#engage girdle

[squirrelwrangler]

Why was Thingol so irrationally paranoid as to think the Noldor might ally with Morgoth that’s absurd- hey, hey. Remember what Maedhros’s First action as king after his father dies? He invites Morgoth to a parley to sue for peace. We as the reader are told that Maedhros was planning an ambush and the gesture of peace was false- but that wouldn’t have been immediately known. And then of course Morgoth was also just as duplicitous about this one peace negotiation and kills everyone but Maedhros and then there’s fifty years of implied paralyzed inaction from the Noldor. So maybe, maybe there’s a kernel of a reason for that paranoia

#the silmarillion #elu thingol #Maedhros #Morgoth #engage girdle #I know I’ve made this post before #but I must articulate my disdain for a large subset of this fandom and who is villainized and who is shilled

[wayward-dreamer]

Far From Innocent - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Word count: 6,207

Summary: Y/N's life is quite simple. She's engaged to be married in a few months, she has the easiest job at Vought American, and she stays out of the drama or away from rumors she's heard around the office. An encounter with Soldier Boy, Vought's most respected hero, quickly changes all of that and she soon realizes that there's more to life than what she's settled for. (Set in the 50s)

Warnings: Swearing, degrading language, typical 1950s misogyny, cheating, drinking, smoking, drug use, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, hair pulling, spanking, choking, use of 'slut' and 'whore', unprotected sex (SB pulls out), just a whole lotta smut, okay? lol

A/N: I'm so glad y'all are enjoying this. Just one more part after this one. Happy reading and enjoy! beta'd by my darling @hintsofhoney

The next night came around a lot quicker than Y/N had wanted it to.

She spent the day completely distracted at work, everything she needed to do taking twice as long because couldn't’ keep her mind off the fact that America’s golden boy had given her an impossible offer to accept. She told herself she couldn’t do it continuously, throughout the day, and even when she got home. Yes, she was angry with Jim and wanted to confront him, but she wasn’t about to do the same thing in return. She had ignored him all day, having lunch on her own and taking a cab back home at the end of the shift.

The weekend had arrived, and she had to be up early the next day, having already planned dress shopping with her mom. It was yet another reason she couldn’t go running off to the Vought building for the night.

As she sat in bed, book in hand but not retaining any of it, she bit her lip as she looked at the time. It was 8:15pm, and there was still plenty of time to give in and meet Soldier Boy. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her book. It was ridiculous. She was better than this.

But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was allowed to have one secret for herself. Jim probably had several if yesterday was any indication. Soldier Boy said he knew what she needed.

She knew what she needed, and she wasn’t going to find it with Jim no matter how hard she tried.

Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed and walked over to her closet. She stripped out of her nightie and put on her black, strapless bra and panties, putting them on before she slipped on a black girdle with suspenders. She sat back on her bed, rolling the sheer stockings onto each leg, clicking the suspenders on before she stood up, taking out her favorite black dress. The flowing material was perfect for the summer, the draped neckline turning into a sash at the back of the left shoulder. She stepped into it quickly, looking back in the mirror to make sure she zipped it up properly. She checked her hair, her curls still intact which was thankful for before she applied make-up to her face again. She used her best eyeliner and mascara, completing the look with a dark red lip.

She took out her black purse, ditching the gloves for the night but the sight of the ring on her finger had her stop her frenzy to get ready. The diamond sparkled brightly, reminding her of the commitment she had made by saying yes, but a little voice in the back of her mind also reminded her of what she had seen yesterday. She may not have had the full picture, but it was easy to figure out.

She pulled the ring off and left it on her nightstand, slipping her feet into black heels just as she picked up her purse. Filling it with her necessities, she took one last look in the mirror, a smirk on her face as she flicked the sash around. She made her way out of her room, turned off the light and hurried down the stairs.

With a yell to her parents that she was meeting Jim, she picked up the keys and rushed out the door.

Hailing a cab rather quickly, she gave the driver the address of Vought American, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage as he drove down the busy New York streets. She looked down at her wrist, cursing that she forgot her watch back at home.

“Excuse me, sir, could you tell me what time it is?” she asked, politely.

“8:45, miss,” he replied, glancing at his own watch and looking up at her through the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you.” She sat back against the seat, closing her eyes as she breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down.

Fifteen minutes later, she was staring up at the building as the driver stopped at the curb, willing herself to tell him to turn around and drive her back home. She had come this far, though, and she was going to follow through. Paying the driver, she stepped out of the cab and slammed the door, walking towards the entrance. She kept her head down as she made her way to the elevators, hoping no one recognized her and asked what she was doing there so late. She managed to reach the 40th floor without anyone noticing, and she took a quick glance around as she stepped out of the lift.

Her heart continued to race with every click of her heels against the marble. She walked past her desk along with the secretaries’, turning down the hallway to the heroes’ penthouses. She gulped as she moved past the doors of the other superheroes, hoping that one of them wouldn’t walk out and see her. Not that many of them would care if she was there, but she didn’t need them saying anything to someone else. She finally reached Soldier Boy’s apartment, exhaling as she knocked on the door. A wave of déjà vu came over her as she turned the knob to find it open, but she prayed it wouldn’t be like last time.

She walked in to hear soft jazz playing, a smile spreading across her face at the familiar tune. She looked around the large room, wondering where the man who invited her here was.

“I knew you’d show up,” his voice came from the other side of the room.

Y/N turned, where she found him standing behind the bar, fixing himself a drink. She saw the way his locks fell in front of his eyes, the gathered collar of his suit open and the zip underneath pulled down to expose his clavicle, giving him a much more relaxed look than he usually had. He walked around the bar and over to her, a tumbler in each hand as he stood a few inches from her.

“We never did get to finish that drink together,” he said, handing her a glass.

One side of her mouth pulled up as she took it from him, letting out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Fuck, you really are cute,” he chuckled, the timbre deep and husky as his finger tucked under her chin, lifting her face up. “But you’re a lot more than that too, ain’t ya?”

This was a last chance for her to change her mind if she really wanted to. She could put the glass down and walk out, go back home and forget this ever happened, maybe even find a job somewhere else. Or she could embrace all the sinful thoughts she had since that day he had well and truly opened her eyes to the possibility of more; of better.

“I guess you’ll find out soon,” she remarked, lifting her glass.

He smirked, clinking his tumbler against hers. He took a sip of the amber liquid as he marched over to the leather sofa, taking a seat as he placed the glass on the table. A dark green box sat on the table, with the initials “SB” engraved in gold letters on top, which he pulled closer to himself.

“You want anything else with that drink?” he asked, opening the box and turning it towards her.

She sauntered over to him and peered into the box, feeling nervous all over again. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know what any of it was. There were small amounts, but he probably had every kind of pill and substance in that box. Of course, she didn’t have to partake, but she couldn’t deny her curiosity. She really felt out of her element and once again, for the fiftieth time that night, she thought that she shouldn’t be doing this.

She sipped her drink as she pushed that thought away. If this was only going to be one night like she intended, then there was no need for her to be so on edge.

“I think I’ll hold off,” she stated, bringing her glass to her lips again as she strolled away. She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city, taking another sip of the Old Fashioned, as her gaze roamed over the sparkling lights.

He gave her a brief nod before he took out a small round container. Opening it, he tapped a small amount of the white powder onto his fist. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled it quickly, twitching his nose slightly. It repeated the action with his left nostril, leaving the small container out as he sat back, his arm over the top of the sofa. He admired her from the back, his green orbs taking in the shape of her waist.

“It’s quite a view,” she commented, as she turned around and walked back to him.

“Sure is,” he muttered, as he watched her.

Y/N sighed, an amused smile on her lips as she realized they weren’t talking about the same thing. Their eyes locked as he gestured for her to take a seat next to him, noting the way her fingers drummed against the tumbler as she contemplated whether she should.

“I’m not gonna bite, doll,” he assured her, his signature smirk on his face. “Not until you want me to.”

She bit her lip, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge as she slowly moved towards him, sitting on the edge of the couch, facing him. “Maybe I won’t want you to.”

He leaned forward, taking the glass out of her hand and placing it on the table in front of them, the proximity between them much closer than before. His face was an inch away from hers, his green orbs taking in the features of her face.

“Maybe I’ll have to anyway,” he countered.

Y/N let out a shuddered breath and before she even realized it, he had closed the space between them, his lips pressing against hers in a sensual kiss. With what little confidence she had, she pressed into him as she gripped at the fabric of his suit. The kiss deepened as he explored her mouth, a little rougher as his hands found the zipper on her dress. Pulling it down slowly, a low moan from her vibrated against his lips as she felt his fingers brush over the material of the shapewear.

“Stand up,” he ordered, his voice deep and husky as he pulled away from the kiss. His eyes darkened as she did as she was told, the thought of how easily she did turning him on. “Take it off.”

She sighed softly, allowing her remaining nerves to wash away as she did. She pulled down the top of her dress and removed her arms from the sleeves, pushing the rest of it down her body, the flowing fabric pooling around her feet. Left in her black lingerie, she gulped as she felt exposed under his intense gaze, but she reminded herself of the decision she had made. This was only for tonight. His hands laid on her hips and pulled her forward, looking up at her as they slipped down to her thighs, unclipping the suspenders.

