#we've been spoiling him though don't you worry

[drakomod]

So originally I had just started doing adopts again because I was low on money these past few months and wanted some money to save for our FurEh trip with friends.

Well unfortunately life doesn't like to see us being proactive apparently because it decided to give us two great gut (and wallet) punches in the form of my car and our dog, Percy.

Percy was unfortunately diagnosed with stage 3 kidney disease last month. I was able to cover his initial vet bills but the unfortunate part about kidney disease Is that there isn't a cure. We most likely have less than half a year left with him. And I want to be ready if things take a turn for the worse.

The money that is for him would be put aside for the inevitable and heart breaking future vet bills. For now he is still spry and doing okay so we are doing our best to spoil him and keep him happy with what time we have left.

My car also decided to go caput a little over a week ago, we had hoped we could repair it ourselves but we can't. For only Repairing the most important parts it will cost us around $1100 to get it drivable again. If we want to repair everything on the car it would be more like $3000.

So I am here unfortunately asking for help. If you can't donate money I completely understand. If you would still like to help, sharing this post would still help so much. Any money sent through this link, twitch streams, commissions, etc. will be going towards fixing our car, Percy’s vet bills and then, if somehow there is more left over (and if there is then holy cow, wow) It will go towards our trip to FurEh, I think we're really going to need it.

I am also working towards opening my commissions soon if you would like to help out that way, keep an eye out! And of course there are still the available adopts as well!

tl;dr Percy is in the late stages of an incurable disease and our car broke down, both of these are costly and any help is greatly appreciated! ❤️

#it sucks to get news like this #especially after the near-tragedy of last year #Percy was my first ever pet of my own #and I have been quite emotional since his diagnosis to say the least #don't worry he's doing okay for now but we want to be prepared #and the car threw a wrench in that #we've been spoiling him though don't you worry

[mingoooossii]

Paper rings.

Wooyoung x reader

Synopsis: woo and paper rings ig.sorry idk. Warnings: reader is sick though it isn't mentioned what kind of illness. Slight angst. Overall it's fluff. Ig hurt/comfort?

A/n: it's not like I'm obsessed with hospitals or anything.

"Tada!" Wooyoung exclaimed as burst into your hospital room. A wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes sparkling with a childlike excitement.

"Look, i made you another one! " he exclaimed, his voice barely containing his enthusiasm. In his hand, he held a brandishing a new creation – a vibrant paper ring, meticulously folded and adorned with tiny origami cranes. "It even has your favorite lucky symbol!"

You propped up against the pillows, offered a wan smile. Your hair, once vibrant, was now wispy and thin, framed by a stark white headscarf. Yet, your eyes still held the same spark of mischief that Wooyoung knew and loved.

"Woo, you spoil me." you teased, voice slightly raspy.

His grin faltered slightly. Your usual adornment, the mismatched paper ring he'd made weeks ago, was absent. A childish whine escaped him. "Hey, where'd the other one go?"

Your smile softened. "Oh, that one? I, uh, took it off when I went to the bathroom earlier. Didn't want to get it wet." You explained, a hint of self-consciousness in your voice.

Wooyoung's eyes softened. He knew the real reason. He knew how much you treasured his little creations. He'd seen the way you'd carefully placed the ring on your bedside table before falling asleep the night before.

Taking the new ring, he carefully slipped it on your delicate finger, the paper cool against your skin.

A lump formed in his throat. He wasn't naive. The harsh reality of your condition loomed large, a constant shadow they both acknowledged with a silent understanding.

Yet, in that moment, he pushed the darkness aside. He squeezed your hand gently. "Don't worry about that, silly. I can make you a hundred more if you want."

He may not have been able to take away your illness, but he could fill your time with laughter, with the simple joy of their friendship. He would be your rock, your confidant, your source of strength, as long as you needed him.

He continued his charade, pulling out a marker and another sheet of paper. "Alright, choose your colors, sunshine. We've gotta adorn your fingers with a whole rainbow!"

A weak giggle escaped your lips as you pointed at your favorite shades. As Wooyoung set to work, meticulously crafting another paper ring, a silent vow echoed in his heart.

