwork and into the far teaches of experimental theater.

THE SKY IS A HARPSICHORD CARVAS

As these boundaries expand, the shambling experimental ensemble The Olivia Tremor Control remains at the center of the chaotic Elephant 6 enterprise. The band’s debut album, Dusk at Cubist Castle, toyed with both classically structured pop songs and experimental ambient noise, with fairly distinct lines drawn between order and chaos. The Olivias decided to mesh both halves of their creative instincts into one seamless whole on their latest release, Black Foliage: Animation Music, a 70-minute pop freakout that recalls everything from The Beach Boys to Karlheinz Stockhausen.

Black Foliage is unmistakably in step with everything OTC worked towards years ago. The tweaked out, psychedelic pattern shifts — from melodically grounded pop classics to cacophonous clusters of sounds — harken back to Doss, Hart, and bassist John Fernandes’ early days DJ-ing at the Louisiana Tech college radio station. There, according to Fernandes, the friends would cue up sound-effects albums and play them simultaneously with the records in the station's rotation, then step out to listen to the results on someone else's radio.

“Our idea on the new album was to weave patterns and ask the question ‘What is a pop song?” explains Doss. “We wanted to go beyond things like verse/chorus/verse and do things like bridge/bridge/bridge/bridge/verse/verse/verse, then into some sound excursion or the chorus or a barbershop quartet.”

Looking at some of The Olivia Tremor Control's more blatant influences — most notably the Beatles and the Beach Boys — it’s obvious that the band sees no fault in perfect pop. And in the memorable melodies of Foliage’s “Hideaway” and “A New Day,” it is readily apparent that the band can deliver such goods. 

The goal then, it seems, is to create new atmospheres and environments for that music to inhabit. Black Foliage sometimes sounds like a pop record playing through a street-comer boom box while the sounds of the street invade and intermingle. With its nonstop flow of sonic and thematic concepts, Foliage tends to lend itself towards individual visual interpretation, individual fantasy. “Every time I listen to that album, it’s like a series of dreams,” describes Raleigh Hatfield, a peripheral member of a number of Elephant 6 related bands. “But with each listen, it evokes a completely different series of images.”

Hart agrees, citing the album’s subtitle as an important clue to the music within. “All the sounds in there to us are animation. I see pictures for everything in it, and so will our audience, hopefully.”

NEAT LITTLE DOMESTIC LIFE

Whereas The Olivia Tremor Control attempt to create an ambiguous aural fantasy world on Black Foliage, comrades Of Montreal have fashioned a far more specific world on their new album, The Gay Parade. The material on the telease steps away from songwriter Kevin Bames’ earlier, more personal work, and dives headfirst into a purely imaginary environment. The Gay Parade is a pageant of whimsical characters: “The Autobiographical Grandpa,” “The Miniature Philosopher,” and “A Man’s Life Flashing Before His Eyes While He and His Wife Drive Off a Cliff Into the Ocean.”

And while the album‘s concept — especially its Yellow Submarine-cum-grade school cover depicting every single character in the record — seems to express a calculated naiveté, Of Montreal's members insist that there are layers of conceptual complexities beneath the surface.

“It’s much smarter than a children’s book,” contends drummer Derek Almstead. “It's like The Canterbury Tales; it's whimsical, smart, deep and funny. It’s not cutesy-poo.”

“In no way do I want to compare us to Brian Wilson,” adds keyboardist and bassist Dottie Alexander, “but someone could say the same thing about Smile. On the surface it may seem that Brian Wilson is singing about nothing, but if you look deeper into the songs. you find many complex layers, musically.”

Songwriter Barnes’ Tin Pan Alley influences often give The Gay Parade a pre-rock vibe: it feels like it could've been written by someone raised in the age of radio melodramas, rather than a mop-topped guy living some 40-plus years after the birth of rock and roll. At the same time, Barnes’ character sketches — though often steeped in fantasy — owe much to mid-“60s British rock songwriters like the Kinks’ Ray Davies, who was known for penning bourgeois studies like “David Watts.”

“There definitely is a pervasive Kinks influence in everything we do,” agrees Alexander. “It's a slice of life look at this world we have created.”

