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#i was so absorbed in being Me that i forget that i am part of this universe

anyoldfandom · 3 months

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I am actually. I am so emotional over the Salazar parents and I need to share this to tumblr too.

A lot of stories where the MC is adopted I feel. Either dismiss the biological parents and the impact they have on the kid's life, or makes them evil and abusive, framing the loss of the bio parents as a good thing, or at least something we shouldn't think about just look at this new family.

But Genrex doesn't do that. From the start, Rex wanted to find out more about his parents - it's one of his primary character motivations, next to helping people. He loves them, even though he doesn't know them.

And the more he finds out about them, the more he realizes they loved him. Rylander is consumed by guilt but as Rex's first connection to his pre-Event life, the first thing he does is hug him. And when he tells Rex about his parents, the two things Rex knows is that 1) they were scientists, and 2) that when he was in danger, they were desperate enough to use their secret, experimental technology to save him. Technology built from their desire to help the world, to save countless lives and end countless suffering.

And then. When he finds out that they were dead, he doesn't stop caring. It'd be so easy, too, to tie it up there - his parents were good people, he got his answer about them, the end. But they don't. He doesn't. Because the show is saying once again that they are his parents. He still calls them mom and dad, even as the show makes it clear Holiday and Six adopted Rex as their son. Even as the show even parallels Six and One with Rex and Six (and I will talk about that more later if I don't forget, trust me), to really drive home how much they're family. Rex even says he considers the two of them family, and later that he considers Noah, Claire and Annie family.

He has new family, the show tells us, but his old family still matters to him. He's upset that he never has the chance to meet his parents, that everything he hears about them, about his time with them, is secondhand knowledge. It tells us clearly that not only does Rex still love them, but that he still wants to know them. And everything we find out about them reinforces the love that they had for each other.

We see Abuela and the family in Mexico, who connect him to his birth family and tell him that he was so loved back then, and still is now. We see their office in Abysus through Rex's eyes. The picture of him and his dad on his desk. The drawing Rex drew, proudly pinned to the wall.

We see it in the familiarity of the drawing. That that robot, that build, was what Rex created when he was lost and scared and alone - that it was made to keep him safe. That it first appeared in his mind in a place he felt safe.

The show says, tenderly and softly, that the love is still there. That the fact these people died was nothing but a tragedy, that their love is a big part of what made Rex who he is today - that every molecule in his body is filled with their final gift to him. That every time he cures someone, every time he uses a build, every time he makes a machine - we see the love that they had for him.

And the way he quietly absorbs his father's face. The way he freezes and whispers "Mamá?" when he finds out Zag-Rs has their mother's voice. The fact that she even has her voice as a testament to Caesar's love, too - that it was meant to bring comfort and safety. The way Rex yells at Caesar when he finds out they have a family property, a connection to their past, the way he fights to protect it.

And, none of this takes away still from Six and Holiday being Rex's family too. None of this removes the work either set of parents did for him, the love either set has - the show says that it was unfair that the Salazar parents were lost. That Six and Holiday are not replacements, that they still love him as parents but play different roles in his life. They can not, and have no desire to, replace the Salazars. But Rex needs parents, he needs protectors, and so they will do what they can for him - at first out of necessity, to keep this kid they barely know safe, but then out of love. They aren't replacing what was lost, but are doing their best to do what Rex's bio parents would do. And they do mess up in it - they mess up in ways Rex's bio parents might not have. Six is clearly bad with showing affection, affection we saw the Salazars give Rex so easily, and Holiday is overworked and stressed constantly, sometimes breaking under the pressure and snapping at Rex and Six, things we never saw the Salazars do.

It's just. It's about how sometimes things will not be the same. They will be different. That doesn't mean the people you lost aren't still with you.

#This is also. Why I dislike the 'Rex was secretly made for the nanite experiments the accident was a lie' theory so much #Bc it assigns malice where the show says over and over again there was only love.#That this was only ever a tragedy of good people whose good intentions were manipulated and twisted.#And I think giving them something shitty to have done in the past especially goes against the message of the show's perspective on adoption #The family we choose is not always stronger than the family we are born to. Sometimes they are equal in different ways.#Rex's bio parents are gone but not replaced. They have also shaped who he is #Six and Holiday are just picking up where they left off. Because they have to.#Also I don't like the theory that Rex's parents are EVOs somewhere bc I think it diminishes the impact of the tragedy too.#I get. Wanting them to have a happy ending. But I think it's important to realize that this is the closest they can have to a happy ending.#Some things cannot be replaced. Or fixed. Sometimes life takes what we love and what loves us. And that is okay.#It is okay to be upset at that and it is okay to never fully move on.#'What about Caesar?' I have. Another post's worth of thoughts about him.#But I think he's also a character who is defined more by Rex by their relation and defined by the story by his guilt #I think he is the closest thing Rex has to a shitty bio family member and he is shitty in plenty of ways #But he's also a parallel to Rex in a lot of ways. He fails where Rex succeeds bc of it.#generator rex #genrex #Anyways. Sorry for the big post.

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hxhhasmysoul · 9 days

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Okay so I have read this other translations where sukuna said kenjaku sealed his finger in yuji making him cg player by birth and to strengthen his body as host so yuuji carries a part of sukuna's soul . If you want panel I can send you.

What you said about reincarnations is right and gege also pretty much followed the similar route.

The hair thing yuji has might be because of assimilation of sukuna's finger in him coz body=soul and this kind of make me want to consider yuji as similar to cursed corpse... And we still haven't seen jin hair color and wasuke was old .

Another thing I was reminded by your ans was, it was always said maki chose HR and rejected jujutsu first by maki then sukuna implying she did it out of her own volition but when could this have happened, now sukuna's eating his brother in womb statement reminds me of a phenomenon in certain religion where they say babies retains memories and when in womb but forgets after their birth . I am saying this coz both maki and sukuna are twins so they might be conscious enough to do things while in womb.

Not to forget womb / pregnancy itself is a significant theme in jjk and of course womb realm...

Lol I am babbling at this point coz I am happy that yuuji is not twin and not even biologically related as I wanted him to be..

Your ask and this reply by @cursedvibes got me to reread what Sukuna says. His words may be mistranslated, the official translation isn't out yet and I don't have the raws, but he could kinda hung up on his first murder.

The hair thing was a joke, you're absolutely right that we don't know if Jin's hair is peach, I hope it is :D

As to the finger the translation vary whether the finger sealing and the culling games player things are connected.

But the womb thing.

I kinda think it's funny how Sukuna talks about his twin in some of the translation and I'm curious what it looks like in the original. He talks about consuming part of himself, but then the translation says "our soul" and "his soul". If he really use some for of "we" and a third person pronoun (gendered or not), it's really interesting.

He kinda bounces between acknowledging his twin as a separate being and talking about the twin like something that belonged to Sukuna. I also don't think he's ever before justified a murder he committed. He uses the circumstances as a justification, he puts blame on his/their mother.

He first says he rejected the fate of being a twin and it sounds like: I did it for power. As if he knee back then that being a twin in the jujutsu world sucks. So maybe he was actually conscious in the womb, he had memories, memories of jujutsu. Of course he might be rationalising here something the regularly occurs with twins, aka one absorbing the other without any conscious decision being involved.

But then he talks about self-preservation. He never says he killed his twin, he absorbed part of himself which also kinda sounds like a justification. If he sees the twin as part of himself, if it's "their" soul, he saved them both by consuming the twin. If he didn't eat his twin, all parts of him would've died. He and his twin.

He also seems to see Yuuji as a separate being from himself. A vessel made for him, for sure, someone related to him, but not like with his twin, not like a part of himself. Yuuji has inherited things from Sukuna's twin and Sukuna acknowledges it, but I can't imagine him thinking that he and Yuuji have the same soul.

He also doesn't seem mad that his twin's soul lead a separate life from him. And he doesn't seem to see it as his own life. It's also interesting how all his disgust and annoyance is at Kenjaku, he never questions that his twin had kids with Kenjaku. He never considers that his twin might hold a grudge against him, regardless whether it was how the twin felt or not. Is it him being selfish? Emotionally inept? Protecting himself from the thought that his twin might hate him? Thus from the thought that he'd done wrong by him?

It kinda makes me think he's got a lot of feelings related to the twin and to what happened between them in womb, consciously or not, and he's just refusing to feel these feelings XD

#jjk spoilers #jjk leaks #jjk 257 #sukuna #my ramblings #answering asks #thank you for the ask #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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pet-pet-peet · 11 months

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I don’t know if my request got through, I’m sorry in advance if it and I’m wasting your time reading this. I asked for some platonic headcanons for azul, floyd, and malleus where they visit readers school in their world for the event. (Malleus uses magic to hide his horns)

Omg wait this is super cute! The Malleus part gives me vibes to My Inner Demons (Aphmau)

I am trying to go through my drafts and post the ones I had done, this will not be inspired by canon!

Story: They visit your school in your world with you for a week

Tw: cafeteria food slander from personal experience; lmk!

Pairing(s): Azul, Floyd, Malleus x gn reader going to their school (separate) (platonic)

𝕬𝖟𝖚𝖑

He stands out a bit because of his hair, but otherwise everyone sees him normally

For the most part- he does have moments where he’s caught being confused over a piece of history everyone in your world has learned-

Very interested in seeing how different schools in your world function, even if the differences are slight

He’s a little bit thrown off when he learns there’s no magic at all, makes him overly aware of his magic and when he uses it

He likes to talk to your other friends to get dirt on you, just in case he ever needs it

Probably becomes really popular through the time he attends your school

Also picks up the academics really easily, which makes the teachers like him

You have to tell him not to set up his deals in your world- he probably does so anyway, though

Hates your cafeteria’s food, it doesn’t taste how he likes and feels unhealthy, so he convinces you to either bring him food from home or buy him more (but he does it in an Azul way that’ll end up with him not being in your debt, probably makes deals with you to help you with something)

Probably has a lot of fun, learns some things he’s definitely gonna find a way to incorporate into his business practices

𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖞𝖉

He’s very clingy to you, so even if teachers want him to go somewhere else he’ll stay with you or force you to go with him

On the chance he’s not feeling the classes, he’ll ditch them and just wander around and explore the school grounds

He doesn’t usually feel like learning things from your world, doesn’t really see the point in it, so he probably just distracts you while you’re in class together

Stands out immediately, probably one of the tallest guys in your school so everyone notices him immediately in the halls. That on top of his hair and eyes, he becomes very popular very quickly

Drags you around in between periods to show you places he thought were cool hiding spots from teacher (he confirms he used them when you ask)

Even though he’s only there for a week, he gets random love letters everyday and makes you read them to him because he can’t be bothered to focus long enough to do so himself

Doesn’t mind the school food, but probably doesn’t eat much of it anyway cause it’s still not the best

Doodles on all the paperwork he’s given instead of actually filling them out; that said, art is his best subject in your world (Unless you’re also in a music class, then that’s his favorite and best subject)

Probably antagonizes some of the staff because he thinks it's funny, doesn't end too well for you though

Mixed bag, finds it incredibly boring some days, finds it interesting for others

𝕸𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖚𝖘

He makes sure to stick by the strict rule: he isn't allowed to use magic except to hide his horns and ears

