#67 acting credits

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

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

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

[ancientfaces]

Yesterday, 67 year old actor, singer, and writer Leslie Allen Jordan (1955 - 2022) suffered a "medical emergency" while he was driving, and died when his car crashed into a wall.   You might know Leslie from 'Will & Grace' although he had 133 other acting credits to his name, and is well known on Instagram.   Growing up as an openly gay man in Tennessee - and a Southern Baptist - Leslie's comic side showed when he discussed that time of his life. He said "I was baptized 14 times. Every time the preacher would say, 'Come forward, sinners!' I'd say 'Oooh, I was out in the woods with that boy, I better go forward.'"   The boy born in the sedate 1950s to a Tennessee Southern Baptist family made it through life on his own terms - and made us all laugh with his offbeat sense of humor. You'll be missed but always remembered on AncientFaces. RIP Leslie.

[thecreaturecodex]

Trunko

“New Trunko Design” © deviantArt user Kryptid, accessed at his gallery here

[The appearance of a sea monster on the shore of Margate, South Africa, attracted some press attention at the time. The Daily Mail covered it, and from there the story appeared in Charles Fort’s Lo! , where he dismissed it as a hoax. When Charles Fort thinks your paranormal phenomenon is a hoax, you know it’s built on flimsy evidence. The Margate Monster gained popularity, and its current name, in the writings of Karl Shuker, who resurfaced the story and put it into several popular books (like 1996′s The UneXplained, which is where I first heard of it). To his credit, Shuker continued to do research and follow up on the story, and when photographs appeared (as opposed to just reprints of the article), he was savvy enough to recognize the actual Trunko as a globster, the catchall category of mutilated carcasses interpreted as sea monsters.

Pathfinder already has globsters, but I wanted to make a Trunko that represented the fantastical creature alive, if it were actually some sort of hairy white sea elephant. My concept draws on Opabinia (my favorite Cambrian weirdo) and the orangutan crab]

Trunko CR 5 N Vermin This creature looks something like a furry whale, except that it has rippling fins running along its sides instead of separate limbs. It has a paddle-like tail at one end, and at the other, a short but very flexible trunk ending in a clasper.

A trunko is a large aquatic invertebrate found in cold seas. They are related to anomalocarids and opabinias, with a trunk like structure used to pull food into an underslung mouth. They eat primarily zooplankton, which they gather by literally swimming through their masses. The hairs covering a trunko’s body are sticky, and the trunko can groom itself at its leisure to remove and consume the various marine invertebrates glued to it. These hairs also act as a defensive mechanism, gumming the jaws of sharks and orcas.

Trunkos are social creatures who live in mixed-sex pods. They are ovoviparous, carrying eggs internally that hatch to release free-living young. The young are born sticky, and can feed themselves almost immediately, but remain in their own pods until full grown. The undulating fins of a trunko allow it remarkable dexterity in the water, and they often live in areas with strong winds and currents, too choppy for ships to sail through easily. As such, they are rarely seen by landlubbers and have something of a mythical air.

Trunko CR 5 XP 1,600 N Huge vermin (aquatic) Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +6 Defense AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (-2 size, +4 Dex, +6 natural) hp 67 (9d8+27) Fort +9, Ref +7, Will +5 Immune vermin traits Defensive Abilities sticky Offense Speed swim 60 ft. Melee slam +10 (1d8+9) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Statistics Str 23, Dex 19, Con 16, Int -, Wis 15, Cha 6 Base Atk +6; CMB +14; CMD 28 Skills Perception +6, Swim +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +4 Swim Ecology Environment cold aquatic Organization solitary, pair or shoal (3-12) Treasure none Special Abilities Sticky (Ex) A trunko’s body is covered in thousands of sticky hairs. Any creature coming into contact with a trunko must succeed a DC 17 Reflex save or be smeared with glue, being entangled for 1d4+1 rounds. This glue is sticky in air, salt and fresh water, but a pint of strong alcohol dissolves it. The save DC is Constitution based.

[justthornsnorose]

5,7,8,9,10,11,23,27,28,29,30,31,35,36,37,41,45,49,50,52,53,60,62,63,67,73,76,77,79,83,84,96,97,99.

Also RED.

5. What’s the best orgasm you’ve had in the past few months? Hm, one where I was realllly good about not touching myself while I watched some things on tumblr, etc. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I used my favorite toys to fuck myself as hard as I could.

7. What’s the soonest after meeting someone that you’ve slept with them?  Same day--it was a hookup.

8.What position or angle or specific technique never fails to make you cum? I loooooove doggy but basically I'm hard to make cum. No one else has ever been able to reliably do it. :/ Using the rose toy and getting fucked at the same time is what works for me.

9. When was the last time you watched porn? Last night. >///>

10. What is the hottest thing someone has ever done with you in bed?  Hmm, beyond just being sweet? (I'm a sucker for kindness.) Manhandled me and fucked me like the lil bitch that I am. :3 11. Do you prefer tongue or fingers?  Fingers because I can't get out of my head lol.

23. Have you ever watched people having sex? Not like in person, no. (I'm assuming porn does not count here)

27.When was the last time you had sex? Hooked up with someone who was way too proud of being a YT streamer. They wanted to be fwb but once was enough for me lol. A few months ago? It's been a while T_T

28.Have you ever masturbated to any of your friends? Do you think any of your friends have ever masturbated to you? Yes and yes.

29. Describe a typical masturbation session. I scroll on tumblr and keep my hands OFF myself until I'm squirming, and when I need more I switch to porn. I start with a clit toy and move on to a dildo once I'm aching for it, and then I use both until I've cum or can't take any more.

30. How do you feel about threesomes? Have you ever had one, and if not, would you ever have one? They're hot in theory, but I'm not sure I've ever had the confidence. I wouldn't want to lose my person... but I've definitely considered & fantasized about it. So, maybe with the right people. 31. What’s something that turns you on, but you’re a bit embarrassed by? UGH lol ummmmm. Fucking myself while someone watches. 35. Which one of your holes do you most want to be filled right now? Cunt and/or mouth please.

36. Are you loud or quiet when you masturbate? Well, I'm vocal when no one is around, but I'm usually quietly whiny when I have to be. That, or I'm burying my face in the pillow to muffle what I can't hide.

37. Do you own any toys? What’s your favourite? Yes, and my "demon" and "rose" toys.

41. Do you like being called a slut or whore in bed? Only when someone calls me THEIR slut/whore, and I know they don't really mean it as like.. a bad thing? Idk. It can be hot but it can also trigger me if it's said/meant a certain way.

45. What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever asked someone to do while sexting? Oh jeez. I don't know, probably cnc stuff.

49. What’s a sex act you think is overrated? What’s a sex act you think is underrated? Overrated-eating me out? I've just never really been able to get past the embarrassment of it. Underrated-doggy and choking and blowjobs all need more credit.

50. When did you last have an orgasm? How did it happen? Last time I was HORNY DUHH. Lol. The other day, and I pleased myself. :*

52. How often do you masturbate? When I lived on my own it was a lotttttt, but sometimes I go through phases where I don't much at all. Depends if I'm taken or not, too. Or if someone's been teasing me.

