#jess it's a delight to work with you :D

[aconflagrationofmyown]

D- Rations

A Sarge and lil Mama fic -Elvis Fanfiction

Co-Author credit to @prompted-wordsmith this was a delight to work on with you darling, thank you for the prompt that began a most glorious alliance and for all the delicious sentences you added here-in 🤍

Summary: Germany, early spring 1959, Elvis and Elaine begin to find a routine, the first true domestic routine of their married lives, and as is common with young lovers who are just now fully getting to know each other, they are both besotted and a little foolish

Warnings: 18+ || illusions made to free use sex, illusions made to drug dependency and withdrawals, harlots being harlots about Elvis to Elaine who is fabulous as ever, a very descriptive scene of masturbation and marital misunderstandings that will be resolved (don’t shoot me)

AU Family Plan Reminder: the firstborn twins, Jesse and Ella are already born, and in this fic the second set are cookin’ ☺️

Elvis isn’t sure he’ll ever forget the shocked squeak Elaine let out that first time he flipped up her skirt at the sink and thrust in, no warning he was even home.

“Sorry baby, withdrawls an’ all.” he had gritted out hoarsely before jabbing up into his saint of a wife, soapy suds drifting upwards in front of the window, rainbow bubbles floating around them as her grip on the soap bottle collapsed it in her fist.

“Use me, Elvis.” she’d told him after the first few weeks in Germany had alerted her to a new addition in his bedtime regimen.

A boatload of pills.

“I can’t sleep baby, I can’t sleep any nights at all without ‘em, wasn't functioning.” he told her and she was sympathetic, always so sympathetic to him. Closest thing on earth to his mama.

But, logistics coordinator that she was, she saw the need for an alternative remedy to replace the offending one and reached it with no fanfare. “I’m here now. Use me,” She had said, already pulling him out of his jocks when he went to reach for his water glass to swallow his dose.

Not even on the wedding night had she ridden him that dry. He felt like he’d woken up in a different year the next morning, so deep and dead was his sleep. He’d staggered onto base and sweated it out there during the day. Sweat like a whore in church and came back to the house they rented where she fed him, laid him on the couch and put the babies atop him, supplied with books, a glitching television and love.

Visitors were banned, besides family, and those she policed into uncharacteristic considerateness. And at night, when she was tired from nursing children and running a house and answering fan mail and cooking his meals, she spread herself open for him to take out every ounce of his misery on her poor little cunt. There were times when it wasn’t enough, he would lay there spilling water on himself as she tried to rehydrate him, and those were the nights he spent in the bath, with her nestled behind him, singing to him and swathing his burning head with washcloths and kisses.

“Remember this feeling next time someone dishes you out one of those fancy pharmaceuticals.” she whispered once as he moaned and shivered in the bathwater. There was no true chiding there, just a pity for him that he knew was genuine enough to not find offense with.

But eventually his vigor came back, slowly, but it came back. And he took it out on her in the early mornings when she wasn’t awake until he’d been at it for a bit, the afternoons on the kitchen table during his furloughs, back behind the barracks one time while paying a private to fill in for him at sentry duty, and night after night in their marriage bed till suddenly the breasts he sucked and bit were swollen and sore and he knew something good had come of this.

It was swapping one addiction for another, he suspected, somehow losing interest in the pills but finding himself more and more obsessed with the squelching grip of his wife’s lil house. But the joy on her face when he began to hint to her the subtle changes he noticed–the child they’d made yet again, it mattered little to either that she was worn puffy and pink from so much usage. There was nothing so dear and darling to him as this little family they’d built, if he needed his wife to perform her duties every day, sometimes many times a day, surely that went with the territory.

Thusly they have fallen into a routine these past few months, the new little Presley family, and Elaine finds that she is happier and more content in it than she ever imagined. After every harrowing trial thrown at them in the first year of marriage, the shock of intimacy, the glare of the press, the wrath of the Colonel, the morning sickness, the separations, the birth, the stitch and her spunky Atlantic crossing, Elaine sits now with shoulders a little straighter, smile a little more sure, children hale and happy, her belly swollen with another promise kept.

She is satisfied, she is happy, and something about the normality of this current life with Elvis gives her a pressing sense of urgency to savor it while it lasts. It’s not every day he’ll be home before 7:00 in the evening, napping upstairs before dinner while she winds down the little soirée she was hosting for some of the wives of the fellow soldiers. She has to remind herself there will be a time in the future when she’ll be dreaming of hosting these two harpies in the form of Susan and Doris when she’s trapped at a table with a starlet or a socialite. But jealousy has no class, no boundaries, and what was once a rather pleasant if inane brunch has devolved into a verbal fencing match, disguised with sickening sweet concern -as is the age old custom of what the preacher back in Memphis would charitably call ungodly women, and if her manners were less engrained in her she would much more uncharitably call harlots.

It feels rather like she joined a competition without realizing it, and right about now she wishes she could bail if she only knew what it’s all about. Except, she does know. She knows that no matter how often she hosts folks into their home, no matter how many hands she shakes at the Graceland gates or how many hours of her husband’s prized time she sacrifices to the public, there’s always going to be a few who seethe at the mere existence of a Mrs. Elvis Presley.

That gleaming wedding band on his finger was quite easy to ignore while the wife was an ocean away and the lonely, sultry, uniformed heartthrob was throwing his parties and acclimating to life in Germany. But it’s a very different thing for Doris and Susan to sit across from the woman herself, polished, beautiful and adorned with both finery and visible proof of her husband's interest. A woman whose children look so startling like their father it’s uncanny, and whose placid indifference to their barbs has driven them to bare faced insulting her in her own home while the man they crave is upstairs sleeping off a night he spent balls deep inside her.

Elaine knows this. And so she can lounge back, legs crossed gracefully and bracelets jangling subtly as she swirls her glass and she listens with bemused ire to Doris’ newest concern over whether or not she’s been overextending herself.

“Oh, there's some dust on this sill!” Doris’ tone suggests that this is cause for grave alarm, “It must be difficult,” she goes on, tone solicitous as Elaine rattles the last of her ice cubes with her finishing chug, “keeping up with the housework when you've got children underfoot, and so many guests all the time. Elvis does love his parties, doesn't he? But that must wear you down, poor thing.”

There haven’t been many parties since Elaine arrived and Doris knows it. No doubt the majority of Frankfurt thinks Elaine is a joy-killing puritan, but if that’s the cost of keeping her husband’s dignity intact while he overcame his addiction, so be it.

Elvis himself overhears this last bit of conversation while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking over the upstairs bannister at the unsuspecting little group down below. His sleep muddled brain second guesses the sirens he hears going off when registering the saccharine toned patronage of her guests. He stays quiet and watches from above as his wife just shrugs, forever unbothered.

“I’ve missed the parties!” Susan opts for a more truthful barb, and Elaine quirks a perfectly manicured brow at what she suspects is coming next. “There used to be such wild good times back when he was staying with the Major, always had the old vitriola going and was spinning gals around till all hours of the night. He once commented I was light as a feather, ya know that? Said I had a lovely figure -it’s a real shame that you're losing yours to that new babe. Heavens, I bet you barely feel like waddling most days, much less dancing."

Elvis may have been raised right but he feels ready to brawl with these ladies on hearing those words. Elaine spent about 36 minutes straight riding him this morning like it was the Kentucky derby, then made omelets for him and the boys, proceeding then to host this charming little party -there was nothing waddling or decrepit about his pretty young wife and he’s ready to descend the stairs and show some erstwhile dancing companions the door when he hears Elaine, gentle and sweet as a honey-soaked knife:

"Oh, my husband, he missed me so much, Doris. Sometimes he distracts me, you know, and I take my wifely duties very seriously, tend to prioritize his satisfaction above all else. My Elvis has promised me a whole baseball team, ya see, and he's taken that very seriously, too. Graceland, our home back in Memphis–so beautiful, really Susan, you should see it–it’s so big we certainly have enough rooms for them all. I always wanted a large family, and so has my husband. Do you think we should hire staff here, like we do at Graceland? This house isn't nearly as sprawling, but if I'm in the family way as often as he predicts then I expect I’ll tire sometimes. Like today, getting ready to have you over and then the mayor and his wife tomorrow, I must have missed that sill. Public relations, you know, shockingly taxing things. There’s been a great deal of fuss and emphasis put on the importance of our presence here and mixing with the locals and such, they say a good integration of stationed troops with the citizenry could go a long way in reconciling the old rifts. It’s a lot to be riding on my potato salad.” she laughs merrily, “But forgive me, I’ve been rambling, you were saying something about me being worn down? That’s too kind, Doris, really, you mustn’t worry yourself about me,” Elaine coos, and Elvis finds this deliciously venomous side to his sweet wife so arousingly foreign he slumps to a seat on the stairs, most of his blood flow rushing south.

“I tend to feel invigorated with a child in me. I told the doctors it must be all that vitamin E,” she titters at their shocked faces over the rim of her empty glass, using his own joke against them. That shuts both the harpies right up, she thinks in satisfaction, tapping her wedding band ever so subtly against her glass, just a shift of her grip–and wouldn’t you know, both Doris and Susan’s eyes hone in on the massive diamond on her well-manicured hand. Sometimes Elvis’s love for the dramatic can be very useful indeed.

Elvis is met with a dilemma, then, as he listens to his wife verbally lay down the law on these women: does he go downstairs with his cock practically a service weapon down his pantleg, or does he go back upstairs and wring himself dry? He looks skyward as if the ceiling will answer him, but he finds himself snapped out of his thoughts, levering himself up and shuffling down into the living room when he hears the next thing those damned floozies say to his lil wife.

“Graceland sounds very grand, Elaine,” he thinks that’s Susan at it again, “you must feel so out of place there, so out of your depth with all his star friends and that celebrity lifestyle. I mean, you were practically a nobody before all this! It must be so overwhelming,” she insists.

