#so the epilogue was hella sad

[simp4wom3n]

The Quiet One PtIV

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary: Following the tragic events in the apartment, Tara seeks Y/n's forgiveness when they eventually wake up and must navigate trying to catch Ghostface before he manages to attack them again. ~ Word Count: 7.154k ~ Warnings: descriptions of blood, wounds, and scars, swearing, hella bad grief

A/N: HI!!! pt iv ladies and gentlemen is HERE! In the process of writing this I quite literally had a dream about the plot so idk what that says about it but hey I hope you guys enjoy it - it's a bit less angsty than the last one but pt v will be the final part (plus maybe a pt vi as a nice little epilogue idk yet) anyways ENJOY <3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4

The sight of your body lying still, helpless on a cold hospital bed, tormented Tara as she sat cautiously by your side, the slight movement of your chest and the distant steady beeps of your pulse doing little to settle her racing thoughts.

Her tormented eyes remained focused on the large white bandage that covered most of the left side of your face, the haunting image of your bloodied body as she ran towards you flashing before her every time she dared to close her eyes.

Yes, the doctors managed to save you. To close your wound and stop your bleeding. Yet your sight had managed to slip away from you.

A new scar would now run its course up the length of your face. Your previous y/e/c eye would now turn an unsettling white, the colour and sight draining away whilst you slept peacefully unaware.

(What I'm imagining the scar looks like)

Tara's mind was plagued with images of what might've happened to you, the trauma you had gone through whilst she uselessly attempted to knock your front door down, furious at Chad for pulling her away from you. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she fidgeted in her seat, drowning in guilt.

The night of the party was a day she would likely never forget, not for the murder of her two classmates, but for the fight she had with you, or more accurately, for when she unjustly blamed you for everything going wrong in her life. She blamed you for being too overprotective, for being too clingy.

For loving her.

She had blamed one of the few people who knew the truth about her past and loved her for it. She had known the moment her words left her mouth that you were heartbroken, tears instantly welling in your eyes as your lips trembled uncontrollably.

When you ran away from her, her own heart shattered. She hadn't seen you that upset since the night at the hospital, a night you refuse to talk about to this day. Everyone you had ever loved, whether by choice or not, had abandoned you. Everyone except her.

And she asked you to let her go.

She scoffed at her own stupidity. Sure, she was distraught when she eventually followed you back to the apartment, yet instead of apologising and begging for your forgiveness, she hid in your bedroom, where she hoped no one would talk to her.

And oh, was she wrong.

She ran straight to your bedroom as soon as she got home, a small part of her hoping you were waiting for her at the end of your shared bed. Your face would light up with your infectious giddy smile before you would pull her into a warm embrace and cover her face in kisses.

Sadly, her hopes were shattered when she entered the dark room, flicking on the lights only to find you weren't there. She visibly deflated as she walked towards the dresser, picking up her inhaler and inhaling it deeply to calm her erratic breathing.

She closes her eyes as she exhales, the weight in her chest not getting any lighter. A few soft knocks on the door cause her to open her eyes and slowly glance in their direction. "You doing ok?" asks Quinn, who was standing in the doorway, a sad smile on her face. "H-how do you-" "I saw y/n come in... she's hiding in Sam's room which I figured meant you guys fought or something." She spoke softly as she walked further into the room, taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed.

"Right..." Tara exhaled, taking a seat next to Quinn as she let her face fall into her hands with a groan. "I fucked up" was all that came out of her mouth as Quinn looked at her sympathetically. "Well, if you really did 'fuck up', there's only one thing you can do." Tara looked at Quinn expectantly. "Go apologise!" Tara groaned at the thought. "She doesn't want to talk to me." "You don't know that."

A moment of silence passed before Quinn moved to stand up, causing Tara to look up and notice Chad standing in the doorway. "Just talk to her, ok?" Quinn spoke as she moved to leave the room, giving Tara one last smile before letting Chad close the door behind her. Tara watched as he placed a bottle of pills on the dresser before taking a seat next to her.

She really wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, her brain already working overtime to try and comprehend everything that had gone on within the past hour, plus the fact that she was definitely still tipsy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as his shoulder rubbed against hers in a way that only made her cringe. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?" she responded sourly, her eyes focused on her hands that fidget in her lap. "Because we care about you.". At his cheesy words, Tara finally lifts her head to look at him, only to realise how close Chad really is.

As he turned his head to look directly into her eyes, Tara could feel his breath fanning across her face. She looked at him, frozen in confusion. She watched as his eyes glanced towards her lips before he leaned in closer.

Before she could pull away, the bedroom door flew open, allowing her to look away from him. Quinn stands in the doorway, her mouth falling open as she stares in shock.

"Did I cockblock you?"

Her question makes Tara's eyes widen, her jaw slack as she glares at Quinn in disbelief. "Wait! Did you break up with y/n?! I thought you guys just fought or...". Tara reeled in astonishment and her words. "W-What are you talking about?"

Chad's constant denial went unheard by the girl as she tried to comprehend what was happening, her chest growing so tight it became hard for her to breathe. "No, no, of course we didn't.", she stuttered. At this point, Chad was making his escape, standing up abruptly and pushing past Quinn and into the hallway, where his face went from one of irritation to guilt.

The sound of rapid footsteps broke Tara out of her trance as she shot to her feet. She bolted out her bedroom door just fast enough to catch your retreating figure, her face dropping at the realisation that you heard the conversation.

She was once again frozen to her spot, her face growing ashen as she watched in numb horror as you, once again, ran away from her.

"What have I done."

A hoarse cough echoed through the bleak room as Tara returned to reality, her eyes blinking rapidly as they turned towards your previously unmoving figure. You were awake. "Oh my god, y/n?!" She shot out of her chair and immediately rushed to your side.

Her hand found yours as she watched your face contort in discomfort, your single bloodshot eye eventually finding hers. "Hey." She spoke softly, a smile of relief appearing on her lips. "Hi." you groan drearily, reaching your hand up to wipe the exhaustion out of your eyes.

As your hand comes into contact with your face, your body jolts with pain as you whimper in surprise. "Careful!" Tara's spare hand carefully grabs yours, pulling it away from your fresh injury as your open eye meets hers in fear. "It's ok, y/n, it's ok.".

You grunt lowly in pain as you move to sit up, Tara helping you as she places pillows behind your back for you to fall back on. Once you were settled, her hand still in yours as she tenderly brushed over your knuckles, you turned your head towards her with tears falling from your eye.

"What happened?" you question in a broken whisper, hot tears trickling down your cheek. She wipes your cheek dry with her soft hand and stares at you sadly, a ghost of a smile on her face. "You'll be fine. You just... you won't be able to see with that eye." She speaks gently, gesturing subtly towards your bandage-covered eye.

You sniffle softly as you turn your face away from her with a subtle nod, a distant expression on your face as you let the news settle in. "You'll have a scar... but other than that, you're perfectly fine, and everything will be ok... I promise.".

Her eyebrows furrow slightly at the sound of your laughter. Worried that she had offended you, she proceeded to apologise, but you interrupted her, joking, "If only I had my pirate costume.". You looked back at her with a cheeky smile creeping onto your lips, your eye carrying a mischievous glint as she couldn't help but chuckle.

You would be lying to yourself if you tried to deny that you were incredibly high, the high dose of painkillers doing their job a little too well. "What? Too soon?". Tara tried her best to contain her laughter with her hand, finally breaking as your laughter once again filled her ears.

"You're really fucking high, aren't you?" she eventually asks through her easing laughter. "Mmm, maybe." you respond with a delirious grin, winking at your girlfriend before letting your head fall back onto your pillows.

Tara's previously joyful expression starts to fade as she returns to the reality of the situation. She grabs a chair from behind her and sits next to you, pulling your hand into a comforting hold before bringing it to her lips and kissing your knuckles gently.

As you tilt your head towards her, your gaze meets hers again. A few hazy memories began to flash through your head, the most devastating of which was the sight of Anika's corpse lying cold and bloody at the foot of the few-storey drop you had climbed across. Regardless, seeing your girlfriend never fails to put your mind at ease.

"I should've been there." She spoke softly, regret evident in her tone. Your forehead wrinkles slightly as you hear her words. Tara had always been confident, so seeing her riddled with remorse was unusual for you. Even so, your cheeks did warm slightly at the idea of her caring so deeply about you.

You squeeze her hand with yours as you give her a thankful smile. "You were safe... that's all I care about.". You weren't lying. You would happily have your good eye sliced if it meant she was safe - she was truly all that you cared about anymore. "I don't deserve you.", Tara whispered dejectedly, your words being no help in alleviating her guilt as her saddened gaze fell to the floor.

As much as you hated to admit it, there was a small voice in the back of your mind that agreed with her. You were never the confident one in the relationship, but at this moment in time, both of you knew that you didn't deserve any of what you had experienced throughout the past few days.

The girl had an eternal hold on you. Seeing her upset would always pull on your heartstrings no matter what you did. And at the end of the day, there was nothing you wouldn't do for the girl, and there was nothing Tara could do that would stop you from loving her, except maybe if she were Ghostface, but even then, you couldn't promise anything.

"Come here." You tug her hand gently, shifting yourself over on the bed so her small form can fit next to you. Her surprised gaze meets yours before she climbs onto the bed hesitantly, slipping her legs under the thin hospital blanket before snuggling up to you. She gently lays her head on your shoulder, carefully avoiding accidentally knocking your healing scar.

You feel her body melt into yours as you wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to you as you let out a satisfied sigh at the contact. Your hand gently rubs circles on her arm as the two of you sit momentarily in each other's presence, enjoying the silence of the hospital room filled with nothing but the soothing sound of your heartbeat.

"There's no one else I'd rather love." Despite your bandages, you whispered into her hair and placed a small kiss amongst her dark hair. She sits up, turning her head to look you in the eye as her soft eyes meet yours. You observe her swallow harshly as she purses her lips, debating whether or not to tell you something.

"Gale found where the masks are coming from.". Your eye widened slightly at the news, the previously steady sound of your heartbeat from the monitor speeding up. "Ok... and that's a good thing, right?" "Y-yeh... but now that you're awake, I've got to investigate it with the others."

Now you understand why she was hesitant.

"Ok. Well, I'm coming with you.". Tara's previously apologetic eyes widen as she watches you pull the blanket off of yourself before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "W-wait! No, you have to stay here." You turn your head towards her with your eyebrow raised, shooting her an unspoken 'seriously?' before sighing.

"Last time I didn't go with you, you were attacked... and it's not that I don't trust you, I-... I'm going, Tara. End of discussion.". She immediately swallowed down her rebuttal; the assertion in your voice was unlike any she had heard from you before.

You turned your attention back to getting out of the confined space that was this random New York hospital, the painkillers that still ran through your system hitting you once again as you stood up, your head spinning momentarily.

Noticing your slight wobble, Tara snaps out of her shocked haze and rushes to your side, carefully grabbing ahold of your arm in support as she leads you to the bathroom so you can change out of your paper-thin hospital gown.

"I'll get the nurse," she speaks swiftly as she makes sure you're ok before running out of the room.

Surprisingly, you were discharged from the hospital effortlessly, with nothing but a smaller bandage and a prescription for more painkillers in your possession as you walked out the doors. When you were finally reunited with the others, Sam and Mindy pulled you into bone-crushing hugs, having not seen you since you passed out.

"Thank god you're ok!" Sam said as she pulled away with a relieved smile. You returned the smile before looking over her shoulder, your gaze landing on a large Ghostface mural painted on one of the walls that lined the alleyway that apparently led to Ghostface's 'base'.

"Apparently, they used fake names to rent this place," Gale said as she went past you, Kirby close behind her, arguing about how she had managed to find the place. Your feet remained in place, your gaze fixed on the imposing tribute that towered over you.

"Y/n?" Your attention was drawn to your girlfriend, who was staring back at you expectantly as the rest of the party entered the building further ahead of her. "Coming, sorry.". Tara looked at you amusedly as you walked towards her as quickly as your slightly dazed state allowed.

As Gale pulled open the bulky metal doors and led you into the building, you were confronted with a dark and dusty stairway leading up to some type of cage. "Well, isn't this lovely." You joked, hesitantly following the others up the decrepit steps behind Tara, your collective slow and heavy breaths reverberating around the dark unknown beyond the rusted bars.

The loud beep and rattle of the old cell-like door being swung open rings in your ears as you slowly walk further into the building, purposely staying close to Tara's side. "What is this place? What's with all the security?" Sam asked as Gale moved towards a power board, flicking a switch that lit up the entire vast space, the sudden brightness stinging your fragile eye.

As your sight adjusts and scans the area around you, your impaired gaze travels across a giant, worn-white screen dangling from the crumbling ceiling. Your and Tara's like-mindedness becomes apparent, with the two of you appearing to reach the same conclusion after a brief silence. "It's a movie theatre."

"It's not just a theatre. It's a shrine."

The dingy screen slowly ascends, revealing a scene straight out of your nightmares. Nine Ghostfaces lined the stage, a horrifying cloning of a costume you constantly begged to never see again. With a shiver running its course through your body, you took cautious steps forward, dragging your feet underneath you before you came to a halt.

Instead of the rows of chairs you and Tara had become accustomed to in a movie theatre throughout your frequent visits, displays and artifacts from past massacres covered the floor, causing the colour to drain from your face.

As you walked further into the shrine, your eyes examining each and every item, admittedly fascinated by it all, Tara followed and watched you from a small distance. She watched as your posture went rigid as your gaze landed on a particular glass case.