He towers over everyone and quickly becomes notorious for it, if he didn't actively seek you out you'd probably never be able to get through the crowds that always surround him

His high class vibe gets a lot of people's attention, so he gets invited to quite a bit of parties for a change. He's pretty prideful of it, but usually forgets or just doesn't go cause you aren't going

He absorbs your history relatively easily, but will still ask you for more details on the different subjects you learn

Definitely almost forgot to hide his horns one day and you had to panic remind him before he left the apartment

Gets lost when walking around your school sometimes since he's trying to find any sign of gargoyles that may have been removed

Sometimes he just wants to ditch with you, the history of your world is fascinating and all but he wants to see it more instead of just hearing about it

Pretty sensitive when people try to tease his eyes and fangs, but hides it behind snarky remarks and sarcasm

Absolutely refuses to eat food from the cafeteria, also refuses to call it food. You have to bring him lunch or buy it from somewhere better if you want him to eat

Remembers quite a few of the stories he learned, both real and fake, and made sure to recite them to the rest of Diasomnia (he never clarified which were real or not. Have fun explaining to the gang that the Wizard of Oz doesn't exist)

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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circulars-reasoning · 6 months

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Recovery

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

A little over two years ago at this point, I began therapy for the first time. I was absolutely fucking terrified of it. I was terrified of opening up about the lie I'd clearly been living. I was terrified of a well-mannered person looking at me, listening to me, and saying "Is this way of viewing yourself really healthy?" And kindly and calmly explaining to me that I'd fabricated all that trauma, that my abusers weren't actually abusers -- that emotional neglect is more severe than what I'd experienced, and the reason I couldn't remember anything "bad" was because there was nothing bad to remember.

Instead, my therapist had one session with me, had me take a test to see the severity of my symptoms, and diagnosed me faster than I've ever heard of someone being diagnosed.

Just like that.

I have had so much integration since then. I can hear everyone clearly, without straining for it on purpose. I see my life around me, and I forget there's a whole life in my head that I used to spend 24/7 at until a friend reminds me of a time back then, and I remember who I used to be in full detail.

This week in therapy, we discussed my recovery. We discussed how I, as a part, am doing so, so much better than I've ever done -- and how I almost feel bad about it, because other parts aren't doing nearly as well right now. I'm not as depressed, I'm not as suicidal, and I have a lot of things I'm passionate about that I can rely on rather than harmful coping mechanisms -- and I talked about how other parts are more stressed than ever. "It's like they took the worst parts of who I used to be, because we're integrating now, so they have to carry the burden."

And my therapist looked at me, and said, "Why is who you used to be such a burden?"

Recovery hasn't been easy -- but I've definitely gone faster through some of these obstacles than I've seen others in my situation. I take the lessons and I absorb them like a sponge; in a matter of weeks, I completely stop spirals that would've wrecked me before, and push away relapse thoughts with a simple distraction rather than a mental breakdown. It hasn't been easy -- but god, is it easier than what I've seen my friends experience.

I look at my friends, and I see how much they struggle... I feel the need to express the struggles I've gone through. "Oh yeah, I was such a mess in college," I'd say. "I was such a wreck, constantly. My dissociation was so bad. I hated myself so much."

Why is who I used to be a burden?

Why is who I used to be someone I must kick down?

Will it really make me taller?

My homework for this week was very simple, and incredibly complex all the same -- and at the time, when he gave me the assignment, I had my doubts it was really as severe as he suggested. It wasn't until I got to the car with my partner of 6 years, and I told them about the homework that it clicked.

"He told me I need to be kind to my younger self, who I -- as a part -- used to be. He told me I needed to be more positive about that guy." "You know... I fell in love with that version of you." And I winced, because I wanted to laugh and cringe at what a mistake that was.

It clicked for me, today. How this connects to all that self doubt.

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

It always was just that bad. It was exactly as bad as I made it out to be.

But I was far better than I made myself out to be.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #osdd #other specified dissociative disorder #cdd #complex dissociative disorder #syscovery #recovery #therapy #tagging this as #syscourse #because I think folks in that tag will appreciate seeing this #esp those who are experiencing a lot of doubt recently #you are stronger than you are making yourself out to be #diamonds are a boy’s best friend

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be-my-ally · 6 months

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Autumn Leaves Falling Down

(Like Pieces into Place)

I've inserted the sneak peak/1st part from last week into this to make it easier to locate and read, so if the first 1k reads as familiar that's why.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland. There's the Memphian, an attempt at a trip to the morgue, and Elvis in a sweater - oh, and smut.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: 18+, kissing, making out at the cinema, there's an argument with Red that results in a gun being drawn but doesn't go off, mentions of dead bodies, p in v sex. this could probably do with a ton of editing but i am fundamentally lazy.

the memphian scenes are totally inspired by @whositmcwhatsit’s The Gate Girl — I've avoided rereading the past couple of weeks to try and forget it but i’ve read it upwards of 55 times and i think i’ve absorbed it all into my brain as fact - and really, she does it much better than me so everyone (if you haven't) pls go and check it out.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really anticipated having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s pretty sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side for her to see everyone. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cosy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How’d’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s pretty sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she attempts to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. Self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

So, Laura hurries. She gets ready as quickly as possible; dabbing on a little makeup and brushing her hair. She’s casually dressed when she heads back down towards the back door - jeans and a ribbed rollneck, fully expecting to change again later in the day. She grabs one of Elvis’ coats out of the coat closet on the way, wrapping herself in the thick fabric and liking how it fell past her knees - she’d really not been prepared for this early fall chill, having brought with her light jackets and layers instead of anything with a focus on warmth. Elvis grins over at her, pretending to throw the ball at her when she finally exits the house, and she giggles back at him, standing to the side of their playing space,

“Gimme a E!” She shouts at him, and he roars with laughter, shaking his head as he loudly tells the boys;

“Oh, you’re in for it now! Got my little good luck charm out here, haven’t I? Where’s all your missus’ huh?” Jokingly shoving and jostling as they come in closer. The game continues - seemingly some sort of bastardised version of football wherein it was every man for himself, and Laura contented herself with watching from the sidelines, every now and again giving Elvis an encouraging cheer at what she hoped was a particularly decent run or pass. It was growing a little boring watching by herself and she wondered where all the other wives and girlfriends were, if they’d had other plans or turned down an invitation to watch - or, as she hoped (despite her boredom) if she’d been specially invited out to the boys-only impromptu game. But Elvis looked happy, practically beaming at her every time he ran close by and so she was more than happy to burrow into the lapels and collar of the large overcoat, enveloping herself in his scent while she watched on. It’s only about ten minutes later that he runs past and pauses, hands outstretched,

“Aw, Lor, baby, I’m all chilled to my booones, you gotta warm me up ‘fore I freeze!” He tries to shove his cold hands up her sweater and she shrieks, dashing away from him -

“Oh no you don’t!” He pouts, arms crossed, and she shakes her head, “Not gonna work this time mister, you’ve got icicles for hands, and you can keep them to yourself!” Elvis huff in a faux put upon manner, and calls the boys in;

“C’mon guys, I’m gettin’ bored of kickin’ all your asses… and ‘m hungry - let’s go have somethin’ to eat and warm up a bit.” Laura goes where he nods towards the house, slowing to let him catch up with her and letting him curl his cold hands onto her warm stomach from behind as they walked in together.

Hours later, after the afternoon light had turned to darkness and they’d spent the day fooling around in the house - if she didn’t know better she’d be wondering where all their energy was still coming from - Elvis was again calling for her to get dressed so they could leave for the Memphian.

“Maybe you wanna get changed sweetheart? You know, into, uh, just something, you know, honey, just, just a bit more, uh, flattering…” He’d followed her up the stairs, and she found it hard to be annoyed at his disparaging comment towards her jeans when he’d playfully chased her into the bedroom. Laura shrieked and danced out of his hands, screeching when he got close enough to dig his fingers into the sensitive flesh just above her knee. She careened through the door and they both fell together once he tackled her when she was close enough to the bed.

They ended up rolling around on the bed for a moment, both laughing. She allows him to pepper her face with kisses, rolling on top of him to return the favour. He clings to her, unwilling to let her wiggle off of him even when she tries to lean back fearing she was squishing him. “Elvis, you’ve got to let me get offa you; I bet you can hardly breathe under me!” He rolls his eyes, flexing his forearms as he squeezed her even tighter to him,

“Can’t breathe! I’ll show you can’t breathe.” She can practically feel her ribs cracking and she yelps,

“Elvis!” Elvis laughs, releasing her, making Laura relax on top of him, sinking against his body. She leans back to observe his face, running a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking the side of his intense eyes and trailing it down to trace his plush lips. He playfully nips at her finger, growling and she blushes at how the noise immediately sent her tummy into somersaults. She feels herself tingle at the sensation of his breath on her now damp finger, and her eyes slip closed for a long second. When they reopen he’s staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes lidded and she no longer cares about being on top of him, his hands sliding down her sides to hold her as she bucks her hips, manoeuvring her to slip her legs on either side of one of his. She grinds down, tangling her fingertips into his sideburns as she captures his mouth again. It’s delicate for one short moment before they both seem to sense an urgency in the situation and she suddenly feels like she’s a willing victim being devoured, his tongue and teeth everywhere all at once. She pulls back to catch her breath, and he chases her lips even then, kissing the side of her mouth until she recaptures his. He ruts up against her once, twice, before stilling and rolling her to the side - Laura lays there panting,

“El, what’s? what’s wrong?” She pauses, she doesn’t want to embarrass him but she can’t help but ask, “Did you - did you, uh, finish?” Elvis smiles a little bashfully, eyes crinkling at the sides as he shakes his head,

“No, no, honey, no just, just gonna save myself - be better later if we just wait; I’ve got plans for you this evening, jus - just lemme hold off for the mo.’” She nods, it makes sense, even if she impatiently wanted him now - and she whispers as much against his jaw.

“Want you all the time, want you in the morning, in the evening in the - god, Elvis, I just - I want to be here all the time, want you right now.” He rolls them so he’s leaning over her, caging her in with his arms and wrapping one of his legs between hers.

“You got me darling, you got me - we just, I want to make it special, tonight - just, just cool it baby yeah? Gotta,” He leans forward into her to kiss her, pressing his mouth hard against hers, tongue licking into her long and slow, before pulling back, breathing heavily again. Elvis reluctantly stood up. “Gotta get ready now. Get ourselves looking uh, presentable.” He cracks his back, stretching his arms and Laura feels abruptly cold at the loss of his warm body heat, panting as her heartbeat slows and the throbbing between her legs cools to a faintly warm glow.