“On your knees, sugar,” he instructed, a smug grin pulling at his lips. “I wanna know what that gorgeous mouth feels like around my cock…”

Slowly, she sank to her knees between his spread legs, allowing him to take her hands and place them on top of the pants of his suit. Her hands shook while pulling the zipper down gently as he took off the top of his suit, throwing it on the floor as he laid back, her eyes roaming over his chest and muscular arms. She pressed her lips together as she opened his pants, her mouth going slack as she caught a glimpse of his cock. He was far bigger than she was used to.

“I uh, I don’t…” she stuttered, as briefly glanced at him but just as quickly looked away. “I’ve never-”

“You kidding? He’s never made you give him head?” he asked, incredulously.

A timid shake of her head was her only response, not trusting her voice in that moment.

“You’ll learn,” he reassured her, winking.

A small smile appeared on her features, quickly morphing into a smirk as she tugged his pants down his thighs, her hands sliding up his exposed skin as she shifted forward. Her fingers brushed over his shaft, a sense of pride filling her as he twitched at her touch. His hand cupped her face, his thumb rubbing over her lips as he pulled her head down. Her tongue slowly licked along the underside of his length, softly taking the tip between her lips. His hands immediately found their way into her hair, a low moan coming from her as she took him further into her mouth.

“Pull back a little,” he instructed.

She drew back slightly, dropping some of her saliva along his shaft before her tongue circled the tip and she sank back down, letting him slide in deeper.

“That’s it, doll,” he husked, lightly tugging at the locks of her hair. “Take a little more, come on…”

She hummed around him as she moved her head back, a soft groan escaping him at the vibration around his cock as her head began to bob back and forth. His head dropped back against the leather, a smirk pulling at his lips just as he felt the drugs taking effect, his grip tightening in her hair and guiding her along his length. She took him deeper into her mouth, the head of his cock pressing against the back of her throat, causing her to gag slightly.

“Relax that throat, sugar,” he advised, his grip getting a little tighter in her hair.

She managed to do what he told her before she shifted up, letting more of her spit drip down his shaft. She continued to work her mouth over him, the erotic noises leaving him causing her to press her legs together.

“Good girl,” he praised her, looking down at her with hooded eyes. “That’s fucking perfect, doll… that mouth’s fucking wasted on that limp dick fiancé of yours.”

That insult towards the man she was meant to be marrying should’ve offended her, but she ignored it, the praise of her skills encouraging her further. A harsh gasp left her as she drew back, her eyes meeting his as her hands wrapped around his cock. She pumped them back and forth, her wrists twisting as they reached the tip, squeezing lightly but enough to make Soldier Boy’s eyes snap shut.

“Shit,” he hissed, his neck straining back as his hands dug into the sofa. “Maybe you’re not such a good girl.”

Soldier Boy sat up, cupping her face in his hands and making her look at him, her hands still sliding up and down his shaft. He stared deep in her eyes, half expecting to glance away but she didn’t. She held his gaze, and he knew that he was right about her. She wasn’t as innocent as he thought.

“All those little shy looks, the stuttered words, the nerves… it’s all just an act, ain’t it, sugar?” he questioned, an almost sinister glint in his eyes, his pupils dilated from the pleasure and drugs coursing through him.

She squeezed her thighs together, feeling the wetness growing as she looked into his eyes. It should’ve scared her, how aroused she felt, but it didn’t. She shook her head, smiling softly at him. “No, sir.”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” he growled, his fingers combing through her hair and pulling at the strands, making her focus on him. “Underneath it all, you just wanna be treated like the slut you are, huh?”

“Y-Yes,” she replied, feeling that familiar heat pool deep in her belly as she admitted it.

“That’s right,” he breathed, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. “You wanna be a little slut for me?”

She nodded, unable to speak as her hands faltered around his cock. He removed one of his hands from her hair, cupping under her jaw, gripping hard as his fingers pressed into her cheeks. She moaned at his rough hold, but it was more pleasure than pain she was feeling in that moment.

“Tell me,” he ordered, the timbre of his voice deep and gravelly as his gaze shifted down to her hands. “Keep jerking my cock and tell me…”

“I… I want to be a little slut for you,” she muttered through her pursed lips. She couldn’t believe those words were coming out of her mouth, but she had officially thrown all caution to the wind. Her hands continued to stroke him, pumping a little faster.

“Yeah,” he smirked, nodding in approval as he loosened his grip on her jaw. “You wanna be my personal whore, don’t ya?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed.

“Then take my dick back in your slutty little mouth,” he ordered, his thumb flicking her bottom lip.

Y/N bent down, wrapping her lips around his cock once more. The weight of his hands on the back of her head allowed her to sink down, taking him deep as she picked up where she left off. She bobbed her head a little quicker, circling her tongue over the tip every time she came up.

“Fuck, you take my dick so good, doll,” he groaned, once again making her pull back. “I gotta fuck you now…”

Soldier Boy reached down and pulled at the material of her girdle, a gasp escaping her as she heard the loud tear, his hand scrunching the ruined fabric and throwing it away. He quickly removed his boots and pants, his hands moving under her arms as he stood up. In one swift motion, he lifted her up, causing her to squeal as her legs wrapped around him, her shoes slipping off her feet. Her fingers brushed against his beard as she cupped his jaw, leaning in and kissing him, roughly as he carried her across the living space and into his bedroom. One of his hands slid up her back and unclasped her bra, his lips ripping away from hers as he reached the bed and dropped her down, gently. She giggled as she landed with a soft bounce on the mattress, her eyes taking in every moment of his. He flicked her bra away, reaching for her panties and tugging them down, throwing them on the floor as his hands slid over her nylon covered legs.

She felt anxious being so exposed under his intense gaze, his thick fingers roaming over her body, warmth spreading to every part of her at his touch. She watched as they slid down between her legs, her head falling back against the sheets as he stroked two over her folds, no doubt feeling how aroused she was.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he grinned, as he brought his wet fingers to his lips.

A whimper escaped her as she saw him softly suck at them, his green eyes, with wide pupils as a result of the drug in his system, never leaving hers as he slowly removed them from his mouth with a low groan.

“And you taste great too,” he added, placing her left calf against his shoulder, “but we got plenty of time for that later…”

Soldier Boy leaned over her, his arms on either side as he settled between her spread legs. She gasped softly at the angle with her leg hooked over his shoulder, their faces close as he pinched and rolled her nipples between his fingers, his hand sliding up and curling under her neck as his thumb rested on her throat. His cock pressed against her sex, sliding between her folds as he teased her, a smirk pulling at his lips when she moaned softly.

“You want my cock, doll?” he asked, his thumb stroking the skin of her neck. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she replied, quickly.

“Tell me,” he ordered, as he applied a little pressure to her throat. “Tell me you want me to fuck you…”

“I-I want… I want you to fuck me,” she started, but her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke.

“Louder.”

His gruff timbre had her flinch slightly, but she felt a heat settle deep in her stomach at the tone. He continued to tease her, the tip of his cock entering her briefly before he moved back, repeating the action several times as she tried to shift her hips and get closer to him.

“I want you to fuck me,” she repeated more clearly, staring up at him.

“That’s right,” he husked. “Tell me to fuck you deep and hard like a slut.”

“Fuck me deep and hard… like a slut,” she said, her breath hitching as the words still felt unlike her, but he was bringing out a side of her she never thought was possible.

Y/N’s hips squirmed, her patience beginning to wear thin as he continued to torture her. A wicked glint in eye accompanied the smirk on his lips as he pushed into her a little more, drawing back with a sickening chuckle.

“Beg me,” he commanded, slightly squeezing down on her neck enough for her to gasp in surprise.

“P-Please,” she squeaked out, her eyes locked on his. “Please fuck me, sir, I want–I need it, please.”

Just as the words left her mouth, Soldier Boy thrust into her in one fluid motion. He didn’t waste any more time, the roll of his hips against her long but hard, feeling every ridge as his cock slid deep inside her. A loud moan fell from her lips as she felt her walls contract to accommodate him, his length and his girth bringing a small smile to her face as she had never experienced anything like it until now.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good, doll,” he groaned, gripping her thigh that rested against him. “So fucking tight, perfect around my dick…”

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, wantonly as her eyes squeezed shut.

“Tell me how good it feels, sugar,” he breathed, his hand adjusting around her neck to press down a little more.

She gasped, her lust-filled eyes snapping open as they met his. “F-Feels so good, so fucking good…”

His hand pressed down a little harder on her throat, his super strength causing to gasp for air, her gaze unwavering as she looked into his eyes, panting. He picked up the pace, his hips undulating as they smacked against her, his shaft moving deeper within her, a rasping moan escaping her as he pressed against that little spot inside her that her friends had once said could drive you absolutely crazy. She thought they were just fabricating for the sake of an interesting story, but they clearly weren’t.

“Ah, you like being choked, huh?” He loosened his hand briefly, before he squeezed once more, a dark chuckle rumbling in his throat as she whimpered. “Such a perfect fucking slut.”

She didn’t think it was possible to feel this way, so completely overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through her. Heat had spread to every part of her body, feeling a tingling sensation over her skin as he continued to deliver hard strokes into her.

“Your pussy’s taking my cock so fucking good, doll,” he growled, his fingers pressing harder into her thigh, just as his other hand continued the firm grasp on her neck. “I can feel how close you are, can’t wait to see you cum.”