A section entirely dedicated to Dewey.

Your eye brimmed with tears as you scanned over the items. Photos of the man you once trusted and loved stared back at you. The same man who was the sole reason you had made it to this very moment. Your tears finally fell as your focus shifted to a drawing that was displayed front and centre.

The cautious footsteps approaching you from behind didn't faze you as your blurry vision drank in the gruesome illustration of Dewey's corpse, an image that had remained up to your imagination until now.

Until now, you had avoided thinking about anything to do with that night. Whenever his name was mentioned, you immediately changed the subject, refusing to give your mind the freedom to relive and picture what happened.

You were constantly trying to distract yourself, desperate to move on with your life as if nothing ever happened.

Someone's gentle touch on your arm startled you, your clouded vision finally leaving the memorial and landing on your worried girlfriend. Her soft gaze met yours as her thumb traced circles on your exposed skin, sending a warmer shiver down your spine.

She briefly glanced over her shoulder before she slid her hand into yours, gently pulling you away from the collection and into a separate room. An abandoned confectionary stand stood at one end of the room, the wall opposite it decorated with posters from all the previous stab movies.

Tara stops you in the middle of the room, finally turning around to look at you, her eyes filled with guilt. Your heart beats faster in your chest as she remains silent, her tongue nervously running along her dry lips as she gathers the strength to speak.

"I was wrong." she starts, your eye slightly widening in surprise - you were expecting something much worse than an apology. You could feel her hand sweating in yours, her nerves growing glaringly obvious.

"I took all my anger out on you, and I'm so, so sorry, y/n.". Your gaze softened as you watched her small form shake with nerves, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as she took a steadying breath.

"I just want to be a normal person again... I don't want to be a part of this... I don't want you to be a part of this.". You quickly realised where she was going with this. Much like Sam, she felt incredible guilt over pulling you and all the others into the 'franchise', both of the girls blaming themselves for everything your group had gone through over the past year.

No matter many times you had told her it wasn't her fault, that she shouldn't be blaming herself for the actions of film-obsessed psychos, she never listened.

"Everything shitty that has happened to you has been my fault. Mine!... If it weren't for me being a stupid fucking legacy and dragging you into this, you would be happy, living safely in Woodsboro.". Her words were sharp, yet her anger was purely directed at herself. She knew, whether you would admit it or not, that your life would have been better without her. No scars, no trauma, no Ghostface.

"For fuck sake, you'd still be able to see from both your eyes!". You gently bit your bottom lip as you averted your gaze away from your crying girlfriend. Did she have a point? Sure.

You wouldn't be here if you had never talked to her or fallen head over heels for her. That was a fact. You would live alone in your old filthy trailer while your parents' location remained unknown, wasting the rest of your days working as a newspaper delivery kid on your rusted bike. Ghostface would still exist, but he wouldn't touch you.

You would be living peacefully.

Happily though?

Living in Woodsboro, a town known for psychotic murderers who dressed up in Halloween costumes, there was absolutely nothing there that filled you with an ounce of happiness.

Until you met Tara.

If you had learnt anything over the past several months, Tara was your happiness - as cheesy as that was to say. So, while you could be back in your cramped trailer drowning in debt with two eyes and no PTSD, you would unquestionably choose to be standing here with Tara in New York with half your vision.

That said, you return your gaze to the girl in front of you, her face painted red as tears creep down her delicate cheeks as you step closer. You give her a thankful smile before slipping your hands around her shoulders, pulling her into a warm hug. You bury your face gently into her shoulder, inhaling her scent as she wraps her arms tightly around your waist.

Despite standing in a building filled with Ghostface memorabilia, you had never felt safer as you closed your eye and drank in her warm presence. The two of you swayed gently, breathing in sync as you melted into each other.

Your bliss is broken when the door from the shrine is swung open, causing the two of your heads to snap towards the sound. Detective Bailey, Gale, and Sam walk through the door, their faces all painted with determination as they approach the two of you.

"I think I might have an idea about how to turn the tables on this creep."

Walking through a park in the middle of the day wasn't what you had first imagined when you were told about their plan to capture Ghostface, yet here you were. The plan was simple.

Step 1: You, Tara, and Sam would walk around the park nonchalantly and await a call from Ghostface.

Step 2: Kirby, who was bunked up with Mindy, Chad, and Ethan in a van parked just outside the park, would track the call and locate its precise location, thus locating Ghostface.

Step 3: Along with Detective Bailey, you take the fucker down.

In theory, it was flawless. In practice... not so much.

As you walked through the busy park, your hand tightly interlocked with Tara's, your head whirled around, glancing over your shoulder every other second. Sam was just in front of the two of you on comms with Kirby and Bailey as they ran through the plan for the hundredth time.

Your stare shifted from stranger to stranger as you walked along the walkway that ran around the enormous pond in the centre of the park, some of whom were dressed in costumes. "Why the fuck are so many people wearing costumes?" you asked Tara, bending down and whispering in her ear. "It's creepy even if we weren't being stalked by a psycho."

Tara's reply was cut short by Sam's phone ringing, her gaze shifting to the two of you as she took her phone from her back pocket. 'Maybe: Richie Kirsch' was displayed on the screen, a disturbingly normal contact photo accompanying it.

Tara inched closer to you as you all stopped in your tracks. Your gaze darted around, checking each and every corner you could as Sam pulled the phone to her ear.

"Your gonna die, you know?" she spoke confidently. "No, you're gonna die, Samantha!." you heard faintly, the familiar chilling voice causing your jaw to clench instinctively. "Choking on your own blood whilst I hack up your sister!" he spoke menacingly.

Your girlfriend's hand was still in yours as you cast an anxious glance down at her. She shifted slightly as she cast a troubled glance up at you, her once delicate grip on your hand growing tighter as the conversation dragged on.

"Unless we find you first." "For a mastermind, you're not very bright. Waiting for me to call, desperately hoping I'm nearby so the police can grab me?". He was mocking you. Sam's face paled as her eyes desperately searched the area around her, still holding onto hope that he was lying, that he was meddling with you in hopes of killing one of you.

"But I'm not nearby. I'm a step ahead... Be seeing you, Samantha.". Your stomachs all collectively dropped as he hung up the phone. Sam stared blankly at the screen for a moment whilst you and Tara stood shoulder to shoulder with matching worried gazes.

"Did you get it?". Sam finally spoke, her determination eventually overcoming her surprise. "Yep, geolocation coming through right now.". You drew comforting circles on the back of Tara's knuckles as you waited in tense silence for Kirby to track the location, your heart stumbling over its own rhythm.

"He's on the upper west side. He's inside an apartment building halfway across the city.". Whilst a slight bit of you was relieved that he wasn't directly behind you, a sickening wave of terror simultaneously erupted in your gut.

"On West 96th?". Your fear worsened at Tara's words. You admittedly knew very little about New York, preferring to stay in or around your apartment and college campus, but if you knew anything, it was who lived on West 96th. "How did you know that?" Kirby's voice rang through the comms.

"Gale."

In the blink of an eye, you are all hectically running towards Bailey's vehicle with him just behind you. You were hot on Tara's tail as your mind struggled to comprehend how Ghostface had outsmarted you. How did he know your plan? How did he know that you had stupidly left Gale unprotected? It made no sense to you.

"Sam, wait! Take a minute!" Bailey called after you, slowing your quick steps as you all turned around angrily. "We don't have a minute!" Sam retaliated, your stare throwing daggers at Bailey, his audacity to try and stop you from leaving and possibly saving Gale causing your body to burn in anger.

"Sam, you have to trust me." you scoffed at his words, looking at him incredulously at his attempt to play the trust card. There were only a few people you trusted, and he certainly wasn't one of them.

You were so preoccupied with your scepticism that you didn't notice Tara leave your side. Tara's shout of your names, accompanied by a blaring car horn, prompts you and Sam to turn around, where you see Tara seated in the driver's seat of Bailey's cop car.

"Get in."

With the sirens blasting whilst Tara weaves in and out of traffic, you are sat in the back seat, drumming your fingers frantically on your knee as you watch other cars zoom past in a blur. Sam's conversation with 911 was drowned out by your irregular heartbeat, your anxiety worsening as you closed in on Gale's apartment.

As your destination drew closer, your gaze briefly met Tara's through the rearview mirror. Your lips quirked upwards slightly as her eyes returned to the road, turning the car onto West 96th. The sun had fallen behind the tall buildings that lined the street, leaving the road drowned in shadows as Tara finally slowed the car to a halt.

As the three of you dashed inside and towards the elevator, the second you stepped inside, your body became rigid as the colour drained from your face. Vivid memories of a night that was all too familiar to what was happening right now flashed before your eyes.

The desperate car drive. The frantic running towards the elevator. The groaning of the elevator as it tediously climbed.

As the thick metal doors closed, a knot constricted your throat, making breathing difficult as your breaths became thin and ragged. You sucked in a ragged deep breath, attempting to conceal your panic from the others.

Your pleading gaze eventually landed on your girlfriend, who stood beside you. Shifting your focus to her empty hand, you wasted no time in grasping it in yours, your grip strong yet gentle as you held onto her desperately.

Tara casts you a worried glance as she notices your tense stance and sweaty palms, hoping your gaze will fall on hers. Your jaw was clamped shut as you kept your sight locked on the elevator door, taking long and deep breaths as you let Tara's touch ground you, the feeling of her hand in yours causing warmth to flood through your previously frozen figure.

As the floor numbers tick by and Gale's penthouse approaches, she gives your hand one last reassuring squeeze before the elevator dings. As the doors open, you let go of each other's hands as you bolt out, turning to your left to be greeted by Ghostface, holding his knife inches away from Gale's face.

"Hey, Fuckface!" Sam shouts, capturing the killer's attention as she picks up a discarded pistol off the ground and fires at them. Missing all her shots in a panic, Sam attempts to chase after them as they run away. The sound of the stair doors slamming shut and retreating footsteps ring out through the now quiet apartment as your focus shifts to a wounded Gale.

"Gale." you spoke in a suffocated whisper, Tara hot on your tail as you ran towards her. As you fell to your knees next to her, your eye grew impossibly wide at the sight of blood pouring rapidly out of her stomach, an all-too-familiar crimson colour staining her clothes.

Placing your shaking hands on top of her stab wound in an attempt to slow the never-ending stream of blood, she groans in pain as her eyes squeeze shut weakly. "Sorry." you whisper breathlessly, a thick haze clouding your rational mind as your thoughts become erratic.

"He didn't get me.". Her pained words hit you like a truck. Sam had made her way onto her knees next to you as Gale's eyes drooped. Sam tried to beckon her awake with broken pleas, tears falling down her cheeks as her heart sunk with guilt.

Her eyelids twitched as Gale managed to open her eyes marginally one last time. The hair on the back of your next stood up straight as her tired gaze met yours, the tiniest of smiles creeping its way onto her lips.

"I'll tell Dewey you said hi."

Your heart stopped as you were hit with a sudden wave of nausea. The pressure you were applying to her torso weakened as your eyes flooded with tears, transfixed with horror as you were unable to look away no matter how much you tried.

You only heard the distant sound of sirens once paramedics rushed into the penthouse. You stood abruptly and backed away from everyone, seemingly terrified of being touched. Your lips trembled violently as your blurred stare never left Gale's unconscious body.

Hot tears cascaded down your face, several of which soaked through the bandage that had managed to withhold the tears from your wounded eye until now. Your body shook violently as you tried to contain your sobs by slapping your hand over your mouth.

The mention of Dewey's name always affected you. You'd always felt the usual burn of tears and constriction of your throat, but this time was different. This time completely broke you.

At the sound of your stifled sobs, Tara's focus shifted from her distraught sister to you. Her heart broke when she saw your defeated figure. As she slowly approached you, It was hard to see past the tears clouding your eyes which remained frozen on Gale.

Your attention was forced to shift when your girlfriend placed herself directly in front of you, forcing you to gaze at her brokenly. She watches as your sobs begin to spill past your wet lips, weakness finally taking over you as you collapse to your knees.

Tara quickly followed you to the floor, wrapping you in her arms as she cradled your head against her chest, your tears soaking through her shirt.

No matter how much you cried or how much Tara tried to comfort you, the ache in your chest would not relent. It burned without end as though to remind you of your loss, the loss you had so desperately avoided thinking about until it now came uncontrollably pouring out of you.

All the pain and grief you had been running away from finally caught up to you, sinking its teeth in deep, wounding you unlike you had ever been wounded before.

Your chest felt hollow. Your mouth was open, loosely hanging in an empty expression of despair as you finally pulled away from your girlfriend's comforting hold. Her eyes scanned your drained expression, a few stray tears escaping and trickling down your reddened face.

Your bandage was completely saturated with tears, making it feel heavy on your face. Tara noticed your discomfort and slowly raised her hands up to your face, lingering around the top of your bandage. "Do you want me to-" "Please."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and gently touched the edge of your bandage. Her icy fingers on your burning face sent shivers down your spine. You began to panic as she began to take your soaked dressing off, not knowing what awaited Tara underneath.

She slowly pulled the wet gauze off of your delicate skin, eventually revealing your healing scar. Her gaze was drawn to a wide, dull pink scar that extended from your jaw to your brow bone, with rich purples and blues running the borders where your remaining stitches could be seen.