—------------

Laura stares at her hair in the mirror, pinning half of it up, brushing through the rest gently, trying not to lose too much of the volume from the day. Her mousy roots are showing from where she dyes it near-black and she absentmindedly makes a mental note to ask if Elvis knows where she can get some dye, or if there’s time for her to go to the hairdressers. He’d already left for downstairs, having gotten changed unusually faster than she had and left the bedroom long before she was done in the bathroom, telling her,

“Take your time, baby, ain’t going nowhere without you.” She’d blushed at her own reflection at her reaction to his words - it had clearly been a throwaway sentence for him, not something she should take to heart and yet she couldn’t resist it. It was too much, too soon, too close to everything she wanted that she could practically feel it fluttering around her head, feeling herself locking it away tight in her chest. It had been on the edge of every interaction with him the past couple of years, the knowing that she was kept around for a reason, and that she kept coming back for a reason. She’d never been much of a fan of the men in Vegas; they were all too lecherous and desperate – even those that weren’t there to partake in all the sins and pleasures. The few dates she’d been on with guys she’d met while working out there had ended fast, and often slightly uncomfortably. Elvis wasn’t like that though. She’d thought he might be, expected he would be - had rolled her eyes at herself when her stomach flipped at his fingers calling her over. Had lain in bed telling herself it was just her stupid crush from years ago rearing its ugly head, making her see things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t ever even see him again, and don’t be stupid Laura, he probably wasn’t all that nice anyway. Besides, he has a wife and she knew enough not to get involved.

But somehow, her feelings and heart ruled over her sense and before she knew it her life revolved around him in a not unwanted way. She’d not had to worry as much about the men in Vegas then, they could behave how they wished — her dating life that had previously been slim was pared down even more, too anxious that she might be out when Elvis would choose to call and she’d miss him or have to explain where she was. It meant dates were few and far between, but as much as she thought herself a terrible idiot - she couldn’t bear to let anything get far enough that she might have to turn Elvis down.

She shakes her head at the reminiscence, it's been years since that first encounter during one of his early residencies. She’s getting too emotional about it now she’s allowed to be here, tangled in the domesticity of Graceland life, allowed to be photographed, and publicised. She just needs to stay in the moment, worry about how her feelings are getting involved when she gets home - she’s only here for a month, she should just make the most of it. She finishes getting ready quicker with that in mind, rushing through her make-up, a voice in her head telling her not to stupidly waste time. Before long she had her mini dress on and shoes quickly buckled before she headed down the stairs.

Laura had seen photos of Elvis when he was younger, knew that he wasn’t opposed to knits, it just wasn’t something she’d yet had the good fortune of witnessing. But there he was, sat on the couch in the music room, waiting for her and everyone else to be ready. Open V neck knitted sweater with a little collar. She stilled in the hallway, reluctant to break his silence. He’s just sat there with his thighs spread and his legs stretched out, arms across the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She must make a noise, or something, because he suddenly jolts his head up to look over at her. They make eye-contact and she freezes even more still, trapped in his intense gaze. He looks well, like she wanted to climb into him and never crawl out, cuddly and soft and yet thick and masculine. Laura swallowed, her hands shaking a little, as he pats his thigh. How ridiculous that something as little as that could make someone so nervous - she’s just about to take a step towards him, ready to curl into the plush fuzzy softness of his sweater and tangle her fingers in the similarly plush fuzzy softness of his chest hair when there’s a sudden ruckus from seemingly all sides as all the other men and woman, ready for a night out, suddenly appear. Laura mourns the loss of her cuddle, but Elvis’ hand in hers as he effectively shows her off on their way out makes up for it a little.

The step out into the late evening air was even chillier than the day, Laura shivered in her thin jacket - it was downright unseasonable for Tennessee in October to be this cold and she wishes for the second time that day that she’d thought to bring a heavier coat, but then the heavy thump of Elvis’ arm comes down around her shoulder, enveloping her in him. She finds she doesn’t mind the cold so much then, able to enjoy the scent of the wet, crisp fall air and how it just feels different to the summer within the warmth of his grasp.

They’d filtered into the Memphian and Elvis immediately grasped her wrist, pulling Laura with him. He ignored the hustle of the others to head straight up the stairs to the balcony, she goes where he leads - he’d taken her to the Crosstown the last time she’d been in Memphis, so she didn’t really have much choice; not knowing where he was going beyond the ‘balcony’ sign on the door. The door slams behind her, and she jumps at its loud echo in the empty movie theatre.

“I didn’t wanna ‘embarrass you ‘round the guys, I just, uh, want you all to myself.” He pauses while he shuffles down the aisle, “Figured this way,” He settled himself into a chair one row back, in the very centre, “this way you can - “

Elvis suddenly realises she hasn’t followed him down the aisle and laughs, “C’mon, darling, what’chyu standing out there for?” Laura hurries down to him, and he clasps her hand as she gets herself comfortable in the seat next to his, bringing it to his lips. She blushes at the feeling - it was so startlingly romantic that she can’t think of what to say, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He settles back into his chair, dropping her hand to stretch his arm across the back of her chair. A couple of the others come thundering up the stairs, laughing and joking, but they go silent when coming through the doors, taking seats right along the back wall - Laura’s head turns to see who it was but Elvis’ hand from her chair blocks its path, two fingers pressed against her cheek as he cups her face - keeping her looking directly at him.

“Don’ worry about them - they won’t bother us none.” She nods, unable to stop herself leaning her head further into his hand — he smiles softly - cheeks crinkling into his eyes. His hand falls to stroke at her shoulder,

“There we are. Now, what was I saying?” He pauses, “Oh, yeah, if - this way if y’get scared I can cuddle ya.” He pauses, “You’re alright with a…. uh…. slasher flick aren’t ya?” He prods her far shoulder.

She nodded enthusiastically, although her head was ringing alarm bells - she wasn’t normally a huge fan of any kind of horror. She lived alone - life was scary enough without worrying about x hiding behind her doors at night.

But any reservations Laura had were quickly lost when after the title card came across the screen accompanied by some ominous instrumentals Elvis’ hand came creeping across to her thigh,

“You scared?” She shakes her head.

“Course not.” He nods, although his smirk suggests he’s unconvinced,

“Good, but just so you know - ‘m packing…. I could protect you from anything. ‘Specially a man.” He’s looking at her almost too seriously, and she feels trapped under his intense gaze, all she can do is nod.

“Of course - I know, I know you would.” He stares a second longer, before leaning back into his chair, and he indicates with his head the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Besides, if you’re just scared, I got my big ol’ flashlight with me too.” She nods again, not quite knowing what to say in reply - she can tell he’s waiting for her to speak though so all that spills out of her mouth is,

“That’s-that’s the police one, right?”

“Mmhmm… got it direct offa the sheriff.” She turns to say something else, but the opening scene starts to play and he shushes her, pulling his hand off her thigh, enrapt in the movie.

Clearly, it fails in holding his attention for very long. Mere minutes later he leans over, sighing, not bothering to try and keep quiet. She squeaks in surprise as his hands grip hold of her arms - tugging her, she scrabbles over the arm of the chair to go where he’s pulling her — arranging her to be sat on his lap. She looks around, suddenly coming to the realisation that at some point he must have shooed away everyone else from the balcony. He tuts, a finger going to her mouth in a keep quiet gesture when she opens it to speak, pointing at the screen as if telling her to keep watching. Laura does, but she’s lost track of whatever was going on and can’t find it in herself to care when she feels one of his hands curl around to creep gently up her uncovered thigh, the other gripping tight on her side, just below her breast. He teases her like that for a few minutes, although Laura’s lost all sense of time, too focussed on the tickle of his fingers and breath on her neck. She can’t take it anymore, turning to throw an arm around his neck, shifting on his lap to draw him into a kiss. Elvis pulls her tighter, fingers tensing, and she moans into him.

He tugs Laura’s leg a little, pulling her to be straddling his lap. She’s embarrassed almost, or would be if there were anyone around, to be sat on his knee like this, rocking against him and necking him like a goddamn teenager. She’s not done this since college, and he feels so different. He’s got solid thighs and sure hands, manoeuvring her and masterfully keeping his lips on hers - just the right amount of pressure, of tongue, and nibbling bites.

Elvis’ fingers slide up her skirt, toying with the fabric of her slip while his other comes around to palm at her like a teenager himself, hand roving over her breast. She gasps into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw as she grinds against him. He seems to gain confidence at her reaction, moving to push the wide strap of her dress off her shoulder, tugging it low enough to reach the soft cotton of her bra. His fiddles with her nipples, pinching one just the tiniest bit between his fingers and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He bumps her panties with the other, but goes no further, moving to grip her back in an attempt to keep her balance on his legs.

She pants, uncaring now if she’s louder than the actors, gasping as he pulls away. She’s never been gladder he’s wearing a v-neck when she rocks against his thigh, leaning forward to suck a bruise against his collarbone. His hips dislodge her accidentally when the pressure gets too much and he bucks up, jerking her away. Laura’s fingers tangle into the fabric on his shoulders, her nails making little divots in the knit; he was going to have to have someone steam this sweater to get it straight again. He’s breathing rapidly against her cheek, hot breath tickling her nose,

“‘s no good baby, I got - I got plans for you tonight.” Laura grinds against him, unabashed at her wanton display.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah baby, wanna,” His thumb rubs a circle on her hip as he slows his own jerking pelvis. “Wanna show you something. Something a lil’ spooky” Laura grins back at him, hand slipping down between them -

“Oh yeah, you got something you want to show me?” She attempts a particularly awful Transylvanian accent, “Something spooky you wanna show me?” She brushes her hand over the not insignificant bulge of his trousers, the outline of his cock clearly displaying he’d forgone underwear. He moans, eyes closing for a moment before he shakes his head, clasping her wrist and tugging her hand away.

“No, no baby, honey, I got, ah, lord, got something serious I wanna show you.” Laura pauses from her playful wriggling, curious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh Lor, but, uh, let it be a surprise.” He pulls up her strap, patting her shoulder.

“A surprise?” She’s unsure now that he’s not joking about sex.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, lip caught in his teeth that she couldn’t dream of refusing him.

“Of course!” He pushes her off his lap, brushing himself off and straightening her collar when he joins her in standing up,

“Well then darlin’ let’s go.” He holds out a hand and seems to take a mischievous glee in practically running away; leaving the boys downstairs none the wiser to their disappearance. He opens the car door for her with an exaggerated wave and bow before trotting around the front to climb in himself.

They pull up to the nearby funeral home and Elvis starts to climb out of the car but Laura stays frozen where she’s sat, more uncertain than ever. “El I’m not sure about this,” He cuts her off,

“Nah baby, trust…you said you trusted me.” He leans down to peer through the door at her, “Don’t go lying to me now, doll, Cilla liked it - she told me herself it was uh, enlightening!” He’s tripping over his words in his haste to convince her. He’d mentioned his trips to the morgue before - endlessly fascinated with the spiritual and scientific notion of the still bodies. But Laura’s conflicted - she can’t help but feel it’s fundamentally disrespectful to stand there gawking at some poor person’s body but, on the other hand, the reverent way he spoke about the trips and his persistent aura of peace means that she can’t help but feel that it’s ok. As long as she’s with him. She nods, climbing out to follow him. He once again takes her hand, and the unease builds again the closer they get to the door - she was concerned before with the morality of going in there but now it’s her squeamish nature that’s starting to make her tummy hurt.

“C’mon hon, it’ll be good for you.”

“If you say so -“ She mutters back. He raps on the door that was now in front of them. There are no lights on, and she shakes her head,

“Elvis - I don’t think there’s anyone in there, they’re closed.” He tilts his head, frowning, as if confused that a door might remain shut to him before insistently knocking again.