That world is rendered in fantastic pastels and neons thanks to the CD's highly inventive arrangements — a major sonic step forward for both £6 and indie pop in general. The album is filled with waved-out guitar lines, crystalline piano notes, five-part harmonies, and a variety of novel instrumentation. Nineteen people are credited in the liner notes with everything from penny whistle to “woo-wooing while jumping on the furnace.”

Of Montreal plan to take their characters out of fantasyland and on the road — literally. Kevin Barnes’ brother, David, the group's chief visual artist, is working on a stage representation of the cover art he designed and created.

“There's not much room in our van for even a large suitcase, so the visual aspect will have to be limited,” Almstead says. “But we'll have a backdrop similar to the album cover, and perhaps some cardboard cutouts of the characters on stage with us.”

A DREAM REIFIED

Elf Power's A Dream in Sound is, without a doubt, the most mature offering from the latest batch of Elephant 6 albums. Combining the sonic experimentation of The Olivia Tremor Control with the fantastical storytelling of The Gay Parade, A Dream in Sound is a brief, yet powerful, collection of songs. In a way, it’s that perfect 40-minute pop album that Black Foliage dumps an extra 30 minutes of insanity upon. At once timeless and immediate, it’s Elf Power's most fully realized work, and a major improvement upon the band’s previous outing, When the Red King Comes.

“Our last album was recorded over a six month period,” explains chief songwriter Andrew Rieger. “A Dream in Sound was recorded in two weeks, and I think that had a big effect on the final product.”

The album continues down the path Elf Power has been taking since their first EP, Vainly Clutching at Phantom Limbs. While not as blatantly conceptual as the fantasy novel-like Red King, A Dream in Sound still focuses lyrically on otherworldly characters and confused wishes to live as other life forms. Rieger seems to have permanently turned his back on material such as Vainly Clutching's “Circular Malevolence.” That song was an angry acoustic account of an ego-tripping, status climbing acquaintance: “You can write it all down and just send it in your precious letter/Tell me of all the people you know and which ones you think you like better/You self-righteous motherfucker/You think I give a shit what you had for supper?” Such work has given way to more imaginative and surreal numbers with titles like “Simon (The Bird with the Candy Bar Head).”

“I always kind of regretted the mean-spiritedness of that song,” Rieger says of “Circular Malevolence.” “I wouldn't want to write those kind of hateful songs anymore.”

But don’t those kinds of personal experiences fuel powerful songwriting? “Well, yeah, sure,” Rieger says. “But I think you can do that in more productive ways. You don’t have to be mean about it.”

STATIC, THE TV, IS A KIND OF FRIEND

Flash to the 40 Watt Club: multi-instrumentalist Julian Koster is on stage with his band Music Tapes, sporting headgear he calls “The Mechanized Organ-Playing Helmet.” The helmet has a hand protruding from it, and the hand plays a faux keyboard. Koster stands amid a working seven-foot metronome, a wooden box sprouting a pair of mechanical clapping hands and an animated television set named “Static”.

Static, the television, will sing half of the songs tonight. Koster — augmented by the likes of Elf Power's Laura Carter and Neutral Milk/Gerbils member Scott Spillane — will buoyantly strum a banjo while the blissed-out, pixilated Static disseminates propaganda about the alien race of TV sets who control our world.

The audience at this Music Tapes performance is a cozy mix of friends, fellow musicians, and curious onlookers. Most stand in contemplative awe, while a few people cuddle the stage, clapping and convulsing ecclesiastical joy. This unique stage show is the ultimate in Elephant 6 fantasia: the line between reality and artifice is sufficiently blurred to give the appearance that even if the human performers left the stage, the mechanical ones would continue the show.

Koster’s former outfit, Chocolate USA — which featured Doss, Olivias drummer Eric Harris and others — bowed out of its acclaimed, albeit brief, limelight with a Bar/None CD Smoke Machine — more or less a rock opera about a cow. Music Tapes take Koster’s peculiar vision — not only of music and performance, but of the human condition as well — to rather head-scratching new levels.

“To me it’s like I look at human history: the Tin Man is as real to me as Abraham Lincoln,” Koster says, possibly describing the impetus behind Music Tapes. “The truth is that what I know of the Tin Man, even though he came out of someone's imagination — and Abraham Lincoln really lived — doesn’t make a difference, because I have vivid pictures of both and in the end what I know now of Abraham Lincoln probably came out of somebody's imagination as well.”