He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but as long as he could make you smile, even for a fleeting moment, he would keep fighting, keep creating their own little world and make sure your days were filled with as much laughter and love as possible.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fluff #hurt/comfort #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung imagines

[takami-takami]

"Oh my fucking god, you feel like heaven, baby–"

Keigo slurs his words as he repeats them like a mantra, one cheek smooshed down into the drool-soaked pillow below. It's a stark contrast to his sinfully raised hips, arching his back upward in a manner suited for well-behaved pups.

Even if you didn't keep in your memory the many times you've wrecked the man before you, it's obvious this isn't his first time.

His form is far too practiced. Though Keigo was the first to arouse the topic one fateful night years ago, twiddling his thumbs, you'd like to say you've adjusted to your role and trained him well.

Tonight, he allows himself a good spoiling; to gulp in air without shame, drowning in the endorphins that spark and bounce off each neuron like firecrackers in his brain.

"Need y'inside me, dove, always," he moans, high-pitched and pretty to match his rosy smile. "Oh god, right there—" he pitches a gasp.

"Mhm," you hum knowingly, angling your thrusts to bully his prostate. "Feels good?"

"Feels good," he repeats, clicking wet in his watering mouth.

Slowly, his hands crawl up to paw at the cotton of the pillow, eyes blinking half-open for a moment in an aroused and delirious daze, before fluttering shut once more. The friction of the sheets against his palms and cheek is delicious with each pounding thrust to the rhythm of the bedframe creaking below.

"Please let me cum, I-I've earned it, I've been good," he argues.

You scoff, unimpressed with his immediate justification for why he should have it rather than asking properly. On another night, perhaps one you felt a bit meaner, you'd remind him that he needn't worry his little mind: he doesn't have a lick of control in this situation.

"If you can cum untouched, maybe I'll think about letting y—"

Before you even have a chance to finish your sentence, pearly teeth are chomping down on the pillow as he humps the air, spilling himself with a whimper of, "hng— 'm sorry!"

Gentle hands smooth up and down the expanse of his quivering hips, shushing his bleary tears and hiccups.

"Aww, baby, don't be sorry," you coo, thumbing away globs of tears from his puffy cheeks. "You did perfect for me, angel."

His feathertips tingle and shiver with the praise, so you decide to make it better with a firm grip on his primaries.

"We've got all night, don't we?"

#this is rushed but i had to get this out there #hawks x reader #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #smut #mha thirst #bnha thirst #peghawks2023

[danwhobrowses]

So a thing happened on Critical Role this week (campaign 3 ep 91), we're gonna talk about it - a long talk - so if you haven't been caught up and don't wanna be spoiled don't keep reading okay?

One of the disadvantages of being in a different time zone is that after fretting all morning, going to work, thinking 'it's 7am maybe it's done now' I had to sit in my office for a stressful final half hour murmuring don't do this don't fucking do this don't you dare fucking do this!

I already was worried for everyone given the cliffhanger last episode, and the 5 hour length made me further worried as players kept being knocked down by Otohan Thull - already frightening in base form but now with an even higher AC and empowered. Then Sam Riegel had to do what he does best, a devastating sacrifice where FCG blows himself up to take down Otohan - Ludinus' No. 2, harrowed for being proficient in slaughter, defeated by no assassin or warrior but a cleric saving their friends. We've been well past 'get off the moon' hours with this one, but now there is an impact on every one of the Hells to think about, which is what this will be about.

FCG Though he is dead there is still stuff to talk about with FCG's death. A common debate right now is the potential of the Reincarnate spell; while the wording of the death implies that FCG's current body is irreparable there is a chance that a 5th Level Druid Spell can fashion him a new body, one of flesh, bone and tongue. The body itself needs to be dead for less than 10 days so there is wiggle room to gain the necessary components too if the top brass of Exandria turn it into a fetch quest. There is argument on both sides though; if FCG comes back does it undermine his sacrifice? Perhaps, but there's no incentive for the Hells to not try. Reincarnation hasn't quite happened in Critical Role yet - Since Molly/Lucien/Kingsley was kinda different, he kinda had the opposite, different mind same body - so it'd be a refreshing new option and also a way to redesign FCG without having to create a whole new cleric (because they definitely need a cleric) with a whole new skillset that the Hells will need to warm towards before the final battle. But at the same time, the soul has to be willing. FCG was content with his sacrifice, and in the arms of the Changebringer would he go back? I'd like to hope so if it's an option, it'd also entertain a whole new character arc for him as a 'real boy' - plus Matt and Sam don't have to fully abide to the D100 rule of what race he turns into. Of course, I like this angle more than needing a new character, because I like happy endings and it makes narrative sense that the Hells would claw and bite to pull him from that sweet goodnight. It would also validate a reason for the Hells to align with the gods, because if divine favour comes into play and the Gods decide against helping Bell's Hells' greatest advocate for saving them then they are foolishly and callously forsaking key players to their survival, FCG reincarnating with the help of the Gods would play a big part in the Hells standing with them rather than losing faith in them, and even with friction between the Titans & Temults and the Gods from the past they would have a common enemy. Still living or dying can have varying effects on the other characters.