“I got, got special permission, Laura, they - they can’t just lock us out. Hello?” He bangs on the window to the side of the door, he huffs, turning away when there’s a sudden loud crash from inside. Both him and Laura jump at the noise, both whirling back - Elvis jogs down the path, standing back to be able to see all the windows but still no light turns on to indicate anyone inside. He marches back up to the door, raising his arm to pound on it again but Laura catches his forearm, tugging it back to her;

“C’mon El - we’ll come back another night. I’m - I’m scared now, and maybe if they know we’re coming they’ll have the lights on…” He looks down at her, gaze softening at the way she’s quivering a tiny bit - a combination of the anticipatory fear, her jumpiness, and the cold.

“Goddamnit.” He swears, “Well, guess we’ll have to come back another night.” He makes it sound like his idea and accompanies it with a shake of his head. Laura had fully expected him to be more annoyed - and he is, somewhat, ranting the whole way back to Graceland; but thankfully less at the funeral home and his inability to sneak in and more at the movie they’d left. Blaming it for his rash idea to come here with no planning involved.

Most of the cars were already back and parked along the driveway when they got there; either the movie had finished and they’d all left before they started another, or more likely - they’d noticed Elvis’ disappearance and abandoned the movie all together. Red shook his head at Elvis as they walked in,

“Man - don’t you go looking at me like that.” Red baulks at the suggestion,

“I wasn’t Boss, wasn’t looking at you like anything, swear it -” Laura tactfully takes a step back, removing her jacket and taking Elvis’ coat in an attempt to remove herself from the conversation. She goes to the kitchen in the hope of finding someone to hand them off to, before taking a second to collect herself to be, hopefully, a calming influence on the raised voices she could now hear. She slinks back into the hallway,

“I can go where I goddamn like - you sayin’ I can’t protect myself?” Elvis’ waving his pistol in the air like he’s in a western, and Laura bites her lip to stop from giggling. Red’s backtracking now, his hands up as if warding Elvis off,

“Of course, I wasn’t - I wasn’t suggesting that I’m jus’ - just sayin’ you disappeared is all and what with the threats -”

“You hear about anybody threatenin’ me at home?” Elvis roars back, his finger inching ever so slightly to the trigger; Laura panics desperate for them to not get into this now - God forbid there had been a threat made, they’d all be up for hours while they reassessed the security. Red shakes his head,

“Well, no - but people move about, EP, they don’t just stay in one-” Laura takes her chance and steps in, lightly touching Elvis’ arm,

“Baby, I’m tired.” Elvis does a double take at her, completely ignoring Red still talking. “Can we go to bed please?” She blinks owlishly at him to convince him to leave it be, and Elvis seemed to relax, his tense shoulders coming down as he lowers his arm with the gun in hand. There’s a long pause,

“Sure, sure, doll, sure.” He gestures for her to go ahead, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, “Get him the fuck out of my house, I’ll talk to y’all tomorrow.” Elvis ignores Red’s reply, climbing the stairs himself. He shushes Laura when they reach his bedroom, fiddling with the security camera feed until he watches Red leave. He sighs, heavily, and shakes his whole body out, “Awh, baby, I didn’t - didn’t need to get all worked up like that, just - those assholes just don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I can’t be all, all, all cooped up like this all the time.” He whines, gesturing expressively as he talks.

“It’s ok.” She shrugs, running her manicured hands gently up his arm, “They can be pretty overbearing huh?” She presses her chin into the crook of his shoulder as he sighs, kneading his biceps. He sighs back at her,

“I know he’s just doin’ his job, but…” He trails off, taking another deep breath, “Anyway, enough of that now. I want to get back to the night - all m’plans were ruined tonight - you deserve well, you deserve the perfect night.” He turns in her arms, and Laura frowns up at him,

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. I’m fine, I’ve had a great night; such a shame about not being let into the morgue…. How about you let me take care of you?” He shakes his head,

“Naw, naw darlin’ I want to -” He cups her face in his hands, the size of his palms dwarfing her cheeks, “want to show you how much I like having you here.” Elvis tips her head up, bending over a little to reach her lips even as she’s stood on her tiptoes.

She’s enrapt in the moment, not really even conscious of his hands fiddling with her zipper on her back until she suddenly feels his fingertips on her bare skin, chasing the zip all the way down until it's falling off her on its own. His hand comes up to clasp her face to his when she moves as if to pull away, using his free hand to shove her dress to pool at her feet. He pulls back with a tug on her bottom lip, and Laura surges forward to hurriedly tug at his sweater - he takes the hint, pulling it over his head and Laura turns her attention to his trousers. He rushes to unhook her bra, even as he stumbles out of his pants, and it's only a few seconds later before her panties join her dress on the floor.

“C’mon now, honey, s’ok, just - just wanna love on you some,” He pulls on her wrist again, smiling almost shyly down at her naked form. Gently lowering her on top of the covers, he kisses her neck, gentle presses of his lips - every few seconds sucking down with a little more pressure in one spot, before moving to the next. He moves down Laura’s chest, one hand on her waist keeping her still, the other joining his mouth. He kisses across her breasts — capturing her nipple in his mouth, he wets it with his saliva, pulling back to blow his breath across it, Laura’s skin pebbling in response as she quivers. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Elvis stills when she tugs just a little too hard - the sting sparkling down his spine. He pants against her, eyes closed as he rests his head on her chest, trying to regain any semblance of self-control so he could continue, his hands splayed across her stomach. The heat that had been building in Laura’s body all day is back with a vengeance, and already she can feel her heartbeat throbbing between her legs.

He presses little kisses down the soft folds of her stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself up onto his knees. Laura takes a moment to drink in the sight of him - the way his hair is fluffed out from where her hands were just in it, the dark shadow that hints at stubble around his chin catching her attention, and below that a flush that matches hers colours his chest. She’s almost embarrassed at the little moan that slips out of her mouth as she follows, with her eyes, the thick patch of chest hair past his necklaces, and down, down his soft tummy before she rests them onto Little Elvis. Who’s already popped up to say hello, rosy and chubby. He takes her moment of stillness as his cue to go on and shifts one hand to tweak her nipple, the other going down to gently trail across her thigh. Laura gasps, urging him on. He dances his fingers across, hovering them over her until she’s about to beg. The moment his rough fingertip finally touches her she jolts, legs falling open even as her thighs clench.

“Oh Lord, you’re, you’re, Christ Lor, you’re ready for me already.” He strokes his finger up her wetness, adding a second to the mix to expertly spread her sticky folds. Laura tries to respond but all she can manage is a frantic nod as she struggles to find her words while Elvis busies himself with teasing her in little circles, dipping his finger in just the teeniest bit to gather more wetness and bring it back to circle almost directly on her clit. He’s got the same burning focus he does on stage, eyes blazing and his mouth open a little in concentration, pouty lips looking even more appealing in their bitten state. Laura’s eyes fall closed and she feels Elvis’ hand come back to her stomach, pinning her in place while his other plays with her, stilling her jerking hips a little. Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but the problem quickly resolves itself when Elvis leans back to rub his wet hand over himself, before lining himself up and sinking into her hot, soaking, heat. Laura’s hands fall to grip at his shoulders, uncaring of her nails sinking into his delicate flesh.

“El-Oh, god, bit, bit of warning - next time, would be, ah, would be ni-ice.” She was ready but it didn’t stop her from feeling the stretch of him pushing into her. He pauses,

“You want, you want me to, fuck, come out?” He looks pained as he says it, and Laura grins,

“Christ no! Just, give me a-,” She wiggles a little, “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sure, honey? I don’t wanna - meant to be about you baby,” He says this, even as he can’t help but nudge further into her, his eyes begging her to say he can stay.

“Elvis. God, you can move.” He’s slow at first, barely rocking his famous hips, eyebrow quirking as he teases her.

“Yeah, baby? That - that what you wanted?” She groans, red-faced and sweaty,

“Elvis. Please.” It’s the magic word for a reason and he smiles before he concentrates again, his own eyes rolling back a little at the pleasure of it all as he builds up speed, rapidly fucking into her.

Laura rocks her hips into the air, legs shaking as Elvis brings his thumb down to rub directly over her clit, and their tight connection keeps her in precisely the right position even as her legs seem to flail. Her orgasm hits suddenly, and she falls off the precipice with a yell, mouth open and eyes wide as she catches sight of them both in the mirror, Elvis’ sweaty self-satisfied grin as he slows his fingers.

She shivers with the aftershocks, suddenly realising there were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh - Lord, what’s, ugh, what’s wrong baby, am I - am I hurting you?” He slows himself until he’s almost completely still, although, not totally. His voice strains with the effort of not moving, high-pitched, and Laura just shakes her head, “No - honey, I gotta know, you want me, you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Laura sniffles, “‘s just, just a bit much - please Elvis, I want more.”

“Bit much?” Elvis takes her at her word and thrusts into her again,

“Just can’t get over you wanting me - ‘s just,” she moans, “just over, oh, overwhelming.”

“Baby, you feel what you do to me? What you done to me all day?” He pushes the hair from her face, staring down at her. She gazes back at him, glossy-eyed. “Awh, now baby, don’t look like that - you’re so pretty - Jesus, Lord, even,” He thrusts again, starting to fuck into her at a solid pace, “Even, fuck, even crying baby - makes your eyes all big, and your cheeks all rosy … god you look so fucking pretty.” He drags her even closer to him, his hands tight on her hips and waist, finger bruises being left - she babbles at him that he looks good too, pretty, and handsome and sexy. He doesn’t last much longer, maybe another thirty seconds before he’s shouting,

“Oh fuck, baby,” and his hips still, mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back as he groans. He collapses half on her, half on the bed and despite the almost overwhelming heat of him Laura welcomes the sensation of his heavy presence over her and the way he rubs his face on her shoulder. It should disgust her, the fact that he’s essentially covering her in his musk and sweat, but instead she finds it endearing, her pulse jumping in reaction to it. She kisses the top of his head and he responds by gently pulling out of her, rolling to one side. She tries to find it in herself to be brave, the afterglow making her bolder than she would normally be, but still not quite enough on her own.

“Can feel them cogs whirrin’ from here - did I not give you ‘nough attention?” He rolls over to face her. Laura shakes her head, taking a deep breath - it’s hard to have this conversation when she can literally feel his cum still sliding out of her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he refuses.

“Elvis, can I - I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He pauses,

“For Christmas?” Laura frowns, starting to shiver at the cooling sweat and her stress at the discussion. Elvis tuts, rubbing her arm,

“Well, maybe? I mean I’d love to - if you’ll have me. But I mean, maybe that could - I’d really like to stay with you.” He hums, as if finally understanding what she’s getting at, there’s a long enough pause that Laura opens her mouth to say she didn’t mean it, explain that she was caught up in the emotions of the evening and she didn’t want to - honest, but Elvis beats her to it.