If Elaine were capable of making so inelegant a sound as a snort, he’d assume that’s the noise he just heard coming from her, “Susan darling, a house is like any other house, it’s not a maze. Graceland’s got toilets and sinks and beds like any other, sure it’s got a microwave and fridge, too, all the latest gadgets–Elvis insisted. Didn’t take long to learn my way around my own house.”

“I’m sure Elvis hoped for only the finest for his house.” Susan’s tone suggests Elaine might not be counted amongst the finest, and Elvis is reminded why he’s headed downstairs in the first place, painful cockstand jostling with every step.

“It’s my house, actually.”

Only Elaine could make such blatant marking of territory sound so utterly charming. Or maybe it’s only charming to his blood deprived brain as he alights from the last step and spins towards the couch his wife is currently lounging on, finding her red painted lips stretched in a serenely smug smile.

“Why hello there, sleepy head,” she greets him, sweet and gentle as ever as Doris and Susan’s heads swivel in a near 180 to confirm his presence.

“Hey you.” Elaine has grown familiar but never used to that adoring tone of his when he addresses her, the way his tongue lingers lovingly and his voice dips, the way his eyes droop, too, even after the shortest of separations, even after a nap. “Good evenin, ladies,” he acknowledges her guests on his way to sit by her, only greeting the harpies because they are her guests, even if he’s down here to see that they skedaddle–ASAP.

“Good evening, Elvis!”

“Hi, Elvis!”

He notices that, unabashed, they smile and flutter their lashes at him as he passes, thinking he either did not hear, or did not care, that they were undermining his woman. The woman he married afore God, in the presence of his family, in his own living room.

“They were askin’ about how huge Graceland is, baby,” Elaine fills him in genially as he plops down beside her, allowing him to scoop up her little footsies and put them in his lap, a throw pillow snagged for good measure to hide the titanium grade hard-on he’s sporting in his slacks.

She wiggles her heel against him–he’s been found out. Her smirk grows.

“Elaine was saying that Graceland is legally hers…” Doris’ cadence suggests she expects him to come to her aid and laugh at that, to agree that such a thing is absurd. But Elaine never brags over something that isn’t true, it’s one of the things he loves about her, her faultless honesty.

“It is hers,” he makes sure to shrug, to keep his body language infuriatingly nonchalant as he lets her ankle rest right where he’s aching, “Belongs to her, signed in ink. Weddin’ present of sorts.”

He smiles dreamily at the memory of those rushed, hazy, tender weeks that preceded their sneaky union. One of the most rebellious things he ever did was marry this intelligent little woman, and the populace at large doesn’t even know it. He’ll never quite forget the Colonel's face when he returned to Memphis to find Elvis sitting at breakfast beside his newly deflowered bride and Vernon reading the paper that had somehow leaked the damn event.

Funny enough, Doris and Susan seem to lose their appetite for chit chat real fast after that. Maybe it’s the intimate way he strokes Elaine’s feet or lays his head on her shoulder, the cacophony of their twins playing in the next room or the way Elaine won’t rise to the damn bait no matter what. Either way, it’s not more than ten minutes before Elaine’s slightly suggestive:

“Lord, look at the time, I oughta feed this man of mine before he starves.”

is seized as a happy excuse to flee from the Presley home and back to wherever it is that women like them, who have no man to feed, go to pine over another woman’s husband.

Elaine walks those two backstabbers politely to the door, waving before shutting it after them. Then it is that his wife, the little darling of his heart, turns to him, hand on the knob and a cheeky smile on her face,

“Is there somethin I can assist you with, sir?” she teases gleefully, eyeing the cushion he clutches to his lap, “Or do you just find cotton batting ever so snuggly?”

He could eat her alive, damn the dinner. This little glimpse into her world, not the one he’s watched her navigate at RCA or on the Committee, no, this world of women with women, and to see her capable, cultivated viciousness?

Oh, oh he wants and yet, yet somehow he finds himself thinking of dusty window sills.

Dusty window sills and pretty pink petals fucked raw and puffy from overuse. She doesn’t know any better, she doesn’t know any different. That a husband taking her every hour of the day at whim like poets take pills is something that most would find an abuse of power. Not good. Not proper. Not even decent husbandry. But he knows better, he’s the one who knows and he’s the protector in this relationship, and he thinks about just how much he’s taken and taken these past few weeks with her shrieks stifled in the palm of his hand, and so he just grins back and shakes his head,

“Dinner would be lovely, darlin,” he assures, despite watching confusion crumple her pretty face, “Whatcha plannin for tonight?”

“That roast lamb Mrs. Niehouse-the deputies’ wife- sent us,” she replies absently, her eyes ever so puzzled.

Dusty window sills. Raw, pink petals.

He gets up and shakes out his leg, meets her halfway as she is walking towards the kitchen, grabbing hold of her shoulders and kissing her temple,

“I think you’re magnificent, ya know that?” he whispers and feels her shiver under his arm, “M’gonna go answer some mail,” he informs her, before going back upstairs. He flees from her perfection because if he doesn’t he’ll feel guilty as all hell when he inevitably finds his way into her wet heat on that chaise couch they were just sitting on, and so he bounds up the stairs like he’s got hounds on his heels.

She doesn’t holler out after him a time to come down by, nor does she pinch his butt through the railing as he passes. She knows something is off, she’s puzzled, maybe even hurt by it. But no, he tells himself, enough, she’s done enough.

The scent of garlic roasted lamb floats upwards with the heat, mouthwatering smells of buttery mashed potatoes swirling to the top floor, and Elvis lays up there, stifling that delicious smell with his wife’s used, silk intimates, committedly wringing out his cock with his hand. The fantasies change over the years, over the days, with newly acquired tastes and knowledge, but the punchline is always the same. It’s always Elaine, his cock and Elaine taking it, any which way. It’s always her fluttering pink hole and the white drip of him trickling out, just to get shoved back in. That’s the fantasy, has been since before he dared tell her, and it is now, even as he abstains from what is technically his right.

Dinner is nearly ready, but for some reason, Elaine doesn't feel like hollering that up to him, either. While chopping, stirring, and sizzling she wonders if he doesn’t work too much. She answered his fan mail herself, his European secretary, Barbara, discreetly removed from the premises for the time being when he was ill, and so she knows just how much there is. Sometimes she worries over him working himself when he already has the Army to tucker him out. And then she comes back round to the words he flung in her direction before he galloped off.

Magnificent, he had called her. Then fled upstairs as if her very existence was unsupportable.

She checks the stove, checks the table, checks the twins to make certain they’re not setting death traps for each other then mounts the stairs herself, some heavy hearted presentment prompting her to be stealthy.

She avoids that one creaky step in her kitten heels, atiptoe as she first checks his office and finds it empty, to her growing unease. Instead, she hears the rustle of sheets, the familiar sound of Elvis’s panting breaths, and it draws her to their bedroom like a siren’s song. And, oh. Oh.

Because through the crack in the door she has a nearly perfect view of her husband, laid out on the sheets like dinner on a tablecloth, thrusting his hips up so the leaking red head of his cock peeks out from his fist. The vein that runs along the bottom of little Elvis visibly throbs, the shiny length of him so hard he’s what she knows feels like velvet over steel. He’s quieter than he’s ever been with her, no rambling talk of filling and gushing because Elvis has the panties she wore yesterday clamped over his mouth and nose. His strong hand flexes with every pant, his chest heaving through his unbuttoned shirt, and she feels that ache of emptiness in her lil house as she stares. It’s mesmerizing, seeing him, seeing Elvis twitch outside of her. Normally she’s a little preoccupied.

Elvis’s spine bows as his flank and thighs flex within the confines of his slacks, powerful muscles rippling, feet planted firmly on the floor. It’s primal, masculine, indecent. She uses one hand to cover her own trembling lips and uses the other to touch the door ever so gently, widening the gap so she can see how tears clump up his lashes at the same time she sees his heavy balls slap into the grip of his hand at another pump of his hips. Elvis is whimpering, and he’s fumbling with her underthings–what is he doing? And then he sucks on the crotch of them, tasting her, a deeper moan comes rumbling out. It makes his cock twitch, leaking over his knuckles, she feels herself gush in sympathy, her body entirely unfamiliar with watching without being used. Still, he’s so pretty like this, is all that seems to tumble around in her head.

Elvis knows he’s close, the taste of Elaine on silk so heady he closes his eyes to savor it. He’s treading along an age-old fantasy, of fucking a baby into her, of feeling her hole’s wringing grip on his cock as he gushes and fills her with enough of his cum she complains about him pulling out and making a mess of their bed. But that fantasy changes with what he saw downstairs, how she had so casually claimed him as hers, her husband, secure in her place as his wife. How she handled the women that hang around him no matter what he does, gagging them as sure as anything. It’s that thought that makes his throbbing balls draw up and his seed spurt in his hand, wasteful, dripping down his wrist and onto the undershirt still covering his chest. He shudders, still sucking at the gusset of Elaine’s panties like it’s her titties in his mouth.

She watches from the hall as Elvis catches his breath, a whimper stuck in her own throat and a throbbing between her legs she doesn’t quite know what to do with, now that little Elvis has been wrung so cruelly dry. She finds herself backing away from the door, mind awhirl, dinner an afterthought she goes through the motions of with the ample distractions of her emptiness and confusion combined. She nearly drops the roast when she hears him coming back down the stairs.

He pads down the stairs, and halts at the mirror at the bottom to quickly run his still-damp hands through his hair in an effort to make his glassy eyes look a little more like he splashed water on his face and not like he fucked his fist in their marriage bed until he was weepy. He makes a face in the mirror, cause he’s not so sure it works. His cock is still damn sensitive, and so he’s moseying into the kitchen like he’s just got done with PT in the yard, every brush of his pants making him want to sit himself down and relieve his jelly-legs. Ella gives him the perfect excuse, she’s underfoot near the foot of the stairs and he scoops her up gladly, flopping into a chair at the table with an exaggerated huff that makes his baby girl giggle.