Her attention was drawn to the twitching of your left eye, which glistened with the remnants of tears. She watched as you slowly opened your eye for the first time. Despite being warned about what would happen to your eye, she couldn't help but be taken aback when your piercing e/c iris was replaced with a pale white that stretched the full length of your eye.

The faint smile that had been building on your lips collapsed, your head dropping in an attempt to avoid her sight, as you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. You obviously didn't know what you looked like, but if the dull ache that constantly ran up the length of your face indicated anything, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Y/n, hey. Look at me." Your girlfriend's sweet voice lifted your head back up, the sadness that lingered in your eyes slowly dissolving as she looked at you with a compassionate smile, her cheeks dimpled subtly. "You look beautiful." She spoke softly yet firmly, her hands moving up to cup your face lovingly while avoiding your tender scar.

"You're just saying that." You shook your head gently, her words failing to convince you that you look anything other than hideous. Tara was easily the most gorgeous person you had ever laid eyes on, and the fact that she somehow liked you back in the first place never ceased to amaze you.

Now you were convinced it was just illogical.

"Let me prove it then."

Despite the new scar on your face, whilst it served as a cruel reminder of the night that you were almost taken from her, Tara only sees the person that had thrown their life away for her. The person who had saved her life numerous times, and would willingly do it again even if it meant losing themselves.

She only saw the person she had fallen head over heels in love with.

Tara drew you closer as she wrapped her arms around your neck, gently connecting your lips as hers softened against yours. She was careful not to hurt you with her kiss at first, her lips moving tenderly against yours in a manner that spreads warmth throughout your chest like an open flame.

You felt yourself relax as her fingers traced comforting patterns on the back of your neck as you kissed, letting go of the self-consciousness that had been gnawing at you since she carefully removed your bandage. Tara's lips soothed all of your pain and insecurities like a balm.

It was a long kiss, full of emotions that were too complex to put into words. It was a kiss that told you that Tara was there for you, that she loved you no matter what, and that, unlike everyone else in your life, she would never leave you.

And that was exactly what you needed.

As your lips finally parted from each other, you were both breathless and flushed as you felt a sense of calm wash over you, accompanied by a sense of acceptance that you hadn't felt in a long time.

With her bottom lip giddily caught between her teeth, Tara grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet. Her hand remained in yours as she walked with you to the elevator, where Sam was waiting, with a faint smirk on her lips as she watched your interaction.

"The others are on their way. They're meeting us downstairs."

"I'm scared, you guys." Mindy broke the silence that had settled around the group of you sitting in the policed-filled lobby of Gale's apartment building. In the corner of a small couch you shared with Mindy, you were cuddled up close to Tara, her scent and warmth being the only thing bringing you comfort. When the others arrived, you sank back into the couch, aware that everyone's eyes scrutinised and judged your new, unusual appearance.

"So what do we do now?" It was a good question. Running from Ghostface was always the same, no matter how hard you tried. He would always find you, no matter where you went or how far you went, and either traumatise or kill you.

"Maybe he gets to win this time.". Your head snapped towards Sam as she stood up from her chair. You all stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. "He wants to punish me. Me! So maybe I let him. I'll just give myself up. If this is what I have to do to keep you safe, it's worth it."

Sam spoke boldly but brokenly, tears streaming down her face. Tara swiftly stood up as soon as Sam stopped talking, her absence forcing you to shift uncomfortably at the lack of warmth and sudden exposure to the others.

"No, we're not doing that, Sam, alright? You went back to Woodsboro to protect me. Every single day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive if it weren't for you. You have to let us protect you this time."

If you hadn't already drained yourself of tears, you were certain you would have shed a few at Tara's words. The warmth and the passion behind them cause your heart to swell in your chest, filling you with a sense of pride that you get to call Tara your girlfriend.

"We're a team, remember." "Actually, we're family." "Let's go! Core four!". The four of them were now standing up whilst you remained on the couch, your knees help up to your chest as you watched them with a clenched jaw.

You'd accepted the fact you weren't in the 'core four', but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt.

You watched with a distant stare as they all put their hands in, an apparent 'tradition' that Danny tried to get in on but was quickly ushered away by Chad. Surprisingly, Tara glanced back at you, sending you a small sympathetic smile in an attempt to cheer you up. When she saw it failed, she reached her spare hand out behind her, beckoning you to hold it.

Your eyes looked at her hand, surprised for a moment, before slipping your fingers in between hers. She gave your hand a soft squeeze as you stood up and situated yourself behind her, almost using her as a makeshift shield.

"He's gonna keep coming after us." Sam warned as the four of their hands dropped, yours remaining in Tara's other hand. "Isn't there somewhere safe we can just haul up in?" Ethan chimes in, clueless as usual. "He's just gonna keep finding us."

You watched as the cogs turned in Tara's mind before her head spun around to face you. "We could use that though.". As her eyes met yours, you were hit with the same epiphany. Her soft hand lefts yours as she searches for her phone in her pockets, eventually pulling it out and calling Detective Bailey.

As the phone rang through the speaker, the questioning eyes of the others looked between you and your girlfriend, curious as to what you had both telepathically figured out. When he finally answered the phone, Tara was quick to propose your plan.

"We want to lure him to a secure location and trap him inside." "And then what?" "We execute him.". Although you were hesitant about involving the detective after his somewhat suspicious actions earlier in the day, unfortunately, without his help, your plan could never work.

"Are you gonna help us?". There's a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. You all look at each other expectantly as you all desperately await an answer, this plan being the only thing that could logically work at this point in time.

"Let's kill this son of a bitch."

There is a collective sigh of relief as he explains how the rest of the night should pan out. "I'll tell Kirby to meet you there, and I'll join you as soon as I can.". As the realisation that 'act three' is closing in on you hits, your pulse roars in your throat as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the torture that lies ahead.

"Remember, travel in public. The more people around you, the less chance he has to take a shot at you before you get there.". That definitely didn't aid in calming down your nerves, the idea of travelling through the packed New York City on public transport causing a knot to form in the pit of your stomach.

"The subway it is."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega@thenextdawn @zhasmindoesntknow @faunusrubyrose @harleyspunchingbag @yourmamacom@rockwyn @androgynouscloudenemy@padf00ts-l0ver @wol-fica @captainbeat @sophiexoxo-lol@perfectartisanwerewolf @pedrosprincess @dark-hunter16 @daenerys713 @dksjskx @blazemaster4014 @l4venderia @marsyay78 @edearx0 @randomnessbecausewhynot

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #scream vi #scream 6 #scream #the quiet one #simp4wom3n

[elvisabutler]

i've had no love like your love

summary: both you and professor presley would like to forget about the incident between you two and you do while still occasionally falling into each other's arms when spending time with one another. the two of you finally reach a breaking point. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 9487. i got a little carried away. warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. oral ( f receiving ). use of psalms in inappropriate ways. bunch of tears. mention of physical abuse/hitting/being kicked out of houses. use of the nickname belle for the reader. use of the derogatory name jezebel. mentions and beginning of impersonal sex like in my hearts already sinned. thigh riding. author's note: so i'll warn you ahead of time you've got to get through a lot of words of sadness to get to their happiness in this but it's worth it. i'm honestly super glad this got the reception it did since when i posted the little teaser/trailer as my last kinktober piece i thought this was hella niche and didn't think anyone would like it since it's big daddy elvis and it's a professor au. but y'all have seemed to absolutely adore it and it makes me happy. this is not the end of them since i've got an epilogue ( purely happy, i promise ) and honestly, if anyone ever wants me to write more of them ( case in point, the ask i got about a movie night with him and belle ) or i have an urge to i probably will. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis. and previous parts are here to be read in order: 1 and 2.

There's one thought- or a series of thoughts- his mind keeps cycling back to, that keeps rolling over and over in his head as he looks at the door you just left out of. Gossip isn't something he normally cares about but when he heard your name, he couldn't help but listen in properly because when it came to you he couldn't help it, he never has been able to help it. 

"She's going for Presley? That religious- he won't give her the time of day like that. She's too impure for him."  

"I've heard that's why she wants him because come on man, you know he never has gone for a student. Why not have the Tour Guide show him what he's been missing? Besides she's already spending all that time in his office and wearing his jacket half the time. Bet she's gonna fuck him before Thanksgiving break. Then she'll be free."  

"Two in one semester-" The calculus professor whistles. "Next semester she'll be begging for an orgy at this rate." 

He's not dumb, contrary to what his teachers back in the day might have thought. No, he's not dumb but sometimes he prefers to see the best in people, sees the parts that other people might overlook. Maybe it's just from his upbringing or maybe it's from how he was treated in the music industry but he likes to think himself a good judge of the character people might otherwise keep hidden. And with you he had thought- he had thought there was something there. Something you had hidden away amongst your conquests as ill advised as they might have been. You were- you felt like the sort of person who could be taken care of while still taking care of him. You felt like coming home or like God himself had dropped an angel in his lap. The idea that he was just another man- another professor in your long line of them stung. He knows he's not a great catch any more, that he's not nearly as pretty as he was even two years ago, let alone when he used to perform on stage or was in the movie picture business but you didn't seem to mind. You seemed to enjoy him, unless he had read everything wrong, had read your lingering glances wrong. Unless he had read your reactions to his very presence wrong or how you would smile just so in a way he recognizes from some women.

If he hadn't have read this situation wrong and you had actually enjoyed his company and cared about him at least in some small part the way he cared about you, why had you answered yes to his test. Why in God's green Earth had you told him that you just wanted him to be another professor you fucked? The answer should have been that you wanted to fuck him as a person and not just- him because he was your professor. You didn't need to charm him like this- to worm your way so comfortably into his heart in a way Priscilla had and how Linda had as short as their relationship was. It's- you didn't need to play with him like this- you didn't need to be cruel.

Maybe the best thing for both of you would be to pretend none of this happened. Pretend that everything was normal and that he hadn't seen how your pussy looked in underwear that was barely there. Pretend he hadn't seen you arch your back for him. Just pretend he hadn't had you against the desk in a way that was so far from how he planned. That's- that should be what he does. You were still perhaps that good girl, that wonderful woman he thought you were, you just needed to be reminded of it continuously. Maybe he just wants to be selfish and have you in his life in whatever way he can. God, he was getting to be stupid and silly as he got older, wasn't he?

Love makes you do stupid things, you've realized this more than anything with El- Professor Presley. With other men, with other professors your brain and your heart seemed to actually be in line with one another, seemed to remember that these were flings and while their outcomes led so much to be desired you could file them away as business transactions. Business transactions that allowed you to avoid worrying about your grades if you were sick or if you had too much going on at one time. You figure it's your own fault for taking the challenge Noelle had offered you. Figure that you brought this on yourself despite knowing that you had seen the man for years now from afar and thought that he was the most attractive man you've ever laid eyes on. Thought his waistline- much as it occasionally fluctuated was perfect at damn near any size but you had a special place in your heart for his size now. You should have known your heart would believe one thing- would feel one thing while your brain would try and remind you that this- this couldn't ever be more than whatever it was. You hadn't even needed to do it, hadn't needed to take the chance on sleeping with him because you were fine when it came to his class, never missing a class or a discussion or anything that had him lowering your grades. Yet, you had to be selfish, had to ruin the relationship- the friendship you and him had with each other. You had to ruin him as a person, didn't you?

The man who had sex with you against his desk that day wasn't Elvis Presley, Professor Presley, whatever you wanted to call him. He wasn't the person you had fallen so deeply in love with that your heart ached and twisted and threatened to fall right out of your chest at the mere idea of losing him for good. He was something- someone else entirely, someone who you didn't recognize in the slightest but maybe that's who he always had been, maybe that was the man you had fallen completely in love with over the semester. Your brain hadn't bothered to entertain the idea of a life beyond this semester but you think- no, you know- that your heart had other plans. Your heart dreamed of a life with you at his side at Graceland during the summer and on the breaks at night. It dreamed of a life with you in his lap and his head in yours. You just dreamed of a life with him come whatever may be.

That dream is still in your heart as much as your brain knows it's stupid and silly and a forgone conclusion at this point. Yet, you can't stop yourself from still wanting it from pining for the mere idea of it. You can't stop yourself from taking his jacket you still have and wrapping yourself in it after you come home from that day- that absolute mess of an emotional day because that mere idea of a life with him. A life where he comforts you and wraps his arms around you when you find that life is too much or when he finds that life is too much.

Maybe that's why you don't back away, maybe that's why you let yourself continue on debasing yourself in a way that you're practically mortified to realize. Or maybe it's because after that day things go back to normal. He acts like the man you fell for, acts like the man you could see some form of a future with and could dream of living the rest of his days with. Still, you choose to believe that it's worth it, that this is all you're ever going to have of Elvis. God you wish your brain could just call him Professor Presley or Mr. Presley but when you're in his office talking about what had happened in class or the lesson plans he had for the next one he always insists on you calling him Elvis and it feels so natural rolling off your tongue. It feels like it's meant to leave your mouth in sighs as he brings you pleasure and with fondness that you can only have with someone you love to the ends of the Earth.

You should have known better, you should have known better because you might be strong, you might be the sort of person who can hold herself up with or without praise that Elvis sprinkles into your life. You're the sort of person who shouldn't do this, who wouldn't do this for anyone else if it wasn't him. You should break it off, should give yourself a clean break but he's always there and he's right there saying the words you want to hear. He's there acting like he's supposed to and you find you can't even grieve for the loss of him because he's not gone, is he? No, he's right there in front of you, almost mocking you in his actions and how they conflict when you're up against his desk, his cock sliding in and out of you with such obscene squelching and squishing because he knows how to touch you in just the right way that has you groaning against the coolness of the desk. He knows how to touch you in just the right way that has you so aroused you make a mess of whatever you touch. The times you're just on his thigh because he can't get it up- not for lack of want, but because of his body betraying him like everything else seems to- those times always end in him with a suspicious wet spot that makes him glad he's got on black pants to hide the stain you've put there from riding him.