She frowned, the muscles of her lower stomach tightened as her breathing became shallower, quicker as the unfamiliar feeling started. It was as if something simmering, building, ready to snap. His hips were unrelenting, and she could feel her inner walls clench around his length as he continued to thrust into her.

“Fuck, I-I…” she whimpered, shaking her head, unable to think clearly. “I feel-”

Soldier Boy grinned down at her as he removed his hand from her thigh, moving between her legs. His fingers circled over the bundle of nerves, his other hand pressing down on her throat as he moved them faster, in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Oh my god,” she choked, her eyes widened as she stared up at him.

“That’s it, sugar, just go with it,” he muttered, his green orbs never leaving hers. “Want you to cum hard, fucking soak my dick…”

With a few more thrusts along with his fingers on her clit, a string of breathy moans escaped her as the dam broke, her slick covering his shaft. She gasped harshly as his hand loosened, her eyes fluttering closed as she turned her head into the mattress, breathing deeply as she tried to come down from the euphoric high he had helped her experience.

“Fuck, that sure was something,” he rasped, smirking down at her.

Y/N’s eyes remained closed as she felt him pull out of her and place her leg on the mattress, unable to respond to his words in any way, totally overcome from what had just happened as she tried to calm herself down. She slowly opened her lids, her vision focusing on the similar walls from the living area, the amber lighting of the room giving it a warm glow. Her fingers smoothed over the dark green, velvet comforter as she sat up, her eyebrows furrowing as she saw no sign of Soldier Boy. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she saw him walking in from the living room a moment later, a bottle of Bourbon in one hand and the small container in the other. She bit her lip as her eyes roamed down his approaching form, taking in every part of the God that he was.

He smirked down at her as he pulled the cap off the Bourbon, placing the bottle to his lips and taking a large swig. He handed it to her and watched as she did the same, his eyebrow raised in approval at the fact that she didn’t flinch at the burn she no doubt would’ve felt from that amount of alcohol. Her eyes followed his movements as she placed the cap back on, observing the way he tapped the coke into a line on his fist and brought it to his nose, snorting it quickly. He did the same with the other side of his nose, their eyes meeting as he paused closing the box, a silent question to her.

“I should really go,” she stated, her smile faltering as she looked away.

She knew she couldn’t stay any longer, having decided it was only going to be a one night deal before she even got there. She couldn’t deny her curiosity; she wanted to know what it would feel like, but if she stayed then she might never leave, and this wasn’t a place for someone like her. As much as she wanted to be anyone but her usual self for the night, she knew the fantasy had to be over some time.

“Well, you don’t have to stay, sugar,” he countered, as he cupped her jaw and made her look up at him. “But I’m not even close to being done fucking you.”

She stared deep into his eyes, biting her lip as she felt the heat building again, her walls clenching around nothing as she contemplated what he just said. She had already gone against some of her morals, what was a few more?

“I think I’m done holding off,” she said, nodding towards the container in his hand.

He wiggled his eyebrows as he tapped a smaller amount onto his fist for her, holding it close to her face. She held his wrist steady, leaning in and inhaling it just as she had observed. She felt a slight discomfort as she pinched her nose, placing her head back as she sniffed, clearing her throat. He took out the same amount again, and she snorted it from the left side, wiping under her nose once she was done. She looked up at him, squealing as he pressed his lips to hers, in a rough, searing kiss. They explored each other’s mouths, a soft gasp escaping her as he nipped at her bottom lip.

“Is that all you got?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye as the words fanned against his mouth.

“Oh, Y/N,” he muttered, a borderline sinister chuckle leaving him as he pulled the bottle out of her grasp. He placed it on the nightstand before he turned back to her, his fierce gaze on her. “You have no fucking idea what you signed up for the minute you walked through my door.”

She felt butterflies in her belly at the way he finally said her name, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it. He grabbed her by her ankles, dragging her down slightly before he flipped her over, a squeak falling from her lips as she laid on her stomach. His hands drifted down the smooth skin of her back, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he pulled her up onto her knees. She breathed heavily as she waited to see what he did next, a feeling somewhere between arousal and fear stirring within her. Suddenly, a hard strike of his hand against the right globe of her ass caused her to yelp, her eyes widening at the warm sensation on her flesh. She glanced back at him, biting her lip as she saw the smirk that pulled at his lips as he struck her again, in the same spot but harder this time.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her forehead pressed into the sheets.

He watched as she panted, her focus distracted by the sting she was feeling as he moved behind her. He briefly pumped his hand over his shaft, lining up to her entrance before he pushed in, a long, rasping moan escaping her. Much like before, he didn’t waste time as he set a hard and fast pace, his hips smacking against the curve of her ass as he pounded into her. His fingers dug into her flesh, no doubt leaving marks that would show up in the morning, as hers gripped the sheets tight. Her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned wantonly, feeling the bed shake from the force of his movement. His thrusts were brutal, practically animalistic as he growled, lifting his hand and bringing it down against her ass once more. 

“Shit,” she hissed, her teeth grazing at the skin of her knuckles, trying to keep herself from losing it.

“So fucking good,” he groaned, as he leaned over her, his hand slipping into her hair.

A pleasured hum left her as he pulled her up by the strands, her back pressed into his sweat soaked chest as he held her close. He tugged at her hair, making her whimper at the small twinge of pain before his other hand cupped her breast, his fingers pulling her nipple into a stiff bud. She could feel the drug beginning to take effect too, only heightening everything she was feeling in that moment.

He grinned at the way her head fell back against his shoulder, giving him room to nuzzle his nose against her skin, baring his teeth and sinking them into her flesh. She cried out, her hand moving up and curling around his neck, gripping the shorter locks at the base of his skull. The bite was hard, adding to the pleasure she was already overwhelmed by. Her mind wandered back for a fleeting moment to when she saw him with his assistant in this very same position, and how she hoped to someday be in her shoes. And now here she was. She couldn’t really believe that karma was finally on her side.

“Fuck, you really are a perfect slut,” he grunted, his lips close to her ear as he spoke. “A good little whore, just for me… maybe I should keep you around…”

A shrieking moan left her lips at his words, his hand sliding down her body to the swollen nub, his fingers circling it as he continued to thrust into her, harder and faster as he felt himself getting closer to his release. Her walls clenched around him repeatedly, and he knew she was near her peak too.

“You’re gonna fucking cum for me again, ain’t ya, doll?” he asked, a snicker leaving him as she nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah, you are. You’re gonna soak my cock again, and then I’m gonna cum all over these gorgeous tits of yours, leave my mark…”

Y/N felt the familiar pull low in her stomach, her walls contracting around him as she got closer and closer to her release. The rhythm of his hips faltered slightly, and with a few more thrusts, a loud, wanton moan escaped her as she reached the edge, her wetness coating his shaft as her second orgasm of the night more intense than the first. Her body convulsed as he still held her close, a wicked grin on his face as he pounded his hips and worked his fingers harder before she could even start to come down from the high. Her eyes widened as her euphoria built up again, feeling another release approaching as she shuddered against him, tugging at his hair.

“Oh god, I-” she whimpered, shaking her head, unable to think straight.

“Come on, doll, want you to cum again, I know you got another in you…” he growled, smirking.

Just as the words left his mouth, her second orgasm rolled into the next, her walls clenched tight once more as her vision turned blinding white behind her closed lids. An unrestrained, debauched shriek ripped from her throat as she came harder than she had previously that night. A string of small whimpers left her as he grunted, gaining closer to the edge. He quickly pulled out of her, pushing her down on the bed and flipping her onto her back, his hand wrapped around his cock as he moved over her. He pumped his shaft, groaning as he felt himself throb in his hand, her lust-blown eyes watching him intently.

“Oh, fuck, fuckkk,” he growled, as he worked his hand faster.

He threw his head back as a roaring moan escaped him, stroking himself harder as his release hit him, long spurts of his seed covering her breasts, causing her to moan softly at warmth of it against her skin. He hung his head as he breathed heavily, shifting off of her before he fell back on the bed, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He leaned over to the nightstand, opening the top drawer and taking out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He placed one in his mouth as he laid back down, flicking the lighter and bringing the small flame to the other end. He took a drag before he pulled it away, blowing out a large puff.

Y/N breathed heavily, her chest heaving as she tried to come down from the complete bliss she was feeling. She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the aftermath of the vigorous attention he paid her. He had brought to the peak of pleasure three times in such a short amount of time, something that her fiancé never would’ve been able to comprehend. Soldier Boy had made her feel things she never thought possible, and she knew she’d never be quite the same again.

Opening her eyes, she turned her head towards him, her gaze on the embers at the edge of the cigarette as he took a pull from the filter. She pulled one edge of the sheets up and wiped her chest, hissing slightly at the ache in her limbs as she held her head up on her hand, taking the smoke from between his fingers. He watched as she brought it to her mouth, taking a long drag as their eyes met, her lips pursed as she blew the smoke out. She shifted closer to him, her hand resting on his chest as they stared at each other, his green eyes unflinching as small clumps of ash fell on his skin.

“Are you done with me yet?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow as she challenged him.

He tilted his head towards the cigarette still between her fingers, taking a pull from it as she held it to his mouth. He rounded his lips and blew out small rings, her finger poking each of them and making them disappear. He smirked as he gazed at her, seeing how wide her pupils were from the coke in her system.

“No fucking way,” he replied, grabbing her behind her head and pulling her down, his lips searing against hers in a rough, passionate kiss.

