#i can't imagine anyone really seeing it as worth it to pay me for that

[front-facing-pokemon]

Now i know this blog is obviously for.. well. Front facing pokemon, but your tags are always super interesting. I think your opinions on pokemon are pretty neat

i've gotten a few asks like this so far, and it's always nice to see that folks aren't annoyed about how much i talk in the tags. i have lots of opinions on lots of things! and i like to talk a lot. the reason i started talking more in the tags is actually because of asks like this—folks saying they liked seeing what i had to say on particular pokémon has encouraged me to actually talk about my thoughts more (although if you regularly read my tags, i tend to get off-topic pretty quickly. i queue these up very early in the morning, as soon as i get up, and i'm usually a little delirious), especially compared to my first early posts on this blog which didn't even have any tags at all, beyond the names of the pokémon. you're one of the like 4 ffp-mod likers how's it feel

#not pkmn #ffp-mod? i dunno if i like how that sounds. i'm just like out here. i'm just like. a bitch. just like. a fucker that exists in the world #a pokémon just like the rest of you! right? #this also gives me an opportunity to say holy shit the blog hit 1000 followers? which is like nothing in the grand scheme of tumblr #when my man rodney realpokemon is out here with like 20k but that's a lot for *me*. that's way more folks than i'm used to #it's a good thing i'm not actually Making any content for this blog so i don't have to be worried about the output. it's just pokémon innit #if a pokémon looks bad it's nintendo's fault. not mine #anyway. thanks for sticking around‚ i s'pose—though it's not necessarily benefitting me very much‚ unless i turn on that “tips” button #but doesn't that just look so self-absorbed? haha yeah. my posts are good enough to deserve my followers giving me free money #some folks who are genuinely making content on here it's like. fine. but for me? someone who just posts pokémon staring at the screen? #i can't imagine anyone really seeing it as worth it to pay me for that #also holy shit i'm doing it again. the thing where i talk in the tags and make them a mile long. i'm cutting myself off here this is the en #clearly folks sending in asks is just my opportunity to continue talking more because i definitely always take the opportunity #to continue talking. and not stop talking. here i go again

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 18.2 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Sex. SO MUCH ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose. Dub con (sort of?). References to medical trauma, miscarriage, infertility. Blood. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 16.3k (LOLOLOLOLOL)

A/N: Y'ALL, I'M SO SORRY, it's a monstrosity. I couldn't help it. There was just so much to be said while still in E's POV, so that's how we ended up here, over 16k. But we finally learn Elvis' BIG SECRET and experience the mighty fallout from that in his eyes, so hopefully it's worth it. This is my Thanksgiving gift to all of you, but you may want to pace yourselves. I feel like I had to rip my heart out a little bit to really get in E's headspace. Prepare yourselves emotionally. That's all I will say.

A quick note about the pictures...the first is actually from when he bought Graceland in March 1957 and it just works PERFECTLY for the beginning. I couldn't resist the pics from Red West's wedding in 1961, even though I know the timeline and the people don't match but the VIBES, the VIBES my friends, are oh so Jack and Reader's wedding so I just had to include them. The one for 1960 was taken the night of the Rollerdome. *sob*

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY which is always evident but especially so when someone tried to steal PS last week and y'all went 'ride or die' for me instantly, without question, getting it taken down in record time. I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

(Elvis in March 1957, Graceland)

March 1957

Elvis parks in front of your house, his mind whirling with noise. He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, but as soon as he’d gotten off that train, he knew he needed something that he couldn’t get from any of the guys or even his mama. So, he finds himself unexpectedly here.

Turning off the car, he seeks any sort of relief from the heartache he feels. He’s been holding it all in since the train stop in New Orleans, the one that sent the world crumbling under his feet, destroying the pretty picture he’d had for the future. But all that is gone now and here he sits, hands tapping on the steering wheel with nervous energy.

He nods to himself, finally leaping out of the car, and then he saunters down the walkway to the front door. The chime of the doorbell can be heard through the door, and he listens carefully, grateful to hear light footsteps from beyond.

When you open the door, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time since the train pulled away in New Orleans. You look surprised to see him, those big eyes of yours widening the slightest before you speak.

“Elvis, you’re home?” you ask with a hint of confusion, but overall, you seem pleased at finding him on your doorstep.

“Just got in, baby,” he says, that boyish smile curving up. He gathers you up into a big bear hug and instantly feels better as he breathes in the unique scent of your shampoo and lingering perfume. A scent that feels like home.

“And you came right here?” you ask, brow furrowing when he pulls away. He notices that you look a bit worn around the edges, darker circles rimming your eyes as if you haven’t been sleeping well.

You’re right to be confused. Of course, he hadn’t planned to see you right away. He’d planned to sweep June off her feet in New Orleans, wanting to show her Graceland immediately, the home he’d thought they’d share together for the rest of their lives. But all that had been dashed as soon as she’d blurted out that she was engaged to another man. Engaged. His June.

“I want to show ya something,” he blurts out instead of saying any of this. “It’s a surprise! Will ya come?” Oh, god, you have to come, he thinks. His heart might shatter if you don’t, though he’s not exactly sure why. You’re not his—you and Jack have been dating for nearly a year—so it’s not as though if you don’t come that it really means anything. Yet, still he hopes. He needs this. He needs to share this moment with someone he cares about.

Despite the fatigue in your eyes, you nod quickly, and then as if you can’t leave the house fast enough, you grab your purse and coat and shut the door behind you without a word.

He smiles gratefully, and relieved, he grabs your hand and practically skips to the car. Once he has you tucked in safely, he runs around the front of the Cadillac, jumps in, and peels away. It’s not too far of a drive, and he yammers on about the last few months he’s been away, the words flying out of him. You nod and ask all the right questions, but he notices that you are pensive, quieter than usual.

His verbal diarrhea halts for long enough for his brain to take into account that you don’t seem your usual self, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

You look down at your hands and then out the window, as if contemplating if and how much to share, which makes him a little nervous. Your fingers twist in your lap.

“Honestly? It’s been a hard few weeks, E,” you finally say, still unable to meet his eyes. “My nana passed last Tuesday.”

He’s mortified that he’d just been going on and on about himself and here you were dealing with such a loss. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I know how close you two were,” he says remorsefully, reaching his hand over to clasp one of yours.

You shake your head, sniffling back tears. “It’s okay, you’ve been away. There was no way for you to know. And I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now, but that doesn’t really help all that much. I guess it still doesn’t seem real.”

He nods, because he can’t seem to think of anything to say that will make any of this better for you. “We can do this another time, baby, if you’re not feeling up to it,” he finally gets out.

“No, no. I need something to do instead of moping around the house. I’m worn from being sad and worrying about the rest of it. No, I’m glad you showed up, E. I can’t wait to see your surprise,” you add quickly, trying for a smile.

“The rest of it? What’re you so worried about, baby?” It’s obvious you don’t expect him to pick up on that because he sees the quick look of panic that flashes over your face at the question, so he’s quick to add, “I mean, you don’t hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna, but I can tell somethin’ else is weighin’ on ya.”

“You could say that,” you sigh, raising your eyes to the roof and back down again. The twisting fingers are back. “God knows I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s giving me these terrible headaches.” You pinch the bridge of your nose for respite. “I…well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you, Elvis, because it’s about Jack, and I really don’t want him to think I’m running around telling everyone our business.”

A warning rush rolls over him at this because he suddenly and very desperately wants to know what has happened with Jack, and that is a dangerous game for all kinds of reasons, many of which he’s not ready to admit to himself.

“I swear and cross my heart I won’t say a word, if you wanna tell me,” he says instead, a little too eagerly, so he quickly adds, “If it’ll help ya feel better and all.”

He forces himself to watch the road and not you, but he can practically hear your mind whirring.

“Oh, fine, but not a word out of you to anyone, Elvis Presley, I mean it. I know how bad you are with secrets,” you glare at him.

“I promise, I promise!” he concedes, crossing his heart. “I swear on my mama!”

“Well, in the midst of all this with Nana, I found out that Jack was dating other women a while back while we were going together. Apparently, I thought we were exclusive, but he didn’t, and well…” you trail off bitterly.

Elvis has to bite his tongue and bite it hard because somehow this wasn’t what he expected, and oh, lord, he knows too much for comfort.

Thankfully, you take this as him listening intently, because you continue, “I know I shouldn’t be too mad at him. I suppose it’s an honest mistake, seeing as maybe we didn’t communicate clearly enough about where we stood with each other. But it was so obvious to me, and I don’t understand how it wasn’t obvious to him. It’s not like I was going around with other guys all the time! I know it was months ago, but damn if it doesn’t really sting. Part of me feels like such an idiot, you know? What else don’t I know about him and what he’s doing? It just makes it hard to trust him, even though he was truthful about it when I asked.” He can sense the conflict in you, as your voice fills and shakes with the emotion of your held-back tears.

His heart is beating fast now, and all he is seemingly able to do is nod furiously, as if agreeing vehemently with all you are saying. The problem is that Elvis is complicit in all this and you have no idea. You have no idea that he was the one who pushed the showgirls onto Jack when he came to visit him in Vegas in November. You have no idea that “dating” didn’t have much to do with it at all. And now he feels altogether shitty for being the one to put Jack in that position in the first place. He’d managed to spread his own unfaithfulness and debauchery right on over to Jack, and now you are the one paying for it.

Shit.

Although, knowing Jack, it’s also possible that there was other dating happening, too. Either way, Elvis knows he’s got to tread real careful here and needs to keep his trap shut.

But Elvis can’t stand that hurt look in your eyes when he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you. He hates how angry and sad you look, the blue-black circles under your eyes conveying your distress.

And his emotions feel complicated, too complicated for comfort. He suddenly wonders if he didn’t present Jack with those temptations on purpose because there is a very deep and selfish part of him that desperately wants you to kick Jack to the curb for this, and that terrible, selfish part of him wants you to finally see Elvis in the same way he sees you.

Maybe there’s a reason that things didn’t work out with June, that voice pokes at him hopefully.

Stop that shit right now.

All this is playing through his head and leaving him outwardly silent. He realizes he has to say something, anything, because you are waiting for him to do so.

“I-I’m sorry that happened, ‘specially finding out at the same time as all this with your Nana. W-What are you gonna do about Jack?” he says, trying not to gulp.

He watches your eyes narrow and then he quickly looks back at the road. He can feel you shift in your seat.

“I…well, right now, I wanna pummel his brains out, so I told him I need some space to figure out what I want to do. I just—I thought we…” you trail off dismally. “I don’t want to go through this again,” you add quietly.

Elvis knows you are talking about Ted. Stupid Teddy who stepped out and got Judy Cole knocked up and then left you brokenhearted in his wake. It still pisses him off, even though he knows he’s got no right to judge Ted, not now, not after all the foolin’ around he’s done.

But when it comes to you, he can’t help but be protective. It’s in his bones, the way he wants to take care of you. In fact, he wouldn’t mind punching Jack in the face right about now for hurting you like this. And he’s even more pissed at himself for his part in it all.

Elvis just wants you to be happy and to be with a man who deserves you, and deep down, he doesn’t know if that man is Jack, even though he loves Jack like a brother. But the real problem is he’s not sure if he thinks any man will ever be good enough for you.

But his brain is wary to dwell on the meaning of that, wanting to avoid anything else that feels uncomfortable, so instead, he lets the excitement of showing you his new home overshadow any other unwanted feelings he might be experiencing.

“Okay, baby, we’re almost there, so close your eyes,” he says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, before pulling up the long drive.

“Alright, Elvis, this better be a big surprise with how hyped up you are,” you chuckle, letting the mood turn by doing as you are told.

“The biggest,” he breathes, sliding to a stop in front of the Colonial mansion. “Don’t open your eyes yet! I’ll come around!”

You wait until you hear the car door open and feel his hand take yours. He gently brings you out of the car to standing, an excited energy vibrating through him.

“Okay, darlin’, open!” he drawls dramatically.

You do, blinking out the early Spring sunlight. He watches your face light up as you take in the architecture.

“Oh my god, Elvis, it’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, baby, it’ll be all mine very soon. And for Mama and Daddy, of course,” he adds hastily, as if you’d thought he’d abandon his parents.

“Of course,” you smile, looking at him with those pretty, though tired, eyes of yours. “Can we go inside?” you ask.

All he can do is nod excitedly. Elvis takes your hand, pulling you up the steps and past the huge white columns on either side. He can’t unlock the door fast enough, the keys rattling and shaking in his hands. Once inside, he pulls you through the house, mouth running a mile a minute about what he wants to do in each room, how he wants it to look.

Finally, you make it to the top level, the last room. “This is gonna be my bedroom,” he rambles on. “I’m gonna get the biggest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, made special.”

You gently pull your hand out of his, and he watches as you take a small pill bottle out of your purse and pop two of the pills before downing them dry. Aspirin, probably, for the headache you were talking about in the car.

“E, stop a minute,” you say. “This is all amazingly wonderful and beautiful, and I am so excited for you, but…well, what exactly am I doing here?” You look at him with curious and concerned eyes.

“I…uh…I…,” he stammers, unsure of what to say or how to say it, as it’s all been spinning inside for hours and hours. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes. He certainly doesn’t want to put any of his stuff onto you, not now, not after what you told him earlier. His hands fall to his sides, and he shakes them, wiggling his fingers like he does to come down after a show. It doesn’t help. There’s just too much emotion rolling through him all the sudden.

You step to him, first putting your hands on his shoulders, then you run them gently down his arms before grabbing his flailing hands, absorbing some of that wild energy. The feeling still manages to send little electric shocks through him, even after all this time. Only then does he finally still and dare to look at you.

“E, what’s wrong? You let me talk earlier, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you ask, your eyes searching his, open and concerned. He should’ve known you’d see right through him. Maybe that’s why you’re here, because he knew you’d understand, that you’d be able to tell he wasn’t okay when no one else cared to.

It takes a moment for him to gather his words as his emotions get in the way. Emotions he stoically hid from the guys the rest of the way to Memphis. Emotions he pushed down when he saw his mama because he just couldn’t bear to break her heart yet with the news. God, he’s spent so much time recently learning how to hide everything real about himself in order to become the man everyone wants him to be. But here, now, with you, it all begins to overflow.

“I-I-I told June to meet me in New Orleans. I-I w-w-was gonna bring her back here, to show her w-what I-I wanted to buy…for us,” he says, bouncing on his toes, tears welling and clouding his vision. He hates how it’s tearing him in two to say this.

You squeeze his hands, urging him to continue, and for you, he does.

“But when I-I got there, she was acting so strange. There w-wasn’t much time and, uh, she told me she’s engaged to someone else.” He blinks and the tears run over, finally spilling down his cheeks. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it feel all too real. His chest aches with betrayal, with loss.

You look at him with such care, though you do not look shocked at this news.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, E. I know you how much you loved her,” you say, squeezing his hands again gently.

‘Loved.’ As in past tense.

“Did you know?” he asks suddenly, stepping back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

You take a conscious deep breath. “No, I didn’t. But she did call me a few times wondering where you were, if you were okay. She said she hadn’t heard from you in months…” you say awkwardly, petering off.

“Aw, shit,” he curses, running a hand through his greased hair. A wave of anger rolls through him, burning him from the inside, but as much as he wants to put it on June and her spiteful engagement, he knows the anger is mostly towards himself. He fucked up. He fucked around. And he’d expected June to just sit back and wait for him while he did it. He didn’t even make the time to call her.

And you know what he’s done. He can see it on your face. He looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

You don’t speak. You don’t lay into him or tell him he’s an asshole, although it might be better if you did. God knows he’s already thinking it. You just look at him with sadness and understanding and forgiveness, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

With that ache in his heart, he finally realizes that he couldn’t have loved June the way he said he did and then leave her hanging like that. But he did love her…at least, he had. They’d had such a beautiful summer together and he was sure he wanted to marry her, once his fame was settled. Three years, he’d told her.

Shit, I didn’t even make it six months, he thinks absently.