Things feel so impersonal, such a stark contrast to the actions of both of you around the times you do these things. You're adults and yet the concept of talking about what happens- talking about how you two fall into some natural rhythm of companionship only to have it stripped away the moment one of you climbs on top of the other or the moment he pats his thigh for you to straddle- is so alien to either one of you. When you've fooled around with the other professors even when it came to the worst exits you were still able to look at them, still have that element of attachment when you would be with them up until the point where you were kicked out and where you were slapped and yelled at and chased out windows that had you breaking your ankle. With Elvis it should be the same, you want it to be the same because maybe if it was you could- it would be easier for the two of you to talk. It would be easier to not feel like this is a business transaction and that as much as he'll be the man you started to love before and after it, he won't be that man during the act. You'd say you felt used but how can you be used if you're also using him. It's silly and embarrassing and it wears you down after each time even though you always crave it just a little bit because it's all you feel like you can get of him like that. You want more than his companionship, his praise and his subtle touches on your shoulder and his laughter. You want every single bit of him you can have. You're grasping at whatever you feel you can get and you don't realize he's doing much the same thing.

It has to be impersonal because if he looks at you he doesn't trust himself to not fall to your knees and worship you like the angel sent from on high he believes you to be. He calls you Jezebel because that reminds him how you wrenched his heart from his chest and twisted it in your hands. Staying away from you isn't an option because outside of when you two fall into each other's arms you feel like his- feel like third time is truly the charm on women he adores to the ends of the Earth and that you could be the one he spends the rest of his life with- however long that may be.

However long that may be is always on his mind the more his stomach gives him issues or his body feels like it's breaking down more and more. Should try and get everything in check, try and cut out some things maybe but he's never been the most disciplined in anything that isn't religion and even then he knows he falls off that wagon on occasion. He has to miss two more classes and on one of the nights he can't sleep, his stomach contorting in on itself and his bones feeling an ache he can't shake he wishes you were there. Your presence that one night, curled up against him after he had woken up and found you on the couch only to carry you to his bed had been some of the best sleep he'd had in such a long time. You might not have healed all his ills but you served to be a balm he couldn't help but crave on this night.

The thing about him missing is that he can't know- he doesn't know that you notice the second it's Joe up at the front of your class again and you swear you want to throw up. Your stomach drops so far out of your body that it might as well be in the core of the Earth. Elvis wasn't here again which meant something- some part of his body was acting up again. Maybe you shouldn't have been on his thigh after the last class, maybe you should have just let it be one of those times when you just talked and relaxed with one another and not let it turn sexual. No- No, it would have happened regardless, after all, the last time he had missed you and him hadn't even done anything other than talk. That was before- you wouldn't dwell on it, if this was anything like the last time he'd be back come next class a little more worn down and needing perhaps more company and a bit of help but he would be fine. He's always been so larger than life and so strong that there was nothing to worry about.

Except- he doesn't come back after that first class and he misses another one and you had been lulled into a false sense of security thinking he was alright when no one including Joe was there early. No, instead you had Jerry coming in almost five minutes late telling everyone that class was canceled since anyone who would take over for EP was a little occupied and as nice as he's heard everyone was- he's a business professor- an economics one- not a religious studies kind of guy. You don't expect people to be loitering outside of the class, figuring that much like any college students they'd be rushing to the library to study or to their dorms or apartments to sleep. You wish people had done that, wished the two people you come upon would have done that.

"He's gonna be dead in a year if that, man." The student- James you think- says, rolling his eyes. "My brother had him last year and he missed one class, we're on what, our third?"

"Third and the Tour Guide wearing his jacket. Maybe that's why- she's drained him." The other laughs quietly.

"She hasn't worn it since the middle of October, no, she's already moved on. Wouldn't be surprised if he passed her along to his little Mafia." James pauses. "Whatever the case- he's dead next year. If he even gets through the semester. Sucks, man, he wasn't the worst professor."

There's a part of you that wants to hear what they have to say, hear how they want to blame you for Professor- Elvis not being here but you can feel your heartbeat rushing in your ears and feel your eyes welling up with tears you can't- you refuse- to shed in front of people and find yourself pushing past them, your boots thumping on floor as both of them laugh just a little realizing you had been listening to them the whole time.

They had to be wrong, they had to be wrong because as sick as maybe Elvis was he wasn't- he couldn't be that sick. No, they were just- joking around, they had to have been. Maybe they knew you were there the whole time and just said it to mock you, after all, you know it's truly no secret that you are his favorite student and were even before- the incident. If they were right though, that meant-that meant after this semester he was gone. You'd never hear a story about how stupid some of your classmates were or about hear him sing like he had that one night again. You'd never share another set of snacks and a drink with him. He'd be gone and you'd be- He'd be gone and the world would feel a little bit dimmer.

The idea of a world without Professor Presley, a world without Elvis swirls in your mind that weekend as you force yourself to do your schoolwork. Ignoring it would be so easy and you could just curl up with his jacket and with your favorite book or in front of the little television and just pretend you hadn't heard any of that. Any time you think of doing that, though, you hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like his with a little backing of a voice that sounds like yours in your mind reminding you that you should do your work. So you do and you eat and you do everything you're supposed to that weekend as you try to avoid thinking of what the other students had said. It's hard but you manage well enough. Monday comes sooner than you'd like and you find yourself dreading entering Elvis's- Professor Presley's class. You sit down in your normal spot though, your eyes shut as you try to relax and burrow yourself into his jacket as you do.

His cane taps against the floor and a breath you hadn't realized that you were holding comes out of your mouth in a rush. He's here, he's alive and he's going to be teaching class today. You bite your lower lip as you hear the taps stop right behind you and feel Elvis's hand grasp your shoulder, just as warm as it always is. You hear his voice rumbling, even with so much exhaustion coloring the tone about how he's glad to see you where you’re supposed to be and you look up at him to see something in his eyes, something that feels like a spark of the man you've fallen for completely this semester. Maybe- no, you don't dare hope fully.

Class feels like a blur and while there is a debate as per his usual it's much more subdued with you barely offering input and him still feeling a little too rough to really force some excitement into it. A part of you wants to just head straight to your other class and not entertain the idea of going to Elvis's office but as you start to leave you hear the tap of his cane following you and hear his voice.

"Y/N." He starts, his eyes roaming your top half and settling on his jacket. "Gonna see ya in five minutes?"

The word no is on the tip of your tongue, you should say no but you've been so worried about him that you nod slowly, adjusting the straps on your bag and it earns a small smile from him as he walks off slower than normal but still seeming just as strong as normal with the tap of the cane. It takes you a little longer than five minutes to reach him, almost as if you're too nervous to really go to his office but when you get there the door is wide open and you see two drinks on the desk and you settle yourself onto the couch.

Talking- even with everything- comes so naturally to the two of you that you hardly realize how you both shift closer to the other as you talk. You hardly realize how you're close enough that you can feel his body heat against your side and that he feels the same thing. This is how it always seems to start since the Incident, with you two moving closer and closer until you're in his lap and today is no exception. Except, maybe it is because you're wearing his jacket and you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes that tell you maybe there's something there. That maybe the person you want to spend all your time with is still there underneath everything. You don't know when you decide to hook your leg over his thigh, thanking every god you know that he has a tendency to spread his legs even if there's no reason to and you hike up your skirt just a hair as you start to grind against his thigh, facing him as you do. Your hands move to try and cup his face, try and pull him closer to you before you feel his hands on your hips manhandling you to face that opposite way.

No. This- no, this isn't- you want him but not like this any more. God you can't- why was it so hard for him to let you just look at him when you do things like this. He was gone for two classes and you were so worried but he won't look at you. You're wearing his jacket and he noticed and he won't let you look at him. Your body can't help itself, still grinding a bit as you try and maneuver yourself back to facing him only to be stopped time and time again by his grip. It's not punishing and it's not going to bruise- you hope- but he won't let you turn. He won't let you turn and his mouth starts to spew words that make you want to curl up in on yourself.

His mouth hisses into your ear. "The Jezebel doesn't want it this way? Doesn't want my thigh today? Too good for me?"

You snarl, tears starting to form in your eyes out of sheer frustration and anguish rolled into one. "I never- I'm not saying that, I just- Elvis, please, let me look at you." Your body starts to contort in positions you didn't think were possible as you continue to try and face him only to be brushed aside.

Words are leaving his mouth, you hear them faintly but you finally just launch yourself off his thigh, chest heaving and eyes fiery as can be. Your legs shake at the sudden loss of his thigh that had supported you up until now but you stand your ground as best as you can. "No, I'm not- We're not doing this, not like this, I- What have I even done to deserve this? This- God, I don't even know what to call it. This joke? This playing with me like this?"

"Playing with ya like this?" He barks, heaving his body off of the couch and moving to stand in front of you, his blue eyes stormy as anything you've ever seen in your life. "That's goddamn rich comin' from ya. Lil Miss Jezebel. The Tour Guide. The Harlot who-"

"Don't!" You shout, not even caring if anyone outside in the hallways can hear you. "Stop calling me that! I'm not- You wouldn't call me a good girl if I was any of those things!"

"They're- They don't hafta be seperate, darlin'!" His emphasis on the nickname is punctuated by him inching even closer to you, his words getting lower as he starts to hiss them. "Because you're most certainly a Jezebel, climbin' on me every chance ya get. Actin' like your God's gift to men wit' the others. Tell me, that new professor, t'one in the math department-"

"What other- Is this about-" Your thoughts jumble as they try to catch up with what he's saying. He's calling you a complete Jezebel and asking about someone who doesn't even exist to you. Your chest heaves as you push yourself into the little bit of space between you, your pointer finger pointing at his chest. "The new professor? The one I had to ask for help for because he's the only math professor who hasn't tried to come onto me?"

"Do- Do I look stupid to you, Jezebel?" He asks, almost as if he's afraid to say your name. "I heard from the other professors-"

"You could have asked me!" The words are spit out of your mouth and you can even see a bit of spittle flying onto his face. It brings you a sick sense of satisfaction to see how his already angry face slides between pure shock and more anger. "I thought we were friendly enough to do that! I've been to your house, Elvis!"

The noise that comes out of him before he can even get words out is truly defined as a snarl and a growl in the truest sense of the words. If you hadn't known any better you'd have thought you were arguing with a wild animal. It startles you to the point where you back away just a bit, not because you're worried he'll hurt you- no he's never been that type even with everything- but just because it's your natural instinct in the face of something like that. Despite that, he follows you, moves closer again even as his voice roars leaving his mouth. "You've been in my bed, Y/N! My goddamn bed! Curled up next t'me like ya belonged there!"

You duck away from him, almost as if to escape feeling very much like a cornered animal. He's not going to hurt you- he won't because he's not like- he's not like the rest of them but you can't defend yourself if he pins you down with his body or his words. His eyes follow you like a predator stalking prey even if you both know you've never truly been prey to him or perhaps anyone else. "That's exactly my point! Why wouldn't you just ask me?"

"'Cuz ya'd have lied!" His answer is slurred, the anger truly getting the better of him as he moves to cage you against the wall, only to have you slide away again.

"Not to you, Elvis!" How could he even think you'd lie to him about something like that? That you'd truly lie to him in general? "I've never lied to you!" You hadn't told him things but you had never lied, not a true and honest lie.

"Haven't ya?" He doesn't move this time, instead choosing to stare you down. "Tell me, Jezebel. Did ya just wanna fuck me so ya could tell everyone ya did? How ya got me when I haven't fooled around with a student in all my years and I haven't fooled around with anyone going on at least a year? Or was this just ya bein' sweet on the fat ol' man?"

The flinch that comes from you is unexpected and you look down at your body wondering if he shot you or slapped you and you didn't realize. There isn't a mark on you, no blood showing, no handprint making a mark on you. There is just you wishing he would have slapped you or injured you in some way because maybe it would hurt less than the words he had just said. It would hurt less than the accusation he's just thrown your way. You do not cry in front of people, you refuse to, knowing tears never make things better when you're caged and yet you feel your lower lip starting to jut and your nose starting to run before you shake your head. It's- he's not- he is wrong and you need to prove that to him.

"Just being sweet on the fat old man." You can't help but laugh, the cacophony of emotions threatening to tear you apart at the seams. "Do you- Do you hear yourself? I- What is it, Elvis? Am I your Jezebel sent to what ruin your little God Fearing self? Or am I just some Jezebel who's sweet on you? Or are you going to tell me I'm both? That I'm not good enough for you? Too used?"

You see his jaw tighten and you worry if you've said the wrong thing. You worry that he's seen how you look like you're about to cry and something is going to go wrong but he just takes a step closer to you, his cane tapping on the floor just once. His head tilts just slightly to the side. "I know what I said, lil Jezebel. I know that you've been actin' all sweet, actin' like you're worthy of the nickname Belle. Worryin' 'bout me. Comin' to my house, gettin' me into bed but when I worry 'bout ya, put ya in my bed next to me, ya leave me alone. Then I hear t'boys. Hear what the lil professors you'll eventually fuck gotta say about ya. Ya just playin' a lil game wit' me, ain't ya?"