She moaned against his lips, happy with that response, because there was no fucking way she was done with him, either.

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[resplendentoutfit]

figure 1

James Tissot (French, 1836–1902) • The Ball • 1878

Figure 1: According to French fashionistas, Tissot got the hat all wrong. Apparently hats were inappropriate as evening wear, particularly at a ball. Indeed, when perusing fashion plates of the late 1870s, formal evening attire never included hats.

For formal evening events, hair was styled in elaborate braids, buns, and curls, often adorned with silk flower sprays and fancy clips and combs. Silk flowers were also sometimes used as embellishments for dresses.

A Tissot creation likely inspired by the fashion plates of the day, the evening or ball dress in figure 1 features a bow right at the buttocks followed by a cascade of layered pleats, lace, and ruffles. This style was commonly referred to as The Princess Line dress. Created in Great Britain by Charles Frederick Worth in the form of Princess Alexandra's wedding dress, it soon took off as the latest dress style craze.

French hand fan • Ivory, paper, gouache, mother-of-pearl, metal • 1860-70 • Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Figure 2

Figure 1: In the mid 1870s, the bustle evolved into a less protruding fashion feature and eventually, toward the end of the decade gave way to the mid-bustle or natural form era. This transformation took place from 1877 through approximately 1882. Compared to the large, overstuffed bustles of the early 1870s, the Mid-Bustle, or Natural Form dress created a more vertical, slimming silhouette. The waist was undefined and embellishments began at the back of the waist, or even below it.

Figure 2: It is difficult for a fashion history novice like me to define the correct occasion for this particular dress. It's perhaps a special occasion day or afternoon dress and hence less embellished. Or perhaps the modest satin bow at the hip gives it away as just a regular day dress. In one entry at Lily Absinthe's blog, she states that a semi-train is usually indicative of a day or afternoon special occasion dress. All I know for sure is that I adore the lovely vertical pleated train!

Princess Line dress • 1878-1880 (made) • Unknown designer and maker, likely from Great Britain • Virginia and Albert Museum

Blue and gold Jacquard-woven silk made with a fitted bodice and narrow skirt drawn back into drapes at the back, and rusched silk trim. It has elbow-length sleeves and a square neckline, which are both trimmed with machine-lace. This is a day or afternoon dress, likely worn at home. More views of this dress can be seen here.

Attire appropriate for a hat.

Of course, the ultra-slim silhouette of the princess dress was restrictive and necessitated increasingly tighter undergarments like corsets and girdles, further restricting movement. Poor working women who engaged in hours of manual labor could not afford either the latest fashions nor the restricted movement.

Sources:

Lily Absinthe

The Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute , New York City

Fashion History Timeline (FIT, Fashion Institute of Technology, New York City

V & A (Victoria & Albert Museum, London

#fashion history #late 1870s fashion history #princess line dress #james tissot #art history #french fashion history #late 1870s fashion plate #french hand fan #victorian fashion #historical fashion #victorian era #19th century fashion #the resplendent outfit blog #french fashion #historical painting

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 4

A response to the writing prompt: “Why are you doing this?”

Thanks to my loves, my sister wives, my support group and Elvis cabal, @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain​ @vintageshanny​ @be-my-ally​ @ellie-24​ @from-memphis-with-love​

Summary: Elvis hangs out at Bess house, and finally gets to dance with her.

Warnings: Kissing, discussions of sex, typos. I wrote this so haphazardly during a busy weekend, I’ll probably go back over and polish tomorrow...

WC: 4.1 K

Please like, comment or reblog and let me know what you think. I enjoy reading your feedback and it influences my writing, as well as our connection, which is the main reason I post my writing on here - to meet and engage with other Elvis fans like you!

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Go here for the Basic Training Masterlist if you need to catch up

Sunday, April 6, 1958

12: 15 a.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Elvis’ bottom lip hung down, Bess was so close she could hear his breath wisp over it softly with each exhale. It was as if he were so transfixed looking into her eyes trying to read her mind that he forgot to close his mouth. No, Bess thought, it was as if time stood still, as if he were stuck there mouth agape, waiting for her to respond. His words still hung in her ear.

“Jus kiss me.”

His fingers rested over her hips and then tugged her closer where he wanted her, no longer waiting to see if she would say something. He had found the answer in the way she bit her lip and nodded up into his chin, mouth pressing into his jaw as he pulled her into his chest. Her arms smashed between them as he kissed the tip of her nose, his breath was warm on her skin and the air between them smacked with a restrained heat.

The way Elvis touched her made her close her eyes and open her mouth as his lips nudged downward seeking hers. Bess’ breath quickened faster and faster, she felt almost dizzy as Elvis’ mouth became more urgent and she gripped his shoulder to steady herself. His large hands were now spread over her upper back, squeezing her closer into him, left thumb swiping over the top of her silk nightie to caress her bare skin. There, in the dim light of the hallway she shuddered and jilted up sideways into his lips, opening her eyes as he heaved back, smirking.

“Hmm, you okay, Moo Moo?”

He murmured softly, then his eyelashes fluttered downward at her bare feet, a grin curling up further at the way Bess’ beige silk nightie rippled from the movements of his hand over her side. Bess follows his gaze downward, her breasts heaved up with her shoulders as she breathed a shallow breath, noticing how her nipples protruded through the silk and the lacy trim at her bust dipped in her cleavage. She was not wearing a bra, a girdle or nylons, just a thin pair of panties underneath her negligee. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Bess knew she should be ashamed, but her thoughts were lost to the drum of her heart beat thrumming in her ears.

Elvis’ left hand clutched hers over his heart, his nose was heavy against her’s once more, nuzzling up and down, the top trailing over her cheek, navigating the curves of her nostrils. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hovered over hers. She shuddered as his fingers tapped over her hand, gasping as he brought it up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“I said, you ok, baby? You’re quivering’. Let me know if this is too much for you.”

She snorted, swatting him as she mumbled into his mouth, willing her words to be true as she pushed down the butterflies in her ribcage. She was not ok. Definitely not ok by any means. But she would be damned if she let him know the effect he had on her.

“I’m just fine, thanks. You think an awful lot of you’re kissing, don’t you?”

Elvis’ cheeks scrunched up and his eyes twinkled.

“Ya right honey, must be my ‘magination that you’re shivering.”

“I mean, I might tremble a little, but that’s, that’s just a physical response to, you know, being kissed. I don’t do this as much as you do.”

Elvis’ thumb was back at work over her shoulder blade.

“Well, I’ve been out of practice lately.”

“Oh?’

“Yeah, kind of short of um, uh, suitable options in the barracks.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you will always muddle through and find someone to kiss, Tupelo. Seemed like you had your pick of suitable options earlier.”

“Always so jealous, Moo Moo. Those other girls weren’t nothin’, I just risked life and limb sneaking off post to come see you.”

“Hmmm, well, maybe you shouldn’t have. You could get in a lot of trouble if you get caught.” She steadied herself in his gaze. “Yeah, I can’t help but think it might be good for the female population if you really were holed up back in a bunk with a bunch of other soldiers for a while.”

“Is that how you feel Bess? Wish I was back in the barracks?”

He asked into her neck, his lips pressed on her nape.

“Instead of being here.”

Another softer, slower kiss lower on her neck.

“With you?”

She moaned out softly, unintentionally, reflexively, as his lips opened this time and she felt the warm, wet suction of Elvis’ mouth right below her earlobe. The sensation was overwhelming, it made her her vibrate and lean into his face, slowly shaking her head. No, she didn’t wish he was back in the barracks. She wanted him to consume her, to cool her body with his mouth before the flames in her belly burned her alive.

Elvis’ grip was strong as he held her close to him, yet everything else about him was soft and delicate and warm. Basic training had not yet hardened his body, and his fingers had the smooth feel of someone who regularly rubbed lotion into them. Cheeks round and supple against her forehead. It was like leaning into a human pillow wrapped in an electric blanket, her skin hummed from his attentive hands.

He was somehow able to touch her everywhere at once, his right hand on her back shoulder blades, thumbing her into a comfortable trance, his left hand held hers to his chest, the back of it grazing her breast as he clutched her into him. Even his sweet, low drawl had a soft, babyish tone to it. Bess was certain she would melt like butter into the wooden floorboards if she stayed much longer in the warm, swathe of his embrace.

This tenderness was a jarring contrast to the months of chaste living that Bess had imposed on her self in the wake of her failed engagement last year. Everywhere her former fiancee, Ben, had been firm and stiff, Elvis was soft, yielding and responsive.

Ben, Ben, Ben. It had been over a year since Ben had gone off to Germany during Bess’ last semester of college at Austin, her picture in his suitcase and plans to meet her on leave in Paris that summer. Her plans for crossing the Atlantic Ocean had been decidedly cancelled when he called the week before graduation and told her not to come, told her he had met someone else, told her he had married.

Bess’s initial response was to throw herself into the open arms of every eager Army officer  she could find. Most often, she didn’t even bother to get their name or do the typical good girl tap dance routine where she explained “I’ve never done this on a first date.” Stocking up on prophylactics at the Army medical clinic, Bess spent the first weeks of life after college fucking every officer that winked at her. The irony had been, of course, that prior to this she had only slept with a handful of serious boyfriends and never on the first date. Or second. Or third, for that matter. She had dated Ben for two months before sleeping with him. Falling head over heels for Ben’s freckled face, smart confidence and Midwest manners, Bess had been ready to go beyond first base after a few weeks. He had been the one who wanted to take it slow, to wait, applying his cold, sober analytical mind to assess their relationship and future before proposing to her, and then spending the next eighteen months plotting out their plans for a future together.