And then everything changed almost overnight. His fame exploded. There was Hollywood, then Vegas. And the girls, good god, there were so many beautiful girls who wanted him, needed him, who threw themselves at him. He’d been weak. He hated being alone. He couldn’t help it. It was just sex, he’d told himself, just a way to blow off steam as his world became smaller and smaller and nearly suffocated him. A thousand excuses run through his head, but in the end, it was his choice not to pick up the phone. It was his choice to screw around, to live this life.

It’s no wonder that June moved on, he thinks. I’m a first-rate asshole.

“Y/n, I messed it all up,” Elvis finally chokes out. The sob fully breaks the dam holding him together, the pressures of his fame and the realization hitting him like a truck: he is never going to be able to have that normal life with a wife and kids he’d once dreamed of. His knees buckle under the weight of all of it—his decisions, both good and bad, the fame he doesn’t know what to do with, the unexpected consequences of this privileged but isolating life he’s chosen.

He sinks to his knees, defeated, on the carpet of his future bedroom, the one he’ll probably never share with someone who loves him for who he truly is. Because he isn’t just Elvis Aron Presley anymore—he is “Elvis Presley,” the celebrity, the commodity, the fantasy.

While he relishes in the luxuries of it all, in being able to provide the life his family deserves, a small part of him cannot help but feel like he’s made a deal with the devil. That this talent he has been blessed with will also be the thing that damns him. He is overcome by the feeling that he’ll never know ever again if he is loved for who he really is, or if it is his fame and his image they love. And there is something about that that crushes his soul.

But he can’t say all this to you because it sounds dramatic and indulgent, and he knows there are very few people in this world who’d actually understand.  This is his cross to bear.

And yet you still comfort him. You are still here. “Oh, hon, I know. It’s okay, I know,” you say, kneeling down with him.

In the midst of all he’s achieved and gained these past few years, June is the representation of all that he stands to lose, all that he’s already lost. “She was my last chance, y/n. I’m never gonna be able to trust that a woman loves me for me and not for my fame after this. And I screwed it all up,” he says quietly, tears running freely. “I just feel so fucking alone.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Elvis, it’s not,” you say, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll find her, I know you will. And you have so many people who love you for just being you, not for the fancy cars or the mansion or the fame. You’ve got your family, you’ve got Jack and your true friends. And you’ve got me.”

The way you say it, so softly, yet so matter-of-fact hits him hard, so hard that his heart stops beating for a moment. If he wasn’t already kneeling, the honest way your tired yet beautiful eyes search his face might knock him right off his feet.

It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, he thinks suddenly. This is the feeling he was avoiding in the car. The feeling he’s been avoiding since he watched Jack kiss your cheek in the diner a year ago.

It takes his breath away. You take his breath away, you always have. He’s been enamored with you since you plowed into him all those years ago in the hallway at Humes High.

Suddenly, June is all but forgotten because you reach up, cupping his face in your cold little hands and wipe a tear off his cheek. He cannot help the way his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of the pad of your thumb dragging softly across his face. His breathing, rapid from his cries is now labored for another reason entirely.

Opening his eyes slowly, he shouldn’t be shocked to see tears in yours, your grief and sorrow, not only for yourself, but for him, too, welling there, as if you are connected to him. In fact, Elvis feels like his brain is short-circuiting because you are too damn close and the tension in the room is suddenly so thick, he feels like he might suffocate.  

Every cell in his body feels on fire as you lean in closer and closer until your lips press against his forehead. You’ve never kissed him, not once in all these years, and this alone sends heat rushing through his young body. Then when you kiss his nose, and then one tear-stained cheek, he holds his breath, feeling like he might die from this chaste sensation.

Warning bells explode in his brain because suddenly he wants you more than anything in this world, always has. And now you are so close. This is Jack’s girl, he thinks, and she’s my dear friend. Don’t be an idiot.

But when you lean in to kiss his other cheek, you place your lips alarmingly close to his, his tears wet underneath your soft lips, and his body is on high alert as only a twenty-two-year-old’s could be. His heart flutters as you pull back just enough to look deeply into his eyes, tears shining in your own, and then you lean in once more.

This can’t be happening. This should not be happening, his mind screams, but then your lips are grazing his and all rational thought ceases to exist.

You taste so sweet.

Heat blooms through the ache in his chest, and in his disbelief, he freezes. Part of him wants to devour you whole, but he is terrified that if he moves, he might spook you and he cannot bear that.

His confusion is overridden when your hands, shaking but demanding, pull him closer. Your lips are soft and sure, and he cannot help but be swept away by them. He’s kissed so many girls, too many to count, all over the country, but not one has ever made him feel like this, like his heart is going to leap out of his damn chest.

But this is a betrayal of a monumental kind, for both of you. While he is no stranger to betrayal, he does not want this for you. As much as he wants you with every fiber of his being, he does not want to be the source of your regret or heartache. He’s already done enough in that regard already, though you don’t know it. Mustering up every ounce of his self-control, Elvis pulls out of your kiss.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this. I’m no good for you this way,” Elvis says in a hushed tone, his forehead resting against yours. “I-I can’t have you regretting me, I-I-I couldn’t bear it.”

You lean back the slightest bit, and he thinks you might be listening, reconsidering, making him feel mostly dismay but also a little relief. What he does not expect is for you to press your little pointer finger up against his lips, hushing him, as you stare into his eyes. It’s as though your soul is as weary and needy as his and it feels as though you see him, truly see him, which is a new feeling for him. This sends a welcoming shiver down his spine, and he knows that despite every scrap of logic and propriety he is trying to lean on, with you he is powerless.

When your finger drags down his lips, catching on the bottom one, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Yet still he resists (even though he wants more than anything to see where this is going), thinking you might realize your mistake, and this will all be over in an embarrassed, yet still salvageable, flash.

Instead, you very deliberately scoot closer, your knees bumping his on the carpet. You lean in again, your lips grazing his again with a yearning he cannot help but return in kind. It’s barely a kiss, but the intent is there and when you pull up, effectively opening your mouth to him, the way he can feel your warm breath mingling with his own has him struggling to control himself.

You are testing him, testing the waters, hesitant but somehow insistent at the same time. His long lashes flutter closed when your fingers brush his jaw then rake into his perfectly styled hair. But it’s when the tip of your tongue touches his, sending a hot shockwave through him, that he can stand it no longer and closes the gap between your mouths with a longing sigh.

Pressing his pliant lips to your yielding ones, he rolls his tongue softly but firmly against yours, earning him a quiet moan from you. This is like fuel on the fire, finally spurring him into action, and his hands fly to the back of your head, pulling you closer.

If there is one thing besides music that Elvis excels at and loves to do, it’s kissing. He plays with it the same way he plays a crowd, listening to you and adjusting his performance as necessary. The buzzy way it makes him feel, like every nerve is magnetic, is one of the only things in this world that is anything like how it feels for him to perform for an audience. He loves the way it makes him feel.

But kissing you is unlike anything Elvis has experienced before. It’s as though you are tuned to the exact same frequency, finding his rhythm immediately, adapting easily. The usual fumbling of people getting acquainted in this way does not seem to apply to the two of you, the ebb and flow so natural it’s as though you had done this with each other many times before.

But the passion of it stokes a fire that has been denied a long time. Intense heat crashes over him, sending tendrils of warmth through his limbs and deep into his belly. He drinks you in as deep as he can without being desperate, and oh how close he is to being desperate for you. His grief over June melts away the more he tastes you, and he wonders how he ever lived before having the taste of your lips on his.

It's all very dramatic and romantic, which he is both at heart. From just a few kisses, he suddenly knows that if he could kiss you and only you for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man indeed. This surprises him.

But what truly shocks him is when you lean so far into him that it pushes him over, his knees screaming a little, and he falls back into the wall with a thump. He scrambles backwards, maneuvering his long legs into a more comfortable seated position while you don’t even miss a beat or attempt to come up for air. And when you crawl into his lap, hoisting the flowing fabric of your dress up just enough so your warm, bare thighs are straddling his, his heart actually flies right out of his goddamned chest.

Speaking of which, you are currently running your hands down his, pulling his silky shirt up enough to dance your fingertips over his stomach. His breath hitches then hisses at that, his arms involuntarily encompassing you, large hands splaying across your back to draw you ever nearer.

And you go willingly, inching up his lap until you are straddling his hips. When you grind down into his lap, he thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven, his blue eyes rolling back into his head with a low moan.

He'll admit he’s dreamed of this, fantasized about this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of the way you are making him feel. A trickle of attraction that began six years ago is now a roaring river, and is so, so much more than anything he’s felt before with anyone else.

He doesn’t understand it. He loves women. He always falls in love too fast, enjoying the rapid descent into the madness of it all. There have only been a few that he feels were true, though every girl he’s with, he loves in his own way.

But you are not like any of them, not at all. With you, it has been slow, so gradual sometimes that he didn’t even realize it. A teenage crush turned into friendship, and within that has blossomed a love that he didn’t know he was capable of. It is not until this very instant that he realizes it truly for what it has become. He doesn’t just care for you. He loves you.

He is in love with you.

Fuck.

Realizing this as your hips begin to rock steadily over his crotch is not the best timing. He’s as hard as a rock, fighting both the swell of his physical need for you while wrestling with the emotional needs he’s quickly realizing at the same time.

If he didn’t love you, he might not care if this is just a quick fuck between friends, but he does care. And he’s worried about where this is coming from, likely your overall grief and your anger at Jack. No, he doesn’t like the messiness of that at all.

But another grind of your pelvis into his, coupled with your tongue down his throat has the physical quickly taking over any and all rational thought. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. And he desperately wants to give you what you need, which based on the mewls escaping your lips, is a physical release, a connection.

God, he can feel the wet heat of your cunt now through your panties and his pants as you slide over his length, back and forth, again and again. He clings to you as your hands wind through his hair, burying his head in your neck, his lips taking in as much of your skin as he can. He revels in the scent of you, your perfume and your irresistible musk that is permeating the room. He is positively dizzy with it.

You are frantic in his lap now, chasing something he’s not entirely sure you’ve ever had. He knows about Ted, but he highly doubts Ted knew what to do with you. And with Jack, well, he’s not sure how far the two of you have gone, but he can only guess based on Jack’s recent actions and your desperation for no one to know that Ted had popped your cherry that you’ve been trying to be good and pure and wait.

But as you reach for his belt, pawing at him, for the first time in this whole event, he gets the distinct impression that you’re not sure what to do next, only that you are needy for something. And goddamn him, he is willing to give you what you need, but only if you really understand what it is you’re asking for.

“Wait, baby, just…wait,” Elvis pants, stilling your hips with one hand while grabbing the hand at his belt with the other. You whimper a little at the interruption, rolling your hips for emphasis, but despite the groan he can’t help, he’s having none of that.

“Baby, I need to know that you really want this,” he says, brushing your hair off your deliciously pink cheeks, your lips swollen from his kisses. He looks into your eyes, almost getting lost in them and forgetting what he set out to do. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and then add, “Elvis, please,” in a begging tone that sets him completely aflame.

“Oh, damn, okay, baby, okay,” he breathes, barely able to contain himself with that. He’s only human, after all. He races to help you with his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his legs in record time, his erection springing free, precum already glistening the tip. You lift up on your knees, you move your panties aside, and touching the silky soft skin of his cock, you help him line up with your entrance. He can’t help but gasp at the feeling of your cool little fingers circling his shaft, losing it a little more when he feels how incredibly soaked you already are.

He can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But all logic is gone from him, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth and the wetness of your pussy and his desperate need for whatever love you have to give him.

He watches as you bite your lip in concentration, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in. You are incredibly tight around the sensitive tip of his cock, and he moans a little at the constriction. That’s when he knows for sure that no one else has touched you like this for a long time. You aren’t ready for him, not yet.

Reaching under your skirt, he deftly finds the delicate little bundle of nerves there and begins to work it ever so gently. He shifts his hips down, his cock regretfully released from your hold on it. Sliding his fingers through your folds (oh, god), he gently slips one finger into your tight heat, then two, allowing you to adjust around him before pumping them in and out. Your eyes go wide and you gasp with the intrusion, but then they flutter closed with a sigh, and then another, and another before your hips begin to rock again.

He watches you in your ecstasy, taking in every delectable reaction he can and committing it to memory. The way your brow scrunches and your mouth falls open into a little O. The feel of your thighs clenching around his hand as he massages and fingers your dripping pussy. Those alluring little breathy moans escaping your lips. Every part of you has him completely mesmerized and he knows it. He knows his mouth is agape and he is moaning softly right along with you. He is so aroused just by watching you, he feels like he could come without you even touching him.

“E, I need more…I need you,” you breathe with your eyes closed and brow concentrated, and oh sweet lord, those might be the best words in the English language with the way they come out of your mouth.

He is utterly unable to deny you this. He can’t even speak, he just pulls his fingers out of you, lifts your hips, and maneuvers his cock back to the place it wants to be most. And you are more ready for him now, your tightness yielding much more easily around the sensitive tip of him.

It’s in that moment, as you sink down ever-so-slowly onto him and he is enveloped by your wet heat, that Elvis realizes he is utterly ruined for any other woman, ever. They cannot and will not ever hold a candle to you. He should’ve known before. He should’ve stopped this while he still could. But as you finally settle in his lap, taking him in completely, your fingers relaxing and your eyes bright and glassy, he knows he is well and truly fucked in every way.

He kisses you deeply again and again, memorizing your mouth, as you begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. You feel so good, so completely perfect, it’s as if you were made just for him. He is drunk on you, hands wandering your body, finding what makes you keen, and he’s unable to get enough of you.

But you are so needy and ready that unfortunately it doesn’t take very long of you riding him and him playing with your clit for you to begin falling apart at the seams. Based on your surprised gasps, he’s not sure you’ve ever come before, so he does his best to help you get there while holding on to his own release for dear life. You begin to shudder around him, clenching his length, and with a strangled moan you hit your peak. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way you are coming undone on top of him, around him, your eyelashes fluttering closed and then popping open, all wild-eyed and rosy cheeked as the hushed sound of his name falls out of your perfect mouth.

He's so fucking enraptured that his orgasm hits harder and faster than expected, chasing yours almost immediately, not giving him time to pull out like he should have. But he can’t bring himself to care because it’s all you. All he’s ever wanted or needed—it’s you.

Oh, sweet Christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, he chants in his mind as he follows you over the edge.

He clings to you, head pressed into your breasts as he pulses hard into your warmth with a grunt, then stays there as he comes down from the high. And then you are both gasping in the silence, and there is an air of disbelief that fills the room that the two of you just did that, together.

This is making love, he realizes suddenly. It must be, considering the incredibly overwhelming feelings he has for you that are pouring through him in unreasonable amounts. He never wants to let you go, not ever.

He pulls back enough to kiss you tenderly, lingering a little too long. There is a sinking, nearly unbearable feeling that this may never happen again, and it threatens to break him, so he pushes it as far away as it will go.

You press your forehead to his, silent, you still enveloping him as he eventually begins to soften inside you. Neither of you rushes to move. He cannot read what you are thinking and that makes him nervous.

“Are you okay?” he finally whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nod but say nothing.

“Okay, baby.”

You both sit there a while, simmering in what you have done, and he wishes you would say something, say anything at all to let him know what is going on in that head of yours. But you are quiet, unreadable.

Finally, you remove yourself from his lap and stumble your way into the ensuite bathroom to clean up.

Elvis runs a hand down his face, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and sweat that has collected there. He uses his handkerchief to wipe himself off and then puts himself back together. Blissed out in his refraction, he is so full of love for you that he almost can’t stand it. He thought he’d known love before, and perhaps he did, but this realization of love for you is so big that he doesn’t know what to do with it. God, he feels like with you by his side, he could conquer the damn world.

But you’re not his girl.

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

His head falls back onto the wall with a thump.

Somehow, he’s both on top of the world and completely buried by it at the same time. You interrupt his thoughts, coming back in quietly and falling, exhausted, into his arms. He takes off his coat and puts it on top of you both. He can’t help but pull you closer, up into his lap, so your head rests against his chest. This is where you are supposed to be, he can’t help but think.

He knows the two of you need to talk about this. While he has been having his epiphany, he has absolutely no idea what you are thinking. He has no clue if you feel anything even close to what he feels for you. It is possible that all of this was just some sort of revenge on Jack, and that breaks his heart a little. And even if you did do it for that reason, you chose him. You felt safe enough with him to choose him.

