#ww: class war

[brbuttons]

Have some Turkentines. Because his face is really fun to draw.

[bunnyonacupcake]

Here, have some writing!

This is a little mini fic I wrote a while ago Class Wars, an AU @brbuttons has within the Factory Rejects verse.

Behold, a story about Miranda Mary Piker. Daughter of the Headmaster and her teachers biggest fan. Well, until she starts to visit Bills candy shop and he reminds her she’s only 12. She’s allowed to be a kid. This here fic handles the fallout.

——

All good things must come to an end. Miranda knows this, though, she’d foolishly and ignorantly hoped it wouldn’t end so soon. It’s Friday morning as she hurriedly sweeps water over her frizzed braids, slipping her Mary Janes on as she snatches her bag and scurries out the door. Her parents as always work early, so early as to leave little Miss Piker home alone in the mornings to get off to school on her own. Normally, she leaves early enough to prowl the hallways as their unofficial hall monitor. These past few weeks however, she’s been indulging in that extra half hour of sleep Bill encouraged her to take advantage of.

“You can’t burn the candle at both ends and expect it to last long,” He’d said sagely, setting down a peppermint stick on the counter and sliding it over to her. Miranda had scoffed and adjusted her glasses but silently took the peppermint stick. He had a point. Always did.

Miranda practically skips up the steps to the school doors, slipping inside and hurrying off down the semi crowded hallways towards the pristine classroom door neatly labeled 7S. Normally, she’s the first one in, standing near the door as some mock sentry, adjusting her glasses and crowing Pratt based propaganda.

Today, the only sentry is Pratt himself.

Miranda feels something wrong the minute she’s in front of him. His neutral resting face is usually something resembling smugness or casual disinterest. Today, he stands with arms crossed, glowering. Miranda grips the straps of her school bag tightly. “Good Morning Misther Pratt.” She says obediently, staring up at him. His glowering does not falter as he looks at her, does not break out into that fake, perfect smile he usually gives her. “Miss Piker.” He says simply. He generally only uses their names if they’re in trouble. Miranda gulps.

“Come inside. I fear we have some unfortunate news to discuss. Don’t we?” He says, stepping aside. The hair on the back of her arms stands to attention as she follows his instructions, trying desperately to think what she’s done wrong. She’s done plenty wrong, she knows that, but she’s been so careful. Her parents haven’t heard any news of her spending time outside of school, her grades haven’t slipped, she’s brushed her teeth twice after every night of sneaking sweets-

Every seat is full except for her usual spot in the middle of the front row. She steps towards her desk to set down her things but Pratt clicks his tongue. She knows his little quirks well and freezes in place. Slowly sets her backpack onto the floor. Slowly turns around as Pratt closes the door. He folds his hands behind his back and strolls over to the front of the room, tutting and shaking his head. “Miranda Mary Piker. Grade A student, top of the class… beating out Gabriel Carver for the final seat in class 7S by mere points. By all intents and purposes a picture perfect student. A winner.” He says, staring down at her. Miranda instinctively folds her hands obediently in front of her, now painfully aware of every wrinkle and stray hair in her appearance. 7S children are supposed to be pristine. Perfect. Pratt sniffs and reaches behind him to take up the infamous conductor's baton that rests on the chalkboard ledge. He looks out at the rest of the children, sitting obediently in their seats. His scowl turns to a smirk.

He slowly starts to tap a rhythm onto his palm with the baton.

“And yet… recent events have proven otherwise. I have reason to suspect you, Miss Piker, have been colluding with the enemy. With Turkentine.” He says and the accusation causes a gasp to ring out across the classroom. A flush starts to creep up Miranda’s neck. She opens her mouth to defend herself but is quickly silenced with a look, Pratt slapping the baton onto the desk with a quick ‘thwap’.

“Should anyone have come to me with this information, why, I would have found it preposterous,” He says, now turning to address the room, “Insanity! But I have seen, with my own eyes, Miranda Mary Piker at the sweet shop in town. Not only engaging with its owner and Turkentine but even eating candy.” He says, his emphasis on the last few words making it sound like a criminal offense. It might as well be one in Pratt's class.

“Miss Piker, you wouldn’t happen to remember what my first words were to you all as a class?”

Miranda didn’t cry. She never cried. But being humiliated in front of the class, stared at… She feels the back of her throat tightening up.

“Um. You are our god, our… Our leader and our savior.” She says slowly, trying to take a deep breath.

Pratt purses his lips and tilts his head, feigning confusion. “No, I don’t think that’s quite right. I believe I said… Messiah. I am your messiah. Can you say that, Miss Piker?”

Miranda’s face burns. “You… are our… Methhhiah.” She mumbles quietly. Her lisp turns the word into a jumble of ‘th’ and hard ‘s’ sounds. Pratt's face contorts into a wicked smile she’s used to seeing, but never aimed at her.

“What was that, child? Say it louder.”

“Mesthiah…”

“Louder.”

“Mesthhhiah.”

The room is silent except for her and Pratt, as she tries her best to look obediently up at him. Hold eye contact Miranda. Winners don’t cry.

Pratt sniffs disinterestedly and scans the classroom once again. The faces he sees must look sufficiently scared into submission because he turns to Miranda once again. “I must remind you child that in 7S, we are here to build winners. Winners are not born. Winning is achieved through hard, diligent work.” He says. He uses one finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

“Hands on the desk.”

The air feels like it’s sucked out of the room as every child gasps and holds their breath. Hands on the desk to receive a smack is standard punishment, especially in 7S. But not once, not ever, has it been Miranda.

“No- shir, please I can explain!” She tries but flinches as he snaps his head towards her, eyes glinting behind his frames.

“I won’t tell you again child. Hands. On. The desk.” He says. His voice is cold like steel and as Miranda approaches and tries not to shiver. She puts her hands on the desk, palms up. She wants to close her eyes and hide away from it all but she knows she’s to keep her eyes open and watch. So she does.

Pratt whips his conductors baton down onto her open palms, hard. Despite her best efforts, a whimper escapes her trembling lips even as she tries to calm herself. It stings like hell and will surely bruise she thinks to herself as he whips it down again. Then a third time. Tears sting her eyes but he pulls away and sets the baton back onto the chalkboards ledge. “To your seat, Piker. Let that be a reminder of what happens when you lose focus in 7S.” He says stiffly.

Miranda nods quickly, taking a shaky breath. “Yes shir. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, everyone, let’s open our arithmetic books to page-“

Class passes by torturously slow. Half of the class looks at her with smug looks and the other half regards her with pity. Miranda can’t tell which she hates more. When the bell rings for lunch Miranda knows the first thing she should do is study like usual. Get cracking on her homework, forget these notions of rest, disregard her newly found routine of going out to have lunch.. Yet her feet carry her as fast as she can to the now familiar facade of Bill’s candy shop where she shoulders open the door and stares at the kindly gentleman behind the counter. He turns with that soft familiar smile that turns to a face of concern as soon as he sees Miranda's distress. “Hey now,” He says with such genuine softness it brings tears to Miranda’s eyes, “What’s going on?”

It takes a lot of deep breaths, soothing words and a peppermint stick to finally get Miranda to talk. As she does the tall girl slumps in on herself and mumbles, tucking her hands under her arms to hide evidence of her supposed failures, her usual confidence gone. When she’s done she looks up at Bill again, tears shining behind her thick glasses. He stands before her covering his mouth with one hand with a look of horror and pity.

The bell rings behind her. Miranda tenses at the sudden noise while Bill relaxes at the sight of whoevers walks in. “Mr. Turkentine.” He breathes and closes his open hand into a fist, pressing it against his mouth. Miranda jerks up and nearly chokes on her candy. “I have to go.” She says quickly, slipping off her stool. “I can’t let anyone from class see me here again! I’m already in trouble and if my parents found out, oh god-” She starts to ramble. Scrambling to gather her bag, she pauses when Bill clears his throat. “Miranda.” He says carefully.

“Show him what’s happened.” Miranda swallows and turns to face Turkentine who stands at the doorway, face screwed up with confusion at the conversation he has clearly missed. She takes a breath then holds out her hands, palm up to reveal the thin and tender line of bruising. David moves closer, dropping his bag and kneeling to meet her height.

“Christ. What did you do to get this?” He mutters.