53. Where’s the most unusual place you’ve masturbated? Oh boy. Mmm, in the middle of the woods lol.

60. Have you tasted yourself? If so what did you think?

Only off someone else’s hand. Not really much of a taste.

62. How long do you masturbate before you cum?

Usually about 45 min - an hr.

63. What’s the weirdest category you have ever searched for?

Furry LOL.

67. If you had 5 minutes to get yourself with porn right now, what would you type in the search bar? Throat fucking or overwatch. ;P

73. Would you do a cum walk? Idk what that is tbh.

76.Have you ever worn lingerie? Let's be clear I LOVE that shit. 77. If you could fuck anyone at all right now, who would it be? Do you know them in real life? Do they know you like them? Well.. ANYONE? Lol.. They know I like them, but they have someone :(

79. What’s the last object you put into your own body for sexual reasons? Dildo.

83. What’s your dirtiest secret? Honestly I'm not sure.

83.What’s the most embarrassing porn you like to watch? Probably cnc stuff, or free use.. or idk lol.

86. What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever asked someone to do in real life? I asked someone to choke me once and they knocked me out lol... they also used to leave bruises... they did not know their own strength..

97. What was your most shame-filled orgasm? Why? I was on skype masturbating while they watched. And because it's embarassing!! Idk, I was taught to never be online/on film etc so it was really embarassing lol.

99. Admit something sexual that you’ve never told anyone else before. Hm, I've definitely fantasized about being used*/fucking more than one person at a time. *i mean used in like.. a nontriggering way lol

@the-blue-rose-of-the-sea

[hrryshoney]

Face claim; mathilda mai with robin ? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ik you usually write for guys but these are sooo cute im obsessed

Robin Buckley Insta blurb

robin buckley x reader

A/N: hey! i’m completely fine with writing for girls so dw about it :) again think of this as a modern!robin x reader. hope you enjoy! also for the sake of this we’re gonna have to act like everyone already knows robin is a lesbian and not just steve lol

liked by robinbuckley, madmax and 48 others

yourinstagram so much fun

view all 14 comments

robinbuckley pic creds???

→ yourinstagram credits to rob i guess😒

→ steve.harrington you two make me sick

liked by nancywheeler, steve.harrington and 32 others

robinbuckley with my other half

view all 16 comments

dustyhenderson awh

eddiemunson very metal

robinbuckley liked this comment

yourinstagram love you💘

liked by elhopper, yourinstagram and 67 others

nancywheeler girls day

view all 24 comments

robinbuckley all my fav girls

madmax the best time💜

mikewheelerr i have a suspicion that you were all being third wheels to Y/N and robin

→ yourinstagram shut it mike this is why nancy’s better

→ jonathanbyers true

liked by yourinstagram, robinbuckley and 94 others

jonathanbyers Y/N + Robin on film. Shot by me.

view all 30 comments

yourinstagram this is so cute awh thanks jonathan💘

robinbuckley love this so much

nancywheeler 💙💙

steve.harrington looks nice man

eddiemunson 🤘🏻

liked by steve.harrington, lucas_sinclair and 59 others

yourinstagram love my life

view all 17 comments

robinbuckley and i love you

→ yourinstagram i love you more though

dustyhenderson steve and i should be invited to your next outing

→ madmax oh we’re terribly sorry we didn’t invite you two to GIRLS night..

elhopper so cute❤️

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (October 18)

On October 18, Catholics and other Christians around the world will celebrate the feast of St. Luke, the physician and companion of St. Paul whose gospel preserved the most extensive biography of Jesus Christ.

St. Luke wrote a greater volume of the New Testament than any other single author, including the earliest history of the Church.

Ancient traditions also acknowledge Luke as the founder of Christian iconography, making him a patron of artists, as well as doctors and other medical caregivers.

Luke came from the large metropolitan city of Antioch, a part of modern-day Turkey.

In Luke's lifetime, his native city emerged as an important center of early Christianity.

During the future saint's early years, the city's port had already become a cultural center, renowned for arts and sciences.

Historians do not know whether Luke came to Christianity from Judaism or paganism, although there are strong suggestions that Luke was a gentile convert.

Educated as a physician in the Greek-speaking city, Luke was among the most cultured and cosmopolitan members of the early Church.

Scholars of archeology and ancient literature have ranked him among the top historians of his time period, besides noting the outstanding Greek prose style and technical accuracy of his accounts of Christ's life and the apostles' missionary journeys.

Other students of biblical history adduce from Luke's writings that he was the only evangelist to incorporate the personal testimony of the Blessed Virgin Mary, whose role in Christ's life emerges most clearly in his gospel.

Tradition credits him with painting several icons of Christ's mother, and one of the sacred portraits ascribed to him — known by the title “Salvation of the Roman People” — survives to this day in the Basilica of St. Mary Major.

Some traditions hold that Luke became a direct disciple of Jesus before his ascension, while others hold that he became a believer only afterward.

After St. Paul's conversion, Luke accompanied him as his personal physician and, in effect, as a kind of biographer, since the journeys of Paul on which Luke accompanied him occupy a large portion of the Acts of the Apostles.

Luke probably wrote this text, the final narrative portion of the New Testament, in the city of Rome where the account ends.

Luke was also among the only companions of Paul who did not abandon him during his final imprisonment and death in Rome.

After the martyrdom of St. Paul in the year 67, St. Luke is said to have preached elsewhere throughout the Mediterranean and possibly died as a martyr. However, even tradition is unclear on this point.

Fittingly, the evangelist whose travels and erudition could have filled volumes wrote just enough to proclaim the gospel and apostolic preaching to the world.

Patronage: artists, bachelors, bookbinders, brewers, butchers, doctors, glass makers, glassworkers, gold workers, goldsmiths, lacemakers, lace workers, notaries, painters, physicians, sculptors, stained glass workers, surgeons.

[thatstupidone]

"I've called you all in regarding our current Spider problem. It's come to my attention that a couple weeks after spider-man made himself known to the world that a HYDRA file we had was erased from everything. Even the paper copy was taken." Fury talked as he entered the room. He had called the Avengers for a meeting.

"I want your help in capturing Spider-man, as it stands we don't know if he is a threat or not."

Natasha raise an eyebrow. "What file was taken?"

Fury thought over the question. Obviously trying to decided whether he should tell them or not. Finally he said "The file was titled 'Project Spider'."

Steve looked over to Bucky who's heart rate started going up, the movement caught everyone else's attention. They were all now staring at Bucky who looked like he saw a ghost.

"Barnes. Do you have something you would like to share?" Fury asked.

"I-I don't know...its- I didn't..hes a literal ghost.." Bucky spit out incomplete sentences.

"Who?" Steve asked concerned. Nothing related to HYDRA has made Bucky act like this in a while.

"Everyone whispered about him. I always assumed they were all made up tales to make their shifts go by faster. He was always being called '67'..they liked to just number their subjects." Bucky tried to keep his voice leveled. If what he heard was true then they should be glad to be alive.