But something deep inside him tells him it isn’t just that, not with the way you kissed him, not with the way he felt like his damn soul was connecting with yours. That deep connection he’s always felt to you, it can’t possibly be one-way.

But what if it is? a worried little voice creeps in.

He wants to ask you, but he looks down and sees you passed out on his chest. Fatigue begins to hit him, as he hasn’t slept in over a day.

It’s not long before he, too, falls into an exhausted slumber.

*

He’s not sure how long you sleep, but when he wakes, the sun has moved and the room is nearly dark. Disoriented, it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s you in his arms, and when he remembers why, his cheeks flame with heat.

Oh. Oh.

Drowsy, he rubs his eyes with one hand, trying to wake up. As the memories of your lovemaking resurface, his heart beats faster, and he knows the moment you wake you will both have to face what you’ve done. You’ll have to decide what comes next. And more than anything, the hopeful little voice inside him realizes that he wants to share this all with you—that’s why it is you he brought to Graceland today, and why it was so important to him that you like it.

“Y/n, honey, wake up,” he says quietly, not wanting to shock you awake, but you don’t even stir. He shifts under you, hoping that might get you moving, but you just lie there.

“Hey, baby, it’s time to wake up,” he says at full voice now, but you remain still, too still, and silent.

His heart starts to pound. Something isn’t right.

“Y/n! Honey, I need you to wake up!” He is getting frantic now, his hand gently tapping your face, which feels too cold. But still, you do not wake.

“Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, wake up!” He shakes you. Panic and confusion roll over him as he tries to figure out why you are knocked out. His sleep-addled brain runs through what happened before you both fell asleep, before you made love.

Her headache, he thinks. She took pills for her headache.

He had thought they were aspirin, but as he frantically rummages through her purse, pulling out the little prescription bottle, he reads “Percodan, one tablet every 6 hours for pain and sleep relief” on the label.

Elvis swears you took two tablets, not one, way too much for a girl your size. You hadn’t read the bottle.

Shit.

Having been in Hollywood, he knows that this happens. People overdose from taking these narcotics, usually to get high, but he knows that you did it on accident. Based on how full the bottle is, he’s guessing that you maybe hadn’t even taken the meds before today.

Regardless, he’s not taking any chances with you. There’s no phone hooked up at the house, so with his adrenaline now working overtime, he lifts your unconscious form and quickly carries you to the car. He peals out, driving to Baptist Memorial Hospital as fast as he possibly can.

The those few hours are some of the most terrifying of his life.

He bites every nail down to the quick in that waiting room, pacing there as your family sits, equally worried. He can’t help but feel that they are judging him for letting this happen, even though it was an accident.

He can’t bring himself to call Jack.

Guilt eats away at him, even though he knows he had no idea about the pills, but if he hadn’t fallen asleep, maybe he would’ve realized sooner that something was wrong. Part of him feels like this is punishment for his sins, for what he let happen in the house. He prays and prays to God, harder than he’s ever prayed before.

Please, God, I love her. I can’t lose her. Do what you want to me, just let her be okay.

His prayers work.

You wake up. The doctors say you are going to make a full recovery. His heart nearly explodes with relief.

He offers to stay while your family goes home to get some rest. It is past visiting hours, but being Memphis’ own superstar, the nurses take pity on him and let him stay, as long as he doesn’t keep you awake.

When you finally stir, it’s the middle of the night.

“E—Elvis?” you croak. “What happened? Where am I?”

He sits up straight and leans forward to take your cold little hand in his. “Y/n! Oh, baby, you took too many of your headache pills and I couldn’t wake you up. You scared the hell outta me. You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Wake me up? Why—why was I asleep?” your brow furrows in confusion.

His heart drops into his stomach, dread like ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he must:

“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?”

Obviously still groggy, you close your eyes for a moment to think. “Um, I remember you picked me up and took me to…to your new house,” you say, then your eyes pop open, “You were showing me your beautiful new house, and then my headache got really bad, so I took some of my pills, and then…” You stop, looking at him blankly. “And after that, I don’t remember. You said I fell asleep?”

Oh, God, no. No, no, no. He feels like he’s going to vomit.

The force of his dread hits him like a tsunami as he runs through what happened in his head again. You took the pills first and then he told you about June and then you kissed him.

But you don’t remember. You don’t remember because you were accidentally fucking high.

“Elvis, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you say.

“Sorry, baby, I-I-I was just really worried about you, is all. I-I guess it’s all kinda hittin’ me at o-once, now that you’re o-o-okay,” he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking, unable to keep from stuttering through the half-truth.

“Please, go get some rest, E. I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep for days…” you say, drowsily, eyes fluttering closed.

“Okay, okay, baby, I will…Get some rest,” he says, kissing you on the top of your head as you drift back into slumber.

In a panicked daze, he manages to make it down the hallway and to the men’s room before his stomach rolls and he is violently sick into the toilet.

Oh, sweet Lord, he took advantage of you. You were drugged and didn’t know what you were doing, and he had sex with you.

He vomits again, tears running down his face.

I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have ever let it happen if I’d known! I would never hurt her! the reasonable part of his brain cries out.

Shame eats at him from deep inside, cutting him. He deserves it.

How could he do this? How could he let this happen?

I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment she kissed me that she wasn’t in her right mind.

But he didn’t, and what the hell does that say about him? He’s fucking selfish and he took something from you that you weren’t in your right mind to give.

He dry heaves, wanting desperately to expel his regret but knowing that he never will, not until the day he dies.

And what’s even worse is that he is still left with the fact that he is desperately in love with you. You don’t remember what, up until a few minutes ago, was one of the most amazing moments of his young life. You can’t share that with him. And that makes him feel even more selfish because the last thing he should be thinking of is his own damn feelings.

Sitting there on the cold floor, he tries to convince himself it’s for the best. It’s much less complicated for you this way. For you, there was no betrayal. For you, making love with him can never be a mistake you once made in a moment of anger and desperation. For you, there is only the love of friendship between you two.

Yes, it’s better this way, he thinks. He can carry the burden for both of you. He deserves to.

Because he knows he cannot give you what you need. He cannot be there for you, day in and day out, holding you tight and keeping you safe. Especially not now. Not after what he’s done.

He has to lock this away. You can never know, not ever. He must protect you from this and from his guilt. He knows you wouldn’t be able to look at him if you knew.

Oh, God. Please forgive me.

He can’t stop crying. He has to stop crying because he has to go out there and he has to look fine. He has to be fine, for your sake. You’re alive and going to be okay, and it’s that which he latches onto as a mantra in order to slide into the persona that has made his name.  

He manages to make it to the car without losing it again, as the dawn starts to break on another day. He can’t bring himself to go home; he can’t look his mother in the eye right now. So, he drives aimlessly, for hours, his sins eating away at him until he finds himself at the church.

He waits for Reverend Hamill in a pew, his thoughts dark and churning. This is just the straw that broke him, for he knows that since his fame began two years ago, he has fallen so very far. He has been self-centered and vain. He has fornicated and broken hearts and caused pain to those he claimed to love, all in the name of this new life of his. And he’s pushed his friends to do the same. His stupid, selfish actions have had a ripple effect that has completely ruined lives.

Not only had he driven June away and into the arms of another man, he’d played with your life and Jack’s as well. If he hadn’t pushed Jack to cheat, you would never have needed those pills in the first place. You almost died because he didn’t want to be alone in his debauchery, and he knows that some sick part of him pushed Jack to it because he wanted to sabotage your relationship.

Then he realizes that, on top of all that, he did another incredibly selfish and stupid thing. He came inside you, which means that you could be pregnant. And that would ruin you completely, and you wouldn’t even know why, you wouldn’t understand. He would do the right thing, of course, and maybe, someday, you would learn to forgive him, but it would ruin you all in the process.

Oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus.

He thinks he might vomit again.

When the Reverend emerges, he looks surprised to find Elvis sitting there.

“Pastor, I am the most miserable man you’ve ever seen. I am doing the things you taught me not to, and I’m not doing the things you said I should,” he sobs, “Please, please pray for me.”

“Oh, son…come in,” Reverend Hamill says.

Deflated, consumed, and heavy with his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, he follows the pastor into his office. He can’t bring himself to admit what he’s done, to admit how horrible he is. He just cannot get the words out. Instead, he weeps and prays, over and over, the Reverend praying with him.

All he can whimper out is, “Please, please forgive me for my sins. Please.” He’s not sure if he’s asking the minister or God or both. He only knows he cannot live with himself for hurting you, even if you don’t know it.

After over an hour of this, by the grace of God, he finally calms some. His entire body and soul aches.

But he knows what he has to do now. He understands the deal he has made.

It doesn’t matter what he wants or needs. You being okay is all that matters. He has to make sure you’re taken care of. He has to make sure that you are happy.

In the days and weeks and months that follow, Elvis pretends he is having the time of his life, becoming every bit the budding superstar that the country insists that he is now. Sometimes, he even believes it; sometimes, he even forgets. Though every time he sees you, his heart breaks a little more, his love for you permeating him to the core.

But he knows he can’t have you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

Instead, he plants seeds in Jack’s ear. “You love her, don’t ya, Jacky Boy? When are ya gonna make an honest woman of her?” He pushes Jack to fully commit to you. He even goes with Jack to buy the ring, though he stops himself from paying for it. Jack has his pride, after all.

Instead, he throws himself into work, grateful for the grueling cycle of touring and recording and appearances and acting. He throws himself into fixing up Graceland for his family, building a life of extravagance that he never could’ve dreamed of.

And, God help him, he starts seeing other girls. He leans into the image of the playboy they all want him to be. He dates and he fucks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of these girls will make him forget the perfect way you fit into him, forget the way your face looked when you came undone around him. That maybe one of them will come close to the wonder that is you. That they will help him forget his past sins by cutting new ones. He cannot seem to help but do the sinful things he swore he wouldn’t do, lest he drown in his sorrows, but the girls help keep him from the one thing that is off limits: You.

When Jack finally pops the question in the summer, and you accept immediately, he can barely keep himself together. He convinces himself this is the right thing, that he is happy for the both of you as he stares into the night sky knowing deep in his soul that it should be him. He reminds himself that this is the deal, this is what he wanted, to see you happy and taken care of.

And he will damn himself for your salvation every time.

December 28th, 1957, Graceland

Oh, God, what have I done?

The moment you appear down the aisle, looking ever the most beautiful, blushing bride, every part of him aches with love for you. He’d thought that by giving you the life you dreamed of, the life you needed, that it would be enough to let you go. But as Elvis stands by Jack’s side at the altar, he realizes that no matter what has happened, no matter what he has done, he is always going to love you and it’s never not going to hurt, especially not after this.

Not after the quick look you shoot him as you step up to meet Jack, your pretty, wide eyes full of excitement and emotion. Not after seeing you all in white and wishing to God that it was him marrying you right now. Not after he keeps his peace after the minister asks if there’s a reason these two should not be married.

He somehow manages to keep himself from openly weeping during the ceremony by biting the inside of his cheek repeatedly but still finds himself caught in your radiance more than once and must force himself to look away. During the wedding pictures, he cannot help but maneuver himself close to you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, to be memorialized for all time on film. The press of his soft lips into your warm cheek sends that tell-tale shiver through him, one that drives in the fact that he still loves you. He gives himself this tiny thing, and no one questions it because they all know you are close friends, and a congratulatory cheek kiss on your wedding day is not strange.

Discretely, he makes sure to let the photographer know he wants copies of the pictures, with the excuse that he is paying for them and wants to make sure they are perfect. This, too, is not questioned, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

To torture himself even more, he offers Graceland up for the reception. These are his two best friends, after all, now cleaved together in holy matrimony for the rest of their lives. No expense should be spared because they deserve all the happiness in the world.

And they do, he reminds himself throughout the day. They do deserve all the happiness in the world.

At least if you are with Jack, he thinks, he still has you in his life. He can still see those beautiful, wide eyes whenever he wants without question or suspicion.

He clings to this.

Even so, he feels as though he is being sucked into a riptide. It seems fated that his life is going in a much different direction than the newlyweds. The draft notice he received a week ago confirms this, weighing heavy on his heart and feeing like a nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.

God is testing him, he thinks. It is all a very clear and stark reminder that where he goes, you cannot follow. He cannot help but feel that God is punishing him for his sins by taking him away from the fame he has just settled into to, taking him from the people he loves and the things he loves to do. He wants to lament that it isn’t fair, but part of him knows that he deserves this, too, for what he’s done and for what he’s done to you.

And perhaps God works in mysterious ways, as while he is loathe to leave his parents and his career and his fans, he cannot help the small part of him that is relieved he doesn’t have to watch you and Jack in your newlywedded bliss for the next two years. It’s the only upshot to this entire disaster.

But he won’t let his sorrow overshadow your big day. With a smile plastered on his face, he gives a charming and loving speech of how wonderful it is to see his two best friends find such happiness with each other. He only stutters once or twice, which comes across as endearing rather than damning. But the thing is, even though he is miserable, he is still happy for you two. He wants more than anything for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and if that is with Jack, then so be it.

The only time he truly falters is during the dance.

Your little sister (who at 18 is not so little anymore), Rosie, as the Maid of Honor, dances with Jack, while he, the Best Man, dances with you. The moment he touches you, sparks fly through him and down his spine, and he cannot help but pull you in a little too close, even though everyone is looking. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and the other clings to your waist.

The thing is, you do not react to this at all, not outwardly, anyway. You let him hold you and press his cheek against your temple. You let him breathe in your scent and lean into you, as if memorizing everything about you. You let his hands contract, pulling you in closer. You let him lead because it’s like somehow you know, in your soul, that he needs this, even if you’re not exactly sure why.

And for that he is grateful. He is grateful as he takes in every bit of you, committing you to memory, knowing that soon that is all he will have of you. All you will be is a memory, imprinted on his heart, for the rest of time.

When the song comes to an end, he leans back slowly, his eyes searching your face for any recognition, any understanding of his plight, any feelings of your own that might linger in your subconscious. You stare back at him openly for a moment, and for a second he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes, but then Jack is pulling you away and the moment is gone.

As the party continues into the night, he feels like he is suffocating and escapes upstairs to his room. And as people know not to enter his bedroom without express permission, he feels safe to let out the shaking sob he’s been holding back for hours.

He’s not sure how long he cries before a tap at the door startles him into motion, frantically wiping at his face.

“Bewbie, sweet boy, can I come in? It’s just me,” his mama’s voice echoes through the door.

“Yeah, Mama, come in,” he croaks out, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. While he is relieved that it’s her and not one of the guys, or God forbid, you, he still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the state he’s in.

His mama comes in quietly, shutting the door quickly behind her. She looks him over and in one fell swoop seems to understand, even though he’s said nothing, even though he’s spent months perfecting his nonchalantness for the world, what is going on.

But a mother knows.

His mama sits next to him on the edge of the bed, putting her arm comfortingly around his broad shoulders. “Oh, my wittle baby, it’s her, isn’t it? Our beautiful y/n. You love her,” she says, less of a question and more stating a fact.

That does him in, the way his secret is exposed so easily by his mama. It terrifies him that she knows him so well, and terrifies him that if she knows this, what else does she know? There’s no point in denying anything, so he curls into her like a child and lets go of it all, the tears streaming once again down his cheeks as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

His mama has always loved you, taking quickly to your genial ways and how you always made time to spend with her. Maybe she suspected something from the start, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t judge or scold him now.

“H-hurts so bad, Satnin,” he hiccups out. And it does, now that he’s letting it. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

“I know, baby, I know,” she coos, rubbing his back. He can sense all the questions she wants to ask but doesn’t.

“I-I-I couldn’t…I-I ain’t w-w-what she needs or wants, Mama,” he stutters out. It’s as close as he’s willing to get to telling her the truth.

“It takes a brave man to let the girl he loves marry another, when he knows that’s what she wants, though I can’t say I wish it didn’t work out the other way,” his mama tuts.

“Y-you knew?”

“Course I knew, Bewbie. A mother always knows. To be fair, I been watchin’ the way ya look at that girl for the past few years and it didn’t take much t’put it all together, baby,” she says. “But the question is, does she know?”