“That’s from Mr. Pratt. He did that as punishment for talking to you.” Bill says. His usually gentle voice has an edge of hardness to it. The idea of anyone hitting a child is despicable, let alone hitting a child as punishment for talking to another person. Turkentine blinks twice at her hands. Then he looks up at Miranda in disbelief. “He did this, for talking to me?” He asks.

Miranda nods silently. He looks to Bill behind the counter.

Turkentine clenches his jaw before standing and snatching his bag back up. He turns on his heel and marches for the door. “Wait! Where are you going?” Miranda cries, running after him.

He pauses with his hand on the handle as he turns to look at her.

“I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Twat.”

[softfem-dom]

IT OC

HONEY WILSON 🌷

𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚

𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒔𝒐𝒏

pronuns : she / her.

birthday : 15th april.

role in school : local sweetheart. a girls' girl.

popularity : not high, not low. average student.

friend group : unpresented in the movies. close friends with connor. best friends with gard jagermeyer.

character trait : is very sensitive (aka where her nickname came from). is very prone to get hurt (hits, cuts, scratches, falls, bumps, etc, etc..).

obsession / hyperfixation : she is completely obsessed over the war (first ww, second ww, and the vietnam war) due to intense trauma. Also completely obsessed over criminals and psychology, probably cuz shes a bit paranoid and wants to know how deranged minds work.

physical illness(es) : not any permament. prone to bruises, cuts, scratches and other minimal injuries.

RELATIONSHIPS W MAIN CHARACTERS

beverly marsh : acquaintances. share class. ben hasscom : they don't know each other. she just knows he's the new kid. richie tozier : acquaintances. she has saved him twice from bower's claws. stan uris : casual friends. they used to play togheter when they were kids. eddie kaspbrak : casual friends. their usual hang out spot is the nurse's office, they're always sick/hurt. mike hanlon : they don't know each other, but visually know each other. ,,

patrick hockstetter : creepy molester. bullies her (in a more light way idk). they just gravitate towards each other. fights with moose over her. henry bowers : friends (through connor n gard). neighbours. he mocks her constantly. prohibited the gang from bullying her hardcore since she is his baby cousin's and minion's friend. belch huggins : bullies her (by honking his car at her and scaring her). has actually been tutored by her. victor criss : coexists with her. they're not friends, not acquaintances, neither he bullies her.

,,

gard jagermeyer : best friends. possible romantic interest. neighbours. peter gordon : neutral friends. they know each other n stand each other. just not that emotionally close. moose sandler : aggressive molester. kinda just stalker-ish behaviour. he displays sexual interest in her. kind of a bully too. ,, connor bowers : very close friends. constantly seen hanging out together. ppl believe them to be a couple (which is obv not true).

@patricks-hockstetters-lighter

[expectopatronum18]

Unpopular opinion

Ron and/or Hermione should have died in the deathly hallows. And I say this as someone who loves these characters (probably Hermione more than Ron), but here me out

Now let's be fucking real, I really like ron, but he really wasn't skilled or prepared enough to fight in a war against voldemort, be it magically or mentally. And that's ok! He's still 17, he's not meant to be fighting a war. And to some degree he probably knew that the chances of him actually making it were pretty slim too. But he still stuck with Harry anyways coz there's no way he was going to let his best friend go through with this alone. Because that's who ron is, he'd rather die fighting beside his best friend, for his family, his muggleborn gf and for the cause than play it safe and hide.

Now coming to Hermione, things get a tad trickier here. Yes, she is very skilled and powerful and quick on her feet. But is she powerful enough to take on an army of adult DEs who've trained for years and have experience from the first wizarding war? To win against the darkest wizard who ever lived, who's said to be worse than Grindelwald, who's the most powerful wizard in the whole world after Dumbledore? No, I'd say she isn't. Because she's also fucking 17, she's not even done with school yet. But I think she'd live longer than Ron, or that there's a better chance of her making it out alive. But if she did die it would be extra heartbreaking coz a) Harry (and the readers) just lost 2 of the people who had been there from the very beginning, b) Hermione's parents would live on in Australia, not remembering that they had a daughter, not knowing that their daughter gave her life in hopes of saving her friend and creating a better world.

I majorly have 2 specific reasons for being this sadistic. The first one is the fact that the plot dumbs down it's main villain and his followers just to make the kids win. Voldemort (during Harry's time) is probably the dumbest villain ever written, he doesn't live up to his hype. People have already discussed how stupid his gof plan was. In ootp, during the DoM fight Lucius says that voldemort can't come get the prophecy himself coz the ministry is filled with ppl and he would risk revealing himself. But it's possible for 6 mostly dumb teenagers and an army of DEs, (who hv just escaped azkaban and are sought after by the ministry) to enter in undetected? Doesn't 👏 make 👏 any 👏 sense. The supposedly feared DEs who were trained by voldemort himself can't win against a group of teenagers. It's surprising how long it takes them to take the kids down in the DoM battle. The thing is though, this is out of character for ALL of them. It seems like they were dumbed down just so the MCs could make it out alive. Voldemort during the first WW started out as absolutely no one to having the highest class of the wizarding society obeying his every command. The whole wizarding world was so afraid of him that they wouldn't even say his name. The DEs picked out member after member of the original ootp, mostly coz they were outnumbered but also coz they're fucking death eaters. And ur telling me these guys can't fight kids? Pathetic. Also it doesn't make sense that most of the adults from the first war are dead but all the kids live. Like did the war become safer or sm shit? Instead i would have loved it if the trio got away with things in the first few books, but then realised what a war against voldemort actually means later on. But they won't back down, and they'll still stick with their friend and fight for each other and the cause anyways, and that vil have real, legitimate consequences

Now, the second reason is that it would have been an amazing but heartbreaking callback to book 1. Ron sacrifices himself in a game of chess and Hermione says that there are more important things than books and cleverness, like friendship and bravery. Ron's line of "It's you who has to go on Harry, I know it! Not me, not Hermione, you!" would have also come full circle. Back then they were still 11, so they could still get their happy ending. Now they're in a real war and the stakes are higher, but they'll stick to what they started anyways. Ron sacrifices himself so the other 2 can move forwards, Hermione's intelligence gets her further but she still needs to part with Harry. Harry needs to leave them behind and face voldemort alone because that's how it was always meant to be

And finally, it would have given us a more bittersweet ending to the series instead of that vanilla 'all is well' epilogue. Harry has lost almost every one he loved. But there's still life, there's still hope, and he lives by cherishing their memories and making their sacrifice have meaning. Kinda like the ending of the hunger games. Ik this is a kids book, but Harry Potter as a series is incredibly deep and deals with a lot of fucked up shit, so I think it could handle it if it was written well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[ketrindoll]

"Putin's War", they tell me. *smirks and rolls eyes*

This Putin is one hell of a guy, I gotta say. He's more impressive than Santa Claus who delivers presents to all the kids around the world in the dead of night before sunrise on Dec. 25.

In addition to being the president of Russia, Putin is also a foot soldier booby-trapping an empty home in occupied Ukraine, a fire controlman on a Kilo-class sub in the Black Sea launching Kalibr cruise missiles at Odessa's grain warehouses, a pilot of a Tupolev bomber launching a Kh-101 cruise missile from Russian airspace at the children's hospital in Kyiv, a "camp counselor" at a "summer camp" near Vladivostok for kidnapped Ukrainian kids, a smug civilian from the Russian hinterland who's moving in as a squatter into an evicted Ukrainian's apartment in Mariupol, and a military doctor harvesting organs from Ukrainian corpses.

When will enough Westerners wake the fuck up and tell it like it is that the invasion of Ukraine since February 20, 2014 has been the Russians' war instead of some one-man-show called "Putin's War™"?

It bears repeating:

● No one calls the German invasions of the rest of Europe in WW II "Hitler's War".

● No one calls the Japanese invasions of the rest of Asia in WWII "Hirohito's War" or "Tojo's War".

● No one calls the Russian invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 "Brezhnev's War"

● No one calls the American invasion of Iraq in 2003 "G.W. Bush's War".

● Even right now no one calls war in Palestine "Netanyahu's war"

Make it make sense how the Russian invasion of Ukraine since 2014 is "Putin's War"???