Elaine is there, every curl in place, cheeks flushed a little from the piping hot lamb she’s currently setting on the table. “Howdy darlin’, figured it was ‘bout time for supper,” and he still feels the urge to bend his pretty wife over the counter and take and take and take, but it’s less strong. Dusty sills and bruised pink petals.

She gives him a little affirming hum, but finds she can��t for the life of her reason his actions out. First he calls her magnificent, then he gives an excuse, flees at her offer of intimacy, only to go and–and help himself? Seems an awful lot like she did something to estrange her husband, but the only thing she could think of is her mentioning her ownership of Graceland to Doris and Susan. But surely he knew that was so she could get the two of them under control, not out of… not some sort of brag? It made her a little anxious to think about, even as she goes to find Doger, and the three of them sat down at the table to eat. They prayed, they ate, they read, they bathed the babies, they put them down. They went to sleep.

Sleep. Untouched, besides his heavy arm thrown over her waist, but still, after a few months of vigorous nocturnal activity, Elaine laid there listening to the fan whir as the clock struck later and later with each fresh batch of confusions burdening her as her husband, independent, free and freshly drained, slept soundly beside her. What’s one night’s avoidance? She tried to reason with herself, find some joy in the victory of having him free from the pills and herself full with children again.

Sleeping untouched? Oh that wasn’t the half of it. Elvis was avoiding her. At first she didn’t quite notice during the day, much to her own shame. He always had a very good excuse: he needed to be on base early to go over some papers, or he wanted to get more exercise and back into fighting fit to keep up with the rest of the boys in his unit. He left early and came home late. No longer doped, it made sense his ambition would roar back to life, she just didn’t expect so little of it to be directed towards his own family. He went out with the boys and came home late enough some nights he didn't eat dinner. It all made his days longer, made him come back droopy-eyed and a little sullen, so much so she couldn’t bring herself to do much aside from feed him if he wanted food and draw him a bath, watch him lay tiredly on the floor and let his babies crawl over him before she shooed him upstairs, putting the twins down to bed.

It was the window sill that made her realize, the same sill that she found herself dusting in the sudden free time she had to do so, the one Doris and Susan had remarked upon. It made her freeze in place as if a lightning bolt came down on her head, and she dropped the duster in horror. Was this shift the result of her little reparte with Doris and Susan? Or something else, something more? She was met with a feeling of nausea that had nothing to do with the babe growing in her belly as her thoughts spun. That was how Doger found her, staring at the dusty sill like it contained the word of the Lord.

“Now wha’s got ya in a tizzy, girl?” Dodger grumbled, bending down slowly to pick up her abandoned duster. Dodger’s quiet strength and rough concern made all of the swirling thoughts come spilling out like pulling a drain plug. “Elvis’s been avoidin’ me, and he hasn’t touched me in nigh on a week now, Dodger. What have I done, I can’t think -what have I done?” came the breathless last gasp of her tirade, her feet pacing a rut into the nice living room carpet.

“Well,” Dodger started, wizened hands capturing Elaine’s and bringing her to a halt, “If there’s one thing that boy is, it’s in love with ya, girl,” and there’s a significant look thrown at the gentle swell of her belly, “so I reckon he’s just got some idea stuck in that fool head of his.”

“Ah, one of those.” she grinned knowingly, the two of them having navigated many of his fool ideas and superstitions over the course of her pregnancy and their separation, “But what idea, Dodger? Why is he bein’–bein’ so cold to me? Oh, what if he thinks I’m one of them icy, mean bimbos he was spittin’ on? I can’t take it, can’t take him promisin’ to give me a family and then goin’ off to some other woman.” she rushed out, all her fears crowding her head.

“Elvis ain’t gonna do that to ya, Elaine,” and it’s the use of her name that makes her focus on Dodger’s kind eyes and wrinkled smile, “Jus’ needs remindin’ he’s got a pretty wife that makes a mean Southern supper right here.”

Dodger watches a shrewd look come across Elaine’s face, one that means business as an idea pops into her head. She has some recipes she packed into the bottom of her luggage from Miss Gladys, carefully taken out of her cookbook because she couldn’t pack the whole thing. She smiles at Dodger, gives her hands a squeeze and announces, “I’m goin’ to pick up some groceries. You have fun with your quitin’ circle, Dodger, I got a meal to prepare.”

She asks the neighbors to watch the twins while she’s out–she had planned to stay in before the realization had struck her, and now she’s on the warpath while filling bottles and putting nappies in a bag, wrangling a squirmy boy and girl into her arms and across the hedgerow. When that’s all taken care of, kisses bestowed to each of her babies’ heads, she quickly powders her nose, slips on some sensible satin heels, grabs one of her little grocery sacks and clutch, and out she goes to the farmer’s market just down the way.

It’s as she runs through the list of things she’ll need to buy in her head that she spots the diner that marks the fact the bakery where she wants to buy some bread is just around the corner. She quickens her pace, only to nearly stumble as she finds, just in the window, Elvis and his Army friends. She recognizes some of them, but not all, and along with the boys are girls. At least two of those loose waitress types cling to her husband, who is in full uniform, dressed to impress, as her mama used to say. Clinging fans, autograph hunters, and smooching devotees are not new to her, nor does she begrudge them, she knew who she married. But that’s the fact of it, she knew she married a man besotted with her, a man who wouldn’t entertain or let women hang on him and pet what’s hers while barely having enough energy to kiss his own wife goodnight. She doesn’t think herself a jealous woman, but it’s the lack that’s getting to her.

It makes tears burn her eyes and an anger well up from some place she didn’t know she had in her chest, thoughts going round her head about what them harlots by the name of Doris and Susan said, how Elvis had danced with them. How her husband had thrown parties while she was at Graceland, an ocean away, nursing his babes. She thinks of dusting window sills and selfish bastards, men who want wives and then leave them when they’ve got kids. Oh, Elvis will not do this to her. She won’t stand for it, not after he plied her with promises of babies and security and money and a happy home. She’s got the first one, but she will damn well have the others, too. This may have begun as something Elvis wanted, but she’s here now, and she reckons she’s here to stay.

She’s spotted by one of the men through the window before she can sort out her thoughts any further. She watches, dull and heartsore as the man taps her husband on his shoulder and points at her. Before she can see that pretty face turn to her she rushes around the corner and into the bakery in a blast of warm, sweet smelling air. With a deep breath she puts on the polite smile her mama taught her, and goes about buying all her groceries with a single-minded determination, even as her mind whirls with the question of how she’s fixin’ to mend this before it becomes ugly. Before it becomes far more than it is. Before it becomes full abandonment.

“Lamb,” she reprimands herself on the walk home, reflecting on the pickings of last week’s menu, “what self respecting Southern woman feeds her man a leg of lamb and expects him to stick around? Pshh, foreign relations, my eye. Shoulda known, amateur mistake.”

Part 2 and resolution coming soon ☺️

Series Masterlist

Thank you all for your love and feedback, we hope you enjoyed it 💋

#elvis fanfiction #elvis imagine #sarge and lil mama #elvis presley #austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis x you #elvis x elaine #elvis fans #elvis one shot #elvis smut

[noodledesk]

More train rides where the car is blissfully warm and rocking, passing out and drooling, next to my seatmate, who is working or reading diligently, almost always; more chances of getting a typed out note lovingly attached to a big, still-warm jar of minestrone (which, to my delight, I learned that I have been pronouncing wrong my whole life) that says, ‘jess, / hope you feel better soon / — d’; more mornings to wake up to a smoothie and a hot breakfast from my roommate C; more chances to talk about poems; more time spent standing in a circle outside, freezing, riding that sweet gleam of conversation; more laughing stupidly over the phone; more chances to say goodnight to people I love, every night. It goes on.

Reasons for staying, Jess, "attainable fantasies"

#mine #essays #words #quotes #reading #morning read #new newsletter!

[starhvney]

goodluck on your queue!!! :D your writings are a delight, you should totaallllyy share what your gonna write :3 (only if you wanna! if you don't wanna feel free to delete this, again goodluck dude!!)

hi anon!! i don't mind sharing at all! i'm so glad you like my writing so much :) most of my requests are for gene you guys are eating him up!! (real, I've been obsessed with him since i was 12 too)

here's the requests i have (and a small hint to what it's about):

☆ mystreet!gene x fem!reader | fluff, slice of life, established relationship, babysitting together

☆ mystreet!aphmau & fem!reader | fluff, platonic close friendship and physical touch, slice of life (anon didn't specify whether it was platonic or romantic, but i only write platonically for the female characters, and since aphmau is the self-insert of jess i don't feel comfortable writing romantically about her!)

☆ pdh!gene x fem!reader | bully x smart/good dynamic, will be fluffy though, possibly will make pdh gene slightly ooc but i won't stray too far from his personality :')

☆ mystreet!gene x fem!reader | hurt/comfort, fluff?, takes place during the ultima incident/starlight lockdown

☆ mystreet!nana ashida x fem!reader | fluff, platonic, slice of life, slight hurt/comfort for nana

i also have a word doc full of fic and headcanon ideas, i counted 16 oneshots and like 40 headcanon/drabble prompts that i came up with and just haven't written yet! a few are in the works right now but i want to prioritize prompts first. maybe i'll come up with a schedule and do one request one personal and so on.

these are some oneshots and headcanons i've started on if you're curious:

☆ "home cooked meal", a mystreet!laurance x fem!reader oneshot

☆ "late night study", a fcu!garroth x fem!reader oneshot

☆ "i'll find my way back to you", a mcd!garroth x fem!reader oneshot

☆ apocalypse au headcanons

☆ beach vacation headcanons

i have a lot more in the works but i don't want to give away all of my surprises and secrets ;) thank you so much for the good luck! you're super sweet!!