She wondered where that contemplative deference had been when he met Uta in  Heidelberg and married her within a fortnight. She had tried to fill the hollow emptiness of heartbreak with physical connection and found it sorely lacking in more than one way. At first, yes, a hard, quick fuck was a useful reminder of what it was to feel as Bess grasped for anything to pierce through the numbness of grief.

But she found that after the momentary rush of adrenaline and attention of casual sex she felt even more despondent. And, unlike her previous lovers, these men had not cared or attended to reciprocity. She didn’t fake orgasms, a practice that been much practiced and debated in the girl’s dorms at college, but it had been unnecessary with almost all of the men she had bedded. Apparently they didn’t need the ego boost , nor did it temper their selfish lovemaking. Lovemaking, ha, what an inadequate word to describe the act of opening up and fucking someone into oblivion as they tried to get off as quickly as possible. Vowing off men forever after a particularly disappointing tryst in the store room of Fat Daddy’s, one of the pool halls frequented by the Air Force officers outside Waco, Bess has pulled up her pantyhose and began making her own plans for a future. Alone.

That was the last time she had even kissed a man and it had now been almost ten months. Elvis somehow seemed to feel Bess’ nervy energy and he deepened the comforting caress of his thumb over her hand. She looked up into his blue eyes, she hated how magnetic they were as she felt them drawing her in more and more.

Elvis Presley was bad news. Bess knew this, for all of the reasons she could think of and the many more she dared not, she knew. She knew it as she pulled him down by his collar to bring him to her lips. He guided his hands back to her waist, his left hand moving lightly over her breast, and he smiled into another kiss, talking into her cheek as she trembled once more.

“Shhh, shhh baby, it’s ok. I can tell, you’re a good girl.” He pointed to his head. “S’why I like you, I don’t go for fast gals like Dori. I know she’s your friend, but I’d much rather be here with you.”

His knuckles caressed the back of her cheek, and Bess clenched inadvertently, feeling her vagina draw up into itself as she considered how wrong he was. Dori might well be one of the few virgins over twenty still out there. It was, she suspected, part of the reason Dori was trying so aggressively to get married. Elvis’ knuckles trailed back over her cheek and Bess kissed his index finger, bringing the tip between the edge of her mouth, caressing it with her lips. Her hands snaked up his chest while she stared at that bottom lip there hanging down again.

“Maybe you’re wrong, hmmm? Maybe I’m the bad one?”

He arched his eye brows, slipping his finger back in her mouth and over her tongue and then sliding it back out, slowly.

“Hmmm, nice try honey. But you can’t fool me, I know things.”

She giggled.

“Ha, see, I know you, Bess, deep down, you’re a good girl. And deep down you know I ain’t gonna try nothin'.  So let’s go somewhere we can be more comfortable.”

Elvis grabbed her hand and led her down her own hall to the living room, dropping Bess’s hand when he took in her father’s hi-fi equipment against the wall and let out a low whistle. There, in the shining, bright oak console was a stack of electronic equipment.

“Whooweee, what kind of set is it? Where are the speakers?”

Elvis was already sliding the bottom door open to look at the records.

Bess followed, putting on her best floor salesman voice.

“Why, don’t you know quality when you see it, son? Why this is the brand new, all inclusive Carlton hi-fidelity system. “

“Where are the speakers?”

“They are built into the furniture itself, see this here?” Bess pointed at the soft, woven area at the top of the console. “Top of the line sound, I tell you, you’ll feel like you’re in a concert hall.”

Elvis chuckled, his eyes not moving from the shelf of records that he was flipping through quickly, the soft thud of the sleeves hitting each other sounded like the rhythm of a song, like the pulse of Bess’ heart. She turned to calm herself by flopping on the couch.

“Ha, you’re a funny girl, Bess, you know that? Is this your daddy’s stuff?”

“What makes you think I’m not the stereo-phile? I know how all of this works.”

“Yeah, sounds like you’re doing an impression of someone.”

“You’re right, it is my father’s stuff. We all love music, though. But my father is the audiophile, he is always bringing home the latest equipment. We just got this system, apparently it’s stereo, whatever that means.”

“It’s recording on multiple tracks, they have a bunch of microphones around a studio so they can get you from all sides.” Elvis wiggled his brow suggestively as he said this. He then paused and held up the latest Coltrane LP. “Where’s the good music?”

“Ha, I have my own little set upstairs with my records. I don’t know if you’ll find anything hip down here -”

Elvis grabbed an LP, and stood up to slide it out and drop the needle over the lacquered, black grooves. Then he ambled over to where Bess sat on the couch jumping on top of her feet while Bing Crosby’s crooning played out of the speakers. He threw his cap onto the coffee table, and leaned over Bess as she cried out.

“Ughhh, cut stout Tupelo, you’re crushing me.”

Elvis pouted, and pulled her feet out from under his thighs, taking one foot up and kissing the top arch, and then the other as he scooted up between her legs, keeping her left foot in his lap.

“He’s sorry, Bessie Boo Boo.” There was that babyish, low voice again, as his thumb made its new home over her foot while his other hand trailed along the side of Bess’ body, hitching up her nightie slightly as it made it’s way to the side of her breast. Longing surged through Bess’ entire being and again her hands were at his face, bringing him closer to her.

His fingers stroked her side up and down, as, bottom lip hanging slightly open, Elvis' mouth was on hers and Bess swallowed as she kissed him back, unsure and nervous at first, she  closed her eyes as his mouth lingered over hers, then became more insistent each time they converged and she opened up to meet his tongue. Her chest heaved up into his and the strangled smush of their breath filled the air between their faces. Her fingers were in his hair and his hand was palming her underneath her nighty. Elvis pulled back, rubbing his mouth with his right hand, his left hand still walking up her thigh.

His lip curled in a mischievous grin.

“You  wearing’ panties under your night gown, widdle Moo Moo?”

Bess nodded. “Yesss.”

She started back slightly as Elvis lifted up her nightgown, sucking in his breath through his teeth as he gazed at the hint of her publc hair through her white panties.

“Shhhh, s’ok, just taking in the view.” He snapped the elastic band, and she hit his shoulder, pushing the beige, silk fabric back down over her thighs and kicking him back as he chuckled.

“Oh man, but what a view.” He shook his head, grinning. Then, as a new song started, Elvis stood and took Bess’ hand, drawing her back up.

“Why are you doing this?”

She followed him into the middle of the living room, as he brought her into his embrace began swaying with her.

“Never got my dance tonight.” His breath was warm where he spoke into her cheek, and his voice joined Bing and the Andrews Sisters as he moved them slowly in a circle.

I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences

And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses

And I can't look at hovels and I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

 Bess leaned into Elvis chest, she could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, a mix of woodsy pine and citrus, it mingled with the smell of fresh rain and sweat and the shoe polish that lingered on all soldiers, a reminder of their morning inspections. Her cheek glided over the outline of a tee shirt underneath the thick cloth of Elvis’ uniform. For the first time in a long time the fabric felt warm, safe and welcoming. They continued to sway in the silence after the song ended, after the record ended and all that remained was the thud of the needle revolving at the center of the album. Elvis half sang half mumbled the words to “Don’t Fence Me In” in fits and spurts, a haphazard performance for Bess’ forehead. Her skin was warm where his breath fell, and she pushed in further, just wanting to say all night like this passing time in the rise and fall of Elvis’ chest.

Elvis took her chin up to look into her eyes, she could tell he was about to say something when she heard the front door slam shut and the sound of her sister’s voice singing out some of “You Send Me.”

Stepping back, Bess looked Elvis in the eye and whispered forcefully, “Stay here.”

She hurried to the hall, and peeked out, as Kay greeted her.

“Aw, good Elizabeth, why am I not surprised to find you ready for bed?”

Bess took in Kay’s mussed hair and the lipstick smudges around her mouth, then looked up at the clock by the stairs. It was past one, she guessed Kay and her boyfriend had been off necking after the dance.

“Oh, you know, just winding down for the night.” Bess smoothed her hair, then twisted it into a makeshift bun that fell apart the second she released it. She then leaned across the hallway, blocking the passage way with her arm.

“You look a bit disheveled, Kay, maybe a good idea to go wash up and wind down yours-”

She stopped talking as she head the sound of footsteps behind her, and felt the brass buckle of Elvis uniform push into the small of her back, flinching as his hands wound around her waist and his chin tucked into her shoulder. She groaned inwardly as Kay’s mouth dropped open. Elvis kissed Bess’neck, then extended his arm out to shake her sister’s hand. She watched him introduce himself as if he were any other stranger meeting her sister for the first time, as if casual introductions in the midst of affectionate kisses while he wound himself around her body were the most normal thing in the world.

“Um hi, I’m K k k Katherine, Kay that is. Nice to meet you.”

Kay stared at Elvis, then, as if coming out of a daze, looked at Bess with a smirk.

“Just winding down, huh?” Kay nodded at them. “Well, I’m, I’m gonna do the same.” She winked back her sister as she turned up the stairs. “Good night.”

Bess shook her head, and faced Elvis.

“I thought I told you to stay in the living room?”

Elvis feigned indignance, “You embarrassed of me Bess? We weren’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. I think she liked me."