How come everyone else is collectively responsible, but not ruzzians who are committing horrible, incomprehensibly unhuman acts???

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR GENOCIDE

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR WAR CRIMES

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR THIS WAR AND ALL OTHER IMPERIALIST LAND-GRABS

[tyriq-edits]

In the Plain of Nysa (Trigun Greek Mythology AU)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Priest of the Twins' Cult

Lives pretty much in the Sanctuary of Nysa by himself but gets occasionally visited by other Members of the Cult, his younger brother Livio or people in need of the Twin Gods' Blessings.

A (Kinda?) normal Priest living in his tiny Sanctuary offside from Civilisation on a small Island in the Aegean sea called Nysa.

His Duties for the most Part consist of Prayers and Sacrifices for the Gods And keeping the Temple and Statue of the Twins clean and occasionally doing a Ritual on thr Request of the odd Visitor.

Did not expect one of the Gods he is serving to be dropped off at his Temple by the goddess Meryl and her Satyr companion Roberto and to be stuck Body-Guarding said God but oh well here he is.

May Or May Not Regret Giving Vash That Short Chiton.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

Also shout out to my best pal Stephan for teaching me how to draw.

Additional Ramblings about the lore and WW’s design under the cut

This is btw what a Penennular Fibula looked like and I only now noticed that WW is wearing it wrong in my drawing 🥲 The needle is supposed to rest on the Bow of the brooch and not in the opening in the middle.

Also this Fanfic takes place approximately around the time of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), however Penennular Fibula were primarily worn by either Celts and Romans. So as you can tell while I am trying my best with historical research and keeping things somewhat historically accurate, there are still creative liberties being taken for this AU.

As for why this AU and Wolfwood‘s Sanctuary are called "in the Plain of Nysa“: It‘s actually a reference to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, aka the most complete version of the Myth of Hades and Persephone we have. In this Hymn it says

In other words it was "in the Plain of Nysa“ in which Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. On a fun note, Nysa is actually not a real place anywhere in Greece. It was instead meant to symbolise "a place far away“ the same way we tend to say "in a kingdom far away“ when starting to tell a fairytale. However that did not stop some Ancient Greeks from guessing where Nysa might be located. Some thus point it to be situated somewhere in Macedon or today‘s Balkans, others claimed it was around the area of the Black Sea or…. That Nysa was on the Island Naxos. Which is why in early drafts the Sanctuary was meant to be located on Naxos itself but as I have never been to Naxos in my life it felt disrespectful to the actual people who live there so I just changed it to the Sanctuary of Nysa being on a lone non-existent Island near Naxos instead.

On a smaller note Nysa was also said to have been the Birthplace of Dionysos, with his name meaning "God of Nysa“. In other Stories however Nysa was the name of a mountain on which Dionysus had started his cult.

I am also taking some creative liberties with how Priesthood functioned in ancient Greece. Unlike how it works in Catholicism and other religions, Priests in ancient Greece were not a separate social class. Heck apart from a few Cults and sanctuaries, being a priest was not even seen as a main occupation of job for that reason. And a priest usually wasn‘t chosen by some council, but in many cases you just paid a certain amount of money to become a priest. They did not even have an official attire like catholic or shinto priests do nowadays. However they were still expected to dress somewhat formally compared to WW‘s Exomis, which is basically the ancient greek equivalent of a priest showing up in shorts, flip flops and an old Tshirt.

The Twins Cult in this AU is by the way HEAVILY based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, aka the Mystery Cult dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. I will some day make a post dedicated to them and priesthood in ancient Greece as a whole.

And yes I still fucking hate drawing feet and shoes.

[sonnyaavce]

“talk to me” x DP x DC au prompt

So the base is that one night a frantic call gets to the watchtower and the big seven plus some JLD members (Superman, GL, Aquaman, Flash, WW , Constantine, CM, MH and Batman) while they are still on a reunion they connect to the call; Batman pics it up and pulls it into speaker and the screen and they all hear what appears to be a jumble of police reports stating that there are eight youngsters being possessed by what appears to be a haunted hand that they used it in a party and that they need the help of any JL members to help these youngsters.

Everyone then, sees what appears to be a white clawed hand reaching out in a shake making everyone freaking out about how human-like the hand looks; Constantine sucks up a breath as he notices that CM is looking at the haunted hand in paled horror when they notice that not only them but MH can feel it reek death magic, a very high-class very dangerous death magic; Batman notices their raw expressions and ask CM and Constantine to clarify their weird reaction and if they seem to know something about the creepy hand.

Constantine then states that the hand might belong to something related to death magic and CM pipes in saying that he feels that the hand is kinda royalty-kind death magic, like the magic of Solomon but more deathly and then they clarify that although it's just a picture they are seeing at the moment; it does feel as if the hand is calling them out (soul to soul).

Superman then calls all the members of JLD (Zatanna, Deadman, Etrigan) get called and they start asking questions about what the hand might belong to until Boston tells them about the missing High King Phantom; telling them about that his body is missing and that the Infinite Realms are in an uproar and want war if the body of their king isn't returned.

—————-/——-/—————

And that's how far this plot epiphany works; if anyone want more lore about it, I'm sorry to say that's all I got :v

Edit: I had a pretty fk nightmare about it, so I wrote what I can remember

[forestdeath1]

💖: What is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series?

Thank you <3

I think, Slytherin should have been closed after the Second War. Even though I’m a Slytherin. But... wizards never learn, right?

And I think not everyone in Slytherin was rich, but it seems like a common HC that Slytherin = upper class = rich. I think their upper class isn’t about money and... in any society, a quarter of the population can’t be rich :D I don’t know what kind of magic such an economy could run on (except the magic of fanfics :D). Ofc, Rowling’s lazy worldbuilding caused these problems, but in my opinion, the issue in the WW isn’t about the rich and poor at all. Not everything revolves around money.

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic rec (mostly nc-17; minwon, jeongcheol, wonchan, verkwan + other)

MINWON

"kisses leave bruises". lawyer!au, omegaverse: beta!ww, alpha!mg. twoshot, 22k. nc-17.

Wonwoo finds himself giving into Mingyu's little spiels, finding his arguments for taking on unlikely lawsuits rather convincing. Though, he's never made a request that is so outrageous that it's made him reconsider the younger's position as a junior associate.

Until tonight.

"my greed just might be the end of me (how lovely you are)". college!au, roommates: fwb!au. oneshot, 27k. nc-17.

Wonwoo likes to think that he and Mingyu get along really well. But one day, Mingyu decides to stop talking to him. In a last desperate attempt to save their friendship, Wonwoo makes simultaneously the best and worst decision of his life.

↳ "fantasize". college!au, rommates: fwb!au. oneshot, 26k. nc-17.

Mingyu dreams about his roommate. It all goes downhill from there.

"kiss the sky". college!au: professor!ww, student!mg. 11 chapters, 68k. nc-17.

Halfway through the semester, Professor Jeon Wonwoo has to pick up an extra class. One of the students in the class happen to be post-graduate student, Kim Mingyu.

"amhrán na farraige". historical!au, pirate!au, merman!ww. 14 chapters, 160k. nc-17. ♡♡♡♡

Mistakes are like cannonballs, fired against a perfectly unmblemished mirror in slow motion. They obliterate peace and clarity, but the glass shards that fly around them are often more beautiful than what the mirror was before.

Someone has made a mistake, someone needs to fix it.

JEONGCHEOL

"my style, my ego". oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

jeonghan buys a skirt, and seungcheol really likes it.

"us alive, right here, feeling lucky". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 3k. pg-13.

Most noticeably, Seungcheol’s quiet in a way that makes Jeonghan's teeth ache. His gums feel sensitive just like the way they get a few days before his heat. Hm, he thinks, studying Seungcheol from across the room.

"undeniable". oneshot, 3k. pg-13.

“—and all but how can we not mention the moment Jeonghan hyung laid down on Seungcheol hyung’s lap.”

/or what happened after Follow Again concert in Seoul Day 2, where The moment happened.

"kingdom come". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh, historical!au. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

Four weeks after his husband dies, Jeonghan marries his husband’s brother. He loathes knowing that he has to swap his black mourning clothes for the wedding robes, but war looms over the kingdom and the country demands an heir.

"i thought that space was mine". 3 chapters, 25k. pg-13.