You bite your lower lip as an answer before you take a deep breath as you start to head to the door, trying to open it only to realize at some point he's locked it. You could unlock it but you feel the need to turn around and defend yourself. "That's- Elvis. No. No- I- I wouldn't- I honestly like you!" You don't dare say love because if he thinks this low of you he's not going to want to hear it. "I care about you! I- You haven't been here for almost a week in actual days counted and I've been worried. They're making jokes about you dying and that idea terrifies-"

He cuts you off as he takes another step and you hear another tap of that goddamn cane as you find yourself moving up against the wall, realizing you can't move. "Stop. Lyin'."

"I'm not- Elvis- I'm not! Why can't you- I'm I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. I wouldn't lie to anyone like this." You want to be strong, you want to fight more but it's as if he's saying everything exactly to hurt you in just the right way. He's saying everything that just cuts through any defense you have for it.

It finally starts to weigh on you, finally starts to drag you down into the depths you were trying so hard not to fall into. He- he won't understand either because of his own choices and stubbornness or because the idea is foreign to him. The idea that you were terrified- you the girl who is so strong that you've taken something that should be an insult and wear it with a bit of pride or at least wear it in a way that lessens its effect- is so foreign it truly refuses to penetrate his brain. At last that's the only thing that crosses your own mind as you feel cornered. You feel trapped and like- you feel like something is finally breaking within you. That this, out of everything you've had thrown at you is what's broken you. The wall behind you reminds you of his solid form except it's all wrong, it's so cold that it can't be him. He's standing in front of you, blue eyes raging like a hurricane and his body coiled like a tight spring, his cane holding up his leg as he moves forward to cage you in again and that's it. 

Your body sags against the wall, using it to remain somewhat upright as you slunk down to the floor, unshed tears congealing in a hard mass in your throat. You try and swallow only to have something again to a low groan or small whine escape your lips. This- he's broken you, you've been so strong only to let this stupid man who you shouldn't have even gone for in the first place break you. This stupid man who was- who felt so different and like he held every promise for happiness in the words he spoke. In the praise he gave you. In the way his body felt like it was made to hold you and touch you in ways you yearned for.

"Jesus-" His voice sounds crushed above you and for some reason there's a part of you that feels a victorious delight in the fact that you've made him sound like that. Made him sound as anguished as he's made you feel for weeks. As anguished as you feel thinking of him dead. “Y/N- Get up- Ya g-gotta stand up darlin’.” 

No you don’t, hell you don’t even trust that your legs would let you stand up at this point, as much as you feel them minutely shaking. No, you’re quite content to stay on the floor, feeling almost catatonic in the way your mind is focusing on everything about the past semester. You try to close your eyes as if that will make the tears that are threatening to fall go away when all it does is make them slide out the corner of your eyes. That's the final dam bursting as more follow even as you don't want them to. All that’s in your mind is every moment he’s touched you, every moment you’ve walked next to him, every moment when his eyes were like sapphires glittering as he looked at you laughing over a bottle of Pepsi while you waved your hands talking. You remember every hint of praise that had your mind going a little fuzzy and had you shiver for a want of more. 

"Anyone ever tell ya how insightful ya are?" No because even if you paid attention during class and did the readings and made the grades they didn't care. 

"Ya ever thought about teachin'? Though the debate was a goner till ya put it back on track." That was nothing, just you wanting to make sure no one lost the point Elvis was trying to teach.

"You've been makin' this semester a goddamn breeze."

Perhaps you had but for what? For him to be missing class and looking half strung out or exhausted when he came back? In all the time you had spent together he hadn't even hadn't even told you what the problem was- what took him away from you and from a job he loved. Maybe everyone was right, maybe this might be his last semester teaching and look what you’ve done- you’ve made it so his last hurrah is being known as your last fling or just another fling in your series. The thought makes your stomach roil at doing that to him- doing that to a man that God help you- you had fallen head over heels for to the point that you wanted him at any cost and in any way you could get him. 

"You're- darlin'- you shouldn't b-be-" He has to stop himself from talking, feeling an old stutter starting to rear its ugly head. His breath comes out shakily as he tries to focus on you, focus on how your shoulders are shaking with tears and how he did this to you. How he's done something that's irrevocably harmed you. He hadn't wanted this, not even at his most angry has he wanted this. "Don't- don't cry. Goddammit, calm down. God, why'd ya hafta get on the ground."

You look up and for a brief moment there’s a flash of fire in your eyes, a pang of pure annoyance at what he says. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you once again! Make the great Elvis Presley have to get down on the ground. Put him at the Jezebel's level. Leave me down here where I apparently deserve to be."

"Ya know I didn't mean it like that! Goddammit Belle, jus' meant my knees-" He has to take a deep breath, slow and steady and shut his eyes as he gets down to your level before he opens them and cups your cheek, trying to be gentle even as you flinch a little and shake your head. "This- you s-shouldn't be cryin' like this." Not over him and what he's done. Over everything that's been done from the very start. "Ain't worth it."

More accurately he ain't worth it.

"I don't know anything when it comes to you, Mr. Presley." You pull away as your tears start to fall even faster. "I am crying like this over a man who thinks I'm- Don't call me Belle, don't call me that like you did when I was leaving you in your bed. Don't act like you care." After all, he doesn't, he can't because who would care for you and feel the way he does about you. Believe the things he does about you without giving you a chance to explain. "I'm just a harlot. I'm the Tour Guide of the school who now even you get to say you've slept with. You've still got it."

"Darlin'." His voice is pitched lower, almost as if he's trying to talk to a skittish animal. As if he's scared if he talks any louder he'll spook you and that you'll run away for good. "I-I never said I didn't care. W-Wouldn't've put ya in my bed that night if I didn't. Ya looked- ya looked freezin' 'n i couldn't stand it." He pauses, his features darkening for a moment. "Then ya left in the mornin' 'fore I even woke up."

You had left in the morning. You had left that morning because every time you stay at someone's house, some professor's house it's always ended so poorly. The way his face darkens as he tells you that makes your body shiver even as his jacket- that for some ungodly reason you still have, that for some ungodly reason you couldn't get rid of- tries to keep you warm. The anger he has makes you think you were right to avoid him that morning- he- but if he cared, if he meant to put you in there- then you should have stayed. He wanted to wake up to you, wanted to have you burrowed into his side. It makes you freeze.

Elvis looks at you and sees how your body tenses up, sees how you're frozen in place and he frowns as you start to speak. "When I stay in the morning, it's not pretty, Elvis. I- I didn't want you to be the same."

His hand clenches into a fist as he shuts his eyes. His breaths are slow and measured for what feels like an eternity before you see him unclench his fist and look at you. "Ya mean how the Chemistry professor's wife would have beaten ya black and blue if she had gotten a real proper hand on ya? 'Stead of the shiner ya had for a week? Or how ya busted yer ankle hoppin' outta tha' one history professor's window. Ya want me to go on?"

Something blooms in your chest at him telling you about those times. You hadn't even met him when any of those times happened. Sure, you had seen him around campus but he didn't- couldn't have even known your name. You open your mouth, tears still falling but slower as your body tries to calm you down. "You- You shouldn't know about-"

"'ve got eyes don't I?" He responds, as if that explains everything. "Y/N- Belle- I noticed ya before ya ever stepped foot in my class. And they talk, darlin', oh do they talk."

It's then that you look away, almost ashamed at knowing that he's always known about you actions. It is absolutely no wonder that he called you what he did, why he believes you to be what he's called you. You have to pause before you speak, trying to gather your thoughts, rubbing at your eyes as you do. "And that's- that's why you've been- if you've heard all the stories and do know about me then I guess you're not wrong in calling me Jezebel. Just adding you to my long list. But- you- when that's what happens when I don't leave- why do you think-"

His voice takes on an edge of frustration you think, or maybe it's genuine hurt. "Ya really think I'd've done any of that to ya? Ya think I'd do any of that t' someone 've been callin' Belle in my mind 'cause I sometimes look at ya n' I can only think of that damn word in French?" He moves to stand up, his knees and other joints cracking just a bit. "Get up, darlin'. I- just trust me this once and get up."

A stubborn part of you wants to stay on the ground, just sit there and stew in your tears and feelings but when you look up at him with blurry eyes you can't help but heave yourself off the floor and plant yourself just close enough to him that you're looking into each other's eyes if you look up through your lashes. "I- Elvis-" You start to speak only to have him cup your face and the warmth of his hand juxtaposed with the calluses on his fingertips has your eyes fluttering shut against your will. He's not supposed to be this soft, not to someone- not to the person he doesn't care about, the person he's only roughly fucked while pretending it didn't happen afterward. "Don't."

When you say that word he pulls away his hand and you think he's listening to you, think that he's doing what you're asking him to do only to hear the next words that come out of his mouth. "Blow your nose, Belle." His hand that hand left your face, had left your cheeks came back with a handkerchief, monogrammed with a cursive EP. He doesn't necessarily shove it under your nose but it's a near miss even as he kisses your forehead. "I'm not moving it from under here till ya do, Belle."

"I'm not a-" You start before looking up at him and realizing despite his comforting air no part of him is doing this because he thinks you're a kid. No, he knows you're a grown woman- you're a grown woman he wants to be with until his dying breath. "I can hold my own handkerchief."

His lips stop in the middle of attempting to give you another peck on your cheek a slight chuckle escaping him. "Would ya quit bein' stubborn? Tryin' to comfort ya and you're tellin' me ya can hold your own handkerchief. 've been a goddamn asshole let me show ya 'm really a good southern gentleman at heart."

"Southern gentleman don't act the way you did." You shakily exhale, realizing that he's trying to comfort you, trying to place small kisses on your face as if that is solving anything. You shake your head. "Southern gentleman don't play with people like that."

"Darlin', trust me, the older we get, the more every single Southern gentleman does." He pauses to look down at you, his blue eyes narrowed. "I try t'be a gentleman but Lord knows 've got a temper wit' a wrath that rivals God himself. 'N I think I took that out on ya. I- I'm- Ya wounded my pride, alright? Sayin' what you said when I asked if ya wanted me t'fuck ya. I know- I know I can get a woman, but I don't- It's usually more of one night stand or somethin' that's lackin'-" He rubs at his neck. "Care. Doesn't have that tender lovin' care I need nowadays more than I did when I was younger."

Care. Oh, you had been so- you both had been so stupid. Your eyes flit up and you notice how vulnerable he looks just in this moment and you swear it takes your breath away. "Elvis. I didn't- I thought you were trying to make me beg." A pause. "I was trying to what I thought you liked. I didn't- You've never been- No one else has made me feel like you make me feel."

So loved, so proud of, so everything under the sun. There's a reason your heart and your brain had wanted to spend the rest of his life and your life together. Being with him felt right when you stripped away everything that's been happening.

Elvis is silent for a moment, almost as if he's debating his next words or actions even as he still places another kiss to the crown of your head and uses his thumb to wipe away tears that keep falling and holding the handkerchief by your nose. He finally puts the handkerchief away, freeing that hand and using it to cup your chin. He tilts your head up just a hair so that you can see his eyes shining with what you think might be unshed tears as his voice becomes so gentle it twists your heart. "What d'ya want from me?"

"Everything." You choke out your answer, your voice scratching and sounding so raw when you do that you almost want to hide. "I want to be with you after this semester. I want to dance with you like we did that night. I- God- I want to wake up with you every day until one of us dies. I just want to be yours."

At your last words the tears start falling in earnest again and it breaks something in Elvis a little, seeing you cry after that confession. He doesn't waste a second before pulling you into a soft kiss, using his grip on your chin to make it easier. You want more but he's pulling away and placing kisses on your forehead and your cheeks, chasing after the tears in a way that's so gentle you'd think it's fatherly but it's not- it's just him allowing you to be a human again. Allowing you to be more than just the harlot or the Jezebel. Seeing you as the person he's always thought you have been before the Incident and even after the Incident.

"Ya mean it?" There's a small part of him that curses how he sounds asking that but he needs to hear it from you. Hear that you're being honest and truthful with him about what you want. "If ya gonna change ya mind I need t'know right now."

You sniffle and shake your head. "I mean it! I want to be with you and only you. I've only been with you since that day. Haven't flirted or anything. I want to do my work on your desk, want to curl up on your couch with you just- I want you. I want you, my Elvis, my Big Daddy because you're- You're the only one who's ever treated me like more." You pause, taking a deep breath. "Like I'm worth getting to know beyond just my pussy. I can't- I don't want to go back to a world where I don't have you. Where I'm not able to kiss you and be with you in whatever way I can. Where I can't fill your house with-" You stop yourself, because that's too much, that's not something you're admitting to him right now. "I just I want you. I'm not changing my mind, if I was going to I would have the second you didn't give me back my panties, Elvis. When you were so mean and hurtful and-"

He cuts you off with another kiss, this time a little less gentle but still nothing compared to what he wants to do to you. His teeth nip at your lower lip just a bit and you can't help the whimper that escapes you as he pulls away your mouth trying to follow his. Looking in his eyes, you see something different, you see the overwhelming lust, the blown pupils threatening to overwhelm his blue eyes but more than that you see a man who looks so in love with you he might as well keel over with the sheer force of it.