"I was a ghost story right? This guy is even more of a ghost. He was what the winter soldier project could never accomplish. If the story's are true then he is credited with more kills and assassinations then I am. He knows over 10 different languages, and has an IQ that could rival Tonys. He has faced armys in war alone and walked out without a scratch. Some of the super soldiers claim they used to train with him but then they got told training with them was child's play to them..that was when they sent him into wars. He's HYDRAs best subject....and the thing that scares me the most is they say he wasn't even brainwashed.That he willingly does it all." Bucky finished.

The room was silent. No one was ready for that.

"How come we've never heard of him?" Fury asked after a while.

"Like I said he's a ghost. There's no picture of him, no documents, well now there are none, HYDRA made sure to keep everything under wraps. I myself was never sure he really existed." Bucky was deep in thought. There was more...the worse stuff, the stuff people said that they did to him. Bucky wasn't going to share that bit- it wasn't necessary.

(A little snippet of a fan fiction I'm writing.

This is for chapter two)

[anchanted-one]

Legend of Lightning 67: The Revanchist

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/116433181

No one in the Council spoke. Some of Oteg’s friends exchanged triumphant grins.

“You might as well settle up right here,” Satele told them. The soldiers all gave her indignant looks, but one or two either reached for their pockets, or held out hands expectantly.

Revan chuckled. “I see you take after me, then.”

“I saw a few holos from the old days,” Satele said glibly. “I saw your ‘A Jedi and a Soldier’ act, then I thought I could pull it off better than you.”

That elicited a round of hearty chuckles.

“You asked Oteg to explain himself,” Revan began again. “But in truth, I think it falls to me to explain.”

“The only goal of Master Oteg’s secret expedition was to rescue you,” Jaric said shortly. “How is that?”

His capacity for speech was returning, Satele noted.

“A tad oversimplified, but not untrue,” Revan bowed his head. “I am aware that it wasn’t an easy undertaking. Hundreds of ships and thousands of soldiers had to be moved in total secret with a singular purpose. Many died trying to rescue me. I will forever be grateful to them, and to my old friend for making this decision. But take heart; for their sacrifice has given you a tool that can single-handedly turn the tide in your war.” He gave another, more formal bow. “I am Revan, Hero of the Mandalorian Wars, Jedi Master and Sith Lord. I have resisted the Emperor for hundreds of years. I am his match, his nemesis. I will defend the Republic from his fell gaze, as I did before, as I did for years. I gave my life to this fight, and thought I am bloody and bruised, I’m still fighting. This time, I will save the Galaxy from him.” There was an undertone to his voice, a raw charisma that swept people away to share in its confidence. All the soldiers looked at him with reverence and awe. The pink-haired man behind him even stopped trying to eye Nariel. “And I ask only one thing in return,” Revan went on. “Do not surrender to the Emperor. Even if the Republic is forced to, even if the rest of the Galaxy turns on you, do not stop. For I have seen what hides beyond the veil, and I know that only Darkness awaits a galaxy where he reigns supreme—”

“Yes, Vajra told us much the same thing,” Jaric interrupted.

Revan staggered slightly. “Excuse me?”

“One of our younger Knights,” Satele responded. “Perhaps Oteg told you about him? No? I imagine you had a lot to catch up on. Vajra Devarath is a Knight who ran into one of the Emperor’s agents, a so-called ‘Child of the Emperor’. The Emperor was able to engulf Vajra using his agent as an intermediary.”

“By his own account, it wasn’t the Emperor’s full might,” Bela added. “But it was enough to overwhelm him. He managed to break free, and save his Padawan with him.”

“They saved each other,” Satele clarified “Or at least, that’s how Vajra puts it. His former Padawan Kira, on the other hand, gives him full credit. In any case, he too spoke about the Emperor much as you did.”

Revan looked impressed. “He sounds like a solid Jedi. I’d like to meet him, if I may.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now,” Satele shook her head. Revan looked disappointed. “Still, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell us about the mission, so that your soldiers can leave. They look like they could use a visit to the cantina.”

Revan smiled. “As you wish. Jerre, Roban, why don’t you give your accounts to the Council?”

“Yes, Sir.” The tall Zabrak walked to the front. Satele belatedly recognized him. Roban Queens. He had smashed Vajra in the jaw after the latter had, in Queens’ opinion, allowed a dangerous fugitive to escape. That had been the first time that Vajra had filed a formal complaint against someone. A complaint which had seen Garza reprimanded and demoted, with General O’Brien given her post as head of Special Forces.

She wondered if the Zabrak still harbored a grudge.

“Master Oteg reached out to me and others in our strike force one month ago,” he said. His back was held upright, his chin high. His eyes were fixed straight ahead of him, though he kept glancing at Satele every now and then. “He outlined a high-risk raid on the Imperial world of Taral V. There was an advanced Gree transponder held by the science department there that would allow us to safely navigate the Maelstrom nebula, where the Maelstrom prison was. A prison, which we would only later find out, was built to hold one, single prisoner. His face became awe itself, and he shook his head in disbelief. The others nodded behind him.

“We were able to secure the device,” Queens went on. “We took a few hours to recover before jumping straight to the Prison, so as to avoid the chances of word leaking out. Captain Kraot here, got our team past the point defences.”

Satele recognized the name. Jerre Kraot was one of the civilians who had helped Vajra twice. The first time was in the Galactic Market sector of Coruscant, the other when he helped Vajra save hundreds of Power Guards from Imperial captivity. Vajra had been full of praise for him and his Captain, as had Nariel Pridence a few months later, for aiding against a Sith… though some records she had seen claimed that he and Juun Stede were smugglers.

“Jerre offered us his expertise free of charge,” Oteg revealed. “Though I must insist we reimburse him for the ship. They were forced to leave it behind during their escape.”

“We’ll pay it back, plus ten percent of the cost,” Satele agreed. “That’s the standard rate for lost ships. In addition, I think you do deserve compensation for a job well done.”

“It’s true. We’re getting paid, aren’t we?” the Cathar Havoc member nodded.

“Besides, you’re the one who killed Grand Moff Kilran,” Oteg smiled. “And that’s one more breakthrough for our side; another of the Butchers of Coruscant lies dead. Only Malgus remains, now. I hope he’s getting nervous!”

“Kilran personally defended Revan’s cell,” Queens explained. “He had a small army of not just elite soldiers, but Sith too.”

“I didn’t recognize any of them, but they were the best warriors I’ve ever faced,” Harunobu put in. “I think they might have been disguised Imperial Guardsmen. The only reason we won was because Captain Kraot slipped away and saved Revan.”

“Ah got hit,” Kraot said, looking uneasy. “Ah played dead, intendin’ to flank em and turn their turrets against them… but then… the Voice prompted that ah save the prisoner. Um not too much inta this Force thing, but ahm glad ah listened. Twas a perfectly even game out there. Revan’s charge into their rear caused them to crumple. Ah shot the dirty butcher muhself. E looked stunned, as if e never thought he could die. Said that there wuz so much e still wanted t’ conquer…”

“He’s dead now,” Queens smiled in grim satisfaction. “Sergeant Dorne confirmed it.”