If Jeonghan was being completely, one hundred percent honest and transparent with himself, ever since they were young he had always thought Seungcheol was a little bit in love with him.

So when Seungcheol starts seeing someone, Jeonghan is suddenly faced with feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with.

WONCHAN

"strawberry tears". omegaverse: alpha!ww, omega!dn. oneshot, 8k. nc-17.

Chan applies scent blockers because it's what the doctors recommend. No one wants to smell a pregnant omega.

But then when it comes at the cost of Wonwoo's ability to navigate Chan's emotions—Chan falls apart, and Wonwoo holds him together.

"after class". college!au: professor!ww, student!dn. oneshot, 58k. nc-17. ♡

Chan signed up to be a TA for his favorite professor only to find that administration mixed up the paperwork. Now, he was stuck spending an academic year with the person he hated the most: Professor Jeon Wonwoo.

VERKWAN

"a cozy night in". omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. oneshot, 2k. pg-13.

When one (1) roommate asks Seungkwan to sleep elsewhere for the night, he must rely on one (1) Hansol Vernon Chwe's generosity as he migrates his evening plans (including a regular, ordinary nest).

"primadonna". au: camboy!sk, asmr artist!vn. oneshot, 60k. nc-17.

Seungkwan thinks Vernon is nothing but a two-faced asshole that plays the dedicated boyfriend on his OnlyFans, but in reality is nothing more than a playboy jerk. It's a bit ironic, really, considering Seungkwan's own hobby is completely at odds with his public reputation too.

SEOKSOON

"tiger inside". oneshot, 3.7k. nc-17.

He still isn't too sure how to explain it. Like, hey I know this was just a joke for our promotions, but I ended up buying that tiger suit you wanted to see me in, and I thought you might want me to fuck you in it, haha.

"fire, flame, your mouth like a hurricane". omegaverse: omega!hs, alpha!dk. nc-17.

Seokmin [7:00 PM]: Would you be mad if I said I dry humped your pillow?

OTHER

"place to land". seokhan. omegaverse: omega!jh, alpha!dk. oneshot, 6.6k. nc-17.

It’s natural. It’s simple, this thing they’ve built between themselves.

It's a line they don't cross.

"delayed". wonboo. omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!sk. 5 chapters, 22k. nc-17.

Wonwoo presents 8 years late.

"chasing or being chased". wonwoo/hoshi/woozi. alpha!ww, alpha!hs, omega!wz. 7 chapters, 35k. nc-17.

Wonwoo's luck in love hits an all-time low when he discovers his two unrelated crushes are not only taken, but taken by each other.

Luck has a funny way of coming back around, though.

"down to our delicate bones". junhao. hunger games!au. 19 chapters, 98k. nc-17.

There were only seven slips with Minghao’s name on them in the bowl with thousands of others. He only had seven slips. It shouldn’t have been him.

[spaceshipsoutthepool]

for thunderpride asks! 3 and 6 please :D

Thank you!

6. Recommend a favourite piece of queer media

Queer Eye is my go to feel good show.Taz balence and Amesty podcast. lots of gay podcasts actually. Roemary&Tyme + WW feels so gay coded they gets an honarary mention.

3. Introduce a queer OC to the fandom.

I dunno if that meant any or just t-birds/tag? any whoo its more a reintroduce- (from this post )

Meet: Alice Lie. 28 a wee dinky lesbian

more under the cut

pronouns she her experimently they them. nerd (affectionate)

Bit shy Very kind hearted but has awful luck follow her around. romantic. struggles with self confidence about her size (no thanks to gf Zara and her grandma). as well as not so much her gender as this "soft butch futch femme" identiy chrisis shes put her self in in her head. hard of hearing one side wears an aid sometimes.

British Chinese . i can't decide if shes adopted or not but whatever. one of her dad's is Chinese and very keen she grew up knowing and understanding her own histroy as well as everyone elses.

location: currently london. hoping to move a bit closer to the manor and out of city as currently is a tube and a bus ride

education: Perpetual student/Academic. many a uni and schooling including oxbridge, but mostly Lancaster and manchester.has two BA's and gunning for a masters or whatever idk.

eyes: brown hair: naturally Mousy / dirty blonde but does occasionally like to dye it /dip dye the ends pink. might give her a fringe actually.

fashion: cosy dark acedemic and spring colours. often mistken for libraioan school teacher kinda thing. but Penelope's influence and advice grows a bit more bold with pastels and hair stlyes.

Languges: English and Mandarin. some converational german french Bsl and japanese (some comes from her job? but shes takeing classes for all of the above. its a side hobbyoutside of history)

Job: all round Historian, art preservation keeperon toperof , tour guide, cataloger and newest out sourced secretary to the Creighton-Ward Manor on behalf of what ever 2060's equvlent national trust/british heritage is.

relationships:

zara. begining to think her girlfriend isn't the one.

Penelope. alice might have Massive Small crush on her lady ship. does find her find her easy to talk too tho and Penelope does geninuly enjoy hearing Alice info dump. Alice worries Penelope finds her shabby or boring; especially as Penelope seems to find any excuse to gift her clothes and accessories "thier not my size you have them oh this suits you better sort of thing" . No clue what spy secrets her sort of employer is actually hiding. (For now!) bit scared of Lil but lil does actually like her. does despair at alice's struggles cooking for herself that arnt quick meals despite her competence. Parker despite his innital aloofness and wariness of strangers in the house hold, finds Alice a god-send espeilly when he and her ladyship have 'errands' to run. he still calls her Miss Lie more then alice. he does not like some Alice's girlfriend just going off what alice has said. Alice knows her dads would worrie about her hanging around an ex-con so hasnt meantioned that bitthe size of FAB1 makes Alice nervous, would sooner get a lift to the station in Lil's/the garnders runaround, but parker is one of the best drivers she knows. Does get very wound up by some of the guff Parker spouts to the tourists tho and his habit of calling paintings pics and photos.

Wip Story: war on the roses

[henrykathman]

I have too many thoughts on The Great Gatsby (2013)

Music by Molly Noise (She/Her)

YouTube | Podcast | Patreon

This video sees me delving into the 2013 adaptation of The Great Gatsby directed by Baz Luhrmann; a film that many have regarded as a definitive version of F Scott Fitzgerald's original novel, while others regard it as a dubstep-laden imitation of the literary classic. Which one is it? Settle in and find out, old sport!

Work Cited:

Agur, Colin. "Negotiated Order: The Fourth Amendment, Telephone Surveillance, and Social Interactions, 1878–1968." Information & Culture 48.4 (2013): 419-447. https://conservancy.umn.edu/bitstream/handle/11299/182084/Agur%20-%20I%26C%20-%20Negotiated%20Order.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y 

“Baz to Make ‘Gatsby’ Choice.” The New York Post, Achived through the Wayback Machine, 10 Feb. 2011, archive.ph/20130111073735/www.nypost.com/p/pagesix/baz_to_make_gatsby_choice_I5ngKh4aqSwiEmZh6H0iKJ#selection-2097.0-2097.27.

Beaton, Kate. “Great Gatsbys.” Hark! A Vagrant, 10 May 2013, www.harkavagrant.com/?id=259-. Accessed 25 July 2023.

“Elvis (2022) and the Utter Mediocrity of Biopics.” Broey Deschanel, Youtube, 27 Sept. 2022, youtu.be/Fu96gDcrEeU. Accessed 25 July 2023.

Ferriss, S. (2018), Refashioning the Modern American Dream: The Great Gatsby, The Wolf of Wall Street, and American Hustle. J Am Cult, 41: 153-175. https://doi.org/10.1111/jacc.12869

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1925.

Kroenert, Tim. “Baz Luhrmann versus the God of Capitalism.” Eureka Street, vol. 23, no. 11, June 2013, pp. 25–26. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=a9h&AN=90006908&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Luhrmann, Baz, et al. The Great Gatsby Screenplay. 2013, stephenfollows.com/resource-docs/scripts/greatgatsby_sp.pdf.

MacLean, Tessa. "Preserving Utopia: Musical Style in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby." Literature/Film Quarterly 44.2 (2016): 120-131.

McGirr, Lisa. The war on alcohol: Prohibition and the rise of the American state. WW Norton & Company, 2015.