#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #x reader #mystreet #aphmau mcd #mcd x reader #aphmau minecraft diaries #☆ star's inbox!

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week in Review XIII

Was it really Halloween this week? Because it feels like it happened like six months ago - that's how long this week has felt for me 🎃

It could also be because I finished my October prompts and now I'm wondering what I'm supposed to do now I don't have a daily deadline. Well, I know what I need to do (I hear you, Frankie) - I just can't seem to bring myself to sit down and write it right now. But luckily I've been given some great advice from some wonderful people and I hope to start posting it before the month is out!

I'm also trying to figure out how to get back into my reading - my TBR list has been all over the place since last month was nearly impossible to get much read. So going to slowly get back into the pace of reading a reblogging - which also includes all the lovely comments I received but haven't been able to get back to yet! 💕

But on with the 'condensed' Sunday Week in Review...

T R U L Y   U P D A T E S . . .

oct' x 29 - stormy days (sequins!joel x f!reader)

oct' x 30 - seance (tim rockford x reader)

oct' x 30 - seance (chiffon!dieter x ofc!bryony)

oct' x 31 - trick or treat (marcus pike x reader)

strings part IV (series complete) (joel miller x reader)

W H A T   I   R E A D . . .

Are You on Mute? (Benny Miller) by @rhoorl Now Benny Miller is not my type, but with the way Jess writes him? He's slowly worked his way into my rotation of reads! This is a spicey read that will have you rethinking Zoom meetings at home 🫠

Broadcasting Live Tonight (Dieter) by @morallyinept This was just *chefs kiss* a delightful steamy read written on the back of Pedro's own appearance on SNL the other week. The tension between the reader and Dieter is palpable and the payoff is 🙌, smut be smutting here. Not spoiling anything, but I hope we get a part two!

A Month of Sundays (Various) by @gnpwdrnwhiskey My parallel play partner in a month of writing daily prompts, Lellen, completed her Month of Sundays and if you haven't checked them out you should! She totally knocked it out of the park and managed to fit so much into six lines a piece!

Working Title (Dieter) by @rhoorl Jess is back with another installment that does not disappoint! We've got some cameos, we've got some Jurassic Park references, we've got a wet-haired Dieter and sound the alarm, we've got some 18+ action with Belle and Dieter that I think about at least once a day because it was that hot 🥵

Steep Is the Mountain (Tim) by @sin-djarin This fic is still playing on a constant loop in my head since I read it the other day. Becca's coming home series is amazing (go read them all) and this is another excellent addition to it with our Detective Tim Rockford.

Headshots (Marcus) by @secretelephanttattoo This is a dreamy update to our reader and Marcus finding them in Ireland. I'm not going to spoil anything, but El makes a strong case for the canon behind Marcus' leather jacket!

Fall Apart Again (Joel) by @wildemaven Heidi treated us to an interlude to this series with a letter to Joel from Eve and much like the series, pulls at the heartstrings. It's a truly beautiful story and this interlude just adds another layer to the whole thing and I'm still thinking about it the day after.

Hope everyone has had a great week and enjoying their Sunday so far!

Here's to the week ahead! 💕

#betty's sunday in review #sunday week in review

[theriu]

So I’m planning to do a fully colored drawing of Ol’ Stinky Jess as soon as I can get to it, but I’m also rather nervous trying to design a character that a lot of people have apparently grown attached to and may have their own mental images of by now, but I’m ALSO impatient and want to show off the concept work I did yesterday, so I’m gonna make this post separate from the main Stinky Jess post and save that reblog for the finished piece. 

But anyway, HERE'S WHAT WE HAVE SO FAR:

Okay let me explain my choices/thoughts here:

She’s relatively young here, maybe 18-22. (Costume changes as she grows are an option)

It has always been my plan to make her tall and gangly. I feel I succeeded! Which delights me, because ya’ll don’t know how challenging it is for me to draw any body type other than “average.”

Iconic swamp tribe leaf hat is HARD TO DRAW FROM THE FRONT but I MANAGED IT

I wanted some callbacks to the swamp tribe as we see them in A:TLA, BUT this is also supposed to take place somewhere between 700 and 1,000 years PRIOR to the show, so it only makes sense there would be some cultural/fashion differences. If anything, I worry I made TOO MANY similarities to the modern-day garb, because fashion changes, but some things also make sense because of the setting (and the show super simplified their outfits), so I’m probably overthinking it?

Our one glimpse of female swampbenders in the show has them in skirts, but that’s not the main reason I gave her a skirt. No, the MAIN reasons are 1) modesty (which I think fits, esp. since this would have been closer to the time when the original settlers came from the Southern Water Tribe, which sported a lot more clothing), and 2) I thought it would be super in-character and funny for her to do that thing where you “gird up your loins” i.e. tie up your robe/dress/skirt for fighting/action. It just feels like something she would do. XD (I actually tried this and you def need a long, full skirt for it to work, although she might just tuck the ends into her belt.)

I was experimenting with the leaf shirt but I really like it! Just makes sense to me that they could make cool clothing out of sewing leaves together. =D The neck hole could be as simple as a hole cut in a large leaf (there’s likely some kind of underpinning to keep the leaves from tearing). Tempted to add leaves sticking out over her shoulders.

Pigtails because that also feels like her. I had to restrain myself from adding freckles, as that felt like one too many clichés.

Anyway, what do ya’ll think? Any suggestions/ideas? Anything seem really off? Feel free to leave a Reply/Ask, I welcome the feedback!

~River/The RIU

#stinky jess #ol' stinky jess #a:tla #avatar #swampbender #atla #avatar the last aidbender #avatar OC #river draws #river rambles

[chrysanthemumgames]

Hey Jess! Just here to say I absolutely adored the update~ despite the circumstances it was nice to see Demeter again and the visit from Aphrodite was fantastic as well. Somehow it took till now for me to realize how funny and delightful it is that my v shy, reserved, generally anxious MC Aodie befriended not one, but two of Zeus's very social and sociable children. Really gotta wonder how her mother feels that those two are more or less her only friends before the underworld lol. Been having a grand old time imagining how those relationships built and hoping we'll see more of buddy Aphrodite in the next game too~ thanks for all your hard work and for sharing it with us! Best luck with chapter ten =D

Thank you! Aphrodite is a blast to write. Someone who is very intuitive, switched-on, and sociable, as you said is just a fun combination, especially as someone to have on the side of the PC. I'm glad you like her.

And thanks for the well-wishes; hopefully it goes smoothly, or at least as much so as writing ever does. :)

#ask #kind non anons #anywaffle

[hermitsmirror]

🐌 P I C K 🌸 A 🌸 C A R D 🍓

Close your eyes. Breathe deep. Let yourself melt into the sweet and playful world of the Squid Cake Marseille Tarot by Jess Rollar, with its strawberries and turnips and candy corn. Let yourself laugh as you pluck these strange delights from the earth. Then pick a card.

Will you pick left, center, or right?

If you need more time to find your center and that moment of playful adventure, take that time. Find the dark and quiet space within you first. Then imagine little bursts of pink and turquoise and orange and yellow burst into view. Let those blossoms of color grow into lights circling around you, bobbing along to strange music only you can hear. Allow yourself whatever time you need to fall into a dancing pattern with the energy of the tarot, and then choose one to let warm you and sweeten your day with its unique flavor.

How does that feel? I hope it was fun but also grounding.

If you haven’t yet, pick a card (if you want) and read its message in the relevant reveal image or below.

Leave a comment to let me know how it resonates. And please share the post with those who might benefit from a little magical guidance.

And if you’re looking for more guidance, let’s get you scheduled for a reading on HermitsMirror.

LEFT: The Chariot

Things are moving. Do you know where you’re headed?

Even if this particular Chariot is pulled by snails—adorable snails, I might add—remember that things are underway. It’ll be harder to slow down or course correct later, so get things right now and then stay focused on the path ahead. Things may be about to speed up.

CENTER: 6 of Coins

What a lovely and comforting image these coins make!

The 6 of Coins demonstrates a full complement of material ease and interdependence. Money, like energy and health, works most efficiently (to me) when there’s a steady and harmonious flow from input to output. Here, I see people sharing plates at a party, offering what they have and receiving in return.

RIGHT: Page of Swords

You are your own rescuer. Know that you are worth fighting for.

I love that this Page has a key ring as well as a sword. As soon as I saw her, I thought that she was both Ariadne and Theseus, and that she escaped from the Labyrinth by her own wits, skill, and courage. Like her, you have everything you need to find your way out of your current maze.

#tarot #pick a card #tarot reading #tarotblr #witchblr #tarot cards

[hauntnowpod]

We're in week three of our crowdfunding campaign, and we've got more voice actors to introduce you to!

Jess "Bear" Winston is back as the voice of Alicia, Eulalie's boo (pun intended) who has some long overdue family business to attend to this season...

From Alicia in TWWHN to Kaan in On The Line... the vocal expansion of their talent is on rise... Please check them out on their soundcloud as well as their streams on www.twitch.tv/Moukeni! Feel free to say hi!

Jordan Alekzander Moore joins us this season as Howard!

Jordan is a voice actor from Memphis, TN doing primarily character work in animation and video games while also writing poetry and comedy.

Julian Dailey joins our haunting this season as one of the voices of Poltergeist 0. Dun dun dun. Julian's takes with Maritza made me GASP and they'll do the same when you hear them!!!

Julian Dailey is an afro-latino voice actor based in Pittsburgh, PA. He completed an Acting degree at Northwestern University and has studied under stage and voice actors alike, such as Scott Burns, Tommy Rapley, and Cassandra Lee Morris. Julian has been a featured voice on several shows including The Sheridan Tapes, Tales From the Fringes of Reality, and Tales of the Echowood. In his free time, you can find him sinking hours into video games and animated shows without blinking.