“Well, hon-ey,” He’s talking slower than normal, his southern drawl even more pronounced, “I don’t, I don’t see why not - I sure like having you around.” Laura turns to face him, finally,

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say if I didn’t.” He says it sarcastically but he’s smiling softly at her and Laura grins,

“Oh! Thank you,” He strokes a circle against her arm, and she continues the only thing she can think in her mind that’s not just Elvis Presley agreed I could live with him is the next thing that comes falling out of her mouth, “I’m gonna need a thicker coat.” Elvis laughs,

“Baby, you wait ‘til Christmas - I’ll get you the warmest coat you’ve ever seen.” She smiles back laughing a little with relief, “Now, let’s get you warmed up again.” He rolls himself back over her and she giggles as he digs his fingers into her sides and his lips find hers once again.

—————

taglist!

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @lookingforrainbows @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @lettersfromvenus

#elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfiction #be-my-ally #fic rec!!#elvis x oc #writing prompt game #elvis-o-ween #elvis fanfiction #1972 elvis smut

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heartcereql · 1 year

Text

dark paradise

✩ ao’nung x fem!metkayina!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- though ao’nung and you are no longer together, you both involuntarily feel incomplete

𝐂𝐖- exes to lovers, slight mention of *minor* infidelity, lowercase intended, minor cursing, english is not my first language, mixed feelings :/, reader is too forgiving (my ego personally wouldn’t let that slide)

𝐀/𝐍- for my ao'nung girlies. imma try to be more active bitches. enjoyxxx

ever since you called it quits with ao’nung, you hadn’t been feeling yourself. he hadn’t dumped you, if anything you had dumped him. yet you couldn’t help but feel, lost?

you weren’t exactly sad, or heartbroken, but vitality was drained away from your mornings, mornings that you used to spend with him. ilu rides were now quiet.

all your friends told you you should move on. he did no good to you, and you knew that. but you couldn’t escape the feeling of longing for his embrace as you laid in the ocean.

the song, his song, made its way through your mind. loving him still couldn't be wrong, could it? how could such a beautiful sensation be harmful? and that held you back, you wouldn't move on.

thinking if he felt that, too.

ao'nung couldn't keep his mind away from you. there truly was no remedy for memory, your face haunting him like a melody. he was unable to carry on without you.

eywa knew he had tried. but you reminisced everywhere. and even when he'd close his eyes, you'd still be there, ethereally obscure, like a dark paradise.

his friends told him there were plenty of tuté in the reef, but none compared to you, and he was scared that you didn't reciprocate his longing desires.

ao'nung wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, but, unlike you, he was very sure of what he felt. and seeing you, lost in your thoughts, lying in the ocean, had given him the nerve to go. to make things right.

you had been too caught up in your cavilations. your mind involuntarily led you to him, you felt him in your dreams. but you didn't want to wake up. and that stung you.

absorbed by your own thoughts, which now trailed off to an attempt to figure out this opposite feelings you were experiencing, you failed to acknowledge the figure approaching you.

speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"y/n" he called your name, and you wished he hadn't.

you screwed your eyes shut, not being able to bear his eyes.

"go" you whispered.

"i won't. i wish to talk to you" he said. his voice was sore and low, destituted of the usual confidence and strenght.

"talk then" you had opened your eyes, but your back was facing him now.

both of your ilus had reencountered, and were rubbing their necks affectionately. your heart tightened at the sight.

"i regret many things i have said and done. and i know that your forgiveness won't be easy to win, but i am willing to fight for it, you should know that"

you were quiet. this was most likely the deepest thing ao'nung had ever said. he was asking for you to what, forget it and act like nothing happened?

he seemed to guess your thoughts.

"i reckon it's a lot. i understand you won't just act like nothing happened, but i ask for a second chance. a second chance to prove that i am worthy of your trust."

had he asked tsireya to write this for him? whether he meant it or not, you did not know. but coming here and saying this... it sure required a minimum of devotion. so you decided to give the poor 'evan an answer.

"i don't like how we ended things" you said, and you heard him scoot closer to your position.

"i don't like that we ended things at all" he muttered.

the comment made you violently turn to him.

a part of you wished you didn't, but, eywa, you had missed the cool blue of his orbs and the comfort of his presence. he kept messing with your head. fuck you, a part of you screamed, rot eywa knows where. he had no right, but you just couldn't holde a grudge against him.

"y'know, i couldn't stop thinking about you"

"about me or about vitra?" you asked, half teasing half hurt.

"y/n..." his eyes avoided yours for a moment. you could see it hurt him that you had named the woman. "you know no one compares to you. and no matter the distance, there's no release from the grip you have on me"

if this is a dream, you swear you never want to wake up.

you really missed him. the toughness to your oversensitivity. the mess to your unruly perfection.

"so, will ya give me the chance?"

a genuine, involuntary smile creeped to your lips. you launched to his arms, wrapping them around his neck as he did with your lower back.

you closed your eyes, but this time it did not pain you to do so. the relieving comfort of his arms welcomed you again.

you lifted you face from his neck, as he brought your face close to his, noses brushing and breath fanning against the other's lips.

"i actually don't know" you hummed.

his face immeadiatly relaxed, turning into a teasing smile. he didn't wait any longer before pecking your lips.

"will this convince you?" he asked, oddly quietly for him.

you were in two minds. but fuck everything if you weren't willing to have him again. it wouldn't be easy to win your trust again, but maybe you could give him the chance.

you knew his love was venomous, but it was also addicting. taking him back in was the easiest choice, but you desperately wanted to take it.

you smiled against the kiss as he closed the gap again, capturing your lips in his, enhancing you like he always did.

yeah, maybe you could give him the chance.

#avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #heartcereql #atwow #atwow x reader #aonung #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung x you

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k-s-morgan · 4 months

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Hi. I hope you're well. Just finished reading the new chapter and I must say that it is one of the best presents I could wish for. It brought me so much fun: I even chuckled several times.

“I am… a guardian,” he said with only a slight stumble.

“A guardian,” Ciel repeated. He sounded unimpressed, and the way Sebastian tensed, the way the energy around him coiled defensively ignited a fire of malicious pleasure in his gut. “What are you guarding? The dining room? The food?”

I adore how lost at first Sebastian was when Ciel releases him from his butler role.

Having no task to do and no good reason to be here, disconnected and ignored, he appeared to be absolutely miserable, and Ciel absorbed this healing sight for a while.

And how Ciel enjoyed. Oh, I was feeling this glee with him:D

“Kindly choke to death,” Sebastian said with a sharp-edged smile. It was so jarring to hear something this rude and offensive from him in the presence of others that Ciel jolted, nearly falling off his chair.

“Sebastian!” he yelled, mortified. His shock was so overwhelming that only a part of his mind registered his mistake. Another part joined in when Sebastian’s grin widened.

“I don’t know anyone called Sebastian here, my lord,” he replied.

And this moment was pure gold! How I laughed at Sebastian's behavior here. And just before this paragraph, I was wondering if Sebastian misses being called by name and then - Ciel accidentally does it! Sebastian's pov of this game will be incredible. I can already feel it

He proceeded to serve everyone, but when Ciel was about to dig in, he caught the imperceptible shake of Sebastian’s head. Startled, he hesitated — just on time to hear the exclamations and spluttering from around him.

This was so sweet of Sebastian to warn Ciel. I wonder if he did it instinctualy or purposely?

On the other hand, Ciel was supposed to mean more, at least right now, being Sebastian’s owner. Surely he deserved better manipulation?

And how Ciel thought that he is worth a better manipulation. Oh god these two killing me.

I also felt proud when Ciel manipulated with the same technique his cousin (Edward? I often forget his name). It was done splendidly! And the story about the frog! Thank you for adding one more moment from Ciel's past

TLDR: Your chapter is as always amazing. Thank you for creating and sharing despite your harsh circumstances. Sending you love and peace♡

Hi! Thank you so much for your wonderful comments - I'm thrilled that you liked this chapter! It was such a fun experience to write it, especially as everyone started to relax into their roles.

Sebastian was having an identity crisis revolving around Ciel, and now he ended up having one of his own :D He's going to think about Ciel's question for a while, and at the end of this arc, he's going to give an answer to it, finally coming to understand what his current identity represents.

Ciel calling Sebastian by name, briefly forgetting about his own rules, was definitely a moment of triumph for Sebastian. And I think he warned Ciel about the food because no matter what happens, no matter how at odds they are, they are still a team - they always will be. Sebastian likes being petty and setting up his own challenges for Ciel, but he will protect him from problems devised by others.

I've been wanting to do a scene between Ciel and Edward for a while, and this chapter seemed like the best place for it. Poor Edward, he had no idea what he was stepping into :D

Thank you again, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this game!

#my fics #sebaciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji

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pavlovianfuckery · 2 months

Text

lets be mean to dream

as usual there is no plot to be found here, only smut. i am so rusty and it shows but oh well, and also as per the usual, i'm welcome and you're sorry

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment where things had changed, but somewhere along the way what had started as an uneasy sense of companionship had grown into something more. It still felt surreal, especially when he would be totally absorbed in his work for days or weeks at a time. He would always come back to you eventually though, and if his shoulders seemed a fraction heavier you'd be there, to give whatever he needed. Neither of you had said it out loud but when you were alone, every small and private surrender spoke louder than words ever could.

Not that words are on your mind right now, because he's kissing you, nestled in a secluded corner of the library, the surrounding shelves hiding you from view. There is a quiet desperation to it, the way he presses in close, as if getting close enough would let you somehow absorb what's on his mind. Despite holding the collective unconscious of every living being, he is remarkably bad at outright telling you what he needs. It's equal parts sweet and frustrating, because he isn't shy, not precisely. Going outside of his function and asking for something solely for himself still doesn't come easy, but if there's one thing you've learnt from your time together it's to be patient with him.

"Will you slow down a bit?" You hold him gently back, giving yourself time to catch your breath. It's a gradual thing, but finally he simply rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed, his unneeded breath ghosting across your cheek. This is another thing you've noticed, the way he deliberately seems to make himself more human when he wants something from you. For a moment neither of you speaks, then you sigh and bump his nose with yours. "I can tell there's something. Talk to me?"

"There is something. I want..." he trails off, hesitating for a split second. The word 'want' sounds almost foreign in his mouth, as if it doesn't belong there. Wetting his lips he continues, still not looking at you, "I want you to hurt me."

"I can probably do that, if you elaborate a bit."

While things in that area aren't new to you, he's never asked for anything like that before. The thought doesn't lack appeal though, your mind almost instantly goes to bruises, marking his flawless skin. It's not much of a surprise when he frowns.

"How so? It should be fairly obvious what I am asking for."

You do your best to not roll your eyes at him. This isn't the first time he's been impatient and vague, so it's perhaps not entirely successful.

"To you, maybe. But I'm going to need a bit more detail than that. You want me to hit you? Or, I don't know, call you names?"

"Yes." He doesn't offer any more specifics, but at least it's a start.

"To both?" That gets you a nod, but not much more.

At least you know that he's not being coy or trying to be an ass, it's just...how he is.

"Fair enough. But let's keep it light for now. I'm not going to punch you in the face or get a cane out, especially not here." It's not clear if he had been considering either of those things as options, but better safe than sorry. "You good with that?"

"That is agreeable enough, for now."

"Great. So..." you peck his cheek before slowly kissing your way down the side of his neck, lips barely brushing his skin. "Do you remember that time on the stairs?"