Miller, Alyssa. “Baz Luhrmann Really Is the ‘Stanley Kubrick of Confetti’ and This Is Why.” No Film School, 11 Nov. 2022, nofilmschool.com/baz-luhrmanns-editing-and-visual-style.

Noer, Michael. “No. 14 Gatsby, Jay.” Forbes, 13 Apr. 2010, www.forbes.com/2010/04/13/great-gatsby-bio-opinions-fictional-15-10-fitzgerald.html?sh=672907174535. Accessed 25 July 2023.

Piff, P. K., et al. “Higher Social Class Predicts Increased Unethical Behavior.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 109, no. 11, Feb. 2012, pp. 4086–91, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1118373109.

“Searching for Sugar Man (2012) - Full Cast and Crew.” The Internet Movie Database, Amazon, 2012, www.imdb.com/title/tt2125608/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cl_sm. Accessed 25 Aug. 2023.

Seitz, Matt Zoller. “Baz Luhrmann Is the Stanley Kubrick of Confetti.” Vulture, 9 Nov. 2022, www.vulture.com/2022/11/baz-luhrmann-knows-hes-the-stanley-kubrick-of-confetti.html.

Stewart, Jack. “The Cars of the Great Gatsby.” The Daily Drive | Consumer Guide®, 16 May 2013, blog.consumerguide.com/the-cars-of-the-great-gatsby/.

[brbuttons]

WW&tCF (ft. Matilda) - FR: Class War - 'Revolting'

'The children could only take so much pressure, so much discipline. And now, as they sang and tore up his classroom, Mr. Pratt could only stare to the horror at the front of the class: Miranda, his prize student, his teacher's pet, leading the charge from the heights of his desk... And bloody Turkentine below her, with the biggest shit-eating smirk he's ever seen.'

Okay, so some context under the cut:

a roleplay started with @bunnyonacupcake lead to a side-story post-factory (same verse as Factory Rejects) that follows Turkentine's class and its ongoing rivalry with the Class for Excellence. Said class is lead by Mr. Pratt, who is the most pretentious, deplorable, winning-obsessed man you'll ever meet. He's looks and sounds like Matt Berry if Matt Berry were a John Lennon kinnie, and holds his students to the highest standards that they've all become either snobby-nosed know-it-alls, or nervous wrecks.

One of those, is an AU of @bunnyonacupcake's Miranda Mary Piker. This little school-obsessed boffin is Pratt's parrot, watchdog, and star student. But over time, with influence from others (and some visits to Bill's shop), she eventually starts to see that maybe there's more to life than just studying and rules.

And so, I was listening to 'Revolting Children' from Matilda...

Thus came this little moment, when everything comes to a finalé.

[demospectator]

Captain Wesley Ko in front of his decorations for service with the 82nd Airborne Division during WW II. (Photograph courtesy of the Cape Cod Times).

Airborne Chinese American Warfighters on D-Day

On the occasion of the June 6 allied landings at Normandy in 1944, and every National Airborne Day on August 16, we honor three Chinese American veterans of the Second World War.

Glider Infantryman Wesley Ko

Wesley Ko served as a Captain in the 325th Glider Infantry of the 82nd Airborne Division in the European Theater (ETO), earning the Silver Star and numerous other medals including the Purple Heart.

Initially aspiring to be a pilot with the Flying Tigers, Wesley was working in a print shop in Philadelphia when the U.S. entered the war. Despite his employer offering him a draft deferment, he chose to enlist to join his friends. After completing officer candidate school at Fort Benning, Georgia, and overcoming initial delays in assignment possibly due to his Asian ancestry, he joined the 82nd Airborne and subsequently the 325th Glider Infantry Regiment.

During his thirty months of service, Ko fought in six major campaigns including action in Sicily, Naples, Normandy (the day after D-Day), the Battle of the Bulge, the Allied assault on the Siegfried Line, and the battle for Cologne. He was also present at the liberation of the Wöbbelin concentration camp at Ludwigslust.

Capt. Wesley Ko. Ko received the Silver Star for his service in the six major campaigns of the ETO and numerous other medals including the Purple Heart.

In his later years, Ko dedicated his time to preserving the legacy of the 325th Glider Infantry. He shared his experiences through interviews, articles, and books such as The Greatest Generation and his biography On Silent Wings of Courage. He also served as editor of The Glider Tow Line, a quarterly newsletter dedicated to the glider men's stories.

In addition to his military service, Ko co-owned and operated Komak, Inc., an electronics company, with his brother David for 45 years. He had a wide array of interests including computers, boating, fishing, family, poetry, and furniture re-finishing and building.

Ko passed away in E. Falmouth, Mass., on Dec. 15, 2012. He was 93.

Leon Yee: San Francisco Chinatown’s Own

On the night of June 5, 1944, private First Class Leon Yee had found his way onto a paratroop transport plane, flying toward the coast of France. Having grown up in San Francisco Chinatown, Yee had volunteered for the paratroopers in early 1942. He had been motivated by the $50 bonus in hazardous duty pay, which he needed to support his family. After completing jump school at Fort Benning and earning his wings in mid-1942, he trained as a demolition expert and member of H Company in the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division. According to Chinese American military historian, Montgomery Hom, Yee had concealed from his family how dangerous his duties were. “He tried to hide his combat status by telling his mother he was going to be working with planes,” Hom has written. “But in truth, he was going to be jumping out of planes as an airborne soldier.”

Leon Yee's jump boots, unit patches, and jump wings (from the collection of his nephew and documentarian, Montgomery Hom). The boots were designed initially in 1941 by William P. Yarborough, a test officer in the 501st Parachute Infantry Battalion/Provisional Parachute Group. They are also known as "Corcorans," after the J. F. Corcoran Shoe Company, one of their manufacturers.

At approximately 0200 on June 6, and as part of the then-largest airborne operation in human history, Yee hurled out of his plane, weighed down by more than 100 pounds of equipment, As he descended, he saw sporadic gunfire and small fires on the ground. He landed in a cow pasture northwest of the Merderet River, disoriented in the pitch-black night. under the cover of darkness. German anti-aircraft fire illuminated the sky, hitting some of the aircraft.

After landing without mishap and shedding his parachute harness, Yee took cover in a nearby ditch. He had no idea of his location, as his regiment had experienced the worst drop pattern of all the American airborne units, with only 20% of the paratroopers landing in their designated zones. Hours later, by 4 a.m., a helmetless sergeant from another company of the 82nd Airborne Division joined him. Together, they sat quietly in the ditch until dawn, trying to determine their location. They discovered they were north of their intended drop zone.

By daylight, Yee had joined other regrouped paratroopers regrouped to plant explosives to destroy enemy communication lines, and engage in firefights as elements the 82nd advanced over the next few days toward their main objective, about 5 miles from Utah Beach -- the marshes of the Merderet and Douve. The marshes formed a natural defensive line protecting the western end of the Allied amphibious landing zone. However, the flooded marshes also limited the Allies' potential to break out of the beachhead. They had been flooded to further impede movement. Allied planners deemed control of the bridges at Manoir de la Fière and Chef-du-Pont as vital.

Yee's ad hoc unit reached the La Fière area, and over the next five days attempted to seize causeways and bridges over the Merderet at La Fière and Chef-du-Pont and, further, destroy the highway bridge over the Douve River at Pont l'Abbé (now Étienville). The lightly-armed troops of the 82nd faced counterattacking Wehrmacht units supported by Panzer III and French tanks captured four years earlier.

Yee would see intense combat for five days. During an attack on a German machinegun position, he was severely wounded. A burst of gunfire had struck rocks in front of him, and a ricocheting fragment hit his right temple, just below his helmet. Bleeding profusely from his wound, he lost consciousness. Yee awoke on a cot in a landing craft headed back to England.

Paratrooper Kenneth Gong

On the eve of D-Day Kenneth Gong, a native Chinese American from the town of Cleveland in the Mississippi Delta, performed the first of his two combat jumps, with the 101st Airborne Division.

Sgt. Kenneth Gong of the 101st Airborne Division was a native of Cleveland, Mississippi.

Kenny Gong had earned the nickname “Machine Gun Gong” for his proficiency in firing the M3 submachine gun.