Bess rolled her eyes exasperated, watching as Elvis tilted his head towards the kitchen.

“Come on woman, I’m hungry, fix me something to eat.”

*****************************

Elvis jostled her up and down in his lap as he sucked the last of the meat off of a drumstick, and Bess couldn’t help herself, licking the crumbs from fried chicken off the side of her mouth. Still chewing, Elvis slurped some of the milk from his glass and then laughed as he belched into Bess hair.

“Ew, gross.”

“S’ a compliment, honey. I want you to make this for me for dinner every night.”

He kissed her cheek with his wet, milky mouth, swallowing as he spoke.

“Bess, I like you. I wanna spend every night I can with you.”

Bess turned to him, now straddling him over the chair he sat in at her kitchen table, her feet dangling down on either side of Elvis’ thighs, her underwear the only barrier between his uniform and her body. Her momentary disgust with his manners disappeared as she draped her arms over his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

“What, what is it honey?”

Bess sighed.

“My folks come home today, I have to drive to Waco to pick them up, they’re flying in to Connally Air Force Base this afternoon.”

“So? Parents love me, I ain’t ever had no trouble with parents.”

“My father is an officer at Fort Hood, Elvis. He will also know that you’re in phase one, you’re not supposed to be off post. And, they won’t approve of you spending the night here, no matter how good we behave.”

Elvis stared off in at the porcelain plates that decorated a portion of the kitchen wall, they had old timey paintings of German farm life on them, with the words for different animals under them.

“Yeah, huh, you said your daddy teaches German, huh? I forgot he was an officer.”

Bess grimaced to herself, remembering that she may have minimized her father’s position at the base.  Although, in a way, he did teach German. That was how he had started out his career in Army Intelligence, and he oversaw that now in the training at Fort Hood, among all the other projects that his office undertook. Bess decided then and there that if she had anything to do with it, Elvis would never meet her father, no matter how many parents he had charmed in his exploits. She knew her father, he hated rock and roll, and, more over, he would certainly not approve of any relationship between her and a new enlisted recruit.

Looking back into Elvis face, his eyes widened with recognition of her uncertainty and he pinched her hips, rocking back and lifting the chair so that she fell further into his lap and onto his groin.

“S’ok, honey. I don’t care how we figure it, I like you, I like you a lot. And I know you like me.”

“You do?”

“Uh huh. I could see it in your eyes, they way they open up wide for me whenever we meet, like they want to let me in, no matter what words come out of your mouth. No matter how difficult or stubborn you try to be. I can tell, I told you, I know things.” He pointed his index fingers into his temples. “S’like a sixth sense.”

“Huh.”

Bess rolled her eyes for the tenth time that night, and then gasped as Elvis leaned back even further and bounced her into his chest, his large hands spreading around her back.

“S’true. Admit it, admit you like me,  Bess.”

He bumped her nose with his, his finger tips tapping over her skin. She looked down.

“I like you.” She mumbled into his chest, refusing to acknowledge the smirk on his face as he said this.

“Ok, there, good girl. So, you go get your parents, and then come meet me later on post.” He kissed her nose now. “And bring some more of that fried chicken, Moo Moo, s’probably the second best I ever ate. Wait till you come to Memphis and try my Mama’s chicken, it’s the best. Boy oh, boy, can my mama cook, best biscuits, best cake, best food in the world.”

Bess ignored how easily Elvis plans for the future suddenly included her, just as his hands in the present seemed to move all over her body, compelling her attention, regard and affection. Bringing her as close as he could as she succumbed to the sensation of his lips on the top of her head, and heard herself promising to meet him with a basket of food that evening.

“I need to see you tonight, Bessie Moo Moo. I can’t bare to be alone, I think too much. Knowin' I'm seeing you gets me through the day.”

His words echoed in her ears and she could still feel the touch of his lips on hers as she showered,  dressed, and drove to Waco. She hated to admit how much she liked Elvis, how much she cpuldnt wait to see him again. Wanting was dangerous, and she feared the way it made her vulnerable. No body every tells you how hard it is to keep going after the anguish of heartbreak. As she drove, “Heartbreak Hotel” come on the radio. Every song is about falling in love or breaking up, she thought, reflecting that she had always been the one to sing to a lover in pursuit or in agony. Maybe it was time to let someone sing to her.

**************************************************************************************

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fan fic #elvis presley fan fiction #elvis fan fiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #slow burn #army elvis #fort hood #1958 elvis #basic training #banditqueenwrites

[elvis1970s]

On October 14th, 1976, Elvis set off on a fourteen-day tour, kicking off with two nights at the 20 000 seat Chicago Stadium. This is a great quality soundboard of the second night in Chicago, missing just Zarathustra and See See Rider, and a portion of Love Letters. It’s an enjoyable show in front of a big, happy audience.

Opening night was reviewed in the Chicago Daily News, under headlines 'Elvis still fits into his fancy suit', and ‘Rest easy ladies, Elvis is not as fat as you feared.’

"…The King of Rock 'n' Roll returned to Chicago Stadium Thursday night, and revealed to the sell-out crowd that he still can fit into his patented high-collar, flare-leg, glitter-encrusted suits and look OK. His girdle seemed to hamper him only when he bent down to kiss an adoring woman fan…Still, an Elvis Presley concert is an experience: partly musical, partly nostalgic, partly carny hucksterism and pure money…"

The article described in some detail the merchandising operation, the ever present aggressive hawking of ‘super souvenirs’, and identified the audience as ‘solidly middle-America; virtually all white, including young children and grandparents’.

"…During the early part of his performance, it was difficult to hear Elvis above the band. As the sound cleared up, though, it was clear that he remains in fine voice. No matter what else one says about him, there's no doubt Mr. Presley can sing a song…"

Chicago Stadium was one of the biggest arenas to host the Elvis show in the 70s, other than a one-off New Year's Eve audience of 62 000 at the Pontiac Silverdome. Elvis played Chicago seven times over three engagements between 1972 and 1977. He was back in Chicago again six months after these shows, for two more sold out performances at the end of April 1977.

Chicago Stadium was, according to reports, demolished in 1995 and is now a parking lot.

#elvis history #elvis presley #elvis in the 70s #rock history #elvis fans #elvis #elvis 1970s #live music #musicians #1970s rock #bootleg #Youtube

[mask131]

Roman gods are not Greek gods: Juno

JUNO

Juno, just like the Greek goddess she was equated with (Hera), was the sister-wife of Jupiter, queen of the sky and queen of the gods. A great and ancient Italic goddess, Juno’s older titles were “Lucetia” and “Lucina”, referring to her role as the female embodiment of light – in fact, she seems to have been an embodiment of the moon – up until Julius Caesar’s reformation of the Roman calendar, Juno shared the first day of each month alongside Janus, since they were supposed to be new moon days.

But this original “light” attribute got quickly fused with another main feature of the goddess: her role as a goddess of motherhood. Indeed, as “Juno Lucina” she was the goddess of childbirth and protectress of pregnancies, literally she who brought the baby into the light (Lucina meaning “bringer of light” – it might originally have been a title of Juno referring to her primitive nature as a moon goddess). Childbirth was one of the two main “jobs” of Juno, alongside weddings and marriages (the latter just like Hera), because these two events were considered to be the most important ones in the life of a Roman woman – and Juno was actually the protectress of women, the embodiment of womanhood, the deity who followed women all throughout their life. This manifested through her many variations: as Juno Matronalia, she was the goddess of matrons. When a child was born, Juno Rumina was prayed to make sure mothers could make good nurses (aka could lactate enough), while Juno Ossipagina was called to make the bones of the babe strong. Juno was present from the beginnings to the end of the wedding ceremony, from Juno Pronoba (who make sure engagements went well) to Juno Juga (who made the couple fertile), passing by Juno Domiduca (who watched over nuptial processions) or Juno Cinxia (the one who removed the bride’s girdle during the wedding night). All in all, Juno was the fecund power of women, Juno Martialis – the mother of Mars, god of vegetation and springtime, and as such she was the very spirit of birth and fertility.

(If you are confused by all these names, be prepared, because Juno is one of the Roman goddesses with the most names/nicknames/epithets/functions of the Roman pantheon)

Now, as you know by now, the Roman gods always have a more political aspect, and Juno is no different. As a “mother-goddess”, Juno was extended from a simple deity watching over children, to the figurative protectress of the very Roman people, the queen-mother of the Roman nation. There was a very clear evolution of her women-related functions into state-related ones. Juno Sospita was originally the aspect of the goddess in charge of bringing the delivery at the end of the pregnancy, the one who caused the birth – but figuratively, became a deity of freedom, the liberator of the oppressed. Similarly, Juno Moneta was originally the aspect of Juno that gave good advice to the husbands before the wedding – but quickly, Juno Moneta became the adviser and counselor of the very Roman people. In fact, a legend claims that when an army from Gaul tried to invade Rome one night, it was the geese, the goddess’ sacred birds, that warned the sleeping citizens of the upcoming invader with their loud cries – and thus, Juno Moneta was considered to be the goddess who warned the Romans of any upcoming threat. Other “political” aspects of the goddess, that still include her role as a fecundity goddess, include Juno Populonia – the goddess in charge of “multiplying” the Romans and “populating” Rome through sexual fertility and pregnancies.