"How could I forget?" He shivers almost imperceptibly at your touch, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"Then you remember what we agreed back then?"

He sighs, leaning back against the shelves.

"Nightmare." When he speaks, his adam's apple bobs and you have to fight the urge to chase it with your mouth.

"Good." You kiss him again, deep and slow. And then you slap him.

It's barely a love-tap, one on each cheek, just to test how he responds. It's only a small hitch of breath, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and he doesn't stop you. If anything he leans into your touch, daring you.

"Again."

At the next few strikes his cheeks gain just a hint of colour, and you can't help but wonder what the rest of his skin would look like, flushed and pretty, all for you. The next blow ends up a bit harder than you intended, catching his mouth. You half expect him to stop you this time, but instead his eyes gain a glazed-over quality as he spreads his legs slightly. You do it again a few times on each side, letting yourself be a bit rougher until his lips are puffy and red, his teeth faintly stained with pink.

"You alright?" You know that you couldn't hurt him any more than he'd let you, but it's hard keeping a tiny sliver of worry out of your voice.

"Perfectly," he grabs your waist and presses himself against your hip, letting you feel him. Even through those tight jeans he insists on wearing, you can tell that he's hard. "Unless you deem this a cause for concern?"

The cheeky attitude probably warrants another slap but instead you slide your leg in between his, guiding his hips with your hands.

"Go on, then."

He only hesitates for a moment before grinding down on your thigh. It's entirely undignified, the way the height difference forces him to slouch down, knees bent in order to get more friction. As he ruts against you until he's slightly out of breath it's easy to forget that he isn't human. When you finally take pity on him and kiss him, his lips are almost fever-warm against yours and the faint taste of iron lingers on your tongue. You run your fingers over the growing damp spot on his jeans.

"If you want something more you're going to have to ask." You give him one last slap. "Unless you'd rather stop now?"

"No." He's not quite squirming, but he's still trying to rub against you. "Touch me."

Knowing what he means doesn't mean that you can't tease him, just a little. Instead of giving him what he wants you slide your hand under his shirt, to the smooth plane of his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your palm, as if nothing but his skin is keeping you from closing your fist around it.

"But I already am?" Trying to keep your expression innocent, you lightly ghost your fingers across one of his nipples, back and forth. When he lets himself feel he's always so responsive and this is no exception, the little nub stiffening readily as he shivers under your touch. Figuring that now's as good a time as any to experiment a bit, you do the same to the other side but this time you drag a nail lightly across it as well. That earns you a low moan and a twitch of his hips.

"You know very well what I meant." There is no real annoyance in his voice though, so you let yourself play with him just a few moments longer. It's almost hard to stop, especially when it's so clear that he's enjoying this. When you give him a pinch he lets out a small gasp, brows knitting together. "Touch me."

You take your time undoing his zipper, the sound of the teeth parting loud in the quiet of the library. Finally, his erection springs free, throbbing in time with his heartbeat in the cool air.

"Poor Dream," you trail a finger over him, all the way from root to flushed tip, "that looks uncomfortable. Would you like me to help you?" Not waiting for an answer, you tap his mouth with your finger. "Open."

This time there is no hesitation, his lips parting eagerly to let your finger inside. When you add a second one, he accepts that just as well, letting you trace the edges of his teeth and the soft slickness of his tongue. You sigh to yourself, pinching his nipple again, making him pant around your fingers.

"You look lovely like this, you know. One more." Not wanting to push him too much, you settle on three fingers, gathering as much of his saliva as you can before pulling them from his mouth with a wet little 'pop'.

When you finally wrap your slicked-up fingers around his length he lets out a long shuddering breath. He's nice and thick in your hand, skin soft against your palm as you stroke him slowly from root to tip. Swiping your thumb over the slit causes his hips to buck, and when you tighten the grip so the dripping head pops through the ring of your fingers the noise he makes is a wavering broken thing.

"The mighty King of Dreams," you tease, "all it takes to turn you into a useless mess is someone getting their hands around your cock."

For a moment he almost looks annoyed, but when you twist your fingers around him, his mouth goes slack and all that comes out is a breathy moan, eyes falling shut. As you keep working his cock, the rest of his composure crumbles until he's like putty in your hands, desperate little sounds falling freely from his pretty mouth.

"Somebody could walk in at any moment, you know." Your eyes flick between your hand and his face. "What would your subjects say if they saw you like this, leaking like a sieve for me?"

Every time he gets close, you dial the touch back until it's feather-light, denying him release until he's trembling against the shelves, the steady dribble of precome forming a small puddle on the floor. As his cock starts to swell again you squeeze the base, holding him off one more time. He makes a frustrated noise and ruts uselessly against your hand, body tense like a bowstring. Cradling the back of his head you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back.

"You really need to come, don't you?" Kissing your way down his exposed neck, you can't help but smile at how easily he falls apart for you when he gives in and lets it happen. "Do you think you deserve it, though? Because I'm not sure."

"You would leave me wanting?" He really must be getting painfully close, his voice barely more than a rasp, "I have never known you to be cruel."

"Ask nicely and I might let you." You circle the tip of his cock with the pad of your thumb, torturously slowly, careful not to end it just yet.

"Please?" His voice is breathless but still too firm for your liking and you tut disapprovingly, squeezing around his shaft, teasing.

"Please, what?"

"Please, let me come." This time he sounds almost desperate, and you figure that's good enough for now.

"Come for me then," you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you,"but eyes on me."

Rather than finishing him off quickly, you keep your pace slow and steady, patiently working him until he's right on that razor edge. His eyes are unfocused and so dark that they're nearly black but he does as he's told, letting you see every small change in expression as he gets close. He has either forgotten exactly where you are or simply stopped caring because when he finally comes, he is loud. Despite your earlier quip, you weren't keen on anybody actually walking in on you, though. Slapping your free hand over his mouth, you do your best to quiet his moans as he spills all over the marble floor.

"Shhh, love..." You hush him as you stroke him through it, dragging his release out until he sags against your shoulder, utterly spent.

When he gathers himself enough to lean back against the shelves, there is nothing regal about him, all wild hair and rumpled clothes, cheeks and mouth high with colour. It suits him though, the satedness in his eyes and almost relaxed set to his shoulders.

"Still good?" You kiss his cheek and gently tuck him back into his jeans, taking extra care with the zipper.

"You." He pulls you to him and buries his face in the crook of your neck. With a deep sigh, he continues, "You...indulge me, more than anyone I have ever known."

"No more than you do for me." You stroke his hair, but rather than smooth it down, it just seems to make things worse. It doesn't deter you though. When he presses a quick kiss to the side of your neck your heart just feels full, of him and the words that, while unsaid, hang almost palpable in the air between you. With his voice muffled against your skin, you can't really hear what he says next, despite straining your ears. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, next time you need not be so gentle with me."

Next time? You can hardly wait.

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman smut #dream of the endless smut #the sandman fanfiction #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)

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alotofpockets · 1 year

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How I see you | Yelena Belova

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Prompt: “I wish you could see yourself how I see you."

marvel masterlist | Words: 500

When you arrive back at the Compound after working on a case all day, you’re looking forward to cuddling up with your girlfriend Yelena and spending the rest of the evening doing nothing together. You were tired after your long day, so you left the others in the common room with some quick hello’s and continued on your way to your room.

What you hadn’t expected was Yelena curled up into a fetal position, laying in the middle of the bed. You rush toward her, your body forgetting all about being tired. “Hey, baby.” You say as you sit down next to her and place a comforting hand on her back. “What’s wrong?” In response Yelena just starts crying. “Oh, baby. I’m here.” You move your hand up and down her back in a soothing manner.

“You deserve someone better than me.” Yelena says between sobs. “You are amazing, why would you think that?” You say, not at all knowing where this is coming from. You love Yelena, you love absolutely everything about her. “Someone who didn’t go through the past that I have had would be so much better for you. I have moments where I want to isolate myself because I can’t bear the things that I had to do as a child, the things I had to go through. You deserve someone who isn’t going to disappear when things get hard. My past has held us back before and I don’t want that to happen again. I want you to live your life and be happy and I am scared that I can’t offer you that, not every day of your life at least.”

You listen to her words carefully, wanting to fully absorb each detail that she shares with you before answering her. “Baby, you make me very happy, I hope you know that. Your past will never be a reason for me to not want you, I know what they put you through will forever be a part of you. You need time and space to deal with that at whatever point of our relationship, and I will always be okay with that. I want you to be able to process and heal, though like I said, I know it’s something that will always be with you. I will always support you and be there for you whenever you need.”

Yelena sits up in the bed now, the two of you are facing each other, your hands holding on to hers as you continue talking. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you, Yelena. You are funny, kind, considerate, smart, strong, beautiful, loving and so much more than that. You are the person that makes me happy, you are the person I want to be with for the rest of my life.” Yelena pulls you into a hug, and you hold her close, only letting go when she does. “You will always have me by your side, darling. I am not going anywhere.”

Turn on notifications for @pocketslibrary to be notified when I post a new fic!

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena mcu #yelena belova imagine #yelena x reader #yelena x you #yelena belova x y/n #marvel imagine

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allosexualdyke · 21 days

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I'm in a "progressive" liberal college and ... I don't really mind hearing "queer" so much, but I get so viscerally uncomfortable by the number of seemingly straight people who seem to be utterly delighted to say "fruity" or make a gay limp wrist joke.

Queer is a slur. An often reclaimed slur and over the years my opinion has changed to thinking that it shouldn't be used as a broad community label and that I don't think straight people should feel comfortable saying it. But regardless of my personal opinion, it is a term that in some settings, has achieved a neutral ubiquity where it is used with the same matter-of-factness that lesbian, gay, bisexual, and trans are used.

But "fruity" is not such a term. It is very specifically a "joke." Or at least that is how it is used.

When I see actual gay people use the term, it's used jokingly. And when I see straight people use the term, they also seem to use it as a joke. They giggle when they say it. They really love being able to say the word.

And I cannot tell if they think they're "in" on the joke as "allies" or if they're straight up mocking the community.

It's also pretty noticeable to me that all the people I have heard make the jokes IRL are all women. "Fruity" is a pejorative that has historically specifically targeted gay men. The stereotype of the limp wrist is associated with gay men as well.

They don't belong to the general LGBT+ community, but gay men specifically, so even if I am incorrect in my assumptions about all of these women being heterosexual, it is fucking bizarre how readily they have seemed to reclaim and joke about shit that doesn't at all belong to them.

It was witnessing this shift of "fruity" being a derogatory, if a bit out of date, insult into "fun" Gen Z lingo that really made me evaluate and challenged my ideas about queer. I was very much a part of the self-identified queer online community and I had no issues with the word or using it for the broader community. By the time I had began exploring my "queer" identity in online spaces, queer was an accepted label that was becoming more and more mainstream.

The first time I heard queer was in a positive context even since it just wasn't the slur of choice where I was from. So, I'm ashamed to say it, but I wasn't very sympathetic or understanding of people who had issues with the word queer. I could understand not liking the term for oneself, of course, but I didn't understand why so many people disliked it when the word was used by individuals to describe themselves and their community.