The M3 is an American-made, .45-caliber submachine gun adopted by the U.S. Army in late 1942, as the "United States Submachine Gun, Cal. .45, M3." The M3 was chambered for the same .45 ACP round fired by the Thompson submachine gun, but was cheaper to mass produce and lighter, at the expense of accuracy. Troops commonly referred to the firearm as the "Grease Gun" or "the Greaser" owing to its visual similarity to the mechanic's tool. The weapon is often attributed as the source of the WW II slang used by American soldiers in referring to enemy troops killed by this weapon, who were referred to as having been "greased."

T-4 Sergeant Gong was assigned to the headquarters command, 3rd battalion, 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. He saw combat in Normandy and Holland.

Sgt. Kenneth Gong of the 101st Airborne Division brandishing the M3 submachine gun, his handling of which would earn him respect from his comrades.

When US president Bill Clinton proclaimed October 26, 1998, Chinese Veterans of World War II Day, longtime Delta resident Kenny Gong was one of the White House honorees. His division’s motto remains “Rendezvous With Destiny.”

The Parachutist Badge, also commonly referred to as "Jump Wings," is a military badge of the United States Armed Forces. Some services, such as the Marine Corps, officially refer to it as an insignia instead of a badge. The original Army Parachutist Badge was designed in 1941 by Captain (later Lieutenant General) William P. Yarborough and approved by the Department of War in March of that year. The Parachutist Badge replaced the "Parachutist Patch" which had previously been worn as a large patch on the side of a paratrooper's garrison cap. (LTG Yarborough also designed the Senior and Master Parachutist Badges and the addition of stars to portray the number of combat jumps.) The airborne background trimming that is worn behind the badge of those assigned to airborne units is also a contribution of Yarborough.

On this 80th anniversary of the airborne landings in Normandy, let us honor not only the approximately 10 Chinese Americans who served with paratroop and glider units in the European Theater of Operations but all who answered the call to fight for their country during an era of exclusion and segregation.

They also served.

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

To read more about Chinese America's warfighters of that era from California, Montgomery Hom's book Fighting on all Fronts - Profiles of WWII Chinese Americans from the Golden State may be purchased here.

[babiejoshi]

Lead us to the Caves pls, I would like to slurp some Yiga Theory condensation off of the stalactites

i wanted to initially make a video about this but the way this is worded i know i MUST answer

take to mind this theory was built up almost exclusively on botw and NOT hw:aoc or totk but it also includes elements from games like oot/mm/ww/mc/tp and a few others here and there but dont worry about it, at its core its a botw thing

okay so the relationship between the sheikah and the hylain family is strange. like incredibly strange. like... racist strange. Just looking at it from the perspective of being an non-white american, the relationship between them gets worse and worse the more you look into it. A specific "race" or rather ethnic group of people is designated to work specifically FOR the royal family of hyrule, and its worded in ways that are insultingly so. "The only majorly accepted theology in this nation denotes an entire ethnic group of people to exclusively live and serve the family which by the way are also descendants of the main god of said religion" A group of people that just so happen to "enjoy" this servitude in any and all aspects that they are seen, constantly passing down traditions of generations of rules and expectations on to their children on how to train and protect and use even your best intelligence and technology, not for you, not for your lives or families but rather EXCLUSIVELY for the royal family. A family that consistently, over and over, fail and fall. Sometimes for uncontrollable means, other times its due to things like a war. But regardless of the reason, no matter what hyrule, despite having the god descendants themselves running the nation, it always falls into disrepair. which ok fine that happens... but if you look at other nations in the zelda universe while they will have conflicts (thats why theyre a part of the games to begin with) often sort that shit out, and we never hear about them again. (A, B, C) kind of like they learned from it or something.

Now hear me out for a sec because this is the actual theory and the stuff before is just kind of setting it up.

The sheikah are slaves, and the yiga clan are a group of individuals that rose against the people that oppressed them and had forced them into servitude but while doing so were painted as working for and outright supporting the uprising of ganon. The yiga do not attack regular people, the only ones that they ever seem to actually attack are

members of the royal family

link but only when he speaks to them

link AFTER beating master kohga or asserting alliance with the sheikah/the royal family

somebody who snuck into THEIR base (okay okay yeah they stole the thunderhelm first but like if you hear big dick is back in town what are you gonna do? just sit there and let them reinstill the one thing that you spent a century keeping successfully at bay? no youre gonna try and take away that power from them even if it means thievery.)

the shiekah like twice canonically (and really thats arguably only once because if it werent for dorian WHO WAS A YIGA it probably wouldnt have gone past stealing the heirloom.)

Now that seems like a lot, but is it really?

And the thing is... we know this isnt *that* crazy of a movement. For one, there are WAY more members of the yiga clan than there are of the sheikah, which implies that a mass amount of the sheikah race, and people who were mixed with the sheikah, were in fact fed up with being forced into slavery. >i.e. learning and training on a constant basis, exclusively to serve a kingdom that routinely takes advantage of peoples and forgets about them or throws them aside once their benefit is no longer necessary

For another, the idea of deliberately working to overthrow a political system and economic class that has kept your race specifically down from being seen as anything other than servants isn't really that farfetched. Not to mention using real world history we know that often times, groups that align themselves with the idea of gaining civil rights are often not only ridiculed and disrespected but also are painted in media as "bad guys". listen i know what im about to say is embarrassing, and its incredibly stupid to compare real world groups of activist to that of a villain organization in a childrens game but i mean we know that irl activist and civil rights groups, especially ones that often advocate for direct action, are typically portrayed in media and the world around us as terrorist organizations, whether or not they actually are. especially if the actions of said organizations or movements are valid. What I'm saying is... I dont think they actually give a fuck if ganon is in power. If anything it would make a lot of sense that they don't want anyone in power. But that doesn't read well, it doesnt fear monger. It makes the yiga but especially the sheikah the victims of generational violence, which the royal family WOULD DEFINITELY NOT WANT THE GENERAL PUBLIC OF HYRULE TO KNOW.

And why not? Well... Then whos the bad guy? Not the hyrulean family, not the same family that had a war with a neighboring nation made up almost entirely of women for decades where in which they tortured said women in a secret well in the middle of their godly given slave race's town that only specific people would have been able to navigate purposefully hiding what would have been war crimes all for a little bit of land. NOO NOT THEM.. THEY WOULD NEVER

Not only that but also,, the yiga are kind of, one of the only actually functioning societies left.

That's not even mentioning... The yiga don't outright hate the sheikah. like its even seen in how they speak to them. They clearly have ties to them, not only in their practices and knowledge but in general. Dorian is a great example of this, because yes he is currently no longer a member of the yiga it doesn't change the fact that he initially was, but even at the end of the day his race was still sheikah and that his wife, before her death, is also implied to have been a sheikah. it's not the sheikah themselves that they hate, that would be stupid. to hate your own race, your own kin. its ridiculous, but not nearly as ridiculous as laying down on your back and accepting that you (someone who just so happened to exist) must live exclusively as a servant, even if your master is away. It's not just selling yourself short, its selling your children and your ancestors equally as short. Saying deliberately that you are nothing purely because they say you are. Who wouldn't uprise from that? Don't you want to quit these patterns?

I really hate how they made the yiga in botw, actually i hate a lot of the weird race stuff they do in loz but particularly i hate how they butchered the sheikah and how they keep fucking them up. like.. i dunno man

It's just not fair...

[freudianslumber]

Tiger Man

Summary:  The year was 1941, bandmates and secret lovers Scotty Moore and Elvis Presley got caught red handed by Scotty’s fiancée, and this led to the young men being thrusted headlong into the China-Burma-India theater of World War II as members of the first American Volunteer Group (The Flying Tigers). 

Author’s Notes:  This is my second Elvis fan fic, a WW II AU.  Since I was born and raised in China until teenage years, I have a personal connection and fascination with this slice of history.  Notice since the time frame of this story is set in the 1940s, I’ve made adjustments to certain things such as Blue Moon Boys being a hillbilly band and not a rock n’ roll band, and all songs that appeared had to be from before 1941, etc.  Obviously, Elvis fans would also know that some happenings in Humes High mentioned here were really a composite of experiences of Elvis’ actual high school friends such as Red West and George Klein. 