"Feel like an idiot for missin' out on that. Gonna keep kissin you like that for as long as i can. Ya realize that." He pauses as his eyes rake over your form. "Get on the desk, Y/N. My sweet Belle." His emphasis on the nickname, Belle versus Jezebel is the only thing that reassures you he's not planning on doing anything rough. That he has a plan for you to look at him while he does- whatever it is. You take a minute to hop up, sniffling once again as you rub at your eyes. Your emotions are still a mess but you can- this helps, you think.

Elvis grunts, using the cane and a grip on your knee to help ease him onto the ground right in front of your legs, right in between your legs as his hands dance up your thighs. His gaze is on you, full of promise and want as his hands inch further up and up until he reaches between your legs, one hand moving to cup your pussy while the other grabs your hip and pulls you a little closer to the edge of the desk.

"You been payin' attention in class?" He asks as you can't help but whimper a little at the feel of his hand covering you like that. "Specifically this one? What we talked 'bout at the beginning?"

Your head nods slowly as you shiver, feeling the fabric of your underwear being pulled lower and lower down your legs. "You mean psalm 51? What about it, Elvis?"

"Think ya can recite it by memory?" The words of his question are punctuated by kisses up your legs, starting with your calves before moving to knees and then to your thighs. He bites softly causing you to clench them together around his head before he mumbles a no. "While I'm here between your legs."

It feels like a challenge and it causes a curl of arousal to shoot directly between your legs as your vagina clenches around nothing. His hand feels the movement and you can feel the smirk of his lips against your skin before you answer as he puts one singular finger inside of you. "I can." You sigh out your answer as he curls that one finger your arousal making it easy for him to.

Hard doesn't even begin to explain how it is to try and speak- to try and remember the psalm as you feel his tongue flick against your clit once, twice, before moving down to your folds. Another finger has joined the first and you can feel them inside of you, following where his tongue traces. His licks and strokes are leisurely done, almost as if he wants to drag this out, wants to go at the pace that you're speaking when all you want to do is have your orgasm that you can feel brewing but when you stop to take a breath, so does he. It's infuriating right until the midway point when you say "grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me" his mouth wraps around your clit, sucking and even giving you a small nip as his fingers curl against your g-spot. It shouldn't be enough to help you cum, it shouldn't and yet you feel your toes curling and your thighs tightening around his head as he hums in satisfaction. Your body shakes, grinding against his mouth even as his free hand tries to keep your hips from moving. Your thighs don't unclench until he taps at your leg and even then they still shake as he pulls away, mouth glistening with your release as you try and pull him up for a kiss only to have him continue his attack on your cunt.

You keep reciting, feeling as if that's what he wants you to do despite how your voice shakes and how you whimper the more sensitive everything becomes. You cum again by the end of your first full recitation, panting with your chest heaving. There is a thought in your mind to tell Elvis to stop, that you need a break but even though you are starting to feel over stimulated, the way he's looking up at you as his mouth does sinful things to you, as he teases your swollen clit with his fingers and his mouth more and more stops you. His free hand moves to lock fingers with the one of your hands that isn't winding through his hair, yanking and earning growls the more you speak. The intimacy of it all has you nearly sobbing tears of joy this time, not the tears of sadness you had been experiencing. You feel yourself cumming in a way that's unfamiliar as you stutter out the words "my tongue will sing of your righteousness" and Elvis has to pull away, a chuckle escaping him as you see his whole face might as well be covered in your release. It takes him a moment to recover but you swear you hear him talking about squirting when he kisses his way up your thigh and back to his task at hand. When you finally finish the psalm the second time your body is shaking and his tongue and fingers and everything are so overwhelming that when you attempt to start the psalm for a third time you say the first words five times.

"Daddy please, let me cum. Please, I've been good." The words are whimpers when they leave your mouth as you try and grind and get to that edge.

"I know, Belle, been so good, taste even better." He mutters against your clit.

That does it, that has your hand clenching his and your other pulling his hair as you grind on his face, practically smothering him as you cum. The sheer intensity of it has you thumping backward on the desk, trying to catch your breath as your legs shake and you hear him speaking against your thigh. You catch bits of the word holy and jezebel and God and you feel a warmth settle in your body that you can't quite explain. You use your hand to pull him away enough that you can understand him before you ask.

"Are- Are you talking to God- thanking God for me?" The concept boggles your mind but it's so touching at the same time that your heart threatens to burst at the idea.

"Think 've been thankin' God for ya since I first saw ya, but 'specially since I saw ya in my class. My holy- My sweet holy Belle." He winces at the crack his knees make when he gets up and leans both on the cane on the desk when he finally stands up. "None of 'em deserved ya 'n I'm not too sure I do but- 'll try to deserve ya."

Your hands move to cup his face, marveling in how he nuzzles up against your palm before you smile, pulling him in for a soft kiss. "Trust me, Elvis, I think you're the only one who ever has." You nuzzle at his nose before pulling away. "How about you let this pretty little sinner, this harlot, this Jezebel take care of you. I don't have a class and-"

Elvis cuts you off with another kiss before he nods. "Only if Big Daddy-" He looks at you, reminding you that yes, your nickname you have for him snuck out. "Gets to take care of his pretty lil sinner, his Belle, and help her wash away all those sins."

The light in the smile you give him could power the whole of the campus for months if you could bottle it up. You slide off the desk a little less gracefully than you mean to before nodding. "Lead the way, Elvis." A pause. "I love you."

"Ain't I the luckiest man for it too." He adjusts himself in his pants, hoping you don't notice that there's a bit of a wet spot on them where his cock should be. "Love ya too. Come on now, never did get to show ya Graceland's shower in my room."

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbott, @lokis-right-femur, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphiss, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @notstefaniepresley, @holyastronauts, @vintageshanny, @powerofelvis and @ellie-24 and i think that's it? i don't know and apologies if you got tagged twice, i trusted a copy/paste.

#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley angst #austin butler elvis #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction #austin butler elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis smut #austin butler elvis smut #big daddy elvis #ally writes #elvis x you #austin elvis x you #austin elvis x y/n

[kkpaaw]

SPOILERS FOR THE VIDEO GAME "PROCESS OF ELIMINATION" CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK

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This game was amazing! It had me on the edge the entire time I was playing it! And then ending??? When It was revealed that my precious Doleful was the Quartering Duke? I felt...SO betrayed you don't understand.

I was prepared for him to like end up as a potential victim, like maybe his luck in surviving close calls would rum out and we would have to figure out how he got killed despite his danger magnet ability. I was preparing myself for that potential outcome but I was NOT prepared for this.

The ending was SO good but In truth i wish we got more of a follow up ngl. Like Incompetents last line before the epilogue implied that they were gonna do to Doleful what the did with Renegade? Like making him use his abilities for good? At least that's what i got from it?

I could be absolutely wrong because He did get apprehended on the ship but hey, I would like to imagine that they made him useful like that cuz, despite everything his ability is VERY helpful and useful to solving cases (and im just biased as hell and would hate to see him locked up) Dunno how they would force him to help since the little collar Renegade wore wouldn't work because of his invincibility, but hey maybe he can become a permenant partner to Incompetent who would be able to foresee any potential killings he might try and do. Maybe help him turn that mindset he has around. (Also because I ship them two so badly, I swear every alone moment between them was screaming romantic tension)

Also can we talk about this image of my boi??

I was in so much denial up until i saw this and had to give in that he was the Quartering Duke. The music it this scene is also so amazing and eerie. Fits perfectly!

Tho the ending line for the game very much confused me. I honestly have no idea what the line implies but it kinda worries me? Especially considering we were brought to the island for the Detective Elimination Project by Senior (who was working with/for Doleful AKA the Duke). So to have the name of our future project be called that exact same thing? Deeply weird ngl. What exactly are they planning on doing? If anyone who played the game knows what that ending entails please do tell me cuz I'm completely confused.

Workaholic turning out to be Diabolic who was the one who kidnapped us? Wasn't expecting that either. Tho that made him immediately climb up to my top three favorite characters cuz he became SO much more interesting and made me wanna know more about him after that everytime he showed up after? Ya homegirl got hella happy and excited. Was very sad when he died THO i was expecting him too. People who follow the trope he did usually end up being killed so I'm not surprised he died tho i was very sad.

I wasn't expecting Renegade to die tho frfr. Thought he would survive till the end so his murder was unexpected for sure!

Overall I loved the game and I hope more people play it and enjoy it so I can talk to more people about it! I know it gets compared to Danganronpa ALOT (Doesn't help that Wato looks alot like Shuichi) but I fr think it's definitely capable of standing on its own.

My top fav 5 characters

1. Doleful (which is why his truth hurt so much ahshs)

2. Incompetent

3. Workaholic

4. Mystic

5. Bookworm

Alright that's all I got ahsjs

Credit to BAI GAMING on YouTube for the screenshots. Was too lazy to open my copy of the game for them so I got them from him!

#process of elimination #PoE #tantei bokumetsu #tanboku #kkpaaw #review #not really #just discussing how i felt at certain points

[clover-punk]

There is an older joke that I've seen a lot on Friends at the Table tumblr about how it's not a real season of F@tT unless someone loses a hand. I've always liked the alternate 'joke', it's not a real season of Friends at the Table unless a PC shoots themself in the foot (sacrificing themself in way that has major consequences for their epilogue... often by dying) at/near the end of the season.

I've seen a lot of people thinking about this lately (particularly in regards to an emerging pattern from Dre's PC's... looking at you Valence and Chine...) and it got me thinking because some players are much more prone to this than others.

So I made a table. Then I realized that you cannot put an excel table in Tumblr so I wrote it all out in a list. Then I just attached a screenshot of the table anyway. Spoilers under the read more for all 7 main seasons. (I didn't include Bluff City, Road to PARTIZAN or other live games, but if you can think of examples that should be included from those or anything I missed from the main seasons please let me know!)

x - Character Dies

o - other sacrifice that fits the loose description of "shooting oneself in the foot".

*I was unsure how to mark these, but decided to include them anyway

By Season:

Autumn in Hieron: 1 major break down by Ali as Hella. Calhoun :(

Counter/Weight: 3 deaths to defeat Rigour by Art, Dre, and Silvia. I really struggled with how to count this one because everyone makes very big sacrifices in the finale, that’s like the whole point… so in the end I decided to just count the deaths. Audi wasn’t a PC at the time, but I’m still counting them as a point for Jack. Then I debated whether and how to count Kobus/Loyalty’s other candidate whom I cannot remember the name of and Jillian Red but decided to just give one death point each to Dre and Silvi.  

Winter in Hieron: Nothing. There were a few things I considered putting here put none of them felt on the same level as other things I am marking.

Twilight Mirage: 2 people leaving, 1 death, and Grand Mag (need I say more?) Once again, I debated for a long time how to mark Fourteen because the dying was just their class from the beginning, but I gave this one to them. Ali as Tender and Janine as [Signet] get points for leaving the Mirage because it makes me sad personally.

Spring in Hieron: 3 members of the Understanding. Unsubtle plug to go read my fic An Understanding if you want to feel sad about this with me.

PARTIZAN: 2 (pointless) deaths. I expect to make several enemies by calling these pointless, but I’m very much on team if Valence were here things would be better, and for that matter the same goes for SI. Powerful, but pointless. I went back and forth on whether to give Jack any points for Clem and eventually decided to leave her off entirely because she didn't actually die and just came back as a powerful NPC.

Sangfielle: 1 death. Chine :(

Player total:

Ali: 3 (no deaths) Art: 3 (2 deaths) Dre: 3 (all 3 deaths*) Jack: 2 (2 deaths*) Janine: 2 (no deaths) Keith: 0 (How???) Silvia: 2 (1 death*)

In summary, as I expected, Art and Dre are leading the pack on character shooting themselves in the foot, with Dre leading on actual deaths.

Surprisingly, Ali also ties both of them overall with a total of three which I was not expecting.

Jack, Janine, and Silvia each have two points, and between 0-2 deaths which was about what I expected, although I was surprised that Jack is technically tied with Art for second place on deaths.

The most surprising thing - and I'm not sure why this surprised me per say but it was an outlier - is that I could come up with no examples of Keith's characters shooting themselves in the foot.

Anywho, that was a lot of charting and thinking just to have evidence that this happens all the time. Once again, if you can think of examples of anything I missed that should be added to these scores please let me know.

#friends at the table #f@tt #friends at the table spoilers #sangfielle #partizan #twilight mirage #counter/weight #seasons of hieron #also... does Sangfielle have an acronym? I realized as I was making the chart that I don't have an acronym for it... #anyway my plan to distract myself from the finale by thinking about the Divine Cycle is going so well can't you tell?

[radigalde]

Finished Omicron tribe questline today, and I'm a bit disappointed with the final quest: it feels like the main part of the white-robed nihilists' storyline is missing. Like the book with the last chapter torn out, so instead of seeing the resolution of the plot you are dropped right into "lived happily ever after".

Yeah, I remember that in beast tribe storylines the main "conflict" is resolved with second to the last rank, while the final rank is a bonus/epilogue of sorts (starting from Shadowbringers? I don’t remember if it was the same for the tribes’ quests from ARR to Stormblood). And it makes sense that omicrons' resolution to their depression problem is the end of that storyline - it's their "tribe" story after all. But with all creepy foreshadowing of Nibiruns randomly standing in other areas and enjoying the despair in the air (tm) I... kind of expected more?

I think (and I will die on this hill) that Nibirun’s quest should have been placed before Omnicrons’, while the last rank would be a regular epilogue “oh, look - a newly hatched dragonet!”. And also it would make N-7000 personal crisis about “fulfilled purpose” a bit more logical: the claim of “okay, I finished all my tasks, and the cafe can continue thriving without me” is hella strange when there are two depressed nihilists you personally set on free roam despite an assassinated barista and general threat to the unstable Dynamis and forgot ever since.