“Explain what you mean when you said ‘the Voice,’” Satele prompted.

“I had help in planning this mission,” Oteg was the one to answer her. “A plea from one no longer among the living, one who wanted Revan to be freed. To be honest, I didn’t know what to make of it when I heard Malak’s voice again. We hadn’t parted on good terms, so this sounded like a trick, but—”

“But the Force offers redemption to any who seek it,” Revan said with unfailing certainty. “Malak was a good man, once, before the Emperor corrupted his heart. In death, he found himself again. It is his strength that has helped me stay sane and strong, all these long centuries. He must have Sensed that I was needed again, that my continued resistance no longer meant anything. For it was through my Will alone that the Emperor did not invade sooner.”

Satele did not like the way he put that.

“I think we can dismiss everyone else now,” Oteg suggested. “Padawan Fia, see to it that my comrades are allotted lodgings for the night, would you?”

“Yes, Master.” The Padawan on duty bowed and led the soldiers out of the room.

“Now, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty details, shall we?” Master Nikil asked.

“Yes. What did the Emperor want from you?” Tol asked.

“The same tool I now plan to use against him,” Revan replied. “A Rakatan super factory called the Foundry, which is on par with the fabled Star Forge, in its own way. While the Star Forge could churn out hundreds of ships every day, the Foundry can mass produce war droids and munitions.” He looked around at the Councillors. “I know that war is not what the Jedi stand for, but this is defence. The last war saw billions dead—on both sides of course, but the Republic is proving slower to recover. Give me fifty Jedi, and help me negotiate with the Republic. If I could have a navy capable of protecting the factory, or shipping the droids where we need them to go, we could have all Republic worlds ready for when the hostilities resume.”

“That is a tall order,” Satele replied. She was reluctant to give him any real answer. This was all too sudden for her. “We needed time to think—"

“The Council in my era needed time,” Revan said meaningfully. “When the Mandalorians attacked. Even when the war had entered its final days, they still refused to act. They didn’t even refuse us outright! Until the very last day, we held out hope that our Masters would join us. They never did. It’s a terrible situation for a Jedi, to not have the Council at their back in a time of crisis. Don’t be like Vrook and Atris. Accept the reality that threatens to engulf you all.”

“You needn’t lecture us,” Satele said, injecting some heat into her voice. “We are well aware of the danger. Coruscant was sacked just under seven years ago. The Temple there is still in ruins. The Sith tried to destroy Tython too, just last year! The whole planet! Angral’s dread superweapon… Uphrades is gone; seventeen million killed as a mere test for that weapon. Half our territory was taken from us, including Balmorra! And we only kept our grip on Alderaan by the skin of our teeth.”

“Then you understand the threat…”

“Understanding isn’t the problem,” Syo said. “Not only are you asking us to give you fifty Jedi, you want us to endorse your project… without telling us your plans? We’re critically low on manpower, you know. We couldn’t even field many Jedi to save ourselves from Angral!”

“Indeed,” Jaric nodded severely. “We indulged Master Oteg’s theatricality, given his experience. But we cannot trust you. Not to this degree.”

“I see,” Revan slowly circled the room, passing in front of every Councillor in turn. It was so unnerving to have someone from the old legends jump out at you like this! And it just had to be her ancestor! She imagined everyone in the room was thinking about her outlook. Every decision she made in this regard might be seen as potentially biased, either in her ancestor’s favor because of their connection, or against it in an attempt to prove impartiality. “Keep this in mind, however. The Emperor will come. Sooner rather than not, since I am free now. He won’t want to give you the chance to use my knowledge. Expect a full-fledged attack within the year. The longer you take, the less time I’ll have to build up our numbers. I need at least five months for an army that will number in the trillions. We could even build models like my old HK unit, who was a challenge to most Force users.” He looked around again. Satele felt a careful neutrality in everyone’s bearing. “And this may need to be part of your discussion: I will need as much secrecy as you can get me, for my operation to work. It will be a disaster if the Senate catches wind of it. There’s no telling how many Senators already serve the Empire, or how many more would sell their secrets for the right price. Even if you don’t trust me, don’t let word of me leak out. Furthermore, do not reject what I have to say out of hand. I will accept whatever oversight you feel you need to put in place. I accept that every Jedi you assign me will report on my every movement. And I accept that you can pull the plug on me at any time. I do realize what I’m asking of you.”

“We appreciate it,” Bela said blandly.

“How much time will you take to deliberate?”

“Give us a few days,” Oteg said confidently. “Like your descendant said, we’re well aware of the looming threat.”

“Good. In the meantime, I’d like the run of the place. Have a look around. See what the Order is like today.”

Satele could not Sense any objections to the request.

“Agreed, with conditions,” she said. “Minders. Restricted access to tomes. And you won’t be allowed near the reliquaries, Masters’ chambers, or sensitive areas. You may have been a Jedi Master once, but we will need to confirm whether your long captivity has jeopardized your serenity.”

“Now that I think about it, have you checked to see if he is, indeed Revan?” Jaric asked Oteg, who nodded.

“I should remind the Council that I knew Revan.”

“Oh… right. Sorry, I’d forgotten. You even mentioned it.”

“I accept your limitations,” Revan smiled. “In fact, I applaud them. The Dark Side is insidious. Never trust without verifying first.” He nodded in approval and respect. “I’m glad that the Jedi of this era understand the necessities of war.” He thought for a second. “I think I’ll visit the training yard. I’d like to see what kind of Jedi I have to work with. And if you can arrange a meeting with this ‘Vajra’…”

“No,” there was a glimmer of steel in Satele’s words which gave even Revan pause. “He’s off limits for the time being.”

“As you wish,” he said. He left, followed closely by the other Jedi from Oteg’s team.

“What was that about, Grand Master?” Tol asked.

“You felt it, didn’t you? Revan’s legendary charisma,” Satele leaned back in her seat. “That man once convinced thousands of Jedi to follow him to war. It doesn’t matter if he was right or not; what matters is that he can move all but the most resolute hearts. And Vajra is not in a good place right now. If Revan speaks to him, he will be persuaded to follow. I’m not sure we want that. I’ll inform him right away to leave the training yard, if he’s there.”

Jaric and Bela nodded in fervent agreement, followed by Gnost. Others slowly acquiesced as well. But Satele could feel the slight heat of suspicion linger in the air. Her vehemence today had been noted by at least a few of these Masters.

*

Vajra led his friends through the basic saber drills of Form I. They moved at a leisure pace, but kept their movements and footwork strong. Vajra kept a particularly close eye on Jasme to ensure that her muscles were engaged without being overexerted. She was still in her first month of training, after all.

Jasme felt grateful as she listened to the young Raudra’s instructions, or watched him demonstrate a move correctly. He should be dead, gone without a trace. She still had nightmares of carrion beasts picking his corpse in the wilderness somewhere. Of years passing by without a shadow of a trace. Of a lifetime spent wondering what had become of him.