Chapter 1. Caught in the Heat

Pairing: Scotty Moore x Elvis Presley (m/m)

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+, kissing, foreplay, light bondage, fingering

For a moment, Scotty felt he was on top of the world. The view beneath him was mesmerizing: A pair of half-lidded sapphire eyes looking up at him with unspoken desire, cherubic lips parting slightly in an invitation, luscious golden chestnut hair framing that uniquely handsome face.

Elvis Aron Presley, the owner of those ravishing features, gave him a small insecure smile followed by a meek and hesitant whisper: “S-Scotty? Do you still want me tonight?” This snapped the other young man out of his temporary catatonic state, his right hand reached down and gently caressed Elvis’ cheek, causing a hint of a blush there: “Sorry honey, I just had to make sure this was real, that was all. We’ve come a long way, I promise I’ll make you a man tonight.” With such a forthright declaration, Scotty took the initiative, lowered his upper body onto Elvis in a smooth and confident move, and covered the boy’s soft alluring lips with his mouth.

Scotty's mind rolled back to his last year at Humes High. As the popular class president, already skilled guitarist, envied by all the boys and pursued by all the girls, Scotty only noticed awkward freshman Presley at the school talent show for the first time. The desperately shy boy who moved from the small town of Tupelo Mississippi not long ago sang a soppy tune about a dog called “Old Shep”, while accompanying himself with rather laughable amateurish acoustic guitar. But somehow the freshman’s slightly trembling vocal struck a chord with an unsuspecting audience, and surely left an impression on one particular upperclassman. The voice was untrained and unrefined, but exuded a purity and raw emotion which were so rare and entirely captivating. Unsurprisingly the most lauded performance of that night came from Scotty and his well-rehearsed band The Starlite Wranglers, without a doubt the most technically proficient and experienced musical act Humes High had ever spawned. However, the much-celebrated senior found it impossible to erase the kid with the strange name from his mind ever since then.

Scotty’s thoughts were brought back to the present as a more grown-up version of Elvis let out a little whimper, arching back as the burning manhood within Scotty’s underwear rubbed against his own bulge through thin layers of cotton. Scotty growled, attacked the exposed delicate skin on that tempting neck with lips and plenty of teeth. In one swift move, Scotty grabbed both wrists of his younger partner and held them above his head. Met with little resistance, a smirk appeared on Scotty’s face as he casually reached for his tie in the pile of clothes on the nightstand. “Hold still!” Scotty commanded with authority to the squirming and panting mess beneath him. "Sorry, Scotty. S-Sorry, sir…” Elvis stopped squirming, bit his bottom lip nervously and tensed up all over, as if anticipating some type of reprimand. The guitarist’s dexterous fingers tied Elvis’ wrists together with ease and made a secure knot. “Baby are you ready?” Scotty’s icy blue eyes twinkled. Elvis’ cheeks grew even rosier, “yes, ready as I’ll ever be…” With that bashful affirmation, the one in charge made quick work of their briefs, sliding them off and tossing them aside. As he went on to spread open Elvis’ legs, Scotty added with a cocky flick of an eyebrow: “I bet none of them fangirls of yours would guess how you'll lose your virginity, huh?’’

In the years since Elvis had first broken into Scotty's realm of existence singing a mournful song about a dog at Humes talent show, many things changed, but some things did not. Elvis gained a few friends and some supporters at school through his musical talent, but at the same time attracted a number of haters. Some boys at school were clearly resentful of the amount of attention the awkward misfit seemed to be getting. One time they sabotaged his instrument, broke all the strings on Elvis’ beloved guitar which he brought to school every day. The graduating class president stepped in then and mended Elvis’ heart by gifting him with a set of even better guitar strings. Unfortunately, the bullying did not stop there. Elvis continued to be seen as an outsider, being mocked frequently about his clothes which he couldn’t afford to change very often due to poor family background, his acne scars, his self-styled hair, and his singing between classes. The bullies called him names such as “squirrel”, threw rotten tomatoes at him when he was playing on campus, finally culminating in one incident which Scotty walked in on. The group of delinquents cornered Elvis in the bathroom, roughed him up a bit and held him down by force, one of them waved a razor in hand menacingly and talked about teaching “Presley and his precious hair” a lesson and “shave it all off”. This plan was derailed when Scotty and his buddies intervened and scared away the punks. The freshman’s face turned red from shame and embarrassment from having to be rescued, tears sparkled in his eyes as he murmured “I owe you one” to Scotty before running away.

What Scotty did not know was that Elvis had been secretly idolizing him ever since he came to Humes. The popular senior was perfect in every way in the newcomer’s eyes. His effortless charm, good looks, confidence, poise, leadership and musicianship all made him so attractive but completely out of reach. Scotty was even kind to Elvis when many others shunned and derided him in school, which made the whole bathroom debacle feel that much more humiliating to the boy from Tupelo. Even prior to that, he already couldn’t help being self-conscious around Scotty, akin to how inadequate a newly joined boy scout would feel next to a Eagle Scout.

Soon however Elvis found that he didn’t need to worry about how he felt around Scotty anymore. Graduation came around and Scotty disappeared after that for five long years. The rumor around town was that the former class president did not go off to college as others had expected, instead he joined the Naval Academy and then the Navy Air Corps. As a naval aviator he followed his training with military tour of duty in the far east. Elvis’ mind wandered off to the sea and distant shores many a time along with his high-flying hero during the extended intervening years. Meanwhile, his biggest accomplishment was becoming the first member of his family to graduate from high school. Elvis got a job at Crown Electric as a truck driver while trying to audition for various local bands. He never gave up on his dream to make it as a singer despite disparaging words he had received.

Once again it was Scotty to the rescue. The accomplished pilot was back in town after he left active duty from the Navy and formed a hillbilly band right away without missing a beat. As a virtuoso guitar player with local renown Scotty would have been a hot draw on his own, but he was looking for a charismatic front man to complete the last piece of the puzzle. Elvis couldn’t believe it when Scotty picked him out of scores of contenders for the lead singer position. No one had ever given the high school grad so much encouragement and put so much confidence in his ability to carry a band vocally. The high-spirited combo that resulted became known as the Blue Moon Boys and almost an instant sensation on the Memphis music scene. Teenagers all around the region soon got words of the cool new act and began flocking to their gigs to see it for themselves. The Blue Moon Boys’ songs were starting to get radio plays despite the material being mostly covers of Hillbilly artists such as Bob Wills and Roy Acuff.

Although Elvis did not consider himself a good singer and attributed his recent popularity mostly to luck and Scotty, the guitarist knew this couldn’t be farther from the truth. As a more experienced musician and aspiring producer, Scotty saw great natural talent in his younger friend. The ability to take any song and spin it on its head and transform it into something new and unique, was an intangible that could not be taught or trained. The boy’s strength was in interpretation and performance, and despite his shy personality, on stage he was magnetic and exciting. Scotty did not realize how much he was smitten by the new lead singer until he inadvertently acted upset and jealous over Elvis’ flirty closeness with all his female fans. That was when Elvis broke down and confessed that he had been head over heels for Scotty ever since high school days.

“Please, Scotty! I need your loving!” Elvis begged as Scotty’s lubricated finger teased around his rim. He wanted to hold Scotty impossibly tight, but his hands were tied together above his head, so he had to wait for the other to move. Scotty’s left hand moved to pinch the young man’s nipple while he inserted his right index finger carefully and began exploring unknown territory. The gasps and moans that came out of Elvis’ mouth felt like they were tickling Scotty somewhere he couldn’t describe. The knowledge that his parents were out of town and they had the house all to themselves was certainly reassuring to Scotty. Over the preceding years, Elvis had matured into a strikingly attractive young fellow, with a gothic flavor derived from his mother Gladys. His face and figure filled out in all the right places, and gained more definition elsewhere, no doubt chiseled by the Lord himself. No wonder he drove all the girls hog wild, Scotty thought to himself as he marveled at the incredibly long eyelashes and soulful cerulean eyes at close range. He added a second finger down below as he captured the irresistibly delicious looking lips in front of him.