It was only when I witnessed the transition of people saying "fruity" all the time that I really came to understand. That's self-absorbed of me, but I think I needed to see the process of something being seen as an asshole thing to say to it being "normal" and even "progressive" to really come to understand the discomfort that older gay individuals must have felt as "queer" was used more readily and readily especially by people who had definitely never been called queer or had feared being called it.

There's a lot of talk within the "queer" community about reclaiming various slurs. And I'm certainly not against reclaiming slurs. The word dyke is in my url for crying out loud. I do think there is a power in claiming something like that, especially if it's something you've been afraid of for so long. I was afraid of being a lesbian, so calling myself a dyke feels very liberating.

But I do think that at a certain point ... it isn't "reclaiming," so much as it is forgetting and even bastardizing history.

The whole "gay panic" thing, for instance. That's another thing that young gay people have "reclaimed," but really, it's just a case of ignorance, in my opinion. I think as "queer" or LGBT or gay or whatever term you use, we're so disconnected from our history and ignorant of it.

And that's why it's so fucking uncomfortable to hear people laugh and make jokes about a history they don't fully understand if at all. Like, I wonder how many of the people who call celebs "fruity" even fucking known that originally being a "fruit" wasn't seen as a positive thing. Or do they think this is new lingo they have just made up.

#ramble #reclaimed slurs #q slur #d slur

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nono-uwu · 2 months

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Ons chapter 135 thoughts!!

Spoilers duh (also very long post. Lmk if I should add the read more cut)

- KAGAMI I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU TO GIVE CHESS AND HORN MORE SCREENTIME BUT THANK YOU ANYWAYS

- I am so glad that the whole digestion thing is more symbolical bc... that inital wording really threw me off lmao

- on that note, the immagery of the dead trees with the bodies sticking out of 'em... very creepy and on point, I think it's neat

- they actually adressed Crowley forgetting them! Wowzers (side note she looks hella adorable. My little skrunkly)

- ouugh the dynamic... where was it earlier? It seems so much more casual than during the Nagoya arc (probably just wishful thinking on my part lmao)... idc how give us more of this

- "you two were my first servants", LORE CRUMBS! I guess.

- wait so, they're still becoming demons? But isn't that a form of reincarnation, the thing Ferid is specifically trying to stop? But he's also devouring them... to absorb their power I guess? Since later on Ferid mentions now being more powerful after devouring Crowley (I'll get to that asspull later)

- Also Horn looks a teensy bit weird with the new artstyle but she's still super pretty 🫶 be my wife pls

- So, 16 year old Ferid is inside himself as his 'true self'? I assume that because he got the idea to stop reincarnation when he was 16 and hasn't changed his mind since (never let 16 year olds make big decisions in this world, it only leads to disaster)

- the skrunkle part 2. Also I doubt being digested like that feels good in any way. And with how slow it's supposed to be, yikes.

- I have a theory (aka major amounts of copium): Yuu will bust in and save Crowley because of 'fAmiLy' and also save Chess and Horn since they're family by association

- No one can reach Ferid, eh? And then Corwley's voice reaches him. Kagami and his queerbaiting amirite

- However Ferid then snags Crowley and ig he's on the priority list of getting devoured. Probably bc he's the strongest vampire Ferid has eaten. Cannibalism as a metaphor for love and devotion or whatever, except it's very literal and I doubt there's any love beyond 'u and interesting critter dude' from both sides

- Ok here's my major nitpick with this chapter: KAGAMI STOP BREAKING AND BENDING YOUR OWN FUCKING WORLDBUILDING AND POWER SYTEMS. Until now it was established that a vampires strenght is dependant on 1. their rank (as in who's blood turned them) and 2. their age. But now appearantly Ferid can eat vampires and absorb their strenght? If this was some universal but very difficult thing for any vampire to do, then I wouldn't be this salty. Also one of my favourite things about Ferid as an antagonist was, that power-wise he was on the weaker side. Despite being 'weak' he was still a major threat. He made up for his lack in actual fighting power with smarts and immaculate planning. But now he's another uber-strong genius. C'mon we already had Shikama and Rigr for that department. Bleh.

- now for the Yuu / Rigr and co confrontation, it's fiiiiine. I guess. At least Shikama is still somewhat of a formidable threat. Not to the major characters obviously but yk, it's something.

- rip Basteya. You showed up, slayed for a little and died.

- Kirsten still looks fugly as hell lmao

- so do Ulrich and Roger

- So, who will be faster: Shinoa in absorbing Shikama or Yuu in saving him? My bet is on Yuu purley bc he's supposed to be the main character but ig we'll see next chapter

- KRUL!!! AND THE BAT THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME

- sadly no Ferid / Krul brawl this chapter but yk what makes me excited for next chapter

- my guess is that now Krul is Ferids next target to be chomped. Hopefully she will beat his ass. Like when she first appeared. Ahhh the good old times

- 'A big fan of yours... M'lady Queen' lmao. What's next Ferid, will you put on a Fedora? Bro that last panel ain't it. Fuckin Sebastian of black butler wannabe 💀

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #crowley eusford #ferid bathory #chess belle #horn skuld #krul tepes #ons spoilers

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mspandorasart · 4 months

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Thoughts about Undertale Yellow

Greetings, I just returned from binging through Undertale Yellow, True Pacifist Route specifically, and am seeking a place to let out some thoughts (and steam). It's the first time I'm doing this type of "review" on my blog, but since my thoughts on it are quite strong, I thought, "hey, why the heck not"? Spoilers for the game and its ending ahead, fellas. Buckle up.

First off, let me begin by stating that, for the most part, I had a blast playing through it. The music is amazing, the boss themes real bangers, the environmental ones great as well. My favorite track was the OST that played in the Dunes: a really catchy western vibe with Flowey's theme in it as well, an earworm that filled me with Determination while running through the sandy fields. Then we have a beautiful pixel art style, gorgeous sceneries, great gameplay with challenging and fun boss fights (side note: although I couldn't fully appreciate Ceroba's fight since it had a couple pretty much unavoidable attacks. Or is it just skill issue on my part? Anyway, that part annoyed me more than it should have. Moving on, lmao.)

Furthermore, the game also has charming characters! They are the ones that kept me going and really ignited my interest. Not gonna lie, it took me until the town in the Dunes to become really invested in the game. Martlet is charming and cute, sure, but North Star and his gang, no, that guy specifically sold it for me. Charismatic, funny, very expressive sprites (well, all facial sprites are quite colorful, but it took me until North Star to appreciate/notice just how many there are for each character) and an interesting internal conflict with wanting to entertain others so they forget about the pain of being stuck underground, but at the same time being so absorbed in his persona that he temporarily acts like a douche towards his pals and forgets who he truly is. He also features my favorite joke in the game when he proudly proposes to the salesman that "he wants to buy a gun for the child". Freaking hilarious, love him, huehehue.

Story-wise, I was pleasantly surprised and taken aback by the dark twists of Ceroba and her husband Chujin. And I appreciated how the flashbacks got intigrated within her final boss fight. I don't know about you, but my biggest motivation to play RPGs are not just the gameplay, it's mainly the characters and the story. If the gameplay is amazing but the characters/plot boring, then I lose interest quickly. To me, the real rewards of a tough battle are story progression and seeing just what the characters will do next. Therefore, I greatly enjoyed the breaks between Ceroba's phases in which we saw parts of her backstory. They even made me cry!

...Although, to be honest, I don't exactly understand why we had that insight into her mind in the first place. Why did we survive so many hits to the point of 0.00001 HP? Where's that coming from all of a sudden? Why did time stop at some point like Za Warudo? Maybe that random plot armor (that happened the first time and never again) is explained in another route, but anyway, moving on-

This review-style blog entry only exists because of the True Pacifist ending. I'll be blunt, I hate it. Why?

So it ends with Clover sacrificing their soul for the monsters so they can eventually break free. Which is fine on its own. Clover is for the most part a blank slate of a character, only driven by their desire to seek the lost humans, that's basically it. Maybe it would have made a bit more sense for Clover to see an actual physical proof of their demise before they give up on them completely, but eh. I'm also wondering whether they are really okay with potentially another, possibly innocent human falling down sometime in the future only to get killed by the monsters. But oh well.

(You know, now that I think about it, I actually am a bit salty about Clover's decision to sacrifice themselves, lmao. Would've been kinda cool if it was up to the player, have another ending split.)

Anyways, the issue I'm having is how our cast of supporting characters, Martlet, North Star aka Starlo and Ceroba react to Clover's decision. They are shocked first, but... agree surprisingly quickly?? What?? Excuse me, the entire hassle we went through to get to this point was to stop Ceroba from taking Clover's soul. Now with Clover volunteering to sacrifice themselves, the gang is cool with it??

Of course they don't agree immediately, but are easily swayed within a few arguments back and forth. Man, what friends you are, guys. The reason I'm having this pet peeve in the first place is because we as the human, who has known these guys for just a day, did a lot for them, alright? They all tried to kill us at one point, but we took the beating, the hard battles, forgave them and were there for them during their internal conflicts. We were a pretty decent friend, if I may say so.

Especially with Ceroba! We did a lot to change her mind and path of self-destruction! Yet our so-called friends don't put in the same amount of effort when it comes to convincing us otherwise- or heck, use force if you must- get Clover away from there, lmao. Wouldn't it have been an interesting act of redemption on Ceroba's part, by the way, if she tried to stop us? Being touched by our mercy and refusal to give up on her, she does the same for us?

I suppose the reason I am so baffled by all this is because of Clover being a blank slate, the player character really felt like me, like I was going through the journey and not like I was controlling another character. It felt like my decision to spare them all, to talk to them and wanting to get to know them better. So the group of characters I have really grown to like giving up on me within about a minute of back-and-forth just felt... wow. Thanks, guys.

If I compare it to Undertale's True Pacifist in which every important supporting character gathers up after the confrontation with Asgore, all agreeing with the decision of me, the player, staying in the Underground with them, then oh boy, it really stings. Just would've been a cool, wholesome sign of friendship if Martlet, Starlo and Ceroba decided that "nah, even for the surface, we won't give up on Clover". By the way, in this game, we don't even really get to see why the monsters want to return to the surface so badly. They keep saying they want to, but what are the reasons exactly? More freedom, I suppose. Yet by expanding the Underground with the Dunes, the Mines, the Factory, and some of Snowdin, the Ruins and New Home, their habitat seemed so much larger than in the OG game- What I wanna say is, their desperation should've been shown way more instead of told, so the player can understand the monsters' aspiration better.

The thing is, it's a shockingly easy issue to fix if you really want "the canon ending" with Clover ending up dead and their soul taken: have Clover still have their moment of doubt and realization, remembering what the monsters told them throughout their journey. Then they go to Asgore with their gang, hoping to convince him. It doesn't work out, so Asgore starts a fight. During the battle, Clover realizes it's useless to fight back, it's better to have their soul taken for the monsters, so they allow Asgore to kill them. Their friends are not powerful enough to stop him. There ya have it.

Siiiiigh. Is it just me, being annoyed by that ending? As a whole, the finale felt a little... rushed? Was New Home always meant to be so empty? Is it to build up atmosphere? Yet there were two silly NPCs in the first screen of New Home, making me assume that maybe, there was another plan originally? (If it has been stated in a devlog or any other comment by the creators, then I apologize, I haven't read those fully.)