He stills and stays silent for a moment, before answering truthfully, “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” she tuts, “I’m gonna trust you had good reason for lettin’ that wonderful girl go without tellin’ her how ya feel?”

His heart constricts, causing him to doubt his choices, but he can’t explain how he nearly killed you with his terrible decisions. He certainly can’t tell his mama that he made love to you when you weren’t yourself, no matter that it was you came on to him. And he knows his mama would balk if he told her how much he doesn’t deserve your love because of his sins.

“It’s better this way, Mama,” he says quietly, sitting up and staring at his hands. “And she’s happy, both she and Jack.”

His mama nods, resigned. “Alright, my sweet baby, puttin’ your friends’ happiness before your own…I know ya made the choice ya thought was best,” she says, wiping his face and pinching his cheeks, “but ya get yourself cleaned up now ‘n go be at least a ‘lil happy for your friends, okay?” She leaves the obvious unsaid—that he’s leaving to film in a few days and straight from there, it’ll be into the Army, so this will be one of the last times he can spend with them.

He nods. “O-okay, Satnin.”

And with that, he does as he’s told.

*

And then, in a blink of an eye, she’s gone. His mama is gone and his world fully collapses and it’s all his fault.

You are the only one who saves him from being completely swallowed in the blackness of his despair, and he’s not in his right mind to think or care how that looks. All he knows is you’re there when he needs you the most. You’re there to get him through the absolute worst of it before they send him a world away, and then, he loses you, too.

He loses everything that means anything to him—his mama, you, his career—and he wonders how long God will continue to punish him for his misdeeds, until he can’t bring himself to care much anymore about anything at all.

Germany feels like a cold fog that clouds his brain, even when he brings his Daddy and Dodger and Red over to live with him off base. In his haze, he writes Anita promises he wishes he could keep but deep down knows he won’t. Then, he turns around and does all the things he shouldn’t do because he can and what does it even matter if it’s all lost anyway? He takes the pills they give him to keep him awake in the field, and those make him feel pretty good, for a time anyway, and then he starts taking other pills they give him to bring him down after. In his off time, he screws and tries to forget the life he used to know.

And in those horrible quiet hours when he lies awake, trying to sleep when even the pills won’t let him, trying to escape and can’t, he thinks of you. He thinks of his love for you and your hold over him even now, a world away, and when he’s extra lonely, he imagines you on top of him, writhing and beautiful. And when he comes undone, there’s nothing left but a gaping hole in his heart and a mess in his hand.

*

March 1960

Elvis bites his nails to the quick on the long journey home. It’s not just because of the planes and the exhaustion and not knowing if he’ll ever get back to being “Elvis Presley,” but he knows he’ll be seeing you in a matter of hours. Not years or months or weeks, but hours.

And he thinks that maybe he is finally over you, that maybe he’s healed enough from everything and that he’s on his way to start something new, something fresh.

But, God, somehow you are more beautiful now than before, but you act so strange around him, and his heart wants to leap and implode all at once. Somehow everything has changed…but you, you still own his heart.

Once he discovers your pregnancy, he is over the moon for you because he can sense how badly you want this. He doesn’t care that the baby is Jack’s—he loves it more than anything because he loves you and seeing you so happy brings him true joy for the first time in a long, long time.

His career is taking off again, his new image impressing those who denounced him a few years ago, and he already has appearances and recordings and films lined up to go. Life feels…almost good, like maybe he’s finally paid his karmic debt.

Then you almost bleed to death in his arms.

His terrified confession of love is spoken in an act of desperation, a singular hope that if you know he loves you, you won’t be able to go, that the string of fate that draws you both together cannot be broken, that he can somehow will you back to life with the power of his love.

He begs God, begs as he’s never begged before, an inner wail of blood-soaked prayer that does not cease as he rides with your near-lifeless form to the hospital, nor when he calls Jack and your parents, nor as paces the waiting room.

Singularly focused on his pleas to God, he doesn’t even realize he’s covered in your blood until Charlie and Jerry arrive shortly after the ambulance and look at him in shock.

“Jesus, EP,” Charlie gasps quietly, taking in the macabre scene, “We need to get you changed and cleaned up before Jack gets here.”

That’s when he looks down and sees your life’s blood staining his pants, his shirt, his arms, his hands. God, it’s even under my nails, he thinks as he watches his hands shake, feeling utterly disconnected from his body.

He’s frozen, unable to move, repeating his prayers again and again, until Charlie whisks him away and has to physically help him strip down and wash the blood from his body in the bathroom. As he watches the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, he cannot bear the thought that maybe it’s the last thing he has of you, these stains, and that maybe he’s truly lost you.

He just got you back. He can’t lose you. He won’t.

No, his inner mantra of prayer doesn’t cease until he is absolutely sure you are going to be okay.

Though “okay” is relative, he learns quickly. You have a long recovery ahead of you, the surgeons say, wiping their sweating brows, and the next few days will be crucial. The baby is gone, and the doctors say that more tests need to be done once you are well to see if that is even an option in the future.

He is heartbroken for you, and for Jack. But you are alive. You are alive.

Lamar and Red have to physically drag him from the hospital in the morning to get him ready and put him on the train to Florida for Frank Sinatra’s special, which is the very last thing he wants to do. But it is absolutely pivotal in his career comeback, so he tells Rosie in no uncertain terms that she is to keep him posted about her sister and any developments.

As he showers and packs, exhaustion seeping into his bones, it suddenly hits him that he told you he loved you, and it’s likely there will be fallout from that. It makes him incredibly worried, and he is even more loathe to leave until he knows where he stands with you. It’s possible you won’t even want to see him again.

Or it’s possible she loves you, too, a little voice hopes. But he knows better than to feed that monster. You don’t love him, not like that, and it’s selfish of him to even consider at a time like this.

“It’ll take your mind off things, EP,” Jerry tries to convince him, seeing his trepidation, prodding him along to get on the train. “And it’ll give y/n and Jack and her family time to get situated.”

The message is clear. Elvis is not in the inner circle of your life, not anymore, not as he wants to be. This fact is both sobering and cutting at the same time. It reminds him yet again that where he goes, you cannot follow, and where you go, he is not always welcome or needed.

He nods solemnly, thinking he finally understands, yet again, the terms of his deal with God. You live and he keeps his distance, he keeps his sins from tainting you. You live and he lets you go.

He pops a couple of pills, brought over from Germany, to wake him up, to get him in the performing mindset, to rev him up to being THE Elvis Presley. “Anything she needs, anything at all, comes to me,” he tells Jerry, “Hospital bills, recovery costs…and I want the best doctors helping her figure out her pregnancy issues. Oh, and send flowers, every day.”

Jerry nods, eyes observant and keen. “Of course, EP. Anything for y/n and Jack.”

Yes, anything for you.

*

You don’t remember a thing from that night, he learns from Rosie, and most of him thinks it’s for the best. But a small, egotistical part of him thinks bitterly that you certainly have a knack for forgetting anything monumental that happens between the two of you.

But he is busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely has time to think of you at all after that.

Except half the songs he chooses for his comeback album have something to do with you, which he only consciously realizes when he steps up to the mic to sing. And just as he thought of you the night of the talent show, he thinks of you now, singing about the girl of his best friend and how it feels so right being with you. He pours his hopes and dreams and frustrations and sorrows right into that album.

Perhaps it will cleanse him of needing you. Perhaps it’ll help him let you go.

When you find out that children are likely not in the cards for you and Jack, he sends more flowers, every day for a week. Jack is devastated and practically begs to come out to Hollywood to escape the sadness, so he agrees.

Anything for his friend, right?

He takes care of you from afar. He takes care of everything. Anything you could possibly want or need is yours. But he keeps his distance.

That is the bargain.

He falters at Christmas, almost letting his grief and yours ruin everything. He swears that you feel something for him, that maybe your impulse to be with him was not entirely driven by the drugs all those years ago. That maybe you do somehow remember his confession. Part of him swears if he had let it happen, you would’ve been his once again.

But you are not his, you never really were.

And while he knows this on a logical level, the more he is away, the more he fills his days with mindless movie making and wooing his costars and taking pills that bring him up and more that pull him down, the more he lets himself imagine you are his. From a distance, he can take care of you. From a distance and in the deep recesses of his mind, you belong to him and him alone.

“Elvis Presley” becomes a household name, now with a clean-cut image, alluring to both housewives and teenagers alike. His fame and wealth grow, and so does his isolation and loneliness. So does the need for the pills and to bring the rest of the guys into it all with him. Even Jack.

Especially Jack.

But he doesn’t like to think about why that is.

He manages to destroy his relationship with Anita along the way. He loved her, in his way, he really did. But she was not you. Neither is Ann, though he thinks for a moment that she may be the answer to his prayers, but in the end, he screws that up, too.

As the years drag on, he thinks he finally understands why he sabotages every relationship he’s ever had—it’s you—none of them are YOU. So he flits from fling to fling without ever truly landing because all he really wants is your love. But he doesn’t deserve it, he never has.

He knows this as he watches Jack descend into alcohol and drugs and women, and a small, horrible part of him wants Jack to self-destruct, and even though he knows this hurts you, he is too selfish to stop it. And the guilt of this, coupled with the downturn in his career, pushes him to self-destruct, too.

Still, he keeps his distance. When he’s home, he tries not to shoot you too many lingering glances. He reins himself in, most of the time, but in moments of weakness, he allows himself to get too close. He catches you alone, he makes a pass. But because you are you, you always rebuke him with a laugh. Silly Elvis, ever the jokester.

But sometimes, in the dark of night, in your beautiful, wide eyes, he sees something else. That deeper connection that drew you together in the first place, mixed with a heat he has only seen once or twice. And it is that which keeps his hope alive.

In an attempt to bury it and fill the hole in his heart, he almost marries, but in the end, he can’t go through with it. He’s wildly unhappy and dissatisfied, and it’s not until he finally gains some control over his career again that things take a turn for the better. He finally starts to clean up his act. He seeks knowledge and spiritual clarity. He finally finds his passion for music and performing again after nearly a decade.

But it’s too late for Jack. He managed to drag Jack to hell and while he made it back, Jack has not. And you are miserable because of it. This breaks his heart.

He tried to give you everything you wanted and needed by stepping back to let Jack do so. He kept his distance. He did what he’d promised God, and yet life still destroyed your dreams.

Jack no longer makes you happy. Jack is no longer the man who can give you what you need.

And suddenly Elvis wonders if he was wrong all along. That perhaps he wasn’t the man you needed then, but he is now. Perhaps his sins have been forgiven. Perhaps the more he pushes you away, the worse things become for both of you because you are indeed supposed to be together.

You are his. You’ve always been his.

So, riding high from his first Vegas performance, he finally allows himself to pursue you. He pushes away a decade and a half of guilt and shame and lets his charm and confidence entice you. He lets the sparks fly between you, finally free after all this time, and more intense than ever. To his gleeful surprise, you accept him willingly, if not a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it is just sex, he thinks at first, this carnal need he has for you, but he knows better. As soon as he tastes you after all these years, he knows he can never let you go again. As soon as he coaxes, then watches you come undone again and again, he realizes that still, after all this time, this is it for him. You are it. You always have been. And he will do anything to keep you, to make sure you know that you are his.

He thinks you might remember it all after that first night, but you don’t, not right away. He senses your fear to let go, to let yourself have him, to have this affair. He knows you want this to be only sex. And maybe it is for you, at first.

But he will have you. He doesn’t care how many mountains he must move or what he has to do to convince you to stay, but he loves you more than anything in the world and he’s not willing to part with you, not anymore.

It’s true that his fame, wealth, and influence have spoiled him into always getting what he desires. Of course, what he truly desires always has been you. Now unlocked, his love and want and need for you is insatiable, and he will do anything to keep it that way.

Anything for you. Anything but letting you go.

*

As the blackout of his rage starts to dissipate and he comes to, he assumes that his friends are holding him back from quite literally killing the disheveled and beaten man who used to be his best friend, and he watches with deep satisfaction as you slap the shit out of your husband.

He also feels the immense guilt of letting it get this far, of not knowing just how bad Jack was to you, and his part in all of it.

But when you vomit and promptly fall to an unconscious heap on the ground, his fear is what overshadows his rage and guilt. Something is wrong, he knows it.

Not again, not again, not again.

Triggered by your history, Elvis, with untold strength, wrenches himself from the four men holding him down and clamors to your side, everyone else forgotten.

Pulling your limp body into his lap, he screams for someone to call the doctor. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might need one, too.

Please God, please God, please God. Not now, not after all we’ve been through.

That deep-seeded, old shame creeps back in as he rocks you: This is your fault. Your selfishness did this. You destroyed Jack, he took it out on her, and you’ve put her at risk, yet again. You are a scourge on this woman you claim to love so much. A pestilence.

He’s getting lost in this fearful despair, and then Jerry’s voice in his ear snaps him back: “EP. EP! You have to let her go, man. The doctor is here.” Jerry pulls his arms off her as the doctor examines her.

Elvis’ fingers go straight to his mouth, his obsessive habit of biting his nails taking over as he watches the doctor carefully.

The doctor looks up, taking in the scene. He looks at Elvis, then at Jack bleeding against the wall, and purses his lips. “Will somebody tell me what happened to this young lady?”

“There was an incident…” Jerry begins diplomatically.

“Her husband slammed his fist into her face!” Sandy yells over him, furious, earning scathing looks from the entourage. They knew better than to give details, knowing to keep things close to the chest and avoid any legal issues, to protect him at all costs.

“Sandy!” Jerry admonishes her.

“No, it’s okay, Jer,” Elvis says firmly, waving him off. “I’m sure the doctor knows to be discreet.”

The doctor looks up at his hovering, intimidating form, and says nothing for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to get her to a hospital and stabilized as soon as possible. She needs x-rays. It’s likely she has a serious concussion, Mr. Presley.”

The men start to argue, knowing that as soon as she leaves this room, a whole host of problems could fall down on them, but that’s the last thing he cares about right now. All that matters is you.

Elvis holds up his hand and everyone goes silent. “Do what you need to do, Doc. Anything she needs.”

The doctor nods and asks that someone phone for an ambulance.

Elvis looks up and sees that the men cleared the room at some point, leaving only the major players. Jack still sits, leaning on the wall next to Red, his face battered and bloody, watching the doctor. Elvis can’t tell if Jack is sorry or not. Elvis walks towards Jack, his anger tempered only by his concern for you.

“EP!” Jerry says in a warning tone, signaling for the men to flank him.

“I’m fine,” he commands, crouching at Jack’s side.

Jack flinches.

“Are you proud of yourself, Jacky Boy? Are you satisfied, seeing her laid out on the ground like that? Is this what you wanted?” he hisses.

Jack says nothing. He sees the tears in Jack’s eyes, the regret through the pain, and for a second, Elvis almost sees the man he used to know in there.

“Hmm,” he tuts, looking over his friend with disgust, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with you later. And you, too,” he says, with a low, deadly calm, pointedly to Red. Then he rises easily from the floor, his attention on the men with the stretcher who just entered the suite.

“It’s never enough with you, EP, you selfish motherfucker. The man who gets everything he wants, no matter how many lives he has to destroy to get it. The rules never apply to you, do they? Dammit, you coulda had anyone, anyone! Why did it have to be y/n?” Jack spits out mournfully from behind him.

Shame snakes through him, through the anger that continues to boil under just the surface, covering the sorrow that flows under that. There is truth in Jack’s words, he knows that, even though he wants to deny it.

“How long, Elvis?”

He supposes he owes Jack that much, though he doesn’t even turn his head.

“Opening night.”

“No, you bastard. How long have you been in love with my wife?”

The room goes silent yet again.

Elvis turns around, but he cannot bring himself to look Jack in the eyes for a moment. A lifetime of memories flashes through his head, of times much better than this, of times when they had each other’s backs. Ultimately, he knows what Jack has become is partially his fault. Ultimately, he knows it was wrong of him to want you when you weren’t his, wrong to have sex with you, even before the debacle of you and the pills. It was wrong of him to manipulate Jack into marrying you.

As much as he hates Jack right now, he once loved him, and still, he betrayed him.