Music Tapes’ debut CD is due out soon, and though you'd think that this is a band best experienced live. Koster’s E6 compatriots say the cordings stand on their own. “Julian's stuck in a Dr. Seuss movie,” says the Olivia's Hart. “That's going to be my favorite record when it comes out. I wish I could write more Dr. Seussy stuff like that.”

“Julian is incredible,” John Fernandes adds. “He's a great home recorder. He takes account of the nuances of low fidelity and uses the disadvantages to his advantage. He's been using an old wire recorder and ribbon microphone just like what was used in old radio plays, and he gets a really genuine 78 rpm type sound.”

Koster says Music Tapes were born 10 years ago, when the musician was in his mid-teens. It began as a way to spend time with his friends, as he wasn't able to be with them as often as he would have liked.

“I kind of had to stay in the house a lot,” Koster says. “I started making tapes almost to make little worlds. Whatever I could imagine, I tried to make a sort of little place that I could visit whenever I was making it and then I'd be able to give the tapes to my friends when I saw them at school and they could visit that place. So the time that they spent there was kind of like common time spent together.”

As Koster grew up, Music Tapes became a sort of revenge project against the world, in the way that creativity became the means subtly to upend the powers that be. Julian fully lives up to Rieger's idea that anger can best be focused into positive, creative energy.

“In youth, it’s about being powerless or dependent on those around you,” Koster says. “You feel unable to take control of your world, and all of a sudden you kind of go over this divide and you realize that you are powerful, that you do have power. You begin to take control of your own existence — you can leave a bad thing and you can begin to create things.”

So Koster invented his own world, a deviant musical amalgam of Pee Wee's Playhouse and 2001: A Space Odyssey. The fantasy is farther out than anything previously in the minds of the Elephant 6 collective. It’s one thing to be in a pretend band; it’s another to be in a band with pretend bandmates, especially at the age of 26. When Koster says of his talking TV, “Static the Television is a band member, and a kind of a friend in a lot of ways,” - it is seemingly without a trace of irony.

That overriding Elephant 6 impulse — to create indie rock that’s irony-free — is offering one way out of the rut the genre has found itself in over the last few years. Like it or not, it’s difficult to deny that it’s an escape hatch that works. “A lot of people who think that this music is childish or cute are coming from this whole school of distorted, ‘80s indie rock,” Of Montreal's Derek Almstead says. “And we're not coming from that point at all. We're coming from somewhere else.”

John Britt Staff writer Melissa Link also contributed to story

#articles #1999 #Elephant 6 #the Music Tapes #Of Montreal #Olivia Tremor Control #Elf Power #Julian Koster #John Fernandes #Bill Doss #Derek Almstead #Dottie Alexander #Kevin Barnes #David Barnes #Andrew Rieger

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

since ao3 is spotty I'm posting the next update for Cariad tomorrow, alongside a Tedromeda drabble - keep your eyes open for updates!

here's a snippet from the next chapter of Cariad, which hasn't been titled yet.

“As you can see,” Kingsley continued, his deep, baritone voice calm and steady, “the DRCMC is undergoing a name change. Some of its responsibilities will be shifted to the DMLE, while others will be entirely removed. For those outside of these departments and looking for a summary of the changes, listen carefully.”

Tonks sat up straight, eagerly watching some of the DRCMC’s leaders gape, obviously horrified, between Kingsley and the new memo. Skeeter had three quills going at once, each narrating a different version of events, one calling the meeting ‘pandemonium,’ another, ‘well-received,’ and the last, ‘filled with tension.’ 

Tonks suspected each version would go past Hermione before one was chosen for publication. 

“The DRCMC is now an outreach branch of the Ministry. Workers of the DRCMC will be working solely to promote the rights, welfare, and cooperation of magical creatures. All actions that control, regulate, or otherwise discipline magical creatures will fall to the DMLE. Some workers from the old DRCMC will now work for the DMLE. Others will have the choice to work for either department. A small subset of lower-level workers will be offered positions in other departments as needed.”

Tonks saw Lee rise from his seat, his face purple with rage, while Rita practically shook with excitement. 