“Winfred Scott Moore!” A high and shrill voice pierced through the sensual and erotic atmosphere all of a sudden. The lovers’ bodies quivered in unison out of panic. Scotty quickly withdrew his fingers and turned his head back while his naked figure continued to cover the one beneath him. Only a few feet from them, a petite but voluptuous young woman with blonde bob was staring daggers at Scotty. “MaryAnn!” Scotty yelled in recognition, grabbing the nearest blanket to hide behind while he separated himself from Elvis. “I KNEW IT!” MaryAnn stomped her high-heels and shrieked, “you said you had rehearsal tonight and no time to see me, and here you are sinnin’ and screwin’ with your singer! Some rehearsal you have!!!” Scotty started to put on his clothes as fast as he could, trying to defuse the situation: “MaryAnn, don’t be mad, it’s not what you think, honey…” This was interrupted with another angry retort: “Don’t Honey me!! Winfred Scott, do you still remember your engagement? I swear I’ll tell your mama and daddy everything if you don’t break up with that slut boy right now!!” The angry blonde started to wipe tears from her eyes as Scotty had seen her do many times before when she wanted things her way.

MaryAnn and Scotty knew each other from a long way back. She was his senior prom date. The couple was unanimously crowned king and queen for that night. MaryAnn had always had her eyes set on marriage, with her ultimate goal in life being the title of Mrs. Moore. On the other hand, Scotty never took their relationship so seriously, thought of it as nothing more than casual school dating. He never felt a close connection or had common interests with the gal. Scotty also thought her personality was a little overbearing and over-dramatic. However, the blonde vixen never gave up and had successfully burrowed a space in Scotty’s life for herself. She visited enough times to get in good graces of Scotty’s parents and even his brothers, convinced everyone in the family that she was the natural choice for a life partner for the guitarist. At some point she was given the house key and MaryAnn started sauntering in and out of the house as if she was already part of the family. MaryAnn’s folks were more well-to-do, which would come in handy to help the struggling Moore family dry-cleaning business if the marriage went ahead according to plan. Scotty did not fight the engagement initially because quasi-arranged marriages like this was kind of common, and he did not find enough reasons to oppose the idea. Not being in love certainly was not a strong argument to bring up since that was never a big part of the consideration in these discussions.

However, this infatuation he was having with Elvis was making Scotty rethink things. What they had together was more than physical attraction. Their personalities complimented each other so well both professionally and romantically. Suddenly, the boring, predictable, but safe path of marrying MaryAnn seemed to be not good enough for Scotty anymore. The Presley boy was so sweet and beautiful, musically gifted and madly in love with him, at the same time he was from a dirt-poor family, lived in government housing projects, and was of the wrong gender to have a real future with him as a legitimate couple. These days Scotty’s brain was regularly filled with wild and foolish thoughts, for instance: If Elvis were a girl I would marry him in an instant; or wonder if Elvis and I could run off together and live happily ever after.

“I’ll leave.” Elvis’ eyes turned a little moist from unshed tears as Scotty untied his wrists. He slipped on his pants and threw on his shirt in quick succession, clenched his teeth in silence as he endured some more insults directed at him from his love rival. “I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you cast over Scotty boy, but it’s time for you to get out of his life altogether…” MaryAnn added triumphantly. This was interrupted by Scotty, who couldn’t believe what he heard: “Wait a minute, hold on right there! What do you mean get out of my life altogether? You ain’t saying you want Elvis out of the Blue Moon Boys, right??”

“Yeah, you heard right! I ain’t gonna tolerate the two of you hanging out under the cover of a band! I’ve had enough! I swear he’s the devil in disguise, and you were under his spell. I want nothin’ less than a clean break!!” The little blonde scowled and screamed unrelentingly, face turning red from all the exertion.

“Is that so?!” Scotty yelled back, jamming a fist into the nightstand, making a loud noise. “Well then, I’ve got news for you! I’m gonna get back into military action soon, this time as a volunteer fighter pilot to combat the Japanese. We will be deployed to the Far East by summer!! Elvis can join me if he wants! You’ve just helped me make the decision. If you think you can tie me down, woman, think again!”

This unexpected announcement shocked everyone else in the room. MaryAnn’s mouth was agape until she finally recovered and countered: “You gotta be mad, Scotty! Half of the world is at war, Eurasia is war-torn right now, and the U.S. is on the verge of entering the war directly against the Axis countries any day! Everyone is trying to get away from the armed forces, and you are volunteering to fight in Asia? Are you trying to get yourself killed??” She looked up at her fiancée incredulously, hoping against odds that he still had some common sense left in him.

Scotty sounded even more emboldened in his reply: “Maybe I am, MaryAnn. Or maybe I just wanna get outta this place and get away from your smothering old self!! If you got your eyes set on destroying my band, then there’s nothing left around this town to keep me attached here! I know how to be a soldier; I’ve done it for years. It’s a helluva simpler than being at your beck and call!!”

“Mama is probably gonna strangle me for saying this, but Scotty, I’ll go wherever you’re going.” The mostly silent young singer suddenly interjected. “You!!” MaryAnn pointed a finger at him and spewed out, “shut up, you white trash, go find someone else to sin with!” She then looked over to her fiancée, squeezed a few lines out threateningly in a last-ditch attempt to salvage her engagement: “Scotty listen, don’t make me play dirty. Forget all this happened and replace the singer, come back to me and I’ll let it slide. If you go off with that slut boy, then neither of you can ever come back to this town with your reputation intact ’cause I swear I'll air your dirty laundry all over the place!”

“No, you won’t! I’m glad you’re showing your true colors now before I fall into your trap! I’ve had enough of your conniving ways, now get out of my house or I’ll throw you out!!” Scotty shouted while taking a few steps forward. The blonde retreated at the sight of that, trembling with rage: “Winfred Scott, just you remember. You’ll regret this and crawl back to me one day. If you survive the war, that is.”

Those were the last words from the crossed young woman before she rushed out the door. The bandmates now looked at each other in a different light, both knowing they were making a huge decision that would completely change their lives.

Scotty started after a brief silence: “Elvis, I appreciate what you said. But you really don’t have to follow me into foreign battle zones during wartime. You’re an only child and your mama needs you at home and away from harm. I totally understand.” The young singer’s expressive eyes exuded concern and affection as he hurried to respond: “If it’s gonna be that dangerous, then I’d rather go with you than staying here and worrying days and nights about you.” He walked over and held Scotty’s hands, sat down on the couch next to his older partner, “Anyway my singing career would be over since MaryAnn will definitely drag our names through the mud and she does not even need to make things up. We’ll lose all our fans and won’t be able to get a gig anywhere. I don’t want to stay here and live the life of scorn and derision. Maybe if we get away and come back in a year or two, we'll get a chance of having a new start.”

Scotty looked into those innocent and hopeful eyes and his heart practically turned into mush. He leaned over and gave the young man a hug, “But honey, you are barely 20, you haven’t even reached the legal drinking age. Your Mama will never let you go!”

“Well, I’ve passed the voting age, so I’m already old enough to make my own decisions.” Elvis’ face turned sadder then, “as for Mama, I guess I’ll just have to confess everything to her and beg for her forgiveness. She loves me, so eventually she’ll look past everything and let me go.” Elvis tried to sound confident, but it did not quite come across as that. “I’ll leave all my savings to her and Daddy, also send them money while abroad. They will be proud of me when I come back from war.” Elvis spoke as if he was trying to convince himself about this idealistic scenario.

“Are you really sure, Elvis? You’ve never even been out of the South before.” Scotty felt like Elvis’ father now. “Yeah, that’s why I need to go out and see the world for myself. And you’ll teach me, right? Scotty?” Some eagerness and excitement started to replace apprehension and uncertainty in the young singer’s tone and demeanor. Scotty cupped the lovely, flushed cheeks in front of him and placed a soothing kiss on that smooth forehead. Pulling Elvis into a warm embrace, Scotty spoke reassuringly: “That’s right darlin’, I’ll show you everything I know and try my darnedest to keep you from harm, it’ll be us against the world from now on…”

[mechanicsandmagic]

German steam loco 23 058 in Würzburg. The class 23 locomototives were the most common of the five classes built after WW II, with 23 105 being the last ever steam locomotive to be built for the DB in 1959.

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Dampflokomotive 23 058 in Würzburg. Die Lokomotiven der Baureihe 23 waren die zahlenmäßig größte Gruppe der Nachkriegsdampflokomotiven. 23 105 war die letzte Dampflokomotive, die für die DB gebaut wurde.

📸 Mine