Jack chuckles darkly, “That fucking long, huh?”

Elvis finally looks Jack in the eyes but says nothing. Nothing he can say will make any of this less of a fiasco. Nothing he can say with make it right, no matter how much he wants to jump in to defend himself, to tell Jack he saw you first, to tell him he wanted you first, to fucking explain that you’re his goddamn soulmate and he’s had to watch you be with someone else for almost two fucking decades.

“Ahhh, and she didn’t even know, did she?” A hint of a smile plays on Jack’s bloodied lips. “Didn’t even give the King the time of day! Well, at least I got that goin’ for me,” he laughs.  

His brow furrows as he fumes, and he steps towards Jack again. Lamar puts himself between the two men.

“It’s fine, Lamar, let him at me. What do I have to lose now anyways?” Jack laughs, which turn suddenly to sobs, “You were my brother. I gave up my life for you! I loved you, man!”

The words cut Elvis to the bone, flooding his fury with more guilt.

“And I love her,” Jack sobs.

“You don’t fucking love her,” Elvis says, infuriated, pushing past Lamar to grab Jack’s chin, wrenching his head to look at you being put on the stretcher. “You hurt her. You been hurtin’ her. And Jack, if she dies, I don’t care what brotherly love was between you and me—I will fucking kill you,” he says, low and vehement in Jack’s ear, for only him to hear.

He pulls back to stare Jack in the eye, to let him know just how serious he is, to make sure he understands that through the pain and the alcohol and whatever pills he might be on.

Jack blinks through his tears and nods his head once, shakily.

Elvis releases him.

Then he steps in behind you, still unconscious, on the stretcher as they take you out of the penthouse and to the elevator.

“EP, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to…” Charlie starts, hustling behind him.

He turns, seeing the stares of the men who have given him their lives to stand by his side. Some of them are befuddled, some understanding and resigned, some even a little suspicious after tonight’s events.

“I don’t give two shits if it’s a good idea or not, I’m goin’ with her. Anyone wanna argue with me about it?” he says impatiently, shooting up an eyebrow.

No one does.

It’s good it’s the middle of the night, otherwise he would’ve caused a huge scene at the hospital. But the nurses and doctors seem to gather by his demeanor that now is not the time for autographs. Instead of putting them in the waiting room, they set up an empty room at the end of the hall for the lot of them, a gruff old nurse warning them they best be quiet and not wake any of the patients before she closes the door on them.

And for the third time in his life, he waits to know your fate.

He waits for you, just as he’s been waiting for you for the last 18 years.

He waits and he prays, though this time, he makes no bargains with God.

He stills when the doctor finally comes to tell him that, yes, you do have a concussion and though you will likely experience symptoms as you recover, you should recover fully. He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

When the doctor leads him and him alone back to your room, the doctor mentions the other symptoms you’ll likely experience and that you might have issues with your memory leading up to the event. Elvis cannot help but chuckle at that.

“Oh, I’m betting she will,” he says under his breath, though this time, he thinks it might be best after what you went through tonight.

He sits by your side in the quiet, dimmed room, and is taken aback by the angry bruising already spreading over your beautiful face. His fury at Jack swells through him once more, followed immediately by sadness. You look so innocent and fragile lying there. Suddenly, he feels afraid to touch you, as though you might break.

So, he waits. He waits for you to wake and he prays. He thinks of the lifetime he’s had without you and the life he wants with you going forward. And this time, he knows he won’t be leaving your side for anyone or anything.

But his secrets still lay heavy and dark on his heart. There are those things he cannot tell you of that day at Graceland so long ago, and the things he still cannot bring himself to admit to, like his confession of love as you almost died in his arms and his meddling in your life. He doesn’t want to tell you how all of it has led to you lying here in this hospital, hurt and fragile but somehow still his, he hopes.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, so for now he just waits for you to come back to him.

He’s been too rough with you, he thinks, in his quest to show you how you are his. Pushing you too hard to keep up with his rockstar lifestyle and his insatiable need for you sexually has not been good for you. You’re exhausted, not eating, and have been on an emotional rollercoaster for days, and he was too consumed by his own selfishness to listen, so much so that he almost drove you away. The hurt, the feeling of pure panic that shot through him when you said you were leaving was enough to bring him to his knees, but of course, he could not tell you that. He couldn’t show you that weakness. Instead, he’d covered it with anger and passion, fucking you into submission.

He realizes his dominance, while fun in the bedroom, is perhaps masking his true feelings. He has told you in so many words how desperate he is for you, how he wants you to be with him, to let him take care of you, how he is yours, that he needs you. But in truth, he is afraid. Afraid that you don’t and never will feel the same towards him as he does towards you. That it is only his coercion, manipulation, and his sexual prowess that keeps you here with him. No matter how much you say you are his and that you will stay as he fucks it out of you, he’s not convinced that you’ll feel the same in the light of day, of your own accord.

Lord, the way you said you needed him tonight flashed him right back to that first time with you at Graceland. The time you don’t remember. He is putty in your hands now, just as he was then. But that need of yours was only sexual. If it is truly just sex for you and you are only staying for that…well, that scares him and makes him want to hold onto you so tightly that you can’t leave even if you wanted to.

If you don’t ever feel that same pull inside your heart, in your soul, that he has for you, he’s not sure what he will do.

Gone is the bravado and confidence gleaned from years of being Elvis Presley. Instead, he sits here at your bedside feeling stripped to his core: a nervous, stuttering boy with a funny name who loves you more than life itself. He is that boy who picked your books up off the ground, the one who you calmed backstage with your sweetness and wit. For you and you alone, he is just Elvis. And he’s worried he won’t recover if you don’t ever grow to love him.

Anxiety courses through him, a throbbing pulse that serves to remind him that for all he has and is in this world, he is still only a man. And you are the girl who has comforted him through some of his worst moments, yet now after all this time he’s still terrified to let you truly see him. If he lets you in, you will see him for all that he is and all the terrible parts of himself he’s ashamed of: his selfishness and possessiveness, his overindulgence, his obsessive tendencies, his goddamned vanity and ego. His secrets. If you know the things he’s kept from you, he’s not sure you’ll ever forgive him. Certainly, you could not love him.

His heart aches at that thought, flooding him with despair. He needs you so badly that he cannot bear to risk showing you everything; however, a deep part of him wants to flay himself bare to you, to expose himself in a way that he has never done before, not with anyone.

Elvis puts his head on the bed near your hand. He is going to be gentler with you, especially after tonight. He will prove to you that he is worthy of your love, that this is so much more than just sex. He’s going to take care of you and give you the life you’ve always deserved.

God has humbled him once again tonight, and he knows he must do better.

He loves you so deeply he can hardly breathe.

So, he waits. He prays.

And he hopes that one day, you will love him, too.

*

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[susitseart]

Crown.

Placed on your head.

For you did well.

For you suffered more than anyone else.

Suffer, suffer, you will get a brighter crown. This is an old saying in my country, and it has its own historical roots. However, the power of the saying still lives today in the hearts of many. Mine too. For we are descendants of those who preceded us and their teachings.

Victims of what they taught us.

The idea that living in suffering makes us valuable. That it’ll eventually lift us to bliss.

This was taught to them, and might be taught to us as well. Not out of anger or as punishment. But for love and for our own good.

That suffering is the greatest of virtues.

It shows that we don’t want to take the easy route. Shows that we don’t spend our time dreaming. Shows that we are humble and know our place.

There is no higher way to live. For otherwise we might end up living in decadence. To face the evil of the world unprepared.

Otherwise we might start imagining that life will be kind and easy to us. But it won’t be. Imagining that there is something more to hope for. But there isn’t. Imagining that we are worthy enough to hold our heads proudly high. But we aren’t.

Because there is more to life than this kind of self-centered thinking. Like working. Like humility. For the sake of someone higher than just ourselves.

This will ultimately give us the greatest reward.

The brightest crown. As a sign that we honorably suffered the most of all.

This they taught us. This they promised us. This is the reason why we carry the mantle of suffering on our shoulders.

This is the thought that destroyed something in us.

That’s why we still may choose to suffer today. To be one day worthy of the crown. But is the crown really worth all our suffering?

Perhaps not. For there is so much more beyond that.

Things like hope. And happiness.

They truly are there, when we dare to let go our lessons about suffering.

When we stop waiting for a crown that may never come.

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

Did you also learn to see suffering as a virtue?

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

I learned to think like this. As a victim of my generations.

I understood the well meaning and beautiful purposes behind this idea of ​​suffering. I even learned to see the idea of ​​suffering as a virtue.

After all, it was the most polite thing to think of others before oneself. It was polite to value hard work more than anything else and to forget the unnecessary desire for comfort. To be humble and know my place.

After all, it was good behavior and wise not to emphasize yourself and not to dream of anything better. Because what could the world offer someone like me?

So what, even though I felt my heart die under the thought as I suffocated myself and stopped dreaming. A small price to pay for making others happy.

That was my thought at the time. But after growing up, finally, I was able to start my own life.

Although the thought of continuing to suffer haunted me, I knew I was free. And nothing else I wanted so much to get rid of than this thought.

Many of us still suffer from this thought even though we are free. Me too sometimes, in moments when I can't consciously fight the thought.

Maybe some of us don't know any better. It may be that we are used to pain. We may think we don't deserve anything else.

That only through suffering can we be worthy of the crown promised to us.

But if we can let go of our pain and suffering. Even for a moment. To perhaps discover that there is more to life.

There is a chance for balance.

A balance between comfort and discomfort. Between helping others and valuing yourself. Those are the things we should strive for in life. To find a way to be hopeful and happy again.

So wouldn't the crown actually belong to us?

For those of us who strive to let go of the pain others gave us? To find something better for ourselves instead.

Because it truly isn't easy. To look at life with hopeful eyes. To find ways to love ourselves after all our pain.

It's not easy. Sometimes it is as difficult as the suffering itself. But it is possible to make a choice.

And even if we won't get a crown. Not from suffering or happiness. It does not matter. Because by choosing happiness we can make our short life at least a little bit better.

I'm sure of it.

#artists on tumblr #artwork #illustration #dark art #horror art #wolf art #wolf #relatable #aesthetic #emotional #mental health #trauma healing

[merakiui]

Okay hear me out... You need money fast for some reason so you decide to sell your body - you'll get to have fun while also getting the cash you need. You go to Azul for a few pointers on how to run such business and while he might give them to you for a price, once he has Floyd amd Jade find out just what kind of business you need, he decides he needs to be the first in line. Like please take his virginity. He will pay you well. Hell, he might just pay you enough so you stay with him only...

Other part of the scenario is that your business is now open and all the boys that have been crushing on you are standing in line now. (this is just me wanting to take Azul's and Riddle's virginity... I want to take good care of them)

Omg he's a loser!!! T_T he needs to be the first and last in line, by which he is the only one in line. He probably tells the twins they're free to have fun with (beat up) anyone who even tries to make use of your little business. He is getting laid no matter what and it's going to be with you!!! >:( He boasts it so proudly that the twins can't help but laugh and tease him about his enthusiastic determination. If it isn't a business opportunity or new blackmail, then it's you who has him so eager. He would absolutely make you his contract lover. >_< so pathetic tako... the type to say "it isn't love" after you've signed his contract, but one of the stipulations is that you have to act like you're his loving partner and aaaaa he's so in love and so bad at navigating it with real, truthful rizz.

Open for business yes!!!! Could you imagine Riddle is one of the first in line and you don't expect to see him and he's so embarrassed and growing even redder by the minute!!!!!! orz he absolutely tiptoes around the real reason he's there and tells you he's not here to sleep with you and that he only wishes to take you out on a friendly outing (a date), so if you would be so kind as to indulge him just this once and maybe then... he's rambling and rambling and it looks so cute to see the usually eloquent Riddle flustered and fumbling over his tongue. You'll entertain him with a day's worth of fun things (tea party, croquet games, tending to the flamingos and hedgehogs, taking a stroll through the rose maze) and at some point in the evening you'll find yourself back in Riddle's room. He is incredibly nervous, but you're so patient with him. <3

It's probably really sweet and soft and slow sex because Riddle's settling into a pace that suits the both of you and it's also his first time so you want it to be endearing and memorable for him. Nothing hardcore or painful for the first time, but you can be certain that after that night he will find himself at your doorstep yet again. And again and again. Bad habits are hard to break, but even more so when you've become a crucial part of Riddle's schedules and he doesn't have the heart to write you out of it. Once the both of you are more comfortable in the bedroom, you will see many fun sides to Riddle (sides you never knew he could have, and from the way Riddle seems surprised even he was unaware he possessed such exciting sides).

#twisted chit chat #scaranya #jade and floyd giving azul rizz tips like: definitely tell (name) that you'll give them a lot of eggs. mers in the sea go crazy for that #azul: you idiots this isn't the sea -_- that doesn't apply #the twins: it applies if you're in octavinelle :) which is technically underwater :) in the sea :) #omg omg wait T_T the twins letting azul rail their lover AAAAAAAA #and they don't tell you anything about it #too many thoughts with this concept... #OHHHH OMG AND MAYBE YOU WERE ONCE ONE OF AZUL'S BULLIES #AAAAAAA OTL the two of you have never officially met so when the twins introduce you the both of you are like '????? wait a moment...' #'didn't you bully me when we were little??? / wasn't i super mean to you??' #and the twins are so cruel to both of you T_T they essentially force the two of you to fuck orz #even though both of you are really uncomfortable with the situation and all of the unresolved tensions between the both of you #mean eels!!!! terrible eels!!!! T^T #omg and maybe you weren't even together with the tweels for sweet purposes #maybe it was an arranged or forced relationship #maybe the twins blackmailed or threatened you into it #and now you have to fuck their octopus friend who is very much not your friend >_< #uuuauauawaaaaa forgive my ramblings ;;;;; #i like the idea of forced dub-con where it is an outside force that pushes you with someone you don't want to be with #(secretly files this concept away for future fics >:D)

[97keanu]

i really need a kevin lomax smut

Tags/CW: corruption kink, some dub con, Kevin teases your body, innocent reader, angel!reader, Kevin knows he's demonic, intern!reader, age gap between reader and Kevin, demon magic hehe.

Demonic!Kevin Lomax who picked you, the innocent, angelic fresh graduate as his intern. He couldn't help but be drawn to you softness, your sweet doe eyes that want to believe in the good in people. You chose to be a defense attorney for that reason, so that you may protect those wrongly accused. What a good heart you have, it would be a shame if you let someone as evil as Mr. Lomax taint you...

Angelic!Reader who comes from a good, christian upbringing. Who went to Sunday school and never missed out on a sermon. Who helped out the community, and eventually fluttered away to law school, with bright eyes and white, powdery wings. Who doesn't know she's descended from angels, who has no idea that her new boss has been eyeing her from the moment he saw her. That Mr. Lomax would love to corrupt.

Demonic!Kevin who starts out slow, asking you to stay late, asking you to change your dress, buying you lavish clothes from name brands that you surely couldn't refuse despite how much of your breast is exposed, how much thigh can be seen. You question these choices, but Kevin's soft voice coaxes you into wearing such garments. You can hardly believe no one is staring when you go to your first courtroom case and your thigh high designer stockings can be seen.

Angelic!Reader who also can't believe how her boss looks at her during the case. Someone must be noticing this, but when you look around all you see is people devoting their attention to the case. Your mind bends as you try to understand what's happening. You feel yourself begin to imagine Kevin's hand moving to your supple thigh, slowly moving deeper and deeper towards parts of yourself you know he shouldn't be touching, let alone in public. It's so bold you gasp, and glance to see if anyone's heard you, but the prosecutor continues their opener.

Demonic!Kevin who knows exactly what he's doing to you. He can barely hold back, but forces himself to savor it. To savor your undoing. He reaches his large, firm hand even deeper, enough to wrap a finger around your, of course, white panties, and pull. He maneuvers them so the slide up your already wetting slit, pressing them in so your clit is being teased by little movements. It drives you wild, your breath catching, a hand reaching up cover a budding moan.