----------

Also, still sad that there were no neon bunny ears in the rewards. Hope Loporrits will have them.

#FFXIV #endwalker spoilers #6.25 spoilers

[davekat-sucks]

Why do you think people like davekat? What seems to be the appeal?

Before it was the sort of aesthetic kind. Like how both are red dudes and both are Knights. The two are polar opposites. One is a cool dude while another is a shouty angry guy. Both have a habit to go on a long ass tangent once their mouth is open. And both are boys that are popular among the fandom among their character group. They have their badass moments here and there in the comic, but once they get through those kind of deeper moments, it turns to typical stuff that you see from fujoshi in any fandom that has a high character rate of men over girls. Boys Love series being the most obvious. Aside from that, the reasons behind it vary from what I've seen. Like both are these sad boys and could be the comfort to one another, but that seems to be a bit of co-dependency. Doesn't help that Dave still has his human friends around while Karkat doesn't have much. Yes, people like Terezi, Kanaya, Gamzee, and Vriska are there. But 3/4 of those people are not as great in terms of personality, actions they have done, and Kanaya is already married off and focused on her own duties. Karkat isn't doing much outside of it. Like aside from living peacefully under a new kingdom and shitting on Wayward Vagabond's grave of democracy? Does he have a job? Does he go out to other places? Teach stuff about what his home was like to other younger trolls and show that this new life was for the better since the hemospectrum is gone? What else besides living a peaceful life just sitting on his fatass all day watching shitty romcoms? To me, this whole thing with Davekat just has now been reduced to playing troll Barbie and Ken dolls in their dollhouse. You can say they do things like go to a job or work on something, but the main focus is just those two being in love and that's it. Nothing too deep. Sure it can apply to other ships, but I can argue that I see some at least could have moments they go farther due to events and history of the series that they had to go through and play around with those kinds of ideas. Like lets say Vriska ropes in John to be a pirate with her and sail out to seas on this new Earth. I can see the two getting closer together and maybe some shenanigans happen because of how open the possibility is. Like seeing a new creature that could be similar to lusii or finding lost buildings that had sank into the ocean. Eridan and Roxy could have do a historical reenactment towards the kids, with Eridan being on the losing and Roxy on the winning. Roxy having more knowledge of how these old weapons work while Eridan explains the origins behind these events. Roxy happy not only being a mother for her kid, but a teacher as well like she had with taking care of the Carapacians. Eridan is at least liked a little bit by his peers. Sure they would still tease and bully him to get a reaction for times he acts arrogant, but the violetblood can at least be humble at times to not act rudely towards other blood colors. Could imply that he is also an environmental activist and sees both land and sea as important, so it is helpful to make sure the Earth can be lived easily for both humans, trolls, carapacians, and animals. Roxy helps him in her lab to find cleaner resources and methods to improve everyone's lives. Dave and Jade could travel around the world to see many things they wish to go to and do things they had always wanted to do upon reaching there. Be it seeing the northern lights in the night sky, find artifacts in a hidden area for archaeological research, or enjoy going to other quiet places to get away from the paparazzi since Dave became a famous film maker for his Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff movies. I don't see much that Dave and Karkat can do together that's not the bullshit that we see in Epilogues or Homestuck 2. Sure banter each other is nice, but what else outside of it?

#Homestuck #Homestuck fandom #Davekat #Dave x Karkat #DaveKarkat #KarDave #DaveKar #KatDave #Karkat Vantas #Dave Strider

[zodiac-rave]

2022 in Books: 13/?, Nona the Ninth

I stayed up until midnight binging to finish and I have a twitch in my right eyelid that seems like it'll be here a while so just, idk, keep that in mind here.

Top image: the filter is called Vivid Cool and I think Nona would like that, I think she'd feel honored.

Bottom image: during the scene where they had pikelets I finally broke and googled what pikelets were because it just sounded like they were making pancakes? And based on the recipe I found and tried this morning, they really just seem like small pancakes?? But anyway you'll have to trust me that my attempt tasted better than they looked.

The rest of this is going under a readmore because it's probably spoilers so beware of spoilers:

I really hella admire Tamsyn's ability to maintain a distinct viewpoint narration style for a whole book, Nona's thought processes are so uniquely childish (and this made sense in context) and at this point I feel like Tamsyn could hand us a paragraph and we could work out whose POV it's from just by their thought process alone.

HOWEVER. By that token, if we're assuming the epilogue is from Alecto's POV, this might mean we're in for a whole book of Uriangerspeak next year, and this might push me to my limit. Yes I will preorder it and probably order whatever four-book set Illumicrate throws at us, I just might also cry.

I mean I'll probably be crying anyway because Nona had me so much more unsettled after the end than the other two did and my thoughts keep doing a weird multi-sided pong game: Gideon is one of my favorite characters of anything and I'm relatively distressed at the Current State of Gideon. But then I realize that makes me do the thing that makes Nona sad where people are very focused on the Other Two People who might be Nona and not as much on Nona herself, and I don't want to make Nona sad, I love Nona.

(Nona herself has residence in my whole part of my brain and I keep thinking about her because we basically went in assuming she was not someone called Nona but man I want Nona back, Alecto scares me,)

But then Gideon's reaction to Crux's death really did a number on some parts of my brain? Shoutout to Cyan and Lizzy and Mawd for enduring me at that point because I was mcLosing it.

"Why aren't you distressed about Harrow" listen right now she is Schrodinger's Harrow. She might just be fine, or as fine as we get for Harrow, and I need to compartmentalize.

But in seriousness I think the main reason that whole last stretch grabbed me by the gut is because they did it in the Ninth House, we were ending back where everything started, and it really made me think of all the shit these kids had been through and I really want them to like, get something for their suffering, but that isn't how suffering works a lot of the time. @ronsenboobi had a good comment to this point so I'm borrowing it with her permission:

In closing: if this entire book started as Act One of Alecto, then I am casually pointing a knife at next Fall.

#book stuff #if you get through this you get a medal idk. #i just had to put my thoughts down before i could move on to another book or game or whatever. this is my coping mechanism

[girlwithakiwi]

What scene have you written that draws the most emotion from you? Did this translate to your readers? Would you change anything?

Ooh, that's a good question. I think it depends on what emotion we're talking about here. I'm going to have to go back to 'the gather' for this one too. The chapter that emotionally devastated the readers (y'all know the one) is one I was utterly stressed about writing because it carried the weight of the story on it.

...at least, I was stressed and furiously cursing until I hit "post", at which point I started cackling. Sorry, guys. :P

That said, I think the chapter that drew the most emotion from me was the epilogue. I'm admittedly not a fan of "where are they now" epilogues. I like things to be vague about where characters end up. But two and a half years after I started writing in the aftermath of GoT's controversial ending, half a million words penned and a whole pandemic and contentious presidential election later, and I was at the point where I was asking myself, "What was this story about? What is the lesson learned? What were you trying to say?"

I am a big fan of bittersweet endings and poignant last lines so looking back over my work and seeing what I accomplished that was so wrapped up in Dany's story came with both a sense of pride, accomplishment, and sadness that it was over.

"Her past is a story to be told in the quiet warmth of night, before the dream and before the dawn, and it will be swept away like the memory it is—the memory it must be—come the sun."

Some of the most treasured comments I received once the story finished said how I had restored their love for GoT. It is hella flattering to be compared to GRRM, and even more flattering to cultivate that sort of love for the canonical universe again.

(As for if I'd change anything, I actually went back through the whole story early this year and cleaned it up in terms of editing and clarity so what is currently published is the final version—everything I wanted to change/make better, I already have :) ).

#chase answers #chase writes things #the gather the bend the bringing forth

[browniesarethebest]

Okay okay okay so I love that someone (finally!!) mentioned a Hamilton song and I do adore your concept for it, but I couldn’t quite shake this brain baby so please consider this if you will;

Title: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Summary: Jason lived, Dick died, and Bruce told his story.

Basically premise goes that Jason and Dick are young — like season 1 of Young Justice if you’ve watched that? — and Jason is new to the family, blah blah blah. Dick obviously saves him and in the process, dies, which Jason initially cannot fathom given he’s used to fending for himself (street rat, and all that). Insert some existential crisis…

Bruce obviously has to make a statement to the press given how high-profile Richard Grayson is (maybe a press conference? Would this situation call for one?) and he essentially tells the story of how Dick saved Jason but in “civilian terms”

(Though the incident could be either hero or civilian… like a kidnapping gone wrong or if Jason snuck out as “Robin Jr.” and Dick died saving him that would be hella angsty too, but I digress)

and once he’s done, he shuts himself away to grieve. Or whatever emotionally constipated bats do… Point is, Alfred has to step in and assure Jason that Bruce does not hate/blame him for Dick’s death. He then gets fed up with the miscommunication — or rather, the complete lack of — and very pointedly, though in true subtle-Alfred-fashion, nudges both in the other’s direction.

(TBH Bruce would probably be like… holding Dick’s favourite hoodie or something and bring like “What should I do, Dickie? The only reason I knew I could even be a parent was because of you.”

I also personally HC that Jason actually really looked up to Dick before his death at Joker’s hands, so maybe they got close really quickly and/or that would also be a major factor in his guilt/survivor’s guilt.)

And when they (finally) talk, Jason eventually musters up the courage to ask what Dick was like, etc. Bruce smiles, all sad and bitter and heartbroken but it’s still a smile, and he begins to tell Jason his favourite — and sometimes heart-attack-inducing — memories of Dick.

Potential ending/epilogue? Doesn’t fit with the “Bruce told his story” but I thought this was cute;

And then when Tim comes along, Jason feels a terrible ache in his chest, because he knows what Dick would’ve done if he were told he had a new little brother: he would’ve glomped the poor kid, grinning so hard his face might as well split in two, crooning and babbling joyful nonsense, while Jason would stand off to the side, throwing light jabs his way but smiling all the same. His heart chest hurts because Dick isn’t here to do that, and as hard as Jason might try, he will never be a good substitute for their real big brother, who lived only in the memories of those who had known him.

And with a jolt, Jason realized that wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough, it would never be enough. So he tells Tim all about their oldest brother; the first Robin; the original child hero; Batman’s first partner; Bruce’s first son.

Dick may have died years ago, but Jason was determined to keep him alive with his words, if nothing else.

When Steph is integrated into the family, Tim tells her about the origins of the Robin mantle. He tells her the stories Jason had passed down to him, about how one eight-year-old boy had changed the superhero community forever. He tells her about his acrobatic skills, his signature cackle, his insane hacking skills and his tendency to disappear in the shadows much like Batman. But he also tells her about his nerdy side, about how he was a mathlete in Gotham Academy and he tells her about his innate need to butcher the English language, swapping prefixes and suffixes as he pleased, all the while confusing — and exasperating — those around him with new words.

When Cass comes, on the nights she can’t sleep for the unfamiliarity with actual beds and a previously-unknown silence that didn’t necessarily mean bad things, Steph tells her all about the one brother who is probably the most important part of not just Gotham’s history, but their adoptive family’s history. She tells her about the stories Tim had passed down to her, and even some that she had wrangled from Alfred and the Justice League. She places subtle emphasis on Dick’s proneness to nightmares on specific nights, and how he had never hesitated to seek comfort from touch; from people he trusted and loved. She tells Cass about his unrelenting optimism, his admirably fast thinking under high-pressure situations and his unshakable loyalty to his allies. She says Cass would’ve gotten along with him, she thinks, had they the chance the meet. They would’ve matched wits quite well, and she was told Dick was one of the few who could pin the Batman on the mats.

And when Damian, just shy of two years, is discovered and brought home, Cass sneaks into his room at night and hooks her feet on the base of the cradle, pushing herself up over the railings to observe the baby. And she whispers stories to him, stories of the brother all but one of them have never met — and never will meet — but has regardless left a lasting impression on their family; left a legacy for them to continue; gave them a saving grace not only through a paternally-realized Batman, but through the Robin mantle; the one who started it all.

Bruce wasn’t the only one telling Dick Grayson’s story anymore.

…okay i admit the ending got away from me. This was supposed to be a short brain baby summary only 😭 anyways, hope you like!!

Wow you put a lot more thought into this than I did haha! It definitely is still a bittersweet ending since Dick is still dead, but I like the idea that everyone is telling Dick's story and not just Bruce. There would definitely be a lot of guilt on Jason's part, and Bruce probably lashed out at him once or twice in the beginning like he did with Dick when Jason died in the comics. I think he would lash out and then immediately hate himself because he knows Dick would be so disappointed in the way he is treating Jason, and that probably partially helps him fix his relationship with Jason.

I imagine too that after a period of leaving him alone, Jason would start trying to get Bruce to open up again and that's when Bruce lashes out because he remembers Dick doing the same for him when Bruce got particularly broody, but the way Jason does it is not quite the same which upsets Bruce because he knows his boy will never try to cheer him up again.