“You can’t do this, Shacklebolt!” 

“Actually,” answered Percy Weasley, with a smug smile on his face, “he can! The Minister of Magic is well within his rights to reorganize and reallocate resources within the Ministry, so long as the budget stays consistent, per Ministry Code C, section 2, article 17.”

“Mr. Weasley is correct,” Kingsley confirmed, as Tonks’s grin grew wider upon seeing Lee’s face fall. “He was our committee expert in Ministry procedures and has personally ensured every change we’ve made is well within our bylaws.”

Percy sat tall, his chest puffed out, though a bit pink in the face from the praise. Arthur, sitting a few seats away, gave him a broad smile and a thumbs-up, a recently learned gesture from Hermione.

#remadora #cariad #writing update #nymphadora tonks #kingsley shacklebolt #getting political all up in this fic

[train-of-the-day]

What's your take on the recent line shut downs by MÁV?

Ah, oh man. For context: MÁV shut down 10 lines today that all go through smaller communities (villages for the most part), saying that it was needed because of the shortage in staff, vehicles, and sparse usage of the lines by passengers. What they get promised instead are "New, air conditioned buses" which "Will take the same amount of time to travel". But it's never as simple as that, is it now.

What they "neglect" to mention is that 1) there aren't enough bus drivers and air conditioned and relatively new(so at best, 10 year old) buses to suddenly make up for them(or meet demand for already existing bus lines for that matter) 2) these lines, by design, deliberately have abysmal schedules, and are basically doomed to shut down. It has been proven time and time again that all you need is a fairly dense schedule with a decently kept up line, and people WILL actively choose the railway instead, but of course, no one up there is going to admit it, or give an actual answer as to why these lines have schedules the way they do. And finally, 3) the travel expenses of people affected ARE going to rise, and so will their travel time, anywhere from 5 to 25 minutes(optimistic estimate), which achieves nothing but ensure they will fall behind even more.

And it's getting a little generic saying this and I'm stating the obvious, I know, but no, no matter what they say and how convincing it sounds, travel on road, by bus or personal vehicle is not superior because "we're in the age of cars anyway, we should keep up", it's just a different way of saying "we need car dependency to eliminate the groups we don't want to care about".

While I could go on and on how deep this goes(diving into so many more topics I'd basically be typing history down), I have a handful of in-depth articles on hand(unfortunately, they are only available in hungarian)that also have sources available and can explain it way better than I could: [ X ] ; [ X ] ; [ X ]

And the affected lines: [ X ]

#Rail mail #Travel information

[rougedraconteur]

It’s all about that reboot,

That reboot,

That reboot.

Or so we hear from the gossip site. True or not, if it was mine, and it isn’t, here’s what I would do.

Reboot on the streamer, to draw the most attention, pull people back in, and then the streamer can add the old episodes to their current catalogue. Everyone still receiving residuals would benefit.

The funny girl is producing. She needs a career reboot, and the timing is right. Everyone is talking about her “comeback.” And she has always been crazy talented, just in need of constant therapy and some tough love to keep her awful in check. She is a diva who should be put in her place regularly. A new contract should include that, to ensure she does not disrupt a set any more with her constant drama. She should want this, and say so. Say she’s obsessed with the work, but her real friends have made her a better person by calling her out in private., and continuing to do so while supporting her. Because they KNOW her. This reboot will be one piece of that comeback, but a big one. It will help relaunch her sagging career, and put her back into play. Make that existing contract of hers useful for the new owners. (All Glee originals were signed up for at least three Glee-related movies, under their old contract, to be exercised by Fox, as needed, and only one was made.Also, this clause can be exercised to pull others back in for a short stint, while releasing them from what remains of that awful original contract.)

She has been hanging out with the Broadway stars, her two “besties” who get her the best press and positive comments, to draw them back in for what will be a short season. Surely both can find the time for a couple episodes worth of filming time, plus rehearsals for dance, recording songs, wardrobe fittings, etc. This show is never a quick and easy shoot, but they are old hands at this, and have done it before, they are both quick studies, and know how to handle her crazy. A week here, a week there, some finishing touch reshoots and follow-up background promo work done onsite for later release like articles, commercials, social media, and an hour-long+ episode of a full-blown musical is in the can, PLUS a “making of… show,” which is pretty common filler for the streamer. And they get paid double, and fulfil the remainer of that contract with two shows in one.