Someone had saved Vajra, and she wished she knew who. All she could do now was thank the stars that she was here, in this beautiful morning sunlight, learning the art of the Lightsaber from the best friend she could have asked for.

That he was the Jedi Order’s greatest swordsman, was a fringe benefit. Or such a good teacher, for that matter; Bengel Morr had improved in leaps and bounds in the span of a few lessons. The two were good friends now, bonding over their Master. In addition, Bengel was grateful that Vajra had ensured that the children the former had led astray, had been cared for.

They were only ten minutes into the session when Bengel received a priority message.

“It’s from the Grand Master,” he said, looking troubled. “It says to take Vajra back to his room at once, and allow him no unauthorized visitors.”

“I’ll go on then. Jasme and Seraphim can continue practising,” Vajra suggested. “Kira can watch how you’re doing for me.”

“Alright, but you’re making this up to me,” Jasme said with her best pout. “Not that I hate you, Kira.”

“Got it.”

“I hope I can get authorization,” Seraphim said. “I like these lessons! You’re a good teacher!”

“Thanks!”

“Hurry, please,” Bengel pulled him away. “The Grand Master isn’t known for being whimsical.”

Kira rounded on them and spoke crisply. “Alright then; bookworm, coxswain! Who said you two could slack off? I wanna see some sweat!”

“‘Cocks wain,’ now, am I?” Seraphim grinned. “Reducing my whole existence to one body part?”

Kira slapped his butt. “That’s right, coxswain. Shape up there!”

“Hey, beats ‘bookworm!’” Jasme said in mock sadness. “Not something that can work in bed.”

“I said move! Lift those arms! Strike like you’re slapping the bitch out of Darth Kaimeryn!” ¹

“But she strikes me as the type that likes getting spanked!”

Kira considered that for a second, rubbing her head in mockery of deep thought. “Yeah… I can see that.” She waved it away. “Spank her anyway! You’ll feel better than she does!² Alright then, one, two, three!” Jasme struck out and pulled back in time to Kira’s brisk claps. “Good! Once more, with feeling! One, two, three!”

*

Revan arrived at the private training field just in time to see the three humans calling it a day. He knew the girl was Satele’s at once. Her features were exactly the same as her mother’s. Unlike Satele, however, her smile was full of life and passion. She had the whole world ahead of her, unbound by Jedi dogma. But her ability in the Force was small. Miniscule, actually. Barely good enough to move a twenty-kilo stone. And yet… Raya had been that weak at the start, but her dedication had allowed her to be a Jedi without peer.

The only reason why Revan was so fixated on his descendant—other than their relationship—was because of Satele’s curious response to his request to meet this Jedi who had faced the Emperor, this ‘Vajra’. Was this her? It made sense! His bloodline was strong and sure, as evidenced by Satele being one of the youngest Grand Masters he’d ever heard of. Surely another of his descendants might have his resilience to the Galaxy’s greatest threat? And the timing! Right before his release!

Despite Satele’s warning, he knew he had to get closer to her daughter. He had to get Vajra to his side. The Force practically demanded it. But he could not approach her himself. But whom to ask?

Perhaps Oteg or one of the other Jedi from his team…? No. Oteg aside, most of them would feel a greater loyalty to Satele than to him. And Oteg seemed like he was in enough trouble. Perhaps Nariel could be talked into it—no he was certain he could do it—but simple people knew no such thing as discretion. If he used her, Satele might hear about his violation of her orders. If she had Bastila’s stubbornness… or worse, his own…

The soldiers, then? No… the two leaders of Havoc Squad were wary of all Jedi, himself included. Jerre then? No, the pilot was going to be very busy. He sighed. As ever, it seemed he was alone. He would have to approach her himself.

But he couldn’t do so hastily. He would need to find a time when he could work in secret… he followed as closely as he dared as Vajra and her friends descended into a level he wasn’t cleared for.

Soon, he promised himself. We will meet soon. Together, we will save the galaxy from a monster. I am sorry, Satele.

*

Jasme entered Vajra’s room to find him looking very preoccupied.

“Kira wanted a bath. And Seraphim some rest. What’s with him?” she asked Bengel.

“A letter,” Bengel whispered back. “Maybe Ranna sent him something he can’t get his eyes off of.”

“Ranna doesn’t send holomail,” Jasme pointed out.

“I can hear you, remember?” Vajra breathed. She sighed. It was easy to forget that his hearing was better than most other humanoids’.

“Okay then. Spill it. What’s up?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Sure it is.” Jasme was disappointed. He almost never kept something from her. “Promise me you’ll say something if—”

“I will.” His eyes moved back to the top of the screen. How many times was he going to reread that one mail? And it had to be the same one, his fingers hadn’t touched the controls.

“Good.” Jasme let it drop. Behind her, the door opened, and in walked the Grand Master, followed by Doctor Row.

Satele took one look at Vajra and stopped short. Something seemed to click in her head, so loudly that Jasme thought she could hear it. Her mother actually went scarlet, and Jasme looked over at Vajra with a wide grin.

“Someone’s looking—”

“Not right now,” Satele interrupted her. “I have an important warning for you, Vajra. And an order.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You will stay inside the psych ward for the next couple of days. We have a… troublesome visitor. I have a feeling he’ll try to make contact with you. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Are you gonna tell us more?” Jasme asked.

Satele hesitated. “It’s Revan. Yes, that one. Apparently, he’s still alive, all these centuries after his disappearance. The Emperor kept him so, attempting to extract some kind of secret from him.”

“The Emperor… kept him alive?!” Jasme was incredulity itself. She looked at an unmoved Vajra. “Why aren’t you surprised?” she demanded.

Vajra shrugged. “So, what does he want with me?”

“He wants your help in defeating the Emperor,” Satele answered. “We made a mistake. When he was talking about how grave a threat the Emperor was, Jaric remarked that you’d already told us much of it. And that led to a brief explanation of your encounter that day. Revan was impressed enough to ask if he could meet you. Twice.” She massaged her shoulders, as though they were cold. “I have a bad feeling about this, Vajra. I Sense he’s not lied to us yet, and that he is on our side. But I don’t want him speaking to you. I’m sure you’ve read his history; he made a career out of keeping his own counsel. He only ever obeyed a Master if it suited him. And they were his elders. He sees us as children. Hell, I am literally his descendant, and I am the Grand Master!” She massaged her temples now. Jasme wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t. Not with Bengel and Doctor Row around.  “I can only restrict his movements to a degree. So much as he himself allows it.” She sounded extremely miffed.

“Master Darach loved to say that the position of Grand Master comes with little real power,” Doctor Row said softly. “I think you should step down, for your own sanity.”

“And while I’m at it, I should leave the Council too,” Mom almost snapped. “And the Jedi. Live openly as a wife and mother… if the family I walked away from even accepts me. I know Theron won’t.” She swallowed whatever else she had to say. “That’s all I had to say. I’m sorry, Vajra.”

“Looks like you’re grounded,” Doctor Row informed Vajra slyly, making him and Mom blush again.

“I really think we need to talk,” Jasme said sweetly.