#ask #inquillery #jason todd #dick grayson #batman #robin #bruce wayne #batfamily

[yjwonz]

I AM SHOCKED ITS SO GOOD?@?@!@ PTM WAS RLLY GOOD I LOVED THE BEAT?? RIKI PAR PART JUST AAAAMFJGK

WALK THE LINE AMAZING AS ALWAYS

PARADOXXX IS SO GOOD PROB MY FAV FROM THE WHOLE ALBUM NEXT TO FORESHADOW

SPEAKING OF FORESHADOW IM SO SAD ITS THE OUTRO AND NOT A FULL SONG- THATS WHY IT IT WAS 2 MINS LONG :,)) STILL SOUNDS GOOD THO

SHOUT OUT IS SO GOOD!! IDK WHY BUT I GOT 1 DIRECTION VIBES 😭 JAKE AS THE LYRICIST IS JUST AMAZING, SUPER PROUD

TFW IS RLLY GOOD!! I LOVED THE BEACH PREFORMENCE A LOT! IDK BUT POLAROID LOVE VIBES EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T SOUND SIMILAR? PROB BC ITS A "SOFTER" SONG IG??

OVERALL 10/10 ALBUM, AMAZING, IM SUPER PROUD OF THEM ALL!

WBU THOUGH??

DUDE I LITERALLY SCREAMED HEARING HIM RAP??? ALSO IN PTM DID U HEAR DURING JAY'S PART HOW HE REFERENCED ILAND ??? LIKE THE I GOT PUSHED PART I LITERALLY SCREAMED

WALK THE LINE IS SUCH A GOOD NARRATION INTRO ONGGG

PARADOXX WAS ACTUALLY SO GOOD LIKE ITS IN MY TOP 3 LIKE IDK THE BEAT JUST MADE IT SO GOOD????

RIGHT??? I WAS LWK RLLY UPSET IT WAS AN OUTRO BUT THE END OF IT WAS NICE TO LISTEN TO LIKE IT WAS HELLA GOOD

NAH CAUSE SHOUTOUT GAVE ME LEGO NINJAGO VIBES HELPPPP MY YOUNGER SISTER SAID IT WAS HER FAV SONG ON THE ALBUM AND LOWKEY ITS SO GOOD?? I WAS FR SO PROUD OF JAKE FOR HELPING WRITE THE SONG

NAH CAUSE TFW WAS THE POLAROID LOVE OF THIS ALBUM LIKE IT HIT !!! DID U SEE THE BEACH THEME??? IT WAS SO PRETTY AND SUNOO LOOKED SO GOOD ONGGGG THE EPILOGUE FOR IT WAS SO CUTE ACTUALLY

ENHYPEN PRODUCES NO SKIPS THEY ONLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE BANGERS !!!

#I LITERALLY COULDNT SLEEP I WAS SO EXCITED

[ahsung]

dushik trying to hold on to hyejin

#hometown cha cha cha #kdramaedit #kdramanetwork #asiandramanet #kdramadaily #kdrama #hcccedit #dailynetflix #shin min ah #kim seon ho #*homcha #does this set make sense? idk #like before the epilogue #i kinda felt like he was subtly trying to hold onto her #like in the last gif like he didn't want her to leave #like that was defo the running theme of the ep #so the epilogue was hella sad #but made perfect sense

[ficsforeren]

Bro... first of all lemme just say The Last Song had me BAWLING. Like i deadass SOBBED & got more sad than i did when eren died in canon💀💀💀I was CHOKING UP when eren died in the hospital. But i didn't even cry not even a lil when aot ended & eren's canonically dead, deadass💀

But that fic bro... was top tier A1 shit. That shit had me up for HOURS start to end bro... i loved it sm. It had me FEELIN shit... i don't think I'll find another fic like this... tysm for writing it. Cuz damn. It was hella, HELLA good. It was a damn good ride. And the last chapter absolutely shattered me, thanks. Idk if i love or hate u for it. Good ass fic. Love it. Thanks very much

BROOOOOO 😭😭😭 Your comment made me feel so happy but I'm also very sorry that I made you cry. I really tried to insert some humor in the epilogue to lighten up the mood so it wouldn't be too sad but I guess just the thought of eren dying was already heartbreaking LMAO

NO BUT YOUR MESSAGE IS SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I'm so glad you enjoyed the series. Please give my alternate ending a try, maybe that can cheer you up! Rockstar Eren gets to live and be a dad in this one:

Look at him isn't he so cute? Click here to read!

Poster art by the talented @viii0_8 on Twitter (use with permission)

#and i will be posting chapter 2 soon! #thank you so much for reading the last song baby ❤️❤️❤️ #TLS epilogue review #kana answers stuff

[lizhly-writes]

hella epilogue spoilers, my dudes.  anyway: what if 51 and 49 both made it back

“You inconsiderate bastard,” Kim Dokja says blandly.  “You could have at least told me.  Or at least let me remember, Mr. 51%.”

The other Kim Dokja huffs out a quiet laugh.  “Would you have really wanted to know?  People always say ignorance is bliss. Who wants to keep that kind of secret?”

51 doesn’t look ten anymore, but he doesn’t look good, either, all chalk-white skin and sunken eyes and too-thin limbs that struggle to lift his body out of a hospital bed.  He’d get better almost instantly if he recalled Kim Dokja — Kim Dokja, 49% — and absorbed more of his own stories and a healthy body.  But for some reason, that guy still hasn’t done it.  Kim Dokja isn’t complaining about being able to remain in existence, but…

“They care a lot about you, you know,” Kim Dokja says.

“Of course I know.  That’s why there are two of us.  That should have been enough.  One for them and one for —” 51 flicks a hand in the air with a wordless sigh.

Kim Dokja knows.  They might be different, but they’re still the same person. The thought process is easily followable and easily understandable, the logic solid.  Of course he couldn’t simply leave his companions alone.  Of course he couldn’t let the world rot in stasis with no one to watch it.  That’s not the kind of person Kim Dokja is.

“It’s because I’m not really Kim Dokja,” 49 says, lips twitching into a smile he doesn’t feel.  “I’m only 49%.  You know that.”

“Stupid,” 51 says.  “49% of Kim Dokja is still Kim Dokja.  That should have been enough for them.”

“Stupid,” 49 says back.  “If they care about 49%, it only makes sense that they’d still care about 51%.  You should just take me back.”

“And you should stop talking like that, it’s annoying.  If you think you’re only 49%, then I’m only 51%.  By your logic, neither of us are Kim Dokja.  So you—”

51 cuts himself off with a hacking cough, one that shakes violently through his frame.  It would be enough to send him tumbling off the bed if 49 hadn’t caught him by the shoulders.  

This close, 49 can tell that 51 — Kim Dokja — is somehow even worse off than he thought, cold under his hands, fragile under his touch.  There’s barely any weight to this guy at all.  49 thinks if he squeezed, just a little bit, he’d end up breaking bones.  

This is horrifically unsustainable.  It’s pretty sad what they’ve become, isn’t it?

“You’ve been dreaming for too long, Kim Dokja,” 49 says.  “You know you need to recall me some time.  Why not now?”

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #kim dokja #kdj #my writing #mine #writeblr #everything

[askcarla]

why do u like carla

Unimportant Information: I am an INFJ personality girl and these personality people are fond of coldest & serious characters/ppl out there most of the time? For example, Carla's personality I believe INTP and that tends to be very 'alike' or similar and compatible with my personality type :P Ik I sound like a hella NERD but I like Naraku as #1 Character in Inuyasha. Don't ask me why skjskjsk

Past / Background

Carla's past story or BG story is probably be the main reason I like him the most. He had a very TRAGIC past and I really cry each time I see him having a mixing emotion regarding his father Gishbach's torture on him. He really tried his best for being acknowledged and praised by his father...Altho his mother was always there to support him. and it kinda also reminds of my own life situation and goals And also shin's view point regarding Carla in past...but the truth Carla really cares about shin as a perfect brother. I like the bond between Carla and Shin as brothers way more than Mukamis. And also the time when he killed his father was also sad for me. In short, Carla's BG story was most interesting one for me.

Talent /Skills /Strengths

Carla is born-talented with powers as it was told by Krone, which is very powerful compared to his father or other First-blood races. In a training with his father, Carla really mastered a strong magic power(?) which his aged races couldn't do and Gishbach was highly jealous and astonished about that and knocks him out senseless following on. He is also very good in sword, and basically in all the things that ought to be required for a king. He also loves to read books which is absolutely amazing I guess. He is also very artistic person, ae he likes landscapes paintings. He also has a very sharp nerve as it was told my Yui in CL. He is also great in English (grammar) shown in DF. Like yo,,,there are 100s+ and I will get tired if i type everything lmao!

He is also exceptionally good in chess, probably be more or equivalent to Reiji. In Reiji's route, I could clearly say how cold-headed and planned tactics Carla made to beat down Reiji. He said - "99% of the chess is strategy" and it has become my most fav quote ever lol. Altho it's very basic thing to know for a chess-player/lover like me. And then Reiji mentioned after that there's something where he and Carla are very alike...(Which is they both wanted to be acknowledged and praised.) Bringing Reiji here cuz he is my #2 bias forever

His Kindness

For the DL fans who haven't played his route yet might haven't notice that much but, Carla is a very kind person. In LP, I really liked those moment when he saved Yui even though knowing he is gotta get effected by the poison twice in Zatan's mouth. Also when Carla told Aji not to kill the snake which seizing the antidote outta that,,,,although it was the biggest bother in that route lmao. In LE, also when he didn't punish or yell at a ghoul child for injuring him etc etc. Even tho he finds sometimes difficult to understand ppl,,,but he is very kind inside at the same time.

His appearance

Okay—I fall in love with his dress and everything hjsksks. I personally see his style very unique, meanwhile goes well with his kind of person who said "I don't dresses which exposes skin too much like a shameless." Every single outfits, especially dark fate and lost eden. Also like the way he manages his hair and scarf. Idk how to specify lol, I really like every single thing. His hair, eyes, body and EVERYTHING AAAa-

His Voice

I always find deep and dark voice very calming, and carla's voice is such a soothing version of it. I am a big fan of Toshiyuki and most of the otoge characters that I stan is voiced by him uvu. Ik some ppl think Carla's voice sounds like he is around 60+,,,but I never thought of him like that and will I be ever. His voice suits pretty decent with his sharp gaze and cold atmosphere. I luv him voice, so much like literally music in my ears.

His love towards Yui

Although his main attraction towards Yui/MC was developed in Maniac epilogue,,,pretty late but it worth it very much. I was like really surprised that how lovely and affectionate he could be...wow. The hands that was more likely to choke her was now the only place Yui could belong. Also he was jealous when he saw Reiji taught him that English thing on that notebook before. Despite being sadistic, he has a soft heart inside and—always cares about Yui and protects her. He can also catch Yui's mood or thoughts easily by observing her expressions and face.

I am tired-this is just the top reasons that popped out in my mind lol. I can write a newspaper tbh,,how much i love him and my reason for that. Not only romantically but...i really do learn many things from and it is the most inspiration in achieving my goals and especially study purposes sjsksjk

#long post #my loml and best friend #ask #ask me shit

[ironicscavenger]

YEAR IN REVIEW | 2021

2021 was a mixed bag. I wasn’t very prolific, nor did I get many notes. But I did reach 700 followers, and completed a short story from start to finish. That is quite an achievement. So, here is a summary of what I was up to this year.

The Highlight

The one thing I was very steady at, was “Bridges Burn”. Some months, it was the only thing I posted. I am very proud of this story. I put a lot of effort in it, especially the ending. Also, coordinating with Caroline was hella fun. Definitely the best part of my year.

My favorite post per Month

Like always, I chose based on what I liked, not which got the most notes. Most of them are from “Bridges Burn”. Also, SNTM has its own category, so they will (mostly) not be included on this list.

January | This was a slightly eventful month, but this was my favorite edit of the year. More interesting things that happened: I started Bridges Burn, I discovered Sim Ripper, and there were so many reblogs. I’m hoping to reblog more this next year and give more attention to the community.

February | Not much happened. Only Bridges Burn. This one’s my favorite of the lot.

March | Same as February. So many Gianlerette reblogs.

April | [TW: depression] I was in a sad mood that month, and did some weird edit, but I worked hard on it and I loved it anyway. Honorable mention is this edit of Piper.

May | Same as february/march. Honorary mention is this edit I made for mermay.

June | This was my most busy month. I made so many edits for pride month. I also updated the character page, which is always fun. Honorable mention: create a minor sim challenge.

July | Octavia walking out of her children’s life was the highlight of the story. Truly iconic.

August | I kicked off the epilogue. Only 10 posts total that month, 5 of which were original posts. Yikes.

October | January made her first official appearance on the story.

September | I did it. I finished “Bridges Burn”. I am beaming with pride. Honorable mention: I changed my icon.

November | The Emersons made a brief comeback. Honorable mention is their kitchen renovation. Turns out I love decorating things. Who knew?

December | Only things I did was work on SNTM a bit. So those edits (1 2) go here cause it would be empty otherwise.

SNTM

I put together some statistics about the series this year. We finished Episode 3 and are about halfway through Episode 4. I had quite an uninterrupted streak which lasted about 7 weeks (I think). Hopefully we can get back to schedule soon. Otherwise, these are the highlights. PS: The minutes don’t count the full E3 video, just the little parts.

Thank you!

Finally, I like to thank you all for sticking it with me this year, even though it was a mess. And to all the new followers, thank you for taking the chance, and I hope you’re not regretting your decision.

Goodbye 2021!

Past Reviews: 2020 | 2019 | 2017

Holiday Special: Previous | Next

#sims #year in review #holiday special 2021 #long post #you don't have to read all of this #i had to do a review because i feel incomplete without it #i'm obsessed with micromanaging lol