Kira Apple is back as our favorite incorrigible undead Narrator (and Mary... whose role deepens this season in an exciting, spoilery way).

Kira Apple is a part-time voice actor and full-time cat wrangler. Her voice work includes the role of Jack St. James in Superstition, Katya Harper in Electromancy, and Cybilene in Inn Between. A bookseller at Charis Books & More, the oldest independent feminist bookstore in the US South, Kira also volunteers at the PAWS Atlanta Cat Cottage and enjoys video games, reading romance, scifi, and fantasy, and playing TTRPGs.

We're so delighted Kirsty Woolven is returning as one of the voices of The Apartment AND the voice of Fidelia!

Kirsty Woolven is a voice actor based in the Midlands. You can hear them in several audiodrama podcasts such as: The Secret of St Kilda, Apollyon, Devoid of Space, Shadows At The Door and The Sheridan Tapes. When not in the booth, they can be found on stage, playing Animal Crossing or writing! For more info, their website is at: https://kirstywoolven.carrd.co/

Lindsay Zana is returning as Danny, who has quite the character arc this season!

Lindsay is an LA based actor and singer with a love for Shakespeare, Musicals and audio dramas. When she's not emoting behind a microphone, she can be found singing with Top Shelf Vocal, filming self-tapes, or chilling with her husband and puppy.

Madi Opincaru joins us this season as City Ghost and Poltergeist 5!

Madi loves giving voice to a variety of characters in podcasts, games and animations, with occasional dabbing into narration. When she's not recording she enjoys playing D&D and indie games, reading and napping with her cats.

Maria Corcobado joins us this season as FF House Ghost 3 and FF House (those pesky abbreviations again! You'll have to listen to find out what they're for).

Trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art: Mary Shelly (Bloody Poetry), Duckling Smith (Our Country's Good). Winner of the Lilian Baylis Award. Classical roles include: Lady Macbeth (Macbeth), Titania (Midsummers Night Dream) Chorus (Henry V). Nominated for Voiceover Newcomer of the Year at the One Voice Awards 2022. Radio work includes: Let's Write a Story (Radio 3), Something Understood (Radio 4). Recent Audio Work: Ignited Melodies (Audible), Nya (Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio), Monogabliss (Kolbold Blue Productions).

Maritza Rodriguez voiced Ylena last season, and she's back this season as one of the voices of Poltergeist 0. I CACKLED with horrified glee when I heard her and Julian's takes. STAY TUNED!!!

Maritza's bio is short and on point: Bringing art and creativity into the world one step at a time!

Marlon Dance-Hooi joins us this season as Chief Inspector Turnbubble!

Marlon is a Eurasian Australian Actor and Voice-over Artist. He has been performing in some form or other since early childhood. His breakout role in the King and I (alongside the legendary Hayley Mills) instilled a love of the craft and a passion for theatre. He continued on stage in multiple South Australian productions throughout high school and college, and after completing degrees in Arts and Law embarked upon a professional acting career. Moving to Sydney and then Singapore, he worked on everything from live theatre and Fringe shows to feature films and television, appearing on four Singaporean TV series and several award winning short films. Throughout this period he worked tirelessly on his craft, tutored by working actors Sam Haft, Chum Ehelopola and Kamil Haque and learning Meisner, Adler, Chekov, Improv, Suzuki and Meyerhold techniques. Marlon is also a skilled impressionist and has lent his smooth, articulate and versatile voice to 8 animated series, including the award-winning Netflix show Oddbods, and several animated feature films, in addition to dozens of ads, corporate videos, podcasts and animated shorts. In his spare time he is an avid roleplayer, creating fantasy worlds, as well as a fan of manga and speculative fiction.

Mary-Anne Stanek joins us this season as Sister Prudence (a character who is pure delight, in my book).

Mary-Anne is a student, part-time tutor and voice actress based in South-Western France.

Michelle Sellers joins us this season as Tricia.

Michelle Sellers is a voice actor based in Charlotte, North Carolina. Before voice over, she was an infectious disease research scientist but a disability took her out of the lab and into the studio. In her spare time she enjoys spending time with her family doing most anything as long as they are there. You can find her on Twitter @VO_Bowtiekitty

Please help make them all welcome, and if you can share our crowdfunding campaign:

#audio drama #audio fiction #crowdfunding #fiction podcast #podcasters of tumblr #horror #ghost story #the way we haunt now #haunted

[susiecarter]

thank you so much for your wonderful reply to my ask about the wips!❤️ please believe me when i say i’m patiently looking forward to ALL of them! (especially the gq/croc eggbaby series omfggg!!! plus the superbat sequels and top gun big bang aaaaa!)

now i can’t lie, i am constantly eyeing ‘bvs was Bruce Wayne’s kinky coma dream’ because that line alone makes me madly curious! so if i had to pick one idea that i’d LOVE to know more about, it’s definitely that one! thanks a lot again for indulging me!!! ❤️

:D And you are too good to me, anon, I can ONLY HOPE they're each worth the wait in the end! <333 (The eggbaby series is totally growing a plot on me, which I'm praying does not careen out of control. :'D And the Superbat sequels will probably take me the longest, just FYI, but I hope the guarantee of the Top Gun Big Bang makes up for that! :D)

... Honestly, I sometimes forget that not everyone in the entire world has been witness to the great struggle that is BvS Was Bruce Wayne's Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream. :'D Basically, it's pretty much what it says on the tin: fresh out of the theater after seeing BvS for the first time, I found myself pretty firmly convinced that the theatrical cut of that movie makes a hell of a lot more sense if it's Bruce having a strangely prescient, kinky dream than anything else.

Consider the following:

The original theatrical cut of BvS had noticeably less of Clark's POV than Bruce's; the Ultimate Edition has several additional scenes of his investigation of Batman + Lois putting the pieces together and realizing he'd been set up to fail at the Capitol. Without knowing that, though, and having only seen the theatrical cut, I felt like Clark's side of the narrative was weirdly insubstantial, and he seemed a little extra distant, uninvolved, arbitrarily deciding to fly around all stonefaced and threaten Batman ... not unlike the way Bruce might plausibly see him/imagine him to be, in other words.

(Except, that is, when Clark's talking to his mother, and suddenly seems genuinely troubled, more real, warmer; as if, even doing his best to strip Superman of any humanity, Bruce can't manage to imagine a son talking to his mother without some whiff of love and meaning and comfort involved. ;-;)

I have no reason that I know of not to like Jesse Eisenberg, and he's a good enough actor that I'm confident he was doing exactly what he was directed to do, as well as it was possible to do it ... but if BvS is Bruce's dream, it makes fifteen times as much sense to me that Lex Luthor is so blatantly Joker-inflected! Like, of course he is; when Bruce's brain has to generate A Villain, naturally it goes straight for "clearly unhinged, laughs too much, desperately obsessed on a personal level", you know?

(Also, Bruce's kinky brain being in the driver's seat makes Lex delighting in having Clark on his knees on the roof actually secretly a matter of Bruce assuming everyone must want Clark on his knees and dreaming accordingly, which doesn't hurt anything. :'D)

Even in a dream, I don't think Bruce could ever go as far as giving himself the chance to save his own mother; that is both too self-indulgent and too implausible, and he'd reject it as unreal in a heartbeat. The best his subconscious can do is put somebody else's mother Martha in danger, and let him rush in and save her instead. ;-;

The blatant plot U-turn of "oh wait Superman was never the enemy! HANG ON, HERE'S A CONVENIENTLY WORSE ENEMY, let's team up with Superman to beat him!" also makes more sense to me if Bruce, like, needed on a subconscious level to beat Superman up, to prove to himself that he could, but never actually wanted to kill him. Therefore, as soon as he'd pulverized Clark to his own internal satisfaction and indulged the desperate urge to drag Clark around by the throat and put his boot on Clark's chest and (nearly) ~impale Clark his subconscious was soothed, and free to say "okay, now that we've worked through that, we can be friends with Superman, no problem :) let's save the day together!"

HOWEVER, Bruce is still Bruce! There are no true happy endings, in BvS!Bruce's head. The best his brain can do is let Superman die a hero, so Bruce a) was right to have changed his mind about him, b) never has to interact with him again or actually deal with/do anything about any of the shit he was working through via a half-hour-long kinky fight scene where he got to watch Superman gasp for breath in the rain on his knees, and c) gets to dedicate himself to doing right by Clark's memory (and he might, might, even mentally allow himself some hope of success, with Diana there to help).

Obviously this still leaves plenty of stuff to finagle! Why is Bruce's dream so long, so involved, and so weirdly accurate on certain points? I decided the obvious answer to this was my favorite answer to everything: the ship.

So BvS Was Bruce Wayne's Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream became an AU premise that approximated a time-travel fix-it, in which Bruce Wayne was badly injured during Black Zero (along with plenty of other people), and the ship detected that and connected itself to him (along with plenty of other people) to keep him suspended in an unconscious state while it repaired him. Bruce's kinky brain was driving, cast Clark as the villain until it didn't anymore, flavored everything with Bruce's impressions and expectations ... but the ship used its own data to supplement and stabilize the coma dream until he was physically ready to wake up again.