The children’s author has taken a break from writing, per his comments to Fal/lon/Tonight Show, and has been slowly making singing appearances, warming up his voice. Making himself known again as a performer. Maybe now his career can move forward.

This could reposition all the old episodes, as well, if written well, with great stories and songs and actual continuity. It could take away the bad aftertaste of the old show, if RM and BF stay far away from the writing (and most anything else). If they could mostly allow the kids to run the candy store, they could still get all the credit for discovering, launching, and mentoring all that incredible talent, act more like proud papas instead of creepy old men reliving their childhoods or spoiled brats trying to punish every person who did not kiss the ring, and still get their cut of the money as creators, along with IB. The ACTUAL creator.

Just stay off the damn set. Take a giant step back from the showrunner and his exec producers, but use a “here’s what I learned from Glee,” type backstory to showcase the positives, and minimize all the negatives. Make something right somehow with all the loss from that show, the actors know how to do that but the showrunner and his co-horts have no soul and are not capable of that. Do some real-life rehabbing by showcasing SOME of the bts from the old show, along with new show, talk about the actors, the characters, their journey, where they go next, especially if it is to the streamer’s new product. The streamer needs tons of content, for lots of different channels, and these people can help.

RM should use that director’s program of his, let his stars each write, produce, direct, an episode. Choreography, song selection and acquisition of rights, recording studio, securing location shoots, etc. Let them each say where their characters are now, and push forward their own backstories and future projects. Give them a budget, let them go. Glee, at its best, makes people happy, and with the world as it is now we all need a happy ending, both for the characters and the actors, even the ones we lost. When the reboot is successful, and the old shows have found a new home, everyone can move forward, showcasing new projects off of this, maybe having their contracts extended in a new place for other work. Maybe the showrunner will dodge a bullet and salvage a career that is a little precarious right now if he does right by these actors. Maybe. While I would love to see him burn in hell, and he should, as should BF, if this can happen this way, I will forgo that desire for now and pretend those two who enable one another at every turn are at least almost human. I won’t partake of their projects, but I won’t speak ill of them for however long this can last, either. I won’t speak of them at all, as a former Glee fan, which is what RM and BF hated the most. Us, and how we called them out on their shit, and still do. How we catch things. How we don’t forget. How we saved the receipts. How we caused them so much grief at times, how we still can. Just think about how RM has tried to reboot this show already, and fans burned his suggestions down to the ground.

All the BTS can be about old friendships and new projects, for the streamer or otherwise, and can be the show ABOUT the show. If they don’t write it, someone else will still gossip about it. Be as honest as they can without being too detailed. Show everyone as flawed humans, but also mostly good people. No one will believe nothing ever happened, so give them something, but not everything. Don’t oversell. I don’t want to see giant doses of Monchele drama again, since I never believed it anyway. Tell his real-life story, and hers, with a focus on his legacy, not their so-called romance engineered by RM. Just touch on that, say what you want to say about it “I loved him, he loved me, that’s all I can say,” and move on. Even I would believe that. Use his legacy to raise money to provide music in schools in Canada. The streamer could be in charge of that. Show it actually happening in band rooms and chorus rooms across that country. Or place Glee gardens in selected cities, filled with outdoor music stages and permanently placed outdoor instruments like drums, where kids and their parents can go to play and make music.

Same with Na/ya. I would see that some old clips of hers were used somehow, and see that her son actually got the residuals in perpetuity, with matching interest from the streamer, for a scholarship fund, since the Showrunner and Co. promised and failed to do so. Da/na Wal/den can see to that, she owes them that much for looking the other way so much. Let the actors set it up with her family. Let there be some public component to go along with her legacy, like music and parks in largely Latino and African-American communities and for other minority communities.