Anyways, if I didn't care about the game, this rant wouldn't even exist in the first place. I was really invested in the game until the ending just left me... kinda sad, not gonna lie. It will take me a while to process it all.

If you got this far, then thanks for reading. Am I the only one feeling this miffed about the ending? I might go back and edit this post if I find out there are things to be corrected. Buuuut as of now, happy holidays!

#undertale #undertale yellow #undertale yellow spoilers #undertale fangame

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macchitea · 1 year

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pssspsps *hands you my skyrim werewolf oc*

(cring lore dump below so my brain becomes normal again)

nirin's my bosmer werewolf dragonborn oc :D!! she's skilled in archery; sneak; and fire magic!

she's selectively mute!! and uses sign language; as well as a (very) limited version of dragon language to those who can understand it; namely paarthurnax; miraak and the greybeards.

she's also feral; an absolutel creacher; lives in the woods; and rarely interacts w/ society;

nirin; or 'nir in' is dragon language for hunt master!! its a name she came up for herself after paarthurnax suggested it. she doesn't actually remember her original name;

i like to think that when the events of the games start; or the moment someone is at the right place at the right time and gets picked to become the 'hero' of the games; they forget their name and a majority of their past life. she still retains her personality; skills and any uhhh;; adverse;; effects of her past!! she just can't remember it! one of these adverse effects being that she's a werewolf (meaning i have to use console commands to make her a werewolf immediately on every playthrough lmao).

as her name suggests she's VERY good at hunting! that's her full time occupation basically lmao. she sometimes visits the drunken huntsman in whiterun to 'sell' her catches, but its rlly just the concerned shopkeepers giving her normal people food and supplies to help her survive.

she has 2 main followers! lydia and miraak.

lydia is her first friend (technically caretaker) in skyrim. i like to think that jarl balgruuf assigned her to nirin out of concern for this Child being the dragonborn and tasked to slay Alduin of all beings, so lydia was tasked at making sure she becomes a well-adjusted person and doesn't bite as much sdfdffdjkl. lydia taught her the basics of reading and writing!! :D they parted ways a bit further into nirin's journey, specifically when she travelled to solstheim

oK SO a BIG part of nirin's character is her struggle w/ her dragonborn identity and the burden of her dragon soul. she 100% rejects the call to adventure, HARD. i hc that the dragon souls a dragonborn absorbs Stays with them in more ways than just making them more powerful; like,, the dragons' personalities, wills and their desire for domination stays with her, with the latter especially getting worse the more dragon souls she absorbs and it certainly doesn't mesh well w/ her werewolf nature fskfs. she comes to paarthurnax often for advice and companionship, but there's only so much he can do, seeing as he only has one (1) dragon soul and never interacts w/ human society.

this is where miraak comes in!!! :DD i've always thought the fact he's the First Dragonborn is Very cool, and that he can have some very interesting dynamics w/ the Last (nirin)!! like, the fact he's been dragonborn for thousands of years!! has killed MANY dragons before and very skilled w/ using the thu'um for combat!! in her story, miraak acts as nirin's (reluctant) mentor. she initially pulled him out of Apocrypha so he could take her place in defeating Alduin, but because of permanent injuries and a curse inflicted by Hermeaus Mora, he's been locked out of Sovngarde and isn't rlly in peak fighting shape to take on a giant dragon god. so he's stuck trying to make sure the last dragonborn doesn't die before she saves the world fjsflkdsjf.

nirin isn't happy about this, miraak is even mORE disgruntled about this.

in conclusion, nobody is happy in this story except for me >:)

if you've read this far uhhhhhh, ty for listening to my unhinged brainrot rant and also i am sorry fjsdlkfjsldkj

#skyrim #tesblr #skyrim oc #the elder scrolls #oc #help girl i accidentally looked into the tumblr tags for my fave skyrim character (miraak) and briefly got stuck in the tes brainrot #dw this blog won't become a skyrim/tes blog i swear; my brain's just in a silly goofy mood atm

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katyahina · 9 days

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I remembered your post about dead kin sprouting life from them, and that made me think. Could the wandering nightmares come from the same thing? The picture of stuff growing out of the dead kin in Byrgenwerth made me think of them. I assume that the bloodstones you get from them would probably be the only "kin" part of the kin that's actually left. Maybe they're the end product of a dead kin? It may make sense as to why you find so many in the nightmare frontier. Looking at the concept art, they also seem to have eyes growing out of them, or at least the large ones do. Looking closer at the skulls, a few of them also seem sorta similar to the labyrinth madmen. Actually, looking closer at the concept art, the big ones appear to have some sort of mouth coming out of their backs. Looking at it that way, it almost looks like a bearded head.

!!!!!!!! Bobbie, your brain is HUGE! This is a really good observation, and by now I don't even have an idea how came that I forgot about Wandering Nightmares in that post! + I am going to add the post and the image in question for the context just in case:

Basically for all two of my new followers, IN THE PREVIOUS EPISODE we concluded that the skulls are likely part of the curse and this sort of 'pollution' might have been the reasoning for snake infestation too. But the 'curse' is a lot of spirits of the dead lingering within the blood of humanity (and Pthumerity):

Themes of "superior" being born atop, or upon merging, variety of "lesser" lifeforms are also in the design of Kin like Brain of Mensis (made out of many melted corpses and some Micolash's hair because BB's lore is very normal) or Winter Lanterns (with their heads being many melted Messengers)! As for Kin being born by using humans as surrogates, the cord Arianna drops and Annalise's purpose also offer some Insight (🥁) on it:

Worth mentioning again that Annalise did have a Great One infant herself ( x ), and the implication here is kinda plain again. Blood Echoes are actually 'dying wills' in Japanese, mostly Hunters kill them because they absorb the most 'spirits' through the hunt, Blood Dregs even look like many sperm cells yet having small faces, and Vilebloods are more fit for carrying a Great One infant because their blood is especially full of this.. "energy".

^ There is a reason to think that maybe Wandering Nightmares are connected with these guys; either could not petrify, or broke free of petrification! And honestly normally I'd stop here, but your idea on what Wandering Nightmares are is MUCH more interesting and morbid! Basically you're saying that they are dead Kin, and amalgamation of skulls is the spirits within trying to tear free from being stuck like this. With the fetus we find at Byrgenwerth, the skulls are kinda tiny and frozen, saved the torment that Wandering Nightmares apparently are experiencing. Can't perish to give a way to a new lifeform, can't JUST peris, and also can't become free spirits and be set free.

I've also noticed just now that one of the faces on smaller Wandering Nightmare has a similar structure to enemies Giant Lost Child, who are found exclusively in the Nightmare realm too! But actually you might have just helped me to find a good explanation on WHY they are said to have been abandoned at birth! They could have been early Pthumerian (Loran?) experiments on carrying a divine infant, but were born no human/Pthumerians, nor Kin, and thus discarded as "failures"! I was thinking that the reason Mergo's real body is a Lithopedion, stuck within mother's womb is lacking 'circulation' of curses and spirits within the blood at that era that is now "fixed" since humanoids have been doing blood and hunt for a while since Pthumeru Ihyll and Loran. Now, this might add substance to it, so thank you!

The large variant DOES have a few eyes even in the ingame model, although not as easy to see as they are on the concept art!

There is also a video that offers a better look:

youtube

AND it seems like the implication is there for small variants too:

These skull-like spirits do not have eyes, nor do their way more 'physical' forms erupting, so... yeah, I agree that the eyes on their "bodies" are meant to be the Insight-eyes, not THEIR eyes. Heck, don't forget about Ludwig's interesting transformation as well, with his second mouth being full of eyes now!

Large Wandering Nightmares DO have a functioning gigantic shared mouth on their backs, yes. It is visible more in the video I've shared! Damn.. I feel even more validated about my idea that Ludwig's transformation is all on his own rather than being fused with a horse! He himself functions not unlike these Wandering Nightmares with sprouting 'physical' eyes and multiple chaotically-placed legs that are not a thing any other beast has, yet coincidentally what Wandering Nightmares have!

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Thank you for an ask! I am convinced! You always know just the most thought-provoking thing to question about!

#bloodborne #bloodborne theory #wandering nightmare #bloodborne enemies #bloodborne observation #bloodborne reference #not art #text post #ask replies

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thevirgodoll · 1 year

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Confessions of the “Strong Friend”

Something I have learned this year is that being the designated “go-to” friend isn’t always beneficial. Being the strong friend with all of the advice can come at a cost of people forgetting I need support too. Being essentially seen as “better” than others can cause insecurities to be projected onto me.

Despite my purposeful efforts to avoid this, it’s inevitable. I’ve always been ahead in life..I’ve always accepted that I will constantly be further along in my healing journey than some. My calling from a young age involves being a healer. However, being a healer means I have to heal myself with the same intensity I freely give to others.

I had to learn this year that everyone isn’t “bad” or “good”…people just…are. I realized I need to see people in a more nuanced way. Morality isn’t so black or white. People are just fragments of their past, and their personality is, ultimately, determined by their perspective of the past and willingness to pick up the pieces.

I had to learn that some people don’t mean well at all…some people are genuinely manipulative. It hurts realizing my genuine intentions can be manipulated. People are inherently selfish, and a lot of them may remain that way. And while it breaks my heart constantly, I had to let those people go…I learned to allow people to be that way and take myself out of the equation as I grow mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.

I had to learn to stop absorbing occurrences in which my advice was sought out, but not followed. I had to set a boundary regarding my capacity to take in problems that are not my own. I had to realize going past my limit made me feel resentful over time.

It gets frustrating realizing that some people will have to learn the hard way. I care so much about them that I literally can’t see how they don’t see their own potential. I had to tell myself this year: I can be a part of their transformative journey, but it isn’t my responsibility to walk steps for them… to impose my will on them to get them to have an epiphany.

Some people don’t ask for my wisdom because they want to change, they ask because they want to hear themselves talk. In that case, actively listening is the only thing I can do. I can’t save someone from their own complacency, and by trying to, I enable them further to remain stagnant. I cannot change anyone… people truly have to change on their own…no matter how bad that looks.

I can inspire change by changing myself. It’s not my job to problem solve if I’m not asked to. And when I’m asked to, I have to make a personal boundary to avoid enmeshment and break trauma bonds.

Being highly sensitive, I truly feel anyone’s problems…and there is much difficulty in finding a balance. I have to check in with myself, and I have to let go of people that cross boundaries by not checking in with me.

I had to learn to just say NO to someone’s perpetual victimhood…no matter how unintentional it may be. To distance myself when I am disrespected and used.

To say: “I appreciate you sharing this with me”

To say: “What do you need from me (within reason)”

To say: “I currently don’t have the resources to help you with this problem”

To say: “That’s fair. I understand how difficult that must be (and end it there unless asked).”

I am learning to accept that so many people are hard wired to complain. People complain to bond with others.

I had to understand that I attract personalities that refuse to change that. And no matter how hard that is for me to grasp, I have to learn how for my own well being.

For my own personal development, I will no longer dishonor myself by trying to fight someone for their healing. Next year is the year of “ME”.