Which is to say: the ship knows Clark's name and Clark's mother's name, even though Bruce couldn't. It knows about kryptonite, even though Bruce wouldn't, not right at the end of MoS. And it also knows about its genesis chamber, its ability to create things like Doomsday if required to, and, of course, Apokolips—which means the Knightmare ALSO suddenly makes sense, not as Bruce being precognitive? being sent messages from an alternate dimension? who tf knows! but as the ship, aware of the actual Space Threat out there, trying to insert that Space Threat appropriately into the narrative ... only for Bruce's ridiculous stubborn subconscious to shove Clark right back into the middle of the Knightmare, still the bad guy. :'D

ANYWAY, yeah, so then Bruce was going to wake up from his Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream, having experienced BvS and his whole arc of coming to the understanding that Superman's not the villain inside of his own head, and knowing Superman is Clark Kent on top of it, and knowing the actual Lex Luthor is out there, possibly an issue, possibly intending to steal Zod's body and make Doomsday. And he himself would also have JUST EXPERIENCED Clark's death and Clark's funeral, and would be wanting, more than anything, to try to make sure Clark doesn't die this time. And he'd already be three-quarters in love with Clark, while Clark has absolutely no idea who the hell he is or why he seems to know random things about Clark/Kryptonians/the ship or why he seems so weirdly preoccupied with and sad about and protective of Clark–

I have had several thousand words of this thing drafted for literally years now. However, when I first started working on it, I didn't know shit :'D and all I had to go off of with Diana was BvS + some early WW trailers where her movieverse powerset wasn't totally clear. So I wrote some stuff that turned out to make no sense, and then stalled out trying to decide how I wanted to fix it, and then JL came along and gave me a new angle on where the plot should maybe go, and and and ...

... yeah. I've reworked bits and pieces of the outline several times, I finally have a pretty good idea how I want the full story to turn out, but I still haven't actually nailed all the pieces down in order, redrafted the early beginning sections, or, you know, written the rest of the darn thing. :'D

Anyway! That got super long, I'm so sorry, I don't blame you if you noped out of that about halfway through :D but yeah, for all the time that's passed, I'm still really stuck on the idea and still really enamored of everything I worked out about what to do with it and how I wanted it to go, so. I am definitely hoping to one day finish what is literally the first fic I ever started writing in this fandom. /o\ :D

#asks #asks:anonymous #susie is ten pounds of words in a five pound sack #as per usual /o\ #susie has a very big very scary list #and this darn thing has been the first item on it since literally 2016

[daydadahlias]

this will be long so prepare cause i can't actually choose one favorite of yours.

Scene 14 -> they're idiots and i love them (i'll have to reread this one soon) and horsemint and lemonade

Fine print -> this is the one i've reread the most out of your works. i love glimpses of cake and their past relationship and how it affects present day luke and how in the end luke calls calum (out of respect i guess) to basically ask for his permission to date ash.

Coy Fish -> probably my favorite cashton fic (calum is all of us in this one :D), i also liked how you wrote muke here (their dynamics, and michael calling luke bambi)

Paint me -> i absolutely love the scene where they're all seeing ash for the first time in the painting class and the last scene where malum finds lashton in bed in the end

New -> great story and very hot, but what makes this one hilarious and stand out to me are your notes (aka hey guys, it's me pornbot jess)

and of course, the sexting ot4 fics simply because they're both so hilarious and i do hope you continue them

Bite Marks -> i know this one isn't finished yet, but i get very excited when you update so i hope you won't leave it unfinished (i am subscribed to your ao3 so i'll read it even if you finish it in 3 years)

i have a fave pairing when i'm reading fics (and it's obvious based on this list) but damn you have so many fics and i will read all of them asap.

Thank you for writing and sharing your stories with us :)

omg i love long asks

they're so impossibly stupid, how could you not love them?

i love that you brought up cake in FP! when writing, I considered it being an act of respect, yeah! because it's, like, here's someone you've built your entire life around and also, in a lot of ways, torn your life apart for and even though you're not with them anymore, there's still that inherent need to feel like you're doing right by them. and i dont necessarily think that Luke was asking permission bc if Cal had said "no, im not ok with that" (which he kind of was implying) i dont think that would have stopped luke from pursuing ashton. I think it just would have made it harder for him. i think he just wanted Cal to know. bc he felt like he owed it to him. i have lots of thoughts on Fine Print cake obviously lol.

a little projection from me to Cal in that one, I won't lie. ALSO i love that you brought up side muke!! and it's especially cute bc im writing a really long cashton fic rn with (very prevalent) side muke where michael calls luke bambi lol. i just think it's so cute!!

oo Paint Me was funnnn to write. she'll always have a special place in my heart <3 I dont love all my old stuff but PM definitely holds up.

WHAT !! AN OUTLIER !! a SURPRISE! this was a delightful little surprise. it's so funny, I was just thinking about New the other day for the first time in, like, two years. bc i like the premise of it but i Don't like the fic and i was considering rewriting it. also obsessed with the fact that u mentioned my author note. you read an author note and thought ugh Jess is just so funny and personable and you were right <3

I plan on continuing them! I'm just trying to pick a Setting for the next installment. maybe while they're in the studio, an interview, or the tour bus

I love BM and I really do plan on finishing it. I hate that I posted it before I was properly ready and I do not plan on ever doing that with a fic again. but i will finish it!! even if that, yeah... takes 3 years.

thank you so much for reading and all of your kind words! I loved reading this <3

#pigeon #anon #so nice! #so many more thoughts but im trying not to ramble #this is all very nice and so well organized <3 #y'know i do forget people actually read the A/Ns #like i know my friends do #but it's funny to think of people who dont know me reading my author notes and THATS how they know me #like what kind of person is that painting a portrait of #very funny to think abt

[popculturebuffet]

Monthly Muppets: The Muppets Haunted Mansion (Comissioned by Emma Fici)

Happy Halloween all you happy muppets! Welcome and welcome back to Monthly Muppets, my regular look at all things muppety. Today we have something perfect for the spooky season as we take a look at last year's D+ Halloween Special and at the time of this writing the latest full on muppet project, with Mayhem coming oh so soon, The Muppets Haunted Mansion!

Just to get this out of the way upfront I DID do my due dillgence on the haunted mansion, watching a two part video from offhand disney on it that nicely covered the ride's structure and varoius ghosts so I knew who was who, and I got more info from my good friend Jess, who watched this with me this year and the last. I didn't end up needing most of it, but I felt it was prudent. That said i'm as you can tell not a hardcore fan having not gone on the ride hwen I was in Florida (having been really scared of spooky things at the time and overestimating how terrifying this). At most I suffered through the Eddie Murphy movie when it came out. Will i review that for halloween next year?

i'm not touching it unless someone comissions it. Do plan to review Werewolf By Night, next year though time permitting. So look forward to that.

That said what I have seen of the ride is delightful and i'm bummed I missed out on it: it's creative, wonderful and has evolved considerably. Also gonna look into the vastly diffrent paris version. So while I'm not exactly a haunted mansion superfan I do love and respect the ride and thanks to defunctland disney parks and ride design as a whole. And as far as ride accuracy goes they did a smashing job.

It takes bits from both the florida and calfornia versions, and the results re gret and while a few things are missing, it's likely because this special was cut down rather than a lack of love. It's clear the writers loved this ride and wanted to do it justice and the results made me more curious about the ride after both watches as a result. It's a clearly loving tribute.

As a special itself it's decent and with a simple setup and plot: Gonzo is invited to a mansion to try and last the whole night there and being Gonzo naturally responds to a creepy invite to a mysterious mansion where a famous magician famously vanished in the less fun way with a resounding

While Pepe tags along because Gonzo needs a sidekick and they coudln't get Rizzo apparently. After getting warnings from both Shirley and Harry Frickin Potter, their greeted by the Ghost Host, the usually disembodied voice of the mansion but since a in person celebrity gets residual non muppets fans to watch, we have Bojack Horseman himself to greet our heroes and issue a challenge: survivie the house, exit by sunrise or stay forever. It's a simple spooky premise and allows the rest of the muppets to show up as the various ghoulies and ghosties. Except Alice Cooper. Satan must've had him working overtime.

The simple concept works decently enough , just a simple setup to get two muppets into the mansion so the rest can play the various rolls with Fonzie as the Hatbox Ghost. Which confuses me. Not Fonzie as HBG, he looks really awesome and creepy despite having a very small roll and the HBG has an interesting history having been always intended for the ride but due to faulty animatronics not being used initially and only being reinstated with a new animatronic in 2015. No I wondered what a hat box is.. it's a box for storing and transporting hats.. Why this was ever necessary I don't know.

The muppets for the various Haunted Mansion varatious are incredible. While the Muppet Crew always put great work into temporary models for our classic troupe, they really outdid themselves this time and the results are visually impressive and fun to watch and there are a few good gags here or there. THe limo Drivers snark, two ghosts who accompany the ghost host constanlty getting the cute to go dun dun dun wrong, and of course the ballroom scene having a brief touch of one of my faviorite recurring muppet show bits, at the dance. THe problem is while this isn't a TERRIBLE special it does feel rather.. flat a lot of the time. Part of it is likely the shaved run time but a lot of it feels like they just don't knwo what to do beyond "put x muppet into the roll of x ghost". It works a lot, and it's still visually great but there's not a ton of the heart or madness that makes the muppets the muppets. The heart that is there isn't bad, as Gonzo faces his greatest fear and it genuinely gets horrifying as he rapidly ages him, with Gonzo worrying about being forgotton.. only for Kermit,as naturally bein ga ghostly trap it's showing him the party to rub it in, saying Gonzo dosen't need to be worry about being great. He's great as is. It's genuinely sweet if not set up well enough. Also it has to be said Matt Vogel HAD NOT gotten Kermit down yet. This has been talked about a lot, especailly before WHY Steve Whitmire was let go went public, but I can't really dance around it: Whlie Matt seems to have settled into the roll he clearly wasn't given any traning, Steve's fault, and thus sounds VERY awkward. Like he ALMOST has the voice but just not quite. I really do feel for the guy as he had ot take the roll suddenly, while Steve was trained personally by jim for it and while I don't want disney to corpratize the muppets more than I have, I do hope this conviences them to prepare succesors better much like they have for the various performers for mickey and friends. And tbf on that front Tony Anselmo, THE BEST Donald Duck, took a while to get comfortable too. I have faith matt will.