The Grand Master’s response was a sour mumble.

[howardhawkshollywoodannex]

Anna Kendrick as Katherine in 50/50 (2012). Anna was born in Portland, Maine, and has 67 acting credits from 2003 to eight episodes as a voice in Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (2023). Her entries among my best 1001 are Pitch Perfect and End of Watch, both also in 2012.

Her other notable credits include Twilight, Up in the Air, The Twilight Saga: New Moon, The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, Scott Pilgrim vs The World, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Down - Part 1 and 2, a voice in ParaNorman, Pitch Perfect 2 and 3, Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, The Accountant, a voice in Trolls, Stowaway, and Alice Darling.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“How hot is it?”

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

JUL 7, 2023

          July 4, 2023, set the record for the warmest global temperature since scientists began tracking that measure forty years ago. Three days later, the “reddest” states are facing the most extreme temperatures in the US during a summer filled with extreme temperatures. Take a moment to review the charts included in The Washington Post, 41 million people in the U.S. may be exposed to dangerous heat today.

          A genre of jokes includes the set-up line, “How hot is it?”, but it is no joke when tens of millions of Americans are exposed to “dangerous” heat. Human-caused climate change is challenging to fight because its effects are often imperceptibly small and occur over long periods. But within the living memory of tens of millions of Americans, the length and severity of heat waves in the southern portion of the US have changed perceptibly—even dramatically. Spring arrives earlier, summers are hotter, and fall arrives later. See, e.g., Climate Change Indicators: Length of Growing Season | US EPA, and Seasonality and Climate Change | US EPA.

          So, what’s wrong with an extended, warmer growing season? Those indicators correlate with drier landscapes, more wildfires, more extreme hurricane seasons, and greater vulnerability to agricultural pests. (If you think the latter is not a grave threat to agriculture and the US economy, speak to a farmer.) Indeed, it is possible that the re-emergence of malaria-bearing mosquitos in Florida is the latest consequence of climate change. See The Guardian, Experts say climate change likely to increase US malaria cases.

          Climate change is the most daunting and complicated challenge we face. Fortunately, it is one of the areas where President Biden has demonstrated unparalleled leadership. His infrastructure bill and Inflation Reduction Act are the most significant investments in renewable energy by any country at any time in history.

          From a political standpoint, the good news is that most Americans agree with most efforts to confront human-caused climate change. A Pew Research survey conducted between May 30 to June 4, 2023, found the following:

74% of Americans say they support the country’s participation in international efforts to reduce the effects of climate change.

67% of U.S. adults prioritize the development of alternative energy sources such as wind, solar and hydrogen power over increasing the production of fossil fuel energy sources.

76% favor providing a tax credit to businesses that develop carbon capture technologies and 70% support taxing corporations based on their carbon emissions.

61% favor requiring power plants to eliminate all carbon emissions by the year 2040.

69% of Americans say they’ve experienced at least one of five types of extreme weather in the past year: Long periods of unusually hot weather (45%), severe weather such as floods or intense storms (44%), droughts or water shortages (33%), major wildfires (18%) and rising sea levels that erode beaches and shorelines (16%).

          The fact that 60% of Americans have experienced extreme weather events in the last year alone suggests that climate change denialism should diminish over time—as it is in the US. (Sadly, the right wing’s growing acceptance of climate change has been re-purposed into grounds for anti-immigration policies. See The Guardian, Climate denial is waning on the right. What’s replacing it might be just as scary.)

          Despite the encouraging findings in the Pew Research survey, most Americans oppose the complete elimination of gasoline for cars and fossil-fuels for the electrical grid. So, we have our work cut out for us. In order to make significant progress, we must overcome public reluctance to eliminating our dependence on fossil fuels for electricity and transportation.

          What can we do? The most direct, effective step we can take is to elect representatives at every level of government who are committed to reducing our dependence on fossil fuels. Climate change cannot be a “background” or “secondary” issue for Democrats. It is a “kitchen table” issue that affects people where they live and work. Just ask red-state citizens who are struggling with dangerous heat this week.

     [Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[galactichelium]

Everyone's celebrating the steamboat mouse coming into public domain and yes I definitely understand it and think it's a good thing to celebrate. I'm not gonna take that away from anyone. But my brain instead, for some reason, is fixated on the hatred I feel over how extensively D1nsey has abused legal powers to keep any forms of the mouse out of the public domain for as long as they could. Yes, the original version of the mouse is now in the public domain. But did you know that more recent versions will never enter the public domain as long as D1sney is a company? This is because they have made this version of the mouse their trademark as a "cooperate mascot" and "brand identifier", and you can renew your trademark as many times as you want.

Extra rambles below the cut talking about all the bs this company has done to keep even the original version of the mouse out of the public domain

Do people know that the company lobbied to change the copyright laws TWICE to extend his arrival into the public domain? Works were initially only supposed to be protected for 56 years after publication, as of the most recent amendment to copyright law at the time, from 1909. Meaning it should've entered public domain in 1984. But they changed the laws! To be then extended until... 2003. For a total of 75 years of protection. And then, of course, they lobbied AGAIN in 1998 to get the laws changed AGAIN to extend it to now a total of 95 years after publication. (Fun fact, the 1998 act, even back in the day, was jokingly called "The M1ckey M0use Protection Act" to make fun of it.)

The initial lobbying at least made Some sense on strictly a surface level. I can see why they made a case for copyright law being outdated, as prior to them first getting a new copyright law act passed (1976), that obviously means it hadn't been updated for 67 years. Especially notable considering how much had changed in those years. The one from 1909 was made with books in mind. I don't agree with it, but as I said, on a very high surface level, I can understand it.

But their true motives, keeping the mouse from entering the public domain, were very clear. So I feel this credit I could give them is null. Especially considering, as I already said, they would lobby again just 22 years later to extend it even further, because 75 years apparently wasn't enough for them. The only TRUE credit I can give them is that they weren't the only company pushing for this, they were just the main ones. But that is very very minimal credit at best.

Overall I think copyright is a stupid concept, other than the basic idea of preventing other people from saying they own the material or character. And I say this as an artist. But regardless of any opinions on copyright law, it's very clear that D1sney is acting purely on a capitalistic urge and fear.

[thekimspoblog]

Fantasy of the day is... it's hard to describe. "Slippin' Kimmy" is supposed to continue Breaking Bad's trend of hyperstylization, and because of that I do want to get more experimental with the visuals. I plan to watch more classic 70's horror to develop a cohesive aesthetic for the series.

So I have this scene in my head... the Church Playhouse is supposed to be a major location this season; we don't see any performances actually staged while Kim is working with Dawson, we are left to infer things based on the thespians' personalities when they're otherwise supporting the church. But everything about this story - Dawson, Mary, Peter, the universe as a whole - is pushing Kim to perform, to act, to make a difficult choice. Trolley problems are a major theme of this character arc. And because of that, I have this image in my head of Rhea stumbling perilously close to the edge of the stage and just barely managing to catch her balance on the precipice. This would be a wide-angle shot, everything except her would fade into the darkness, and the camera would dolly backwards at a whiplash speed - flying really - until Kim is just consumed/surrounded by this wider stage. Maybe eyes/lights/stars begin to freckle the darkness, right before the episode cuts to end credits.