With Ma/rk, don’t ignore it, simply talk about the importance of mental health, and how to help oneself, ask for help, find help, and support others. Also, don’t completely ignore the issues on set. Talk about the ridiculously long hours, and how in producing the mega show, the producers “temporarily” forgot about the actors being young people with minimal life experience in an extraordinary experience that they shared, but who are not machines. They have to accept some guilt, the showrunner and producers tried to whitewash all this, say RM had a crazy creative vision that got out of control, BF as his long-time collaborator enabled him too much, the others were too caught up in all the bells and whistles it took to put the show together (and here actual hours spent and number of cast and crew supported, plus budget, plus profit for Fox, should be listed, this is the time to renounce so much capitalism that happened at the cost of human lives destroyed by the machine) to reel the two in to reality. The old parent company stockholders looked the other way, the CEO’s and studio heads did too. That was a mistake they all wish they could rectify. But they can’t. They can only go forward, and try to do better.

Then actually let them go, the ghosts and the ugly rumors, the binding contacts and blacklisting, the non-compete clauses, the blackmail, all of it, whatever hangs over everyone’s heads like a guillotine, including the evil showrunner, and his nasty partner in crime, let them go, make things as right as can be made, and let them move forward to whatever new start and future they deserve and can make for themselves.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hello AJ. Shy anon here.

I watched your latest video. Thank you so much for answering my question. I fully agree that Nupur would absolutely murder Arnav. I would actually love to see her confront him about all his ASR ness 😅.

I also wanted to ask you for some advice. Ever since we moved to a new place I've been feeling kinda lonely. And it's not exactly because I'm alone. My in laws are there and my husband is only gone during the day when he's working. But idk there's a weird emptiness that's always there and I don't really know why. I've spoken to my husband about this and he tries in his own way to help but the feeling never really goes away.

I was wondering if you have some insight about this and some advice on what I should do. But also, if it's too much trouble you can ignore my question. I don't mean to bother you.

I hope you're doing well. Please take care of yourself

Bye 🥰

Hello my Shy Anon,

I'm so glad you watched the new video!!!

Ah, did you move for the first time? It's very natural to feel lonely because it's a new place, loss of familiarity! One doesn't realize that even the little things cause tension. Moving can be very hard because places and things make a house a home.

Please give yourself some time and I'd definitely recommend you to do something that brings the comfort of home for you. It can be setting up a new routine in your new house - a certain time to have tea - or ensuring that your old routines are in place.

If it's a new city I'd definitely suggest you to explore it. If you like movies - catch one at the theatre. May you and Mr. Shy Anon could enjoy a dinner somewhere. Create new memories with the city.

Because I moved a lot in my life I established a routine everytime I'd settle somewhere. My books, gods and goddesses would be established first. Then I'd watch an episode of IPK or MJHT at the new place. Then I'd eat some good food somewhere.

The isolation/loneliness will definitely be there for the first few weeks - but let me know how you're keeping up after a month.

Moving blues is absolutely natural. Hang in there shy anon. Take the biggest hug. Here are a few articles that might help you further!

Try to eat some comfort food. Find something good to do in the new place. Give yourself time.

Much love,

AJ

#ask #shy anon #jalebi advises #moving bluessss #it hurts for real

[powderkiwi]

I don’t write a lot of articles, however, I am in the process of writing a novel about 2 young boys, a ships boy who serves on HMS Victory and a cadet at a Naval Academy in Portsmouth, due to both of them going through a traumatic event and being connected through time by an old naval dirk, their consciousness’s pass to one another leading to them both ending up out of their time. The story revolves around how they as individuals adapt too their surroundings, how their friends, teachers, officers and family cope with the sudden changes in these two characters, who remain unchanged physically. The knowledge that both of them carry and how it directly affects the people they know or interact with over the coming months and the peril it places them both in.

Now I’m in a bit of a dilemma at the moment, I have stuck to the physical characteristics and personality traits of the people I know and upon whom i’ve based my characters on, however, with the exception of the crew of the Victory, which was multi cultural and consisted of men and boys of many different nationalities, i haven’t included any people of a different skin tone then me. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it was just based around the people i have met over time and I thought might bring colour of a different kind because of their character.