The problem is it's just a lot of style without subtance. Good production but not a lot of great gags to back it up. NOt terrible.. but nothing really amazing like some of the productions we've covered here. It's not TERRIBLE, but outside of a few shining moments it's not memorable. I forgot a lot of this till the rewatch. It's not BAD nor was it unplesant to watch, but i'll likely forget it again and didn't have a ton to say on the quality: it's .. fine.

The only other major problem with Pepe whose VERY clearly here because no one else would date the walking flag of a black widow tha tis Constance Hatchaway, played incredibly here by Taraj P Henson who luckily is one of those performers game to ham it up and thus fits in fine, and her various husbands trying to warn him, as well as Uncle Deadly just.. resigned to the fact pepe is likely going to die and not carrying as the minister is fucking great and a highlight of the special. I just wish it was rizzo instead of pepe. Nothing against Pepe but he spends most of the specail eithe rignoring red flags or whining that this isn't a celebrity party which gets old fast

Speaking of celebrities we have a lot of cameos to adress: First up is Yvette Nicole Brown whose adorable as the LImo Driver who is positive our heroes won't make it out alive and is plesantly suprised when they do. When then have OG Starkid and music maestro Darren Criss who sings a wonderful song highlighting all the ghosts represnted by the tombstones in the ride queue. While he is a weird choice for the graveyard man as he's you know, not an old man and not dressed in old man makeup or anything, his voice, commitment ot the bit and general charm make up for it. I mean it's Darren Criss. I"m not going to say no to him singing to me in his lovely voice. No one is. He's the man.

The graveyards also where we get most of the celebrity cameos: I genuinely care about most like Danny Trejo (Who apparently is just welded to the muppets and i'm on board with that), the late great Ed Asner, this is us now alumnis Crissy Metz (that show was good cheesy sappy fun) and of course this beautiful son of a bitch

We also have Jeanie Mai. We also have some busts cameo: child actress skye jackson, some guy who hosted the game awards, Justina Machedo from the criminally cancelled one day at a time reboot and the pontaic bandit himself Craig Robinson. Most are just short and there and gone. We also get a quick cameo from

So that's nice. Finally we have Will Arnett as the ghost host. I'm on record being a fan of Wills so it's no suprise I like his performance: he's nicely chilling and while not as hammy as the actual ghost host, does a good job adding spooky atmosphere while also being hilarously deadpan. He's really effective in the part, truly supporting gonzo when he leaves and helping him ocne he's won to save pepe. I don't know WHY he's saving pepe but he is.

So for our final bit it's onto the music:

Starting and ending us off we have a BITCHING cover of Dancin in the Moonlight by electric mayhem that's also in the credits and i'm happy to learn later got released so i'll be listening to that on loop. It's both perfect for the halloween theme and just a great song already that's naturally made better with Dr. Teeth's vocals. Amazing stuff.

Rest in Piece is a lovely cameo filled diddy by Darren. As usual with anything he sings it's great, and the various cameos are really hilarous. It's truly haunting and yet also fun, just like the mansion itself

Life Hereafter is a fun ballroom diddy with all the muppets and one of the highlights of the special, especially since it's that rare opportunity Will Arnett gets to sing. Why Bojack never did a full on musical episode given all it's creative swings for episodes is beyond me.

Finally we have Tie the Knot Tango, Constance and Pepe's duet. It sure did happen

So that's muppets haunted mansion. l'm honestly sad I didn't have more to say: the haunted mansion itself is a deep hole of intresting I hope to dive more into and it had great cameos but ultimately it suffers from the era it came out in: ti's clear that after the commerical failures of Muppets Most Wanted and "The Muppets" tv show, Disney didn't know WHAT to do with it, not having the faith to do anything more with it and thus trying smaller projects to see if those took off. Thankfully they are trying something creative and new iwth the Muppets Mayhem so we'll see how this goes.

As for how this ranks it's pretty easy this go round

MHM goes right next to our last feature, The Muppets Take Manhattan. So not rock bottom but The Muppets Wizard of Oz set a very high bar for the worst on here and it'd take a LOT to be worse than that, just as it will take a lot to beat out david bowie at his david bowiest.

Next time i'm getting to sesame street just in time for thanksgiving with Follow That Bird .Until then thanks for reading, follow for more, reblog this to pass it around and join my patreon to help me keep making these.. and watch out for hitchhiking ghosts.

#the muppets #haunted mansion #will arnett #darren criss #disney + #disney plus #disney #halloween

[whiskey-bumblebee]

female friendship because:

-I can call my friend georgia and it’s like we’re 18 again and I’ll say it feels like it’s been a while since we called and it’s been a year but we talk for 3 hours and nothing’s really changed. and she texts me later and asks if I like my school because her girlfriend is thinking about going there and how funny would it be if she ended up in the place that I’m leaving

-and I think about my friend rose and whether I should message her and ask if she wants me to bring her anything that’s hard to find in our country, because the mug she brought me back in high school sits on my desk still and I see it every day, full of all of my pens, and of course I’ve forgotten that we had a falling out because the love is still there. Because every now and again I hear her voice and remember the way her house smelled

-Lauren, just Lauren, and the way I can fall in love with her all over again just by calling her to mind

-my sister, and the pair of earrings I made her that are hanging on my dresser, ready to be in her ear lobes as soon as I’m home, and the way that she’ll message me about whether or not I like this sundress on her and at the end of an hourlong consultation she messages me and says “I always need a second opinion. I’m glad this time it was you”

-and Lydia, who works the night shift so when it comes time to call, I’ll do the time zone conversions in my head so she doesn’t have to, and it’s a little thing but one time she mentioned that she’d forgotten there was a time difference because she’d never had to think about it. How we’ve had conversations about the fact that wherever in the world we end up, it’ll have to be somewhere we can be together

-and oh, Sabine, who was in my house on friday wearing my sweater and washing my forks and my heart twists just to think of her. the photo I took of her in my kitchen in the dark, lit by the television screen

-then of course Phoebe, who once brought a whole vine of tomatoes and bread and a carton of eggs to my house without telling me and made herself breakfast and took a shower while I talked at her from the couch

-how could I forget my roommate Simran who picked up the pencil by the crossword and filled in COOTS, water birds with black plumage, 370 across, then looked across the table and smiled with confidence, who this weekend was delighted when I shared some liqueur that reminded her of a childhood sweet

-or Kara, who I only met in September but there are artefacts of each other in our lives like the heart I drew on a piece of paper that she tucked into her phone case or the photo of her on the couch waiting for her food to reheat, or the early morning messages with 2000s song recommendations

-and Paige S. and Jess and Adriana and Mahu and Paige D. and Reed and Brooklyn and Anastasia and Paige K. and Jocelyn and Clare and Heidi and Ember and

[sir-elyan]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

#b*gen #bookshelf #spnprideweek #sam and cas #rambleoncas writing #roc original #my post #theedorksinlove #userdainty #klinejack #usershey #creativecaviar #userpris #usersully #spnclownpals #hope it was okay to tag!!

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena was just finishing writing up her daily plan when Jess’ voice crackled over the intercom.

“Miss Luthor, the reporter from CatCo is here.”

Lena took a deep breath, letting her professional mask slip into place, ready to start the day. “You can let them in, Jess.”

She stood as the door to her office opened and a woman with soft blonde curls and a yellow sundress entered. She smiled brightly at Lena despite the slight nervousness behind it. Lena found her own polite smile reflecting a little of Kara’s sunshine back as she approached.

“Kara Danvers, CatCo magazine.” She moved her hand as if about to offer a handshake and Lena’s heart rate ticked up a little with dread, but Kara seemed to change the course of her movement and ended up fiddling with her glasses instead.

“Lena Luthor,” she introduced herself and getured for Kara to sit at one of the chairs across from her desk.

Kara pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. “So, Miss Luthor, mind if I ask you some questions about your latest tech?”

Kara was kind and sweet and seemed to be genuinely interested in her work, not just looking for some new angle to paint Lena as the next terrible Luthor. She listened and asked questions off of what Lena had been saying rather than just reading the ones Lena could see written in her notebook. She seemed to light up a little more every time Lena let her professional mask slip a fraction and showed some of the enthusiasm she normally tried to keep bottled for when she was alone in her lab. Kara Danvers had an uncanny way of drawing out her unmasked self until she was rambling about her work and talking with excited hand gestures that Lillian always chided her for but she could never quite suppress.

The interview was over before she knew and Jess was popping her head into the office with barely concealed surprise at the fact that Lena had almost let it run over to escort Kara out again.

But she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she saw Kara Danvers.

———

Kara’s article came out a week later and Lena filled her office with flowers in thanks. Kara called her within an hour.

They arranged to go to brunch together which turned into another brunch the next week, and then a lunch date, and then trying out a new cafe, and then more interviews. Lena found herself adding calls after work with Kara into her routine and messaging Sam about how often was appropriate to text a new friend. (Sam was no help but Lena refused to give in to the urge to google it.)

Kara saved her as Supergirl and it wasn’t long before she accidentally revealed her identity and Lena sheepishly told her she already knew.

It was a few weeks before Kara visited her office without the pretence of an interview.

Lena was reading through a contract when there was a knock at her office door and Kara walked in with a paper bag.

“Miss Danvers! Miss Danvers!”

Kara looked back down the hallway with a frown as Jess hissed her name, rushing into the office after her.

Jess turned to Lena apologetically. “I’m so sorry Miss Luthor, I was only gone for a minute to get a coffee and she must have slipped in.”

Kara looked to Lena in slight panic. “Oh no am I interrupting?”

Lena capped her pen and stood with a placating smile. “It’s quite alright, Kara. I can take a short break.”

Kara couldn’t hide the hopeful way her eyes lit up but she still asked, “are you sure?”

Lena tried to counter the way her heart strained slightly as she glanced at her timed schedule with a bright smile, ignoring Jess’ mildly concerned look. “Of course.”