It is important to remember that Juno, alongside Jupiter and Minerva, was part of the Capitoline Triad – the trio of gods that protected the Roman State, and ensured its continuity and durability. In this triad, she was called Juno Regina, protectress of the State, and she held attributes identical to those of Jupiter (the lightning, the scepter…), clearly identifying her as the female counterpart of Jupiter, and thus, just like him, a patron-goddess of the Romans as a whole. She even had a military aspect as Juno Curitis (or Quirits), worshiped by the Roman soldiers! (Which made her one of the rare goddesses with a permanent military cult).

An interesting fact: Juno was often depicted in Roman art holding weapons and wearing a goat-skin. It isn’t just a reflection of her military aspect – it is also an imagery that the Romans borrowed from the Greek Athena, but implanted on Juno instead of Minerva (since, as I said before, they kind of de-militarized Athena with their Minerva).

A last interesting note: the same way the Romans romanticized Venus and Mars’ relationship by ditching the original extra-conjugal nature of the Aphrodite/Mars affair, to the point of sometimes depicting them as a married couple ; the Romans also… let’s say “softened” up the bulk of legends surrounding Juno. Mostly the extra-marital business. Roman mythology never took an interest for the various stories of Hera’s revenges, wraths and punishments – and the Romans probably didn’t understood how a goddess of wedding would be depicted living badly her own marriage (again, they were very practical people, not fond of illegitimate loves). Ovid did bring some sorties of Zeus’ affairs with mortals into Roman literature, because again he was all about sexual business with transformations involved, but as I said it never stuck much, and so the Jupiter-Juno couple was depicted as much more peaceful and solid one than the Zeus-Hera one, and Juno was a less frightening and vindictive goddess than her Greek counterpart.

#hera #juno #roman mythology #roman goddess #roman gods are not greek gods

[emblematicemblazer]

World building and theories of Engage

Citrinne's fashion

Citrinne's name comes from the yellow variety of quartz called 'citrine'. Her name comes from the Old French word for 'lemon'. In Scotland, between 300 and 150 BC, citrine was found in the handles of swords and daggers as ornamentation and because the stone was believed to offer protection. It is also associated with success and wealth.

Citrinne flashes her noble status with feathers, gemstones and gold. In her hair she adorns unnecessary decoration. One of the clips does little to keep her hair out of her face nor do they have a practical purpose; instead they are a symbol of her excess. The adornment of feathers  was a practice respected and observed in Scotland. Feathers in bonnets or the hair were displayed with the quill part hidden and the wide part in display. Traditionally an eagle feather was displayed to show rank and heraldry. It is likely that Citrinne uses feathers in the same way. 

Down her arms he wears a mentelet which is a short cape often emanating from interesting decorative sleeves and elaborate ends which were worn by women. Citrinne's elaborate ends are made up of gold, feathers and red fabric. The drape, shawl effect comes down from torc positioned ringlets around the arm in a good and diamond design. The fabric used would have been an expensive fabric, likely silk. 

Citrinne's girdle belt is elaborate as her wealth would allow. She has gold, stud details, woven decorations and gemstones on her waistline to show off her status. The two decorative pendant mounts could also be a place for her to hang her purse. Her dress has no pockets to do so. 

Underneath her dress she wears a chemise to protect her dress from sweat and body oils. It is likely that her chemise is pieces together by thin, smooth, fine linen for breathability and comfort.

Her dress is a sleeveless, ankle length garment with modest tailoring rather than a rigid structure. The flowing garment has a distinctive border to protect the edge from fraying. The design is similar to the clan of the Brodian royal family. The female version of tartan was often simpler in design. 

Another expensive item she wears is her hoses. They resemble a tight fitting modern pair of thighs.  Most hoses would be baggy and constructed of cheap materials. The fact that Citrinne's rights are form fitting adds to the expense. It is likely that they are woven from fine wool for warmth. Her boots are also expensive and would be worn for riding her horses. 

The stones seen in her and other Brodian nobles accessories could be red jasper, also known as the 'warrior's stone's in Scotland, which is said to encourage strength, focus and determination.

For her casual wear she adorns a jacket over a dress. The jacket has furry cuffs and collar to keep her warm. It is a shorter jacket designed to empathise her skin waist. She adorns similar belts to the battling attire so she can carry purses and weaponry with her while keeping her hands free. She wears elaborate gold jewellery featuring a bejewelled medallion necklace, a good choker, jewelled headdress and gold earrings. The hoops represent Alcryst and Diamant. The triangular crescent is a symbol of the moon (Alcryst and ignes) and the circular hoop is a symbol of the sun (Diamant and sol). Her red court shoes are subtle, less pointy nod to poulaines which were worn by the wealthy in medieval times.

#fire emblem engage #fe engage #fe citrinne

[spoileddarkfemblog]

Kali and the patriarchal fears Via Medium

The goddess of death and what she represnts for the patriarchal society

She’s naked, covered with ashes, her hair matted with snakes in them, a garland of skulls and freshly cut heads around her neck. She laughs like madness herself, dancing to the chaotic rhythm of death, dragging a corpse behind her which she licks with her blood-red tongue from time to time.

Now imagine meeting her in the middle of the night on a dark lonely path. Here’s an old description — a dhyana mantra of Guhya Kali, one of the forms of Kali. The tantric text is called Tantrasaara and is written by Krishnananda Aagamavgisa.

“She is dark as a great cloud, clad in dark clothes. Her tongue is poised as if to lick. She has fearful teeth, sunken eyes and is smiling. She wears a necklace of snakes, the half-moon rests on her forehead, she has matted hair, and is engaged in licking a corpse. her sacred thread is a snake, and she lies on a bed of snakes. She holds a garland of fifty heads. She has a large belly, and on her head is Ananta with a thousand heads. On all sides she is surrounded by snakes….She has a snake-girdle and an anklet of jewels. On her left is to be imagined Shiva in the form of a boy. She has two hands and has corpses for ear ornaments. Her face, decked with bright new jewels, shows she is pleased and calm.”

🔻 She’s not likeable. Hell, she’s scary. In Hindu mythology, she’s nature— something that causes death and destruction, something that’s wild and raging, something that’s unpredictable and uncontrollable. Her hair are wild and open (mark of undomesticated woman or someone who doesn’t belong to a husband-ry), she dances naked outside. Both being naked and being outside is something that is forbidden to the female gender in our society.

You wouldn’t invite her into your homes (unlike the more demure Lakshmi, goddess of wealth or Saraswati, goddess of knowledge). She’s wild, frantic, out of control. She’s nature in its more fearful, horrific form, an earthquake, a hurricane, a tsunami. Her world is the one where a dog butchers another and all of them perish.

No wonder the patriarchal society, the cultured society, the rule based, control-based society, you and me, tremble at the very thought of her. You see, the patriarchal society is all about control — through rules, rituals, and routines. Do this, and you will get this. Do this and this and you can prevent death and disease from happening to you. If there’s a death in a neighbour’s house, don’t go there, for you might catch that disease.

If there’s a garbage-collector coming near you, step away, even though he takes your own garbage. Don’t touch him as he touches something filthy and you will become filthy too. Oh, your left hand is by default filthy. It wipes your bum after all!

Both genders are mired in rules, rituals and routines in this society — all in an effort to control life, prosper and save oneself from death. A man should control his estate and his woman, a woman should control her body and keep herself inside the house, under her husband. Both should stick to the codified laws of dharma created by some rishis a few thousand years ago. People most probably too stuck up to let their hair down.

Since she’s uncontrollable and fearful, like everything else, she’s associated with tantrics, who all mainstream Hindus see as charlatans, black magicians or simply people who are evil or threaten the codes of the patriarchal society. Like Bhairava (Both Kali and Bhairava feature in one of the most beautiful stories I have written in my upcoming graphic novel The Skull Rosary) she’s a goddess who belongs to the fringes of the society. She and her worshippers are associated with blood sacrifice, sometimes even human sacrifice. S

he’s the patron of thugs and witches—both of whom threaten the society’s status quo. Patriarchal society intellectuals have alternatively looked at her ugly form (by societal standards) as filthy, fearful or downright disgusting. That’s the reason you would not see rich merchants in Calcutta or Gujarat worshipping her. She’s of the night, meant for those who roam about the shamshaan in the night. She’s death itself.

If you worship her, you are either crazy or inconceivably evil. You are definitely not a well-wisher of the society. You are an outsider. Her image is the opposite to the mainstream, civilized society. She distrupts society. Personally, she inspires me and pushes me to write. She is the destruction and inspiration of creative energies itself and my heart beats in tandava with every step she takes. And so she inspires me to create destructive stuff. I am scared but I also bow down to her creative juices, sometimes leaking blood.

[fem-lit]

The “little bikinis” have not brought this generation heedless bodily freedom; they have become props that superimpose upon the young women chic pseudosexual scenarios that place new limits on what they can think, how they can move, and what they can eat. The backlash does to young women’s minds, so much more free, potentially, than any ever before, what corsets and girdles and gates on universities no longer can. The post-1960 daughter sees more images of impossibly “beautiful” women engaged in “sexual” posturing in one day than her mother saw throughout adolescence: She needs to be shown more if she is to know her place. By saturation in imagery, the potential explosiveness of this generation is safely defused.

— Naomi Wolf (1990) The Beauty Myth

#objectification #naomi wolf #the beauty myth #radblr #radfem #radical feminism #radfem safe #radical feminist safe

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (July 20)

Saint Margaret, whose feast is celebrated on July 20, is a virgin and martyr.