Angelic!Reader who knows not what magic makes this courtroom ignore the filthy things Mr. Lomax is doing to you. You feel him move closer, his warmth against your side, his free hand snaking around your shoulders to grip your aching breast. He keeps teasing your clit, your moans still hushed by a quivering hand. You hear his voice float in your ear, deep and husky. "Are you going to be a good little intern and pay attention to the case?" You can hardly keep your mind on what's going on, the words of the courtroom seeming so distant to what's happening to your body. You have given up trying to understand why no one seems to see Mr. Lomax violating you like this. You whisper out "No...please. I'm a good girl, I don't do things like this..." But you know the pleasure you're feeling is not worth giving up. Guilt wraps like a snake in your stomach, knowing you have saved yourself all this time despite what your friends at college did at parties you never went to, and now here you are, a moaning mess from the lightest of nudge.

Demonic!Kevin who loves how much you've come undone for him, now twitching under his slightest touch. He continues using your panties against you, letting go off his grip and changing it so he's now rubbing your clit with his nimble fingers over your panties. "I want to feel your wetness, even through your underwear, can you be a good girl and do that for me? You said you were a good girl..."

Angelic!Reader who can only buck her hips into his hand as response, then hears his hushing tone about how eager you are. You can hardly stand this teasing, you want his fingers against your skin. You need it, you don't know what's come over you, why its so easy to give him right now. You feel the courtroom slip away, despite Mr. Lomax's chiding tone to pay attention, be a good little assistant, this is important. How could you ever pay attention to the case when he has his hands between your legs and his trailing sucking kisses on your neck.

Angelic!Reader who moves Kevin's hand so he is now in your bra, his hand now having access to your hardening nipples. He chuckles in your ear, "You can barely contain yourself. I can't believe what a dirty slut my assistant has turned out to be. Maybe you're a bad girl afterall..." You shake your head, no, you're not a bad girl, you're not supposed to be like this. Your body is betraying you, your mind has come undone, and you have no way of stopping this treatment. All you can do is keep taking Kevin's touches, feeling when he finally foregoes your panties and dips his fingers into your wetness. He tells you how good you are for getting so wet for him, how you were hired for being able to follow any command, how much he wishes he was tasting you right now.

Demonic!Kevin who has you coming completely undone, who is relishing in how easy it was to make a pretty little angel like you fall. He can't hardly wait until he can be inside your warmth, but he holds himself back. He has to tame you first, open you up, get you ready for all that. He uses his fingers to play with your nipple and clit until you're a panting mess, moaning out protests when it feels best. Kevin can only keep giving, making sure you're completely putty in his hands before letting you cum. "Don't you dare cum I tell you to. Don't cum unless you're begging for my cock next." He growls in your ear, twisting your nipple as a threat of punishment.

Angelic!Reader who is so close to the edge now, who is twitching and twisting for more. Who wants to say no, you know you should stop all of this, but the words get stuck in your throat. "God...please..." You whisper and feel Kevin's hand enclose on your throat, tight, firm, but not rough. "He won't help a little slut like you, my angel. You've given into pleasure too much for that now. You better beg me to cum so you at least get something out of this." You begin to moan out freely now, no way to stop the feeling that keeps building up. You begin to stutter out Kevin's name with want, and he tells you what you have say to cum. You don't want to, you know begging for his cock is fully giving in, but your legs are shaking and you need this. You need this so badly...

Angelic!Reader who falls, who finally says "Yes.... Yes Mr. Lomax. Please make me cum, please give me your cock..."

Demonic!Kevin who obliges, who gives you exactly what you want until you're clamping your legs shut around his hand, bucking from how good it feels. He eats up every moan, every sensation you're feeling, enjoying how much he has corrupted you. He knows how badly you didn't want to give in, and loves to see you a panting tainted mess.

Angelic!Reader who is barely done cumming before you're snapped out of your trance. The courtroom comes back into play, and Kevin is saying your name. You see he's next to you, your shirt still buttoned, your skirt still where it should be. You can't fathom what happened, surely it wasn't all a day dream? It felt so real, and so easy to give in. "Already spacing out during your first case, Intern?" Kevin laughs quietly and chides you. You blush deeply as you realize what happened. You blush more when you realize your panties are still soaked.

#kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax x intern!reader #kevin lomax imagines #kevin lomax fanfic #kevin lomax #the devils advocate #my writing #my imagines #my drabbles #keanu reeves #✧kevincore #ask lila #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ!

[destinyc1020]

This made me really sad. Hollywood will always be the same I hope there change one day

https://twitter.com/slightwright/status/1737397453513482523?s=46&t=MsTyyZBGy5t6aYtbstg3fg

X

Wow.... this really hurts my heart for real. 😥

I've heard Taraji talk about this inequality in pay in Hollywood for ages... In fact, I've even posted some of her videos to my blog where she spills the tea and really breaks down for you how much she actually is able to keep from her paychecks. But I have NEVER seen her breakdown like this.... 😭🥺

This just really hurt my spirit... 😔 I keep telling people that a LOT of your faves in Hollywood really aren't making as much money as you THINK they're making. 😔 ESPECIALLY poc.

By the time everyone has a cut, they're not left with as much money as reported. That has to be so discouraging. I know how I feel when I see how much Uncle Sam takes from my pay check every pay period... 🙄 I can't imagine having that AND having to pay my team on top of that.

Now we know why some of these actors are always out here WORKING.... Like, some people are like, "wow, they're ALWAYS working huh?" Or, "Geez, they're in everything!" But now I see, a lot of these actors are working so hard because they HAVE to! Plain and simple!

I remember when people were saying that Zendaya is a "workaholic", or "works too much", and I'll admit, there was even a time in the past when I felt like she could have afforded to take a little break here and there... but now I realize... we don't always know all the facts or what's going on bts! Woc, esp in Hollywood are NOT given the same opportunities/roles as their white (or even male) counterparts, and not only that, but when they DO land a role, they're earning so much LESS than others. It's so sad and, quite frankly, insulting. 😤

My heart goes out to Taraji, because she's been in the game for years, and she's steadily done more and more amazing work year after year... so the fact that she's not getting her due compensation is just awful. 😔 I'm glad she's exposing this.

Even Terence Howard is suing because he feels like he hasn't been compensated half as much as his peers in Hollywood, even though he and Taraji had that hit show "Empire" on Fox for YEARS! I never watched the show past the first season, but I know how POPULAR and well-watched that show was.... it even won awards... So it's just awful that they aren't being paid their worth.

I really hope she doesn't give up acting, because she's so talented. 🥺🙏🏾

Thanks for sharing this Anon.

BTW, here's the FULL portion of the interview in case anyone is interested:

#taraji p. henson #Hollywood #double standard #pay inequality #sorry for the dissertation y'all #the color purple cast

[goodnightmemes]

MOCKINGJAY - PART ONE (2014) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Start simple. Start with what you know is true. ❜

❛ I wish she was dead. I wish they were all dead and we were, too. ❜

❛ Please know how welcome you are. I hope you'll find some comfort with us. ❜

❛ I apologize. I wish you had more time to recover, but unfortunately, we don't have that luxury. ❜

❛ [name] was the one who was supposed to live. ❜

❛ This revolution is about everyone. It's about all of us. And we need a voice. ❜

❛ No one else can do this but her. ❜

❛ Obviously, we need to make it personal. Remind her who the real enemy is. ❜

❛ She can't handle it. The Games destroyed her. ❜

❛ People don't always show up the way you want them to. ❜

❛ I can't believe you're going through with this. You can say "no." ❜

❛ I won't say "rebels." These are senseless acts of defiance. And I won't legitimize them. ❜

❛ Never let them see you bleed. ❜

❛ To those who ignore the warnings of history, prepare to pay the ultimate price. ❜

❛ To murder innocent people, that costs everything that you are. ❜

❛ No, we were not part of any rebel plan. We had no idea what was going on. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. It's just a nightmare. ❜

❛ Will you stay with me? ❜

❛ Tell me what's happening. I'm good at keeping secrets. ❜

❛ If you want something, you just have to ask. ❜

❛ This is worth the risk. She's worth the risk. ❜

❛ You're not a prisoner. ❜

❛ If you wanna play a prisoner of war, fine. Stay here and rot. ❜

❛ The thing with revolutions, they're a tender flame. They need to be nurtured with a little kindling and warmth. ❜

❛ You know what could use a revolution? That hair. ❜

❛ I never knew anyplace could be so strict. ❜

❛ You know, everything old can be made new again. ❜

❛ Everyone's either gonna wanna kiss you, kill you, or be you. ❜

❛ And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies. ❜

❛ This how you greet an old friend? ❜

❛ Maybe I don't recognize you sober. ❜

❛ You'll never be able to guarantee my safety. I wanna go. ❜

❛ This has gotta be fast. In and out. ❜

❛ Any hope you can give them, it's worth it. ❜

❛ I can't help them. ❜

❛ You here to fight with us? ❜

❛ If you think for one second that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly you are lying to yourselves. ❜

❛ We know who they are and what they do. This is what they do! And we must fight back. ❜

❛ Fire is catching. And if we burn, you burn with us! ❜

❛ There is no progress without compromise. No victory without sacrifice. ❜

❛ Together, we will become an alliance to be reckoned with. ❜

❛ You don't like hearing a fight song at a funeral? ❜

❛ He's changed so much already. What are they doing to him? ❜

❛ You must love her very much to be able to forgive her. ❜

❛ And ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with? Do you know what they really want? ❜

❛ I would never say what he just said. Not if they tortured me. Not with a gun to my head. ❜

❛ 'Cause I'm in pain. That's the only way that I can get your attention. ❜

❛ Little on the nose, but, of course, so is war. ❜

❛ What have they done to you? ❜

❛ Think about it. How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. ❜

❛ We have to get him out before they kill him. ❜

❛ I wasn't gonna leave him behind. I couldn't live with myself. ❜

❛ Talk about something. Anything. ❜

❛ You love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't even know yourself. But anyone paying attention can see it. ❜

❛ I drag myself outta nightmares and there's no relief in waking up. ❜

❛ Takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart. ❜

❛ He's punishing [name] to punish me. ❜

❛ I suppose you're just gonna hide down here forever? ❜

❛ You know, you're the only real friend I have down here. ❜

❛ To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry. But I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets. ❜

❛ Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake. ❜

❛ I don't imagine you're calling to thank me for the roses. ❜

❛ I never asked for this. ❜

❛ Please, just let him go. I will disappear. You will never have to see me ever again. ❜

❛ You couldn't run from this... any more than you could have run from the Games. ❜

❛ Please. You've won. You've already beaten me. Release [name]. And take me instead. ❜

❛ We're long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice. ❜

❛ I've always kept my promises, haven't I? ❜

❛ I doubt you know what honesty is anymore. ❜

❛ It's the things we love most that destroy us. ❜

❛ It's the worst torture in the world. Waiting, when you know there's nothing you can do. ❜

❛ Whatever strength, courage, madness, keeps us going, you find it, at times like these. You have it. It's what's kept you alive all this time. And it won't fail you now. ❜

❛ They let us go. ❜

❛ They turned him into a weapon. To kill you. ❜

❛ The fear is the most difficult thing to overcome. We're hardwired to remember fear best. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #rp sentence meme #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #sentence meme #*movie #*thg

[evelhak]

Feeling daring today - Haizaki for the character and ship bingo ;)

Your takes are much more interesting, so there may not be anything illuminating here but I tried. xD

*Non-sarcastically normal. Haizaki is a pretty neutral character when I think about him by myself, I just don't have that special connection to him.

*However I love him when you talk about him and I'm sure I would love him more if I just had an incentive to write about him. But I don't feel anything like that because you're already giving him justice. My brain doesn't really work unless I feel like I have something substantial to contribute, which I don't.

*Haizaki definitely still gets a lot of unjustified hate, because he was framed as a villain and people then interpreted his every action as coming from the worst place imaginable, while other characters' actions get understanding just because they can see those characters' sides but can't see Haizaki's since he wasn't written in a sympathetic way. On one hand, that's fair to me, if your fic needs a villain it makes sense to pick a character whose motivations were not discussed deeply, so you can turn him into as much of a villain as you want, because you have no need to think about that particular character so deeply. However, the rate at which this happens to Haizaki perfectly exemplifies how the same dynamic happens in real life, especially at schools. He has the outward characteristics of the person who is always the easiest to blame. Not that there isn't stuff to blame him for, it's just that when he gets blamed for more than his share, it becomes a vicious cycle. Not to say it would affect his likability to me even if he never grew less violent or got his shit together, because my like and dislike for fictional characters is not based on morality or whether or not I would like that character in real life. 😂 I didn't pay that much attention to him solely because I just overlooked his story as pretty been there done that. Any character depth he has is implied at best, because he's a side character. I would much rather see an actual depiction of the dynamics that get projected onto him. And you are doing that, so, I'm not complaining.

*I do think Haizaki is pretty silly, he's so macho but he's also kind of wishy-washy about it. Like, one minute he can be thundering on like any of the other macho characters but then his line for changing his mind and going like "you know what, not worth it, actually" is much lower. And somehow he gets depicted as pathetic for that, even though it may actually just be common sense and self-preservation.

*Honestly I need to remind myself that Haizaki exists, sometimes. I'm sorry. He just wasn't that compelling to me initially. I didn't demonise him (I'd like to think that I don't demonise anyone) I just wasn't interested enough. I knew there were reasons he acts the way he does but I didn't make actual effort to find out. You've done some good to me, reminding me that my perception is more limited than I would like, because I tend to pride myself for considering everyone's viewpoints. (Not 100% possible, but I try.)

*Well you said it, Haizadick is not an inaccurate term, no matter what way you look at it.

I didn't ship anyone with Haizaki because I didn't think about his life much before talking to you, so...

*Congrats, your Haizaki and his relationships are now basically canon to me. : D

*I just put that second tier text there because I imagine it's where the relationships that last a bit longer would go, and I think Haizaki just has many short relationships before maybe ending up with his end game.

*I mean I assume he has had fun short relationships with many girls.

*And probably many one-night stands.

*I literally just got it in my head that maybe he experimented with a guy once, while I was making this. He seems like a curious type even though I'm kind of assuming he's straight.

*Yeah, I theoretically get why these are ships but no I don't really get it, I would be lying if I said I truly deeply understood it.

I know my shipping tiers are a mix of "I actually root for it" and "I just sort of think it would happen" but that's what you get from me. : D

#knb #character bingo #ship tier #haizaki

[yandere-romanticaa]

❤️ I'm dedicating this post to @cinnamonest because your momcon stuff is beyond entertaining and I was inspired by it. Also adding @khaenruin because I can! <3

yandere! modern au! kaeya alberich x female! chubby! reader.

Imagine you're in your late 40's, maybe early 50's and you can't help but feel a little sad to see your life just flash right in front of you. Due to a one night stand you became pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who was your pride and joy, you'd do anything for her. Her father wasn't anywhere near the picture but in a way you wanted to keep it like that. That man was a hot mess and if he took one step towards your baby you'd bite his head clean off his shoulders, with no hesitation whatsoever. That's why you had to move, to get away from everything and everyone. You needed a fresh start and your daughter definitely needed a more secure future. Without a word you just packed everything up and took your daughter with you, not even saying a goodbye to anyone you knew, not even to your closest friends and family.

Moving so far away definitely took its tool on you but thankfully you were blessed with incredibly kind neighbors who were more than willing to help you out. Your neighbors were the Ragnvindr's and you became good friends almost immediately. The family consistent of their father, his biological son Diluc and his adopted younger brother Kaeya. There were a few other kids in the nearby like Jean or Eula, perfect girls to keep your girl company. You felt so blessed to have met everyone and you made sure to express your gratitude whenever and however you possibly could. You made sure to spoil the boys whenever they came by the house, be it cookies, sweets or even your attention, they seemed to like that too!

Although, not everything was so peachy as you wished it was. Little Kaeya had this mischievous streak to him, he liked to play pranks on you. They were all harmless of course but you always made sure to give him a light scolding. In hindsight, you really should have payed better attention to that cheeky grin he gave you, and how his apologies never quite matched his tone. There was also one separate occasion that really shook you a little, and that's when Kaeya stepped aside and cornered you on one of your daughters birthday parties. He was maybe around 7 when that happened, you honestly can't be bothered to remember but what he said to you was something definitely worth remembering.