@somethin-stupid-67

[txtjulian]

WELCOME TO…

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀★ minecraft.txt ★

view my worlds

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyeonjun ㅤㅤ soobin ㅤㅤ beomgyu ㅤㅤ julianㅤㅤ taehyun ㅤㅤ huening kai

play

loading …

let's go❕

ᝰ BASIC INFORMATIONS !

STAGE NAME : julian (줄리안)

BIRTH NAME : kang julian (강 줄리안)

KOREAN NAME : kang daehyun (강대현)

ENGLISH NAME : julian

NICKNAMES : jules, dae, hyunie

BIRTHDAY : august 3, 2001

ZODIAC SIGN : leo

BIRTH PLACE : vancouver, canada

NATIONALITY : canadian

ETHNICITY : korean

GENDER : male

PRONOUNS : he/him

SEXUALITY : bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : single

FAMILY : his parents, and grandparents from both sides

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : english (100%), korean (100%), japanese (64%)

ᝰ PHYSICAL !

HEIGHT : 179 cm (5'10’’)

BLOOD TYPE : AB

BODY MODIFICATION : total of two piercings, one on his left ear and one on his right

FACE CLAIM : na jaemin ( nct )

VOCAL CLAIM : mark lee ( nct )

RAP CLAIM : mark lee ( nct )

DANCE CLAIM : mark lee ( nct ) 

MBTI : esfp

MBTI TYPE : the esfp personality type is extraverted, sensing, feeling, and perceiving, which means they are energized by time with others, practical and detail oriented, motivated by their empathetic and compassionate instincts, and more likely to live in the moment rather than plan ahead

POSITIVE TRAITS : esfps are often described as warm, kind, and thoughtful, making them popular and well-liked by others. esfps enjoy meeting new people, but they also have a thirst for new experiences

NEGATIVE TRAITS : difficulty planning for the future, struggling to face interpersonal conflict, vulnerability to constructive criticism, becoming bored or uninterested in repetitive tasks

ᝰ STATICS !

DANCE : 9/10

VOCAL : 5/10

RAP : 10/10

STAGE PRESENCE : 10/10

VARIETY : 9.5/10

SONGWRITING : 8/10

ACTING : 1/10

ᝰ CAREER INFORMATIONS !

STAGE NAME : julian

AGENCY : hybe labels

GROUP : txt

DEBUT DATE : march 4, 2019

POSITION(S) : main rapper, main dancer, visual

INSTAGRAM : julesea ( 67 posts, 21.6 million followers, 3 following )

INDIVIDUAL FANDOM : aquaphiles

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI : 🌊

layout by @skzinka full credits to her ❤

[inglourious-imagines]

PROMPT LIST

Hello people! This is my own prompt list! Feel free to send requests! I’m really excited to do this haha

Also, this really took me some time to put it all together so please, if you reblog/use it/etc. give me credit. Thanks!

Update: If you have your own prompt that is not listed, quote or whatever else and you think it’s great, you can send it to me and we’ll see what comes out of it.

1. I fucking hate everyone. But you, you’re the only person I don’t hate.

2. And he looked at me, like there was something in me worth looking at. 

3. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.

4. I’m here. You can talk to me or not talk to me but I’m here.

5. Goddamn right you should be scared of me! 

6. And suddenly, life wasn’t about living. It was about surviving.

7. "-but you’ll die!“ "I don’t care." 

8. I said I’m fucking fine.

9. Don’t you touch her.

10. We sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning. 

11. Oh! The girl/boy I’ve heard so much about. 

12. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.

13. A cigarette for a thousand problems.

14. I could keep you save. They’re all afraid of me.

15. You look so proud standing there with a frown and a cigarette. 

16. Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.

17. His eyes had more darkness than any other eyes I had ever seen before.

18. You don’t know shit about what happened to me. 

19. This is who we are, a product of war.

20. Looking half a corpse and half a god.

21. I wanna see how you lose control.

22. I look at you and I just love you and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. 

23. "You can’t protect everyone.” “I have to try." 

24. He’s a badass with a good heart.

25. You are losing my interest, and that is very dangerous. 

26. In a fight, they’re lethal. Around each other, they melt. 

27. I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness.

28. You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you’ve comitted. 

29. With this smile, I can get away with everything. 

30. I was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend. 

31. Come over here and make me.

32. Oh my god! You’re in love with him!

33. Oh, do you ever shut up? 

34. Can you two please get a room? 

35. I have a name and it’s not sweetheart. 

36. If I ever see you anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me. 

37. Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy. 

38. Such dirty words from such a pretty little mouth. 

39. Kiss me. 

40. Are you flirting or starting a fight? 

41. You stay awake do you hear me?! Don’t you dare close your eyes! Please! Come on! 

42. Honestly, I only asked you for help because it’s so cute when you try.  

43. You’re standing a little close to me..

44. You’re evil. It’s hot. 

45. If you bite your lip one more time, I swear I’m going to do it for you. 

46. By the Gods! You love her, don’t you? 

47. It’s blood, not nuclear waste. Chill out. 

48. A knife? Are you flirting with me? 

49. "Hear me out.” “Why the fuck should i listen to you?" 

50. I’ve been wanting to kick your ass all week. 

51. Rumour has it, I make you nervous. 

52. Leave, leave right now.

53. Can you just fuck off already?

54. "I- I trusted you!” “Sweet naive girl, trust is for children. You are a soldier." 

55. Alcohol’s the only instant in my life.

56. You gotta stop saying things that make me want to kiss you. 

57. Please don’t do this. Don’t act like you care. 

58. Is everything supposed to go dark?

59. Why can’t you see what you’re doing to me. 

60. Fuck, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my whole life.

61. It’s 2 in the morning. Why are you still up?

62. I want an answer, goddammit! 

63. You make me want things I can’t have. 

64. Cut the crap and tell me what happened. 

65. Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.

66. It’s nice to see someone who can appreciate my humour.

67. We’re more than just friends and you know it. 

68. It’s pitch black in here and I can see you’re blushing.

69. Yes asshole, I do care about you.

70. They’re both stubborn and it’s complicated. 

71. For you, I would.

72. I like you more than I planned.

73. I need you, idiot.

74. Golden eyes and a smile made for war.

75. Take that, fuckers!

76. I licked it so it’s mine!

77. We’re in this together. 

78. Can I have this dance? 

79. Look, I know you’re a hardass but can you play with my hair? It would really help. 

80. No! Stay away from me! Stay back! 

81. Maybe if you actually stop staring at her and talk to her, you might have a chance. 

82. You have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.

83. I know that face. That’s your I’m-upset-with-you face. 

84. I think we’d make this a fair fight if we each had a gun. Don’t you think, boys? 

85. He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.

86. Dear Lord, please have mercy on my soul. This woman/man will be the death of me. 

87. There are other things than Germans that can kill you. 

88. What the hell? You are supposed to hate me!

89. Why do you like me?

90. "You’re annoying.” “You love me.”