She is also called "Marina." Margaret belonged to Pisidian Antioch in Asia Minor, where her father was a pagan priest.

Her mother died soon after Margaret's birth, so she was nursed by a pious woman who lived about five or six leagues from Antioch.

Having embraced Christianity and consecrated her virginity to God, she was disowned by her father and adopted by her nurse.

One day, while she was engaged in watching the flocks of her mistress, a lustful Roman prefect named Olybrius caught sight of her, and attracted by her great beauty, sought to make her his concubine or wife.

When neither cajolery nor threats of punishment could succeed in moving her to yield to his desires, he had her brought before him in public trial at Antioch.

Threatened with death unless she renounced the Christian faith, the holy virgin refused to adore the gods of the empire.

An attempt was made to burn her, but the flames, we are told in her Acts, left her unharmed.

She was then bound hand and foot and thrown into a cauldron of boiling water, but at her prayer, her bonds were broken and she stood up uninjured.

Finally, the prefect ordered her to be beheaded.

The Greek Church honors her under the name Marine on July 13, and the Latin as Margaret on July 20.

Her Acts place her death in the persecution of Diocletian (A.D. 303-5). In fact, even the century to which she belonged is uncertain.

St. Margaret is represented in art sometimes as a shepherdess, or as leading a chained dragon, again carrying a little cross or a girdle in her hand, or standing by a large vessel, which recalls the cauldron into which she was plunged.

Relics said to belong to the saint are venerated in very many parts of Europe; at Rome, Montefiascone, Brusels, Bruges, Paris, Froidmont, Troyes, and various other places.

Curiously enough, this virgin has been widely venerated for many centuries as a special patron of women who are pregnant.

[hariharaputra]

【Shiva/Vishnu】Meditation

Summary:He who transcends time is Mahakal.He who permeates everywhere is Vishnu.Both of them are equal and eternal. They are described sometimes as friends and foes, but always as perpetual lovers.

Notes:I'm not a English native speaker or Hindu. So if anything weird pls forgive me. Hope you all can like my work.

Work Text:

Shiva is Narayan's devoutest and favourite devotee. At the same time, Narayan is also Shiva's devoutest and favourite devotee.Shiva was engaged in his meditation. He firstly focused on the lotus feet of the Supreme Being in his mind, and he was able to outline every pattern on the soles of Narayan's feet that resembles either lotus flowers or lightning bolts. Narayan's toes were studded with ruby nails, and Shiva could remember how the lotus feet, soft as the skin of a baby and white as the moonlight, had sunk into the soft earth, receiving the ministrations of Bhudevi, but lifting off without a trace of dust. The lotus feet should have destroyed the sins in the heart of the devotee like a thunderbolt, but this startled the desire of the devotee who will destroy earth, sky and heaven at the end of a Kalpa, which turned into a poisonous fire burning on Shiva's skin and thus inside his body. But he sat on that ground of austerity, calm and immovable as a mountain. He continued to meditate on Narayan's thighs as white as the ivory, as smooth as lamb's fat, where all kinds of energies converge. Meanwhile they were the birthplace of the Shasta who killed the Mohishi, to which Shiva's seed had been attached, from whom the milky fluid flowed down and turned into gold and silver mines. Next, the Lord of Destruction meditated on the waist of the Supreme Being, around which was wrapped a delicate girdle to hide the traces left by the destroyer that would take a hundred years to fade. No one could have left a mark on Vishnu's waist, only the devoutest devotees of Vishnu could have made it. The navel of Narayan is the origin of an infinite number of universes, and Mahakal has given these universes supreme blessings with his tongue. The nipples of the Supreme Being are like a pair of exquisite cat's-eye stones, nipples that did not feed the son of Harihara, but fed the Mahesvara with sweet milk when he was incarnated for Mohini, and the milk that spilled from the corner of Mahadeva's mouth became a clear spring in the city of immortality(Kashi) that never dries up. Shiva meditated on Vishnu's compassionate and amorous frown, the eternal smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he could hear Krishna's laughter that enchanted all mortals, whose delicate lotus petal-like lips had gently rested on Shiva Linga to express Vishnu's supreme respect and blessings to Shiva.Shiva sent a message to Vishnu with his divine thoughts, "O my Lord, can you extinguish my poisonous fire with your Yoni!""O my Lord, Mohini has been still feeling unwell since the last time we parted." The corner of Vishnu's mouth curled in a slight smile. Having sex with Shiva takes thousands of years at a time, and even the God of Maintenance could not make his own Yoni, which had been encountered repeated thrusts of Shiva's phallic for a long time, recover quickly."Could you take your true form to meet me?" Shiva pleaded.Sudarshana Chakra at Vishnu's fingertip spun suddenly faster, but Narayan smiled and said, "As you wish, my Lord."

#myth #hindu mythology #vishnu x shiva #shiva x vishnu #shiva #vishnu #not religious #not religion #mahakal #narayan #krishna

[binenbaumaj]

Diamond Sapphire 14k Row Ring 14988-8451

This ring is a timeless piece of jewelry that will never go out of style. The sapphires are exquisite stones that have a deep blue color and a smooth oval shape. They are accented by brilliant-cut diamonds that add sparkle and contrast. The ring is crafted in 14k yellow and white gold, which creates a harmonious blend of tones and textures.

Details: four totaling ±0.70ct Sapphire, ±0.15ct (H SI1) Brilliant-cut diamonds, 14k Ring. Design Era: Contemporary. Size: 18.54 NL / 58.3 FR / 8½ US / Q½ UK, sizeable (Within reason. Contact seller for information). Dimensions: H 0.4 x L 1.6 x W 0.4 cm. Weight in grams: 3. Condition: New.

This classic piece ships from our store in the center of Amsterdam, The Netherlands. We offer both registered shipping and local pickup at our store, with any applicable shipping costs refunded in the case of local pickup.

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#14k #14k ring #amsterdam #antique jewellery #antique jewelry #binenbaum antiques jewelry #bridal #bridaljewellery #bridetobe #contemporary ring #diamond #diamond ring #engagement #engagementring #gettingmarried #ido #iloveyou #isaidyes #loveyou #sapphire #sapphire ring #selflove #shesaidyes #spiegelkwartier #vintage jewellery #vintage jewelry #weddingband #weddingring

[dravenxivuk]

Took my Smartcrutches to my physio today for her opinion, and help learning how to use them properly.

Overall we’d set them up just fine, she just a slight adjustment to the angle of the forearm support and explained why that was better for me. I had a lesson in walking with them on the flat, and how to go down stairs using them. She prefers them to my walking stick because my posture with them is better and is engaging more of my core muscles and my shoulder girdle (yey) but because of that I’m restricted to max 5 minutes a day walking on them because that’s a lot more exercise than I’ve been getting so we need to build up slowly.

She liked all the adjustable bits, and the fact the website recommends which size of crutch to get based on your measurements. Her only negative comment is they’re heavy compared to most other elbow crutches she’s tried and in the future she’d like to see the company into lighter weight materials. She confirmed they are considerably lighter than the gutter crutches you’d be given by the NHS so at the very least she will be letting patients with gutter crutches know about them so they have the option.

#smartcrutches #smartcrutch #hypermobile ehlers danlos #hEDS #chronically ill

[ryusxnka]

❝ nasty hit! are you alright? ❞

        God of war: Ragnarok starters.

    P ulsatile Reiatsu, frigidly contingent, an ethereal manifestation, girdles 'round the integrality of a unwavering, purposeful, steel emanating tempestuous callousness whilst the vast physicality of a monstrosity shrieked from its dribbling maw; a repugnant exhibition, the adolescent scoffs amidst the aerospace aloft the imperiling objective. --- Instant ensuing its ambitious utterance had its osseous-representational mask, a significant inkling of its once humanness, being vigorously penetrated through. - With an expeditious swivel of his armament's length rightward had nascent water and forthwith generated Ice commenced to conjointly congeal their head down to their very shoulders 'fore combusting onto a plethora of diminutive crystallized fragmentations of coagulate flesh and straggled particles. ---- Ultimately resolving the Hollow's voracious assault onto a reportable permanence of inviting completion. With a succinct yet barely audible sound had his footwear engaged, with an impetus and precipitous descend, 'against the rugged asphalt of the street he was localized in; a breath fleeing his lungs.

     'Fore he was able to wholly proceed in sheathing his companion in arms within his confined residence, he hearkens the vocalizations of a concerned man, an anomaly he's acquainted with months prior, inquiring over the militant's bodily well-being. With furrowing brows, he purses his brace of parched lips in contemplation. -- Hitsugaya had, admittedly, forgotten that Rowan had been in attendance throughout his combative execution. Albeit he will not grant them the cognizance of that reality. In its lieu, he will hand out a straightforward answer. " --- Despite my size, i'm not so frail. Besides, it's only a graze. " he speaks of the abrasions implemented 'pon his cheek, unknowingly oblivious of the redden plight of a wound trickling an illustration along his appendage. --- He could not feel anything out of his habitual understanding, reasoning with the likely notion, in spite of its ulterior truths in neglection, that the uncomfortable sensation he experienced there was naught but a colliding result or a muscle spasm.

     " ----- Wipe that look off your face. It's pathetic. "

#;Meme #knightshonour #If this makes no sense #its cause its near 6 #am