"Wait for me when I'm older Miss (y/n)! I want to be with you one day, I love you!"

Ah, he was so adorable, you almost wanted to faint from cuteness. You didn't take him seriously of course, who would? He tried so hard to convince you that he was serious and that he meant every word he said, but you just brushed off his words and ushered him back into the living room with the other kids. The party mostly went on without a hitch, aside from the occasional sad eye that Kaeya gave you, but still good none the less.

Time passes, you're getting older and the world hasn't been kind to you. You've gained weight and you can't but help to feel a little uncomfortable with your body, how could you not? These days all of the mums in the entire street seem to look like all these incredible supermodels while you were stuck at your house with your old and tattered apron and the boring desk job you managed to secure all those years ago. Your daughter was going off to college real soon and you wanted to support her no matter what, but because of that you hardly had any time for yourself. Working out and going to the gym just wasn't an option for you, you just didn't have that kind of money or time. You tried to balance that out by eating the healthiest food you could get your hands on and some home work outs, but no matter how hard you tried nothing was working for you. It also didn't help that the women around you made it so crystal clear how they thought you were ugly you were, and you were none the wiser. You started to believe them and their harsh words, taking it as a gospel truth of sorts. Even while you were down in the dumps it was still nice to see your daughter grow up into a beautiful young woman, who was at this very moment getting ready for a date with Kaeya.

As long as you could remember she's always had a crush on him, and you could not blame her. The timid little boy you knew from all those years ago was replaced by a charming, intelligent and confident young man who always caused heads to turn no matter where he went. He was a few years older than your girl, but neither one of you didn't mind, especially not her.

The doorbell suddenly rang and as you opened it you were greeted by none other than Kaeya, a charismatic grin plastered all over his face along with a huge arrangement of blood red roses in his hand. You cooed at him and pinched his cheek, thanking him for taking such good care of your daughter. Before he went away with your daughter he sneakily gave you a single rose, which coincidentally happened to be the largest one in the entire bouquet. You tried to give it back but he just was not having it as he turned his back to you, gave you a little wink and went on his merry way.

Things escalated from that point forward.

Your daughter would always being him to the house and while you usually wouldn't mind, there was just something... off about him. Sure he was hanging out with her but the way he would look at you, it always made you feel so weird. Due to an accident that happened a few years ago he lost an eye and always wore an eye patch now, making his stares that much more cryptic and spine chilling. You'd stare back at him by accident, but would always slap yourself for doing so. How could you be so self centered, he wasn't looking at you, he was looking at your daughter! Get a grip on yourself!

You never would have imagined that he would actually start touching you though.

It was very non conspicuous at first, an accidental hand brush here, a bumb there, nothing too crazy. Just imagine your shock when he just one day randomly pops out of nowhere and is literally breathing down your neck, his lips ghosting over your supple skin as you stare at your horrified reflection, finally realizing what his endgame really was. Even as he pinned you to the counter you tried telling yourself that this was all a joke, Kaeya was just joking, but the way he kissed you would prove you wrong.

He was finally a man now, he could finally hold you how you were meant to be held, and touch you how you were meant to be touched. You were always his favorite person, his secret obsession he could never get over. You were always so sweet, so kind, so caring, he was so obsessed with you that it hurt. He hated how you always saw him as a little kid, and he also resented his father for being the adult in those past situations, but things are different now. His father is gone, he's bigger and stronger than ever and he has you right where he wants you.

It's finally time for him to claim his prize, yes?

#yandere #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #genshin impact #yandere kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya #yandere kaeya alberich

[gothicafish]

WWDITS S5 SPOILERS

I feel like a lot of post I've seen about guillermo choosing to be human have never been in a situation where theyve wanted something so bad that they not only lose sight of why they wanted it but become so absorbed in not having it that they do something stupid about getting it. And that sounds like a very specific thing to feel but it happens in real life with in the most ordinary circumstances. And then when you finally have The Thing you realize it's not what you want or that you wanted it for the wrong reasons or weren't ready for it or all of the above. And I can't explain how normal it is to make such a sharp turn towards giving it up because it doesn't work for you/feel like you.

Just to put that feeling in a real life, non vampire sense, when I was in high school I really wanted a job. It seemed like all my friends had jobs and the idea of having my own money sounded fantastic, especially coming from a low income home where I hesitated to ask for things because I didn't feel they were immediately necessary or necessary at all in the light of our finances. So I applied several places (literally any place that was hiring) and every time I got a rejection email I felt so deflated and so brushed off and more importantly I felt like I wasn't worth anyone's time. So you can imagine how ecstatic I was when I got a call back from this hot dog place. I never really at there much but a job is a job. That's how viewed it and I wanted it so bad because I felt like I had so many things to prove, as a student, as a worker and as a functional person. So I go to the interview and I get the job. It was in the summer so I didn't have school and I worked in the mornings and evenings part time. And immediately it was not what I thought it was going to be. But I figured that was part of it yaknow getting to know a new place can be rough. But on the second or third day the owner dude of the restaraunt (who literally does nothing but come in and tell the workers shit) he comes in while I was doing dishes and keep in mind this is one of the first times I've done dishes in a restaurant environment (and if you've ever worked in food service you know there's a very specific way to wash dishes) so the dude comes in sees I'm doing it wrong and yells at my manager for not properly teaching me how to do something. The manager then tells me to ask if I don't know how to do something (I thought I was doing it right) and there were several incidences where he would come in and yell at somebody (and I'm talking have a full out burst) for something mediocre.

I remember this one time he came in and yelled at us because we left the back door open a Crack because the air conditioner wasn't working (it didn't work the whole Two months I was there). He said it was a hazard as someone random could come in and cause problems. And I would agree if it was sumer, over 100 degrees EVERYDAY EVEN AFTER THE SUN GOES DOWN AND IF WE DIDNT HAVE TWO STOVES TWO FRIERS AND A BOILING WATER STATION TO KEEP THINGS HOT. I literally went home every day dehydrated from sweating so much and that not an exaggeration AND WE WERENT ALLOWED TO HAVE DRINKS ALL WE HAD WAS A LIL CUP TO GET SOFT DRINKS FROM. So yeah I didn't work there very long. So not only was the boss a total freak wad (the managers were cool tho), I just felt so horrible at everything I was doing there. I would get told how not to do things on the daily and I would beat myself up about it. There were times were I would try not to cry because how badly I felt about myself and the job I was doing because of how many times I had to be told how to do things. I felt stupid, and the fact that my friends and people my age could do this everyday with out problems ONTOP of school made me feel worse. I would literally come home and cry because of how horrible being there made me feel. It bothered me so much that I've hesitated getting another job after that and now that I'm looking for a job to pay for college I feel so much anxiety about it being like that again. And I've sworn off food service cause fuck that. Everyone who works a food service/customer service jobs everyday of their lives deserves a metal of Valor bc goddam idk how you do it. So when it got to much for me I made an impulsive decision to quit and I did and I never went back. But I felt like shit afterwords about being so vocal about getting a job and then not being able to handle it, but it was a lot better than being there.

That was a very long winded way if saying I sympathize with guillermo and I understand him completely and how humiliating it can feel to be in that position. And I'm glad nandor and the crew was nice about it cause I felt it in my soul.

#what we do in the shadows #guillermo de la cruz #lazlo cravensworth #wwdits #nadja of antipaxos #nandor the relentless #the guide #before you come at me #i have adhd and that contributed to a lot of my doing things shittily at work #and the reason why i felt so bad about it #wwdits s5 #if you read this far youre a real one

[expended-sleeper]

The Honorable Companions vs. The Murderous Dark Brotherhood: How they Differ, and Why it Matters

One essential aspect I often see ignored in stories dealing with the Companions is that they are NOT just cold-blooded mercenaries for hire. There are specific lines they won't cross, and these lines are important to distinguish because they're the same lines that tell us the difference between the Companions and the Dark Brotherhood. We can identify these crucial aspects of distinction by examining the dialogue and actions of quite a few in-game characters.

So, you have two guilds that both accept gold in exchange for hurting and/or killing people. What sets them apart from each other? Their acceptable targets, and their methods. You can't hire the Companions to kill your neighbor. To beat him up, sure. But not to kill him. We know this because you fail the "Hired Muscle" quest if you kill a target you were just meant to intimidate. When you steal items from shops or generally cause trouble, generic Hired Thugs show up to kill you, not Companions. The bottom line here is that the Companions are not assassins, or even mercenaries that will accept any paying job—just as they have standards for recruitment, they also have standards for which jobs they'll accept.

Methods: this is why Arnbjorn was exiled from the Companions, and why he joined the Dark Brotherhood instead. His methods were too violent for the Circle to accept. If the Companions considered extreme violence acceptable, he'd still be around.

His dialogue:

You are moon-born. You are wolf. So you're a Companion, then? I can't imagine you got your gift anywhere else. I hope you have better luck with them than I did. Oh yes, I was once brother to the Companions. Let's just say they found my methods "unsettling." The Dark Brotherhood, obviously, feels differently."

It's heavily implied here that Arnbjorn's tendency towards excessive violence made him a poor fit for the Circle. He had to seek out a guild of assassins in order to find appreciation for his brutal talents. The lesson we can take from this is that skill at killing alone is not enough to merit the Companions keeping you around: you also have to demonstrate a respect for the company's honorable ideals.

We also have evidence that the Circle keeps an eye out for these violent tendencies in their prospective recruits. The mercenary Uthgerd is barred from joining because she accidentally kills someone during training. Even in this violent world, the Circle isn't willing to tolerate such senseless killing.

Her dialogue:

You must really love to fight. "The heat of battle is the fire that forges the strongest blades. It's an old Nord proverb. That, and a true Nord never misses a chance to test her worth."

Sounds like you've got a grudge. "You been talking to those Companions? "Too hot-headed," they cried. Weak, pathetic cowards, the lot of them!"

Why'd the Companions reject you? "It wasn't my fault! I told them over and over that it was an accident! They wanted me to prove my worth, so they threw me up against a young whelp of a lad, hardly old enough to grow his first chin-hairs. I guess they thought a woman wasn't strong enough to hurt him. I didn't mean for him to die! Why would I want that? I just... lost control."

Judging from this interaction, the Companions are actually less hotheaded than your average Nords. They don't want mad berserkers in their company--they want disciplined warriors that don't let their emotions control their actions. This makes a whole lot of sense when you consider that anyone who joins might eventually become a werewolf. The Circle is aware that maintaining their code of honor is very difficult in the beast form, so they only accept warriors that already have a significant amount of self-control.

When you encounter the Companions, they're in the middle of a schism over this very issue. Aela and Skjor represent the side that says might makes right. They believe their Daedra-granted powers grant them leave to pursue bloody slaughter and revenge. This is a corruption of the company. It's not the way all Nords behave. In fact, the Harbinger is specifically trying to cultivate an atmosphere of cool resolve in the current batch of whelps:

Under Kodlak's watch, losing control of yourself as a Companion is seen as a sign of failure. It got Arnbjorn kicked out, and kept Uthgerd from joining. Perhaps most importantly, it's a sign that you will never be worthy of the beast blood.

Kodlak: "How are the young ones coming along?"

Farkas: "Some are too happy to fight. Blood runs hot."

Kodlak: "I remember when you were the same way. The more they train, the more they'll cool down."

Farkas: "I hope so."

Kodlak: "Just have them focus on the calm in the battle. Control the rage, don't let it control you."

Kodlak and the twins represent the classic ideals of the Companions: honor, integrity, and loyalty. So far they have maintained a tense balance between this code of honor and the violent temptations of the blood.

Dialogue on Kodlak's view of revenge:

Again and again during the questline, members of the Circle are punished for blindly pursuing violent solutions. However, it's also important to remember that their two great acts of violence towards the Silver Hand are both reactions to attacks on members of the Circle, and both attacks are on fortified encampments: Aela and Vilkas are basically attacking bandit forts, not villages of well-meaning werewolf hunters. The first time we encounter the Silver Hand is when they ambush Farkas at Dustman's Cairn. He defends himself and kills them.

Farkas: "Kodlak did not care for vengeance."

Vilkas: "No, Farkas, he didn't. And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood."

Skjor and Aela alone are the ones who point you towards the Silver Hand fort and commence the slaughter. Given that Kodlak and the twins aren't involved at all, it's probably safe to assume they wouldn't approve of these bloodthirsty activities.

In fact, Kodlak is intensely worried that Skjor's reckless nature will get him killed:

Skjor dies because he rushes ahead and tries to wipe out a fort of Silver Hand on his own. When you tell Kodlak that you and Aela have been attacking the Silver Hand out of vengeance, this is his response:

Kodlak: "You're a strong warrior, Skjor. Your heart is fiery and that serves you well in battle."

Skjor: "Thank you, Harbinger."

Kodlak: "But even the bravest of men consider their actions. I want you to survive long enough to take the mantle."

Skjor: "Don't worry about me."

Aela and I work to avenge Skjor's death."Your hearts are full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor. But his death was avenged long ago. You have taken more lives than honor demanded. The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time."

Kodlak dies because you and Aela provoke the Silver Hand into a bold strike on Jorrvaskr itself. You avenge Skjor by killing Krev the Skinner, but then you and Aela go past honor into something far uglier. Vilkas refuses to follow you in order to purify Kodlak's soul, because he feels his honor has been tainted by his own need for vengeance.

Vilkas' words:

"Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade. But I can't go any further with my mind fogged and my heart grieved."

For the Companions, vengeance leads to senseless death and grieving hearts.

The DB questline is about the fantasy of being a morally destitute assassin. The Companions questline is about restoring honor to the Circle, and it treats revenge and violence very differently. These two factions are not the same merely because they're in the same game. The difference between them defines their driving themes and purpose in the larger TES world.

Compare this to the revenge you enact in the Dark Brotherhood questline. You can just slaughter Commander Maro in broad daylight on the Solitude docks, as vengeance for wiping out the Falkreath Sanctuary.

His extreme fear when you show up out of nowhere to kill him is treated as a joke—and this is GOOD, because that's what the Brotherhood is thematically about! Performing ridiculous assassinations on the innocent and guilty alike, and going home at the end of the day to your torture chamber. No punishment, no repercussions, no guilt felt by anyone in the Brotherhood. At no point are you asked to question the morality of your actions, because the story assumes that if you choose not to kill Astrid in the abandoned shack, then your character is fully on board with cold-blooded murder and assassination.

The behavior of characters in a certain setting cannot be reduced to the lowest common denominator of the most ruthless villains. These characters do have moral codes, and that can't be waved away by pointing to the darkest acts of the setting. Sinding is a werewolf that commits horrible crimes under the influence of his curse, and that makes him a very interesting fallen character--however, the Circle would never dare go near him, because he represents the ultimate failure that likely even Aela and Skjor fear: a total loss of control leading to the killing of innocents.

This is WHY the Companions are so potentially interesting to write about. They're in a constant state of conflict between their honorable ideals that place value on restraint and discipline, and the reality of their Daedric corruption that tempts them towards slaughter. Even when they surrender to this pull, however, we have to remember that it is only werewolf hunters that they kill. None of the Circle ever fall even close to the level of Sinding. If they did, they would no longer be fit to be Companions, and they would likely follow a similar path to Arnbjorn.

This isn't me applying real-world morality to Skyrim: this is me comparing the morality of the Companions at their best to the Companions at their worst. The story very clearly indicates which path is the honorable one, and which path gets Skjor and Kodlak killed. There are many shades of gray here, yes. But suggesting that every warrior in Skyrim is acting under the same set of morals does a disservice to the complexity of these themes, and the clear evidence that there are grave consequences for the Circle when they cross such lines and surrender to bloody temptation.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #the companions #werewolves #lore #vilkas #farkas #aela #kodlak #skjor

[king-shango-the-great]

Unpopular Opinion:

Question To All The Guys:

To those of you who subscribe to sites like Only Fans.... What exactly do you get out of it, that you can't get from, well..... Anywhere else for free?

I mean, walk me thru the logic. 🤔

90% of the women on OF (& related sites), if you Google their names, those same pics & vids come up on Google. Hell, many of those Google entries will route you right back to here.