Here’s my concern, I have had to really focus on events of the Victory’s Log’s, News Paper reports from the time, Relevant historical records and research, to ensure the book isn’t criticised for being factual incorrect by the people who love historic naval novels which are based on actual events, hence in many ways my characters choose themselves. In saying that, in the modern character’s path as a cadet in Portsmouth, I have not defined many of the physical characteristic’s of the adults he interacts with, with the exception of their gender (Male/Female) they are not defined, so if this gets published, there is room for people to assign there own thoughts to them. They are by no means bland, but it is their actions that define them, not the colour of their skin, hence to me this is the focal point. His friends are described in detail, however, one of whom I’ve based on Squirrel from Cursed and all his nuances, he just fits.

I’m concerned I may be criticised, because i have not been inclusive enough, not addressed gender issues..etc, however, this is my story, my novel, should I be governed by the need to conform, or should I just keep the characters as they are? Historically relevant to the period and the location and let their personal attributes, traits, character and how they speak and treat others lead you to your own conclusions about them?

I’d really like to know your thoughts.. stick to my guns.. or not?

#hms victory #battle of Trafalgar #Horatio Nelson #Novel #Ships Boys #Royal Navy #Book #Master and Commander #Jack Aubrey #Horatio Hornblower #Napoleonic #Inclusiveness #author #woke

[hopeforelvis]

Me and Elvis

PART 13

Pairings: Elvis Presley x reader

January 15th, 1963

By the new year Elvis had done seven movies since returning from the army. Seven!! And they just were turning out faster and cheaper. He was already preparing for his twelth in total, "Fun In Acapulco". Elvis was exhausted to say the least, but the countless movies weren't his main problem. He had conflicting feelings for two women at this point....you and the now seventeen year old Priscilla Beaulieu. He had kept up with communication with telegrams and late night phone calls all while you stood by on his arm. Elvis wasn't heartless of course, he knew he was going down a bad path that would hurt someone, which stressed him out, but his newest personal Doctor the Colonel had hired for him was helping provide what he needed to endure the stress and exhaustion. He hid his true feelings all very well from you. But in his mind his love for the two of you had to be decided and he had to be honest with you and himself...eventually.

You had all but moved into Graceland part time, traveling back and forth between Austin and Memphis working on top stories and supporting and practically going steady with Elvis....practically, but he seemed a bit off with you, but you dismissed it as being the Colonels fault. He had practically ensured that you were hardly on set with him which pissed you off to no ends, but you knew he always came home to you at the end of the night which was what mattered. You sat downstairs in the living room on the long white couch. You were reading through articles Sam and a few of your friends had written recently, flipping through the newspaper as the sun shone through the open blue curtains. Elvis had just finished another long conversation with Priscilla in the privacy of his room and knew that after what he offered he had to finally bring her up to you. He quickly made his way down the stairs. You look up from the newspaper and meet Elvis' blue eyes. They looked extra bright in the sunlight as he made his way towards you, sitting down next you you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Hey, what's going on E?" You ask and lean against him. "Nothing baby. What are you reading?" He asks and flicks the paper with his fingers. "Sam wrote an article on you actually. It turned out very well. He said you're taking over the film world." You say smiling. "Oh really. This Sam guy must really know what's going on, huh?" Elvis had a slight bite of sarcasm to him. "First off, why assume Sam is a guy?" You ask, knowing this would poke fun at him and his spouts of jealousy. He was a flirt, but lord was he also possessive but it made you comfortable and you thought it was cute. "Is Sam a guy?" He presses. "Well, yes." You give a teasing smile. "God damn it y/n!" He yells slightly which caught you off guard then again, the stupid meds the stupid doctor was giving him made his temper slightly worse whenever he did have one. "Sorry darling, I didn't know you weren't in a teasing mood." You toss the newspaper aside. "What's, really going on here?" You ask and cross your arms across your chest. You knew something was up if he couldn't take a joke and something was up. Elvis could feel his blood pressure rise at the thought of where this conversation could lead. He cleared his throat. "Well, you remember Cill-Priscilla right?" He asks now clearly nervous which put you on edge. "The kid? Yeah." You ask, clearly trying to take a jab at her. "She's seventeen." He says and you laugh. "Oh goody..." You say sarcastically. "She's a good young girl and...I don't know, it's confusing...well she's coming back from Germany soon..." You go through all the assumptions you could make, "and what? You wanna see her? Date her? Marry her?" Elvis shrugs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh God tell me you don't want to fuck her? Elvis Presley, she's a child!" You say, feeling a rush of blood to your head. Things start to feel dizzy. "No God no! Baby, I'm just trying to be nice....she needs a place to stay and a good place to go to school that's all." Elvis said, although he knew deep down he wasn't telling the whole truth, he just could see your anger and he definitely didn't want to see you hurt. Perhaps this was his own stupid way of breaking it easy to you or trying not to hurt you, either way he would face his consequences. "Is she moving in here?" You ask, slightly shocked at the direction this conversation went. "Y-yes. In the room across from ours." Those were the magic words and he knew it. Your face lightens slightly. "You really just wanna help?" You ask. "Yes. I think you two would get along well yoo...maybe you can help with her writing courses?" Elvis suggested and you lean back in the couch putting your guard back down. He could do that to you. Where you would have it up to protect yourself, but would tear it down with very few words. That's why you loved him and the way he looked at you was still reassuring enough to put up with whatever shit Elvis got himself into. "Fine. When does she arrive?" You ask and he smiles softly. "In a week. Thank you baby. Thank you for understanding." He said. You nod and mentally take note. You have a week to prepare yourself for whatever feelings Priscilla may show towards Elvis. You were nervous, but you'd do anything for Elvis at this point.