Kara stayed and ate amazing donuts with her while they talked and laughed for over an hour. The reminder of work was constantly in her mind but she pushed it aside to prolong the wonderful experience of sharing donuts with Kara Danvers. Until Jess informed her she had her next meeting and Kara left and the stress of her messed up schedule came crashing back down, piling up as the day went on and each item on her list for the day got pushed back or rearranged.

It was nearing 10pm when Kara found her at her desk with her head in her hands, desperately trying to ignore her headache and not let her emotions overwhelm her.

“Lena?” Supergirl landed softly on her balcony, stepping gently into her office and crouching down beside her. “Lena is everything okay?”

Lena just screwed her eyes shut tighter, unable to do anything else.

“Lena, can you take some deep breaths for me?” Kara carefully opened her desk drawer and took out the noise cancelling headphones as she softly counted breaths. She gently placed them over Lena’s ears and the incessant humming of her computer and the lights and the wind faded.

Lena slowly removed her hands from her head and blinked, still feeling sluggish.

“Will you let me take you home?”

She nodded, holding out her arms and letting Kara scoop her up into a surprisingly strong and calming grip. She let her head rest in the crook of Kara’s neck and just breathed as they flew back to her penthouse.

Lena found herself curled up on her couch, wrapped in a blanket, as she began to come back to herself.

Kara wandered over from the kitchen, gently setting two mugs of tea on the coffee table and sitting down on the other end of the couch. Lena removed the headphones and murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ as she picked up her mug.

She could tell Kara was looking at her with worry. “Did I make things hard by turning up at your office today?”

Lena stared down at her mug, heart clenching. “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you! Or that I didn’t really enjoy the donuts or anything…”

Kara sighed, shuffling a little closer. “Lena, it’s okay. I want to respect your boundaries but you have to let me know what they are so that I can.”

Lena swirled her tea in the mug as she figured out what she wanted to say. “I don’t like it when my plans change. I really like seeing you, but I like to know when. It makes me stressed to have to rearrange my plans when I’ve got a sequence of how to do them already in my head.”

“Okay.” Kara smiled softly. “Thank you for letting me know.”

———

They scheduled in visits after that and Lena found herself smiling at her desk, looking forward to each and every one of them, thinking about all the things she had to tell Kara that day.

Their lunches increased to at least twice a week and movie nights became a regular fixture too. Some evenings Kara would come over and they would just sit in comfortable silence, doing their own things, happy to be in each others’ presence.

Lena found her smiles growing and her heart fluttering around Kara. Kara could hear her affect if her shy smiles each time it happened were anything to go by.

Kara was the only other person allowed in Lena’s private lab. While Lena loved her visits down to R&D, she valued the organisation and quiet of her personal lab. Kara understood that and happily watched her work and listened to her excited explanations without interrupting.

Kara sat quietly, doodling in her notebook while Lena revised the code of one of her projects. She looked up when Lena grinned, tapping excitedly on the desk in front of the computer.

“Is the code working?” Kara stood from her seat to peer at the screen as it ran through a simulation of the code.

“Potentially.”

The program ended, perfectly completing its function, and Lena squealed in delight. She turned to Kara and threw her arms around her, basking in the deep pressure of Kara’s tight grip as she lifted her off the ground and spun her round.

“It worked!”

Kara put her down again, beaming at her. “You’re amazing, Lena.”

Lena’s heart skipped a beat and Kara’s eyes flicked down momentarily as if to track the noise, flicking back up with a blush just as quick.

Lena bit her lip, a light flush dusting her own cheeks. “Thank you.”

Kara’s eyes dipped down again, seeming to get stuck at her lips. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “Can I kiss you?”

Lena’s heart stopped all together as the air rushed from her lungs. “Yes.”

And for a moment the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

#supercorp #have some Autistic Lena :) #I hope it makes somebody happy #a ‘lotl writing

[dogmascutie]

Hi Dee! 💖 I am wondering about Dogma’s first holiday season with the Corrie guard (or first with Babygirl). Do you think the guard sneaks in nice food, or tries to make or find little gifts? I know their days and shifts must go on, but I like to think they try to find some small moments to celebrate.

hi jess! i am sorry this is so late, but i wanted to answer before the holiday season ended! i know christmas doesn’t exist within the star wars universe, but i’m feeling self-indulgent, so let’s pretend it and life day are basically 1:1 as far as similarities! this is how i think dogma and babygirl, as well as the corries, would celebrate 🥰

so, first off, i imagine the clones traveling aboard starships and regularly seeing battle, may not celebrate life day! it probably varies from jedi to jedi how important the holiday is, and so one battalion’s general may make it a big deal where the next doesn’t celebrate it at all.

also, being that they’re often out in space and time works weird there, it’s probably forgotten about a lot of the time. what i’m saying is, up until his transfer to coruscant, dogma either straight up didn’t know what life day involved, or thought it was just a day where the meals in the mess were a little more festive. he wasn’t big on celebrations before umbara anyway, so even if the 501st did have a mini party on life day, he likely wasn’t participating/enjoying it

babygirl, meanwhile, bc again, this is self-indulgent, is obsessed with life day.

dogma doesn’t realize this is going to be a small problem for him (in the sense that he thinks he has to make it perfect for her bc he puts too much pressure on himself) until the holiday season actually starts, and she’s wearing holiday sweaters and singing carols and excitedly decorating her office and oh. oh no. his girlfriend is a life day nut and his understanding of life day is made up mostly of hardcase chasing the captain around with a poster of a holodrama star and mistletoe, insisting he has to kiss her.

he runs to lot and his other friends and lies only kind of badly about a hypothetical situation in which a man wants to make the holiday good for his girlfriend, but doesn’t know how. lot is delighted, bc, of course, lot is also a life day nut.

they spend the next week or two exhausted during their shifts bc half of their allotted sleeping time is spent watching life day themed holovids and catching dogma up on regular civvie traditions. dogma misses out on nights he could’ve spent with babygirl studying. i need to stress to you how goddamn panicked he is that he’s gonna mess this up somehow. babygirl doesn’t care. she figured he wasn’t familiar and just wanted to spend the time with him. they are a funny couple that are close to my heart.

anyway, when she finds out the lengths he went to understand, she prohibits him from making any attempt to give her a gift. the effort was far and above what most would do, and the way he tries to fulfill all her life day traditions means more to her than any gift could. when he gets a night off, they bake cookies and watch one of her absolute favorite holovids. that’s as crazy as it gets for those two, but it’s very sweet and loving, and, i think, in character.

the guard, however, they’re a different story.

unlike the battalions away at war, the men on the home-front are more familiar with civvie traditions and have experienced them more commonly. they don’t get off on the holiday or anything, bc the clones don’t get much of anything, but they do notice that things get cheerier, that people who would ordinarily be nasty to them are a little kinder, that locals send them home-cooked meals as thank yous for their service. it’s nice. it makes the corries warm up to the holidays quickly.

the guard doesn’t get particularly cozy with all civilians, but the ones they are cozy with (aka the ones they work with), they trust to decorate the detention center nicely and in general make the atmosphere warm and jolly. simple, small decorations, like handmade snowflakes and some tinsel here and there, but appreciated decorations nonetheless.

there is a small gift exchange. it’s voluntary and not at all required, and entirely organized by hound. the commanders yell at him that it’s too much pressure on top of his other duties, but for hound it’s a joy he doesn’t get often, doing something for fun for his brothers, so he insists on continuing the tradition.

the gifts are unusual and small, often handmade from scraps, but they’re very much appreciated by the brothers who participate. it’s a very sweet, quiet, and unknown-to-the-outside-world activity that the corries do. hound is very proud of this idea of his.

there are multiple parties every year around life day. fox and thire try to stop them - not bc they’re party poopers, but bc other battalions somehow always get invited, and it’s a goddamn mess every year. one time fox had to cure bly’s hangover via bacta tank. he’s never doing that shit again. jedi freak him out enough as it is - now aayla secura has his name on a hit list, fox is sure of it.

the parties are the part of the year most corries look toward to, including commanders thorn and stone. this obviously makes thire and fox’s work that much more difficult, bc when staples of the events are two of the commanders, the other two aren’t really being listened to. it causes arguments basically every single year.

it’s a lot of “i love you man” energy at the parties, just bros being bros and hugging and talking about old times and shit, but somehow it always gets out of hand no matter how hard anyone tries to put a lid on it. no one knows who invited the other battalions, or the handful of jedi who somehow show up, or the civilian dj who gets paid in exposure bc this is THE party of the year, but that person really needs to stop bc he’s screwing over everybody else, and, like, the reason it gets out of hand is bc of all these extra people, dude. we need to keep it just corries, okay?

(it’s lot. lot invites these extra people. he doesn’t mean to. he’s just very friendly.)

most of the refreshments are “donated” which is to say someone swipes them from a variety of big chain supermarkets. the way the clones see it, the republic isn’t doing much for them, so, why shouldn’t they get a treat? this is one aspect thire and fox don’t particularly try to put an end to.

overall, the holidays are beloved by the corries! they just don’t always know how to celebrate them in a responsible way. but when it comes to it, and they are a little gentler in their teasing, a little longer with their hugs on life day, they find the spirit of the season by appreciating each other 💞

#this went on forever i’m so sorry 😭 #i just love holidays so much hehe #thank you for this ask jess! #saradika #ask dee

[chrysanthemumgames]

hi jess!!! the update was absolutely superb :D i think ive replayed foa around. a quadrillion times! its absolutely delightful and id like to thank You for putting so much hard work into this <3333 i know myself and many others read the update and went “wow! i think i will sell my soul for this if :D” thank you so much and much love <33

Isaac! Thank youuuu! I'm always a little stunned to hear people like to replay it so much, but it makes writing all the variations and choosable scenes feel very worth it! <3

#ask #issacbon #kind non-anons