What exactly are these ✌🏿sex workers✌🏿doing, that absolutely must be paid for? Twerking, flashing their bodies, taking a bath, playing with themselves? 🤔

You are aware that anything they do on OF, paid Snapchat, etc can be easily found on sites like:

P-Hub

X-Vids

Red Tube

And others, for absolutely free?

And when I say free, I mean you don't even have to log into those sites to watch them. You don't have to even create an account. Soon as you go to these sites, you can click on the first vis that comes up.

Please understand, I'm by no means advocating these sites. But I'm also not trying to feign piety either. I watch porn on occasion. And when I do, I'm NEVER gonna pay for something that can be easily accessed.

Imagine paying for air.... I mean, air that is the same quality that is also FREE. Would you pay for it? I mean, I could see if it was water; you don't wanna drink the same water that flows thru your toilet, so we all pay for water that has been filtered.

But what's really crazy, is that if you go to some of the aforementioned sites, you can even find the same ✌🏿sex workers✌🏿 from OF on there.

A few months back, a ✌🏿sex worker✌🏿here on Tumblr DM'd me asking if I wanted to buy some of their material. I told her I was good, because I'd already seen what she's offering on P-Hub (I can screenshot the messages, if anyone doubts this) 🤷🏿‍♂️

So what exactly are you getting on OF, that's somehow different/special?

Moreover, when did every single aspect of sex need to become monetized? And when did we as men feel so compelled to buy all/any of it?

What's worse, most of the women on OF (or here peddling virtual sex) don't even like us. They definitely dont respect us. Hear them talk, they even despise us. And many of them are so traumatized (by their own admission), that it makes you wonder why they do it at all. So why is that worth buying? 🤔

Listen, I'm not saying porn overall is healthy for anyone, but the Direct To Consumer model is definitely unhealthy. Just like there's a reason there's a barrier between celebs & the general public, there should definitely be a barrier between ✌🏿sex workers✌🏿& the GP.

So, back to my original Q, which isn't rhetorical, nor is it meant to be judgmental (tho if it comes off like that, I'm okay with that as well)...

Why are you paying for something that can be found for absolutely free? 🤔

#Unpopular Opinion

[inkblotsandpapertrails]

Hello! I love your writing, especially ur OHSHC stuff! I feel like you captured all the characters really well <3 Everyone feels so alive! Feel free to ignore this request, but I would love to hear about ur headcannons for your Unstoppable Series between the reader and the host club! Or just your ideas in general. I'm so in love with your work and I'm so excited to see what else you'll create! It's always worth the wait (♡´𓋰`♡)

oh my goodness that is... so incredibly sweet i'm gonna cry. my little heart. thanks so much anon that's really nice to hear. i kinda fell off the ohschc train for a while but i had ideas for that kyoya fic and i want to deliver them. and this is a really good question! so hopefully it'll get me back into the swing of things - but hey we all know i take fucking forever to write so i wont go getting anyones hopes up, i'll just answer your question :) this got kinda long so i'm gonna put it under a readmore uwu but i hope you enjoy!

so the current atmosphere between the reader and the hosts is,,, difficult. each of the hosts have their own very specific outlooks on the world shaped by their own very specific experiences, so none of them are really doing the Right Thing in this scenario - but you can't really blame them for that. mostly.

for the hitachiins, the important thing to note is that they are very much spoiled rich kids who spent the majority of their lives ignored and left to their own devices. we know they're pretty unempathetic to other people because that's just the way they were raised - they were the only two people they could recognize as Real People, and everyone else was just a plaything. that's changed throughout the anime - they're more empathetic to others and care deeply for their friends - but they're still just as selfish, as we've seen in the b&b arc. they don't want their friends to leave them, so they either cling on too tight (kaoru) or push their friends away before they can (hikaru).

hikaru knows from the moment the reader shows up that you do NOT want to be in the host club - now that IS a fairly normal reaction, the club's got kind of a slanderous reputation around school since it is literally just paying to date people, but the host club is his and kaoru's haven. it's what brought them a proper family. so he doesn't really like seeing someone there when they clearly don't want to be there - it just feels like an insult, both to him and the club (and maybe because he sees some of his old self in the way you push away tamaki and the rest of them, as well). so, as he did with haruhi when they first arrived, he wants to torment the reader and push you away until you inevitably leave, because hey, you don't want to be here and you're just gonna leave at some point anyway, so why not speed up the process? kaoru's intentions aren't quite as malicious - i think it's just another one of those 'well, hikaru's doing it, and i do what hikaru does' things (poor boy does not have a solid grasp of his own identity yet). but it is also partially that kaoru is very scared of letting people get close to him now that he and hikaru are beginning to distance themselves from each other (this is all vaguely post-anime canon). not quite as much as hikaru, but he doesn't really wnat to get attached to you.

(unfortunately, neither of them were expecting the reader to snap quite so badly. they figured you'd just storm out and not come back - they were not expecting tears. and when you said 'if this is how you're gonna treat me, i'm better off being at home'... well no spoilers but that's gonna stick with them.)

tamaki is,,, difficult for me as a writer because he feels things a LOT and i do not know how to capture it. but i imagine in the process of meeting the reader he's gone from one extreme to the other. he's eager to have a new member, and i'm sure he can see that 'something' about you that he saw with the twins and honey and kyoya, so yeah, he's very excited. probably rattling off costume ideas for 8 people, probably factoring an extra person into the budget, probably trying to find out what colours suit you and what your favourite snack is and etc etc (he is CLINGY, sue him). but then when you break down he's probably in the opposite of that extreme. i imagine he really laid into the twins - not his typical show-boating speeches, but an actual seething 'what the hell is wrong with you' scolding (he is a good dad. he doesn't let shit slide), and is really fixating on the comment about your homelife. tamaki cares a lot and has very little boundaries so i imagine he's trying his very hardest to fix everything (even if it violates your privacy - he's... trying. he's not good at it but he's trying).

haruhi is just downright furious. you seemed really chill, and they could probably see that you've been feeling lost and alone, like they did before they found the host club. i think they really wanted you to stay and have a good time and maybe find a little niche you could fit into, because while haruhi knows that the guys are overwhelming, they also know that the guys care deeply for their friends and would do anything to make a person they loved feel happy (even if they get it wrong most of the time). and now the twins have ruined that, and so has kyoya honestly, and none of the other guys stopped them so fuck them too!! so yeah i imagine haruhi laid into all of the guys (the twins and kyoya are the most responsible, yes, but we all know that when haruhi is mad everyone is gonna pay for it) and is now giving all of them the iciest of silent treatments (except honey).

honey is more perceptive than he seems, so i imagine he feels quite similarly to haruhi. he probably saw something in you that he felt back when he was a haninozuka to the bone - like you were being forced into someone elses place and desperately needed a thing that was yours, and no one elses, where you could be entirely yourself. and now the twins went and made you cry, and kyoya was being really mean the whole time, and honey's very upset about the whole thing. not quite haruhi's 'yell at everyone and then silent-treatment' upset, but he's very tearful and is currently refusing to speak to the twins.

mori is once again difficult for me (he's like the opposite of my tamaki problem). he doesn't know you very well but i imagine he wants to look out for you the way he does with haruhi. he's not quite murderously angry, but he is extremely disappointed in the twins, and while he's not going to try anything with kyoya, it's fairly obvious that he's not entirely happy with how kyoya handled things with you. for now he's just comforting honey.

kyoya is. well. no spoilers but he had his own reasons for roping you into the club. he is not immune to curiosity - he likes to know things and he likes to be correct, which is why it frustrates him when things don't act the way they're supposed to. that's the most nonspoilery way i can say why he wanted you in the club while also wanting to torment you a little - sometimes you need to dissassemble something to understand it. it's all very clinical and sociopathic but that's kyoya. but even kyoya's not immune to emotions (even if he likes to pretend that he is) and you're defying pretty much all his expectations and behaving in ways that just don't make sense to him, as well as making him think things that he can't understand just yet, which is obviously going to frustrate him (because no matter how serious he tries to act that boy has the mentality of a toddler trying to solve a rubiks cube). so he definitely doesn't like you just yet (it's enemies to lovers deal with it) but he's intrigued by you, and that's saying a lot for kyoya - and while he wants to figure you out, he's no longer going to break you to do so, which, again, is saying a lot for him.

man this was fun. i love talking about my wips, it's what helps me the most when it comes to writing, but alas i am not immune to cringe and i would rather die than talk to my friends about my x reader blog, so asks like this are really helpful for me! thanks anon, youre a sweetheart and this made me really happy :)) i hope you like the answer you got!!

#ohschc #ohshc x reader #kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #unstoppable force immovable object #headcanons #anon #ask

[phoenix-fell]

keep seeing posts that bumbleby have no foundation outside of matching colors and that they weren't even involved in each others arcs and???? are these people in denial? hello??????

Yeah, I've seen a few... It's a lack of imagination that ultimately sees Blake's 'arc' as being restricted to the White Fang and completely overlooks any of her romantic and/or emotional arcs/character development or that Sun did all the heavy lifting. They also see killing Adam as the end to one arc and not the other. So *cracks knuckles* here we go...

Sun has a massive significance that can't be overlooked in Blake's arcs. He comes in at the introduction of the WF. Team RWBY flit in and out of this narrative, but it's the Faunus plotline that he's heavily involved in. The secondary plotline, is the fact that Sun, on more than one occasion, gets Blake back to her team. I see a lot of posts that honestly cheapen Sun's character tbh, as though doing all this work with Blake is only worth it if there's a romantic pay-off, and it's so insulting to his character and the depth of their friendship.

As for BB coming down to 'nothing other than matching colours', this makes me chuckle. I saw a post like this recently, and the only way they really get around this is by spouting off that any 'evidence' pointing towards Bumbleby is 'conjecture by fans' and 'CRWBY are lying'. Like okay then lmao. If the creators tell you one thing and present you with evidence and you're like, 'nah I like my own HC.' then that's your problem really.

Blake was the girl who ran away, and Yang was the girl terrified of people leaving her. Blake was reserved while Yang acted first and thought about it later. One is stealth while the other is... Well, Yang. Yet Blake chose Yang as a partner. Over and over, she chose her. And when she returned, and they reconciled, Yang chose her too. This, in itself, was the bravest thing for both of them - to trust one another, to be vulnerable. Yang, the outgoing one, opens up to Blake in a way she doesn't to anyone else, and Blake lets her walls down in return. Yes, Sun is instrumental to her journey, to help Blake learn the lesson of letting others in, but that journey was always a road back to Yang because... That's what she was running from, to protect her. But Blake is where she's meant to be, and that's something even Sun himself refers to. I could go on forever... But I have a pinned essay that says it all. It shocks me how much people struggle to wrap their heads around friends to lovers. "But they were FrIeNdS?!" YES THAT'S THE POINT. THEY WERE FRIENDS. UNTIL THEY WEREN'T. THEY CAUGHT FEELS. IT HAPPENS.

#bumbleby #rwby #phoenix.answered

[brucebocchi]

fresh off of watching them back to back, i went ahead and read the manga for both call of the night and insomniacs after school, also back to back, over the weekend. insomniacs just got a new chapter a couple hours ago so i'm more comfortable talking about it now than i was at like 2am yesterday

call of the night is a lot meatier than i was expecting given the anime's vibes-based economy, but i guess that's to be expected given that it's been running for nearly four years now and has been slowly building its world from the jump. i came to really like the characters outside of just the deuteragonists more than i was expecting to just from the anime; a lot of them get good time to shine, and even as new characters are introduced it's neat to see them slowly join the gang.

and while it's absolutely a coming of age story and in some parts a metaphor for puberty a la FLCL, i still have some real issues with how it handles its 14 year old characters and how these decades- if not centuries-old vampires are so blase with them. i have much bigger issues with how leery it gets with akira. i know that this is the pill you often have to swallow with anime and manga but jesus christ, nothing is improved by having people comment on a 14 year old girl's chest. kou and mahiru's situationships can be kind of fundamentally uncomfortable to witness, so i really can't blame anyone for writing this off because of it.

the hokkaido arc was great though. at some points kiku reminded me of makima to a very distressing degree, and i have to imagine that was intentional (there were denji and makima cosplayers in that one halloween spread, so). and to my previous point, i was... very nervous about where that was headed. a sad end to that one, but worthwhile.

also there's a character who is very tall and instantly falls in love with any guy who pays attention to her, and her name is rila echigo. echigo rila. ecchi gorilla. terrific.

as for insomniacs, not much more i need to say past what i've said about the anime! it's lovely and it stays lovely past what the anime adapted. there's at least another season's worth of material still out there, or there will be in another few months, but i feel like the anime kinda ended with no intention of continuing. and like i said after i finished the anime, i'd be okay with that.

that's not to say it doesn't stay good after volume 6! ganta and isaki go public with their relationship and it goes back to being a lovely high school slice of life again, with less focus on the insomnia itself and more on the root causes of their respective anxieties. and in isaki's case, you can guess where it goes. it flirts with going full fault in our stars on several occasions, which is partly why i wanted to see how today's chapter goes before saying anything, but i'm pleased to report that there is no tragedy porn here.

i have hangups with call of the night that kind of prevent me from recommending it broadly, so maybe ease yourself in through the anime and just take in the aesthetic if you're curious. insomniacs after school, though, get the fuck on that.

#anime reviews #call of the night #yofukashi no uta #insomniacs after school

[trinketfairy]

I'm having an autism moment but the quality control decline at Jellycat makes me feel very autistically frustrated.

Some points:

Prices are getting higher while quality is decreasing. We've seen it, Jellycat has acknowledged and commented on it, and we know that JC isn't the only one who's guilty of this. But what frustrates me a lot is knowing that, despite JC's comments on their quality control and their promises to "do better," they haven't really been sticking with their word. I feel like there's been a consistent uptick in posts on the Jellycatplush subreddit of people complaining about quality even after they made their statement in January of this year and for good reason- their final products just aren't meeting the price tags anymore.

I suppose some of this has to do with the increase in popularity they said they had experienced in 2022 that they struggled to keep up with, and I imagine they're trying to keep up with the demand by loosening quality control to get more product out, but I think they're really shooting themselves in their feet for this because JC was once revered for their quality. I know I myself have said in the past that I thought the price of their products were totally worth it because I truly believed that the quality lived up to those price tags. Nowadays I can't say the same thing about them anymore.

What sucks further though is the fact that all of this product is just going to waste now. Many people have said that they were so disappointed with what they got (especially when you consider how much money they have to fork out per plush these days) that they ended up returning it to JC, which ultimately ends up being tossed in some landfill somewhere. Polyester and plastic fabric isn't exactly the definition of environmentally friendly!

Ultimately, these factories are going out of their ways to produce subpar products under what I imagine are more strict codes to get more product out, which end up being returned by the buyers because they're so disappointed in the quality control and thrown into the garbage. Or if they're not returned by the owner, then they'll still probably end up there anyway because they're defective and not as likely to last as long.

What I think should be done instead is offering discounts on defective products- within reason of course, nobody's going to want to pay any amount of money for a plush that's practically falling apart, but minor defects I could see selling fine enough because A) customers won't have to pay the full amount for a subpar product, and B) they also will know exactly what they're getting and not being set up for disappointment. I'd love to buy defective jellies, so long as I'm not paying the price of a high quality one!

But understandably, I think the above point could have a bad affliction on their reputation as a company, that they'd have defective plush to sell in the first place, which is why I don't think they do it. They've already built their image on being a higher-end plush brand, so I feel like advertising products that exist to be defective would be bad publicity.

Side note: I fear for the safety of the literal babies chewing on their toys if their quality continues to dwindle. There are specific safety protocols that toy manufacturers need to adhere to in order to produce toys for babies- the 3+ age rating exists for a reason! I don't think it's quite gotten to that point yet, but it's in the realm of possibility if JC continues down the road they're on.

I could end this by saying something about the effects of late stage capitalism on product quality control and, eventually, environmentalism and safety, but I don't imagine anyone is following a blog about children's toys to hear political commentary which is understandable so I'll save it for now.

#journal #Partially inspired by that one Reddit post I saw earlier about someone wanting to sell secondhand defective jellies at a discount