91. Wanna go to hell together? 

92. I lack the vocabulary to describe you.

93. You make me feel… you make me feel.“ 

94. What the fuck…?

95. So that’s you, the girl/boy who destroyed armies. 

96. You’re my regret.

97. You better not die on me! 

98. Can you stop shouting at me?!

99. Why are you making this so damn hard? 

100. But that’s the problem, (name). I don’t think I’m able to stop loving him/her. Ever. 

! UPDATE !

101. There is no way you’re going anywhere with him, not on my watch.

102. “You know you’re in love with her right?” “Since when?” “Since always.” 

103. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do this.

104. I love you, I do, but you’re a real pain in the ass.

105. Is that my shirt?

106. Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.

107. I think I might be falling in love with you.

108. What are you talking about? You’re married!

109. I saw that. You just checked me out.

110. Quick, pretend you’re talking to me.

111. I just wanted to hear your voice.

112. That was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

113. No. The moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.

114. "It could be worse.” “You aren’t the one bleeding.” “Look, you’re still alive. Stop whining.”

115. Are you naked under that thing?

116. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

117. What the hell were you thinking?! 

18. You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?

119. Well, if I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret.

120. Is it weird that was a total turn on?

121. That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.

122. If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop.

123. What did you just say?

[laz-laz-ace-pilot]

I posted 54,649 times in 2022

That's 33,170 more posts than 2021!

295 posts created (1%)

54,354 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cantwearflipflops

@pinkys-plan

@sulevinen

@spacerocksarethebestrocks

@screaming-velociraptor

I tagged 4,941 of my posts in 2022

#andor spoilers - 1,089 posts

#andor - 969 posts

#tbobf spoilers - 228 posts

#writing reference - 136 posts

#reference - 107 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 95 posts

#personal - 76 posts

#in the shadow of his brothers - 67 posts

#star wars - 60 posts

#drawing reference - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#this has been followed by tory and rwandan propoganda. ‘we have no human rights violations. people are safe here’ no the fuck they aren’t??

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I'm sorry to every other action movie star, but you will never be as cool or sexy as Diego Luna dive jumping and shooting a Deathtrooper fascist while in that jacket. It's over, go congratulate Mr Luna on the way out.

674 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#4

Some Imperial somewhere: you're never going to believe who just organised a massive prison break

768 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

There are so many details in Andor that I could pour over forever, especially in the prison. The language used is so corporate and sanitised - 'minimally invasive enforcement techniques' to describe electrocuting someone to death, 'on programme/ off programme', 'hot floor' - all of it defangs the reality of what they're living with for the oppressors (and maybe for the inmates to increase productivity?) but must drive the inmates mad.

There's tiny moments too; the fact they showed one guard being late due to a 'problem in tech', establishing that the idea that its a well oiled machine is just a thin veneer. The desperation of the inmates to hear news about themselves from outside and getting nothing. The use of what looks like sign language to communicate across blocks. The comment about if two inmates are in the same cell they both get fried - that could be read as just to stop inmates conspiring together, but also implies that inmates can't seek romantic, sexual or even friendly companionship. There's a homophobic edge to it, and further reinstates the prisons control over happiness. Pleasure can only be achieved through productivity for the Empire, everything else is forbidden.

And that doesn't even go into the set design, the costumes, the filming, the acting! Or how those scenes are juxtaposed against the luxury of Mon Mothma's apartment.

This show guys!

1,023 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#2

I know people are seeing the post credit scene and lamenting that Cassian and Melshi were forced to build the very weapon that will kill them (which is true and I am definitely also 'people') but... it also confirmation that the prison escape directly impacted the development of the Death Star.

Like, we know that turning off the facility meant that Narkina 5 couldn't be fully operational for months, and the loss of 5000 prisoners who were all assembling large numbers of pieces a day... all of that had to hurt the production schedule, not to mention any further damage from Melshi or Cassian's testimonies reaching people inside and out of the prison system.

How long did it delay production? We don't know - it could have been weeks or months, or even just hours. But knowing how little time the Rebellion has once they learn of the Death Star's existence, and how the Empire was closing in, even before then - Jyn and team escape Jedha with the message and means to destroy the superweapon by literal seconds - I just feel like it counted.

The Death Star will one day kill both Cassian and Melshi, but they, and 5000 other men, also bought precious time for the Rebellion. Just enough time to get the plans off Scarif. Just enough time for some desert farmer boy to make the crucial shot.

2,580 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ISB and Luthen playing 4D chess against each other:

Ferrix:

3,009 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (October 18)

On October 18, Catholics and other Christians around the world will celebrate the feast of St. Luke, the physician and companion of St. Paul, whose gospel preserved the most extensive biography of Jesus Christ.

St. Luke wrote a greater volume of the New Testament than any other single author, including the earliest history of the Church.

Ancient traditions also acknowledge Luke as the founder of Christian iconography, making him a patron of artists, as well as doctors and other medical caregivers.

Luke came from the large metropolitan city of Antioch, a part of modern-day Turkey.

In Luke's lifetime, his native city emerged as an important center of early Christianity. During the future saint's early years, the city's port had already become a cultural center, renowned for arts and sciences.

Historians do not know whether Luke came to Christianity from Judaism or paganism, although there are strong suggestions that Luke was a gentile convert.

Educated as a physician in the Greek-speaking city, Luke was among the most cultured and cosmopolitan members of the early Church.

Scholars of archaeology and ancient literature have ranked him among the top historians of his time period, noting the outstanding Greek prose style and technical accuracy of his accounts of Christ's life and the apostles' missionary journeys.

Other students of biblical history have adduced from Luke's writings that he was the only evangelist to incorporate the personal testimony of the Blessed Virgin Mary, whose role in Christ's life emerges most clearly in his gospel.

Tradition credits him with painting several icons of Christ's mother. One of the sacred portraits ascribed to him – known by the title “Salvation of the Roman People” - survives to this day in the Basilica of St. Mary Major.

Some traditions hold that Luke became a direct disciple of Jesus before his ascension, while others hold that he became a believer only afterward.

After St. Paul's conversion, Luke accompanied him as his personal physician and, in effect, as a kind of biographer, since the journeys of Paul on which Luke accompanied him occupy a large portion of the Acts of the Apostles.

Luke probably wrote this text, the final narrative portion of the New Testament, in the city of Rome where the account ended.

Luke was also among the only companions of Paul who did not abandon him during his final imprisonment and death in Rome.

After the martyrdom of St. Paul in the year 67, St. Luke is said to have preached elsewhere throughout the Mediterranean and possibly died as a martyr.

However, even tradition is unclear on this point. Fittingly, the evangelist whose travels and erudition could have filled volumes, wrote just enough to proclaim the gospel and apostolic preaching to the world.

Patronage: artists, bachelors, bookbinders, brewers, butchers, doctors, glass makers, glassworkers, gold workers, goldsmiths, lacemakers, lace workers, notaries, painters, physicians, sculptors, stained glass workers, surgeons.