The day came quicker than you wanted and Elvis had the Graceland staff on full swing as they prepared the kitchen, Priscilla's room, and cleaned from top to bottom. You wondered if Elvis had the staff do the same on your first visit, but decide to not entertain any thoughts that could cause you to have a negative outlook on Priscilla...at least mire than you already did. The knock came at the door and Vernon came from having a coffee in the dining room. Elvis quickly followed from his office upstairs. You all stood st the door as one of the staff opened the door. You reach for Elvis' hand in comfort and he gives it a small squeeze. You relax slightly as you're greeted by a more mature looking curly haired brunette. You can already feel Elvis' palms start to clam up. Priscilla almost intimidated you with how beautiful she looked, curves in all the right places and her hair teased to a height even you were envious of. "Elvis!" She screeched childishly. Elvis gave a warm smile as she quickly hugged him. You cleared your throat slightly. "Nice to see you again Cilla." He said and took a step back. "You remember my father, Vernon and my...y/n." Elvis said introducing you awkwardly. You shoot him a stern look and then give your best fake smile. "Yes. Hi there. I'm so happy to see you both again!" She said. "Come in, come in. I believe the staff can get us some drinks." Vernon said and you all followed and took your seats at the table. You sat right next to Elvis on his right and Priscilla was on his left. You already had a bad feeling about this and it hadn't even been ten minutes. "What do you drink Priscilla?" You ask breaking the silence. "I don't...or at least not yet." She said giving a shy smile. "Mhmm." You mutter and Elvis shoots you a look. You gently kick his foot causing him to grumble an expletive. "So you're here for how long, Ms. Priscilla?" Vernon asked and you secretly praised him for being the one to ask the burning question. "I'm not quite sure. Elvis wasn't very specific." She shrugged and twirled a strand if her hair nervously. "However long you'd like. Mama always said Graceland would be everyone's home." Elvis said kindly. You were taken aback at his generosity towards her. Elvis turned to look at you, making sure he hadn't screwed up too bad. He cared about what you thought and honestly if you hadn't liked her, he probably would have dropped her like a dime. You had no idea how much Elvis took your feelings into consideration....if only he could get a grasp on his own then things would be clear. After some light small talk you both showed Priscilla to her room upstairs, leaving her to settle in. Elvis grabbed your hand though before you could go back downstairs and practically dragged you into his room. Closing the door immediately he smashed down on your lips and kissed you passionately, as you both fell to the bed. He pulled back and looked at you and tenderly kissed every inch of your face and then tenderly on the lips. He had a way to make everything passionate and gentle all at the same time. "Baby. I'm sorry I've been different. I'm just...I'm trying here." He says. You shake your head. "Don't apologize...Elvis you're a man...im trying to come to terms with that...and you're a man who loves women, probably too much for your own good." You giggle slightly. "I know, but you know I love you right?" He asks stroking a strand of hair out of your face. "I do. I try to remember." You say. "I'd do anything for you E.P." You say out loud...and for the first time. That statement would eventually be put to the test.

PART 14