Ashton From the moment Ashton met FCG they wanted to make sure this little bot would be okay, that they'd learn to value their life and be able to thrive. While part of that did happen, Ashton is likely going to feel like nothing's changed since Bassuras; knocked out by Otohan and when awakened a friend is dead, another person they couldn't protect.

Before the shard, I think Ashton would very easily fly off the handle, in their anger they'd blame everything including themselves and maybe even consider leaving themselves, it probably have made them more self-destructive too. Now though I'm not so sure, nobody would hold it against them to waver a little on their promise to take care of themselves in a burst of grief, this was after all their best friend someone they looked after like a little brother, and while I can see Ashton quietly and angrily grieving I can also see Ashton double down on trying to keep their promise, making sure that FCG didn't go out like a martyr and that it won't be in vain. FCG reincarnating would assist in Ashton's character drive too, since I feel like they would detest any replacement cleric because it's not FCG, they may also be less abrasive towards the gods if they came through for them and proved that they care - at least to the Changebringer, think they'd still throw copper at the Dawnfather given the whole Angel incident.

Imogen As the nominated leader of Bell's Hells, many will probably look to Imogen Temult for action, the problem is she has her own mother issues to deal with too - and I'm not entirely sold that Liliana has fully made a turn just yet, only that she won't hand over the Hells to Ludinus. FCG's death is gonna produce a lot of guilt from Imogen though, she was detesting the fact that she had to play dead at 1HP while Otohan cut down her friends again, she will likely blame her inaction which in turn may push her to be more aggressive in combat.

At the same time, I can see her being one of the more gung ho characters to push towards the Reincarnate option, perhaps even going as far as to accost or lambast anyone regardless of alliances or rank who she feels isn't as committed. Imogen has been in the position of loss before, and knowing that FCG had a connection with FRIDA she would likely compel herself to fix it rather than have to deliver the bad news. Regardless of whether he reincarnates though I feel like Imogen may look towards some more defensive spells, and maybe through Liliana try to tap into the powers of an Exalted to try and match the power she saw from Otohan, a risky endeavour for sure but FCG took an even greater risk for them.

Orym Orym is probably the toughest of the Hells to read when it comes to FCG's death. There will of course be a deep sadness at the loss of a friend, but I would also sense a...not bitterness but discontent that this is how it went down. Otohan killed his family, he kept fighting her until he could no longer stand because that's what they would've done, and now she's dead but it doesn't make it better, he wasn't the one to do it, he didn't even see it, and the one who did is gone with her. When Bor'dor was killed, Orym coldly reminded himself that 'we're at war', but I don't think he can justify that way with FCG, the loss was greater than the catharsis.

The death also has to turn attention to his deal with Nanna Mori. Many have pointed out that there is a lot of technicalities that may prolong, void or complete the deal; it was never specified how many times the Hells could return from the moon to continue the deal, but at the same time they did technically return from the moon to Exandria safe and sound via the Secret Backdoor. Still, Mori is his best friend's grandmother, there could be leeway on that matter too and even if he does have to commit to the deal (which I call 'Fatekeeper Orym') it's never been explicitly said that Orym needs to constantly attend to Mori in the Feywild, only that he has to be her caretaker and answer her beck and call. However, FCG's death will likely provide a sobering thought that his deal with Mori was perhaps voided, unless there is one more thread he can have her pull. When it comes to seeking options to bring a friend back, I would keep a close eye on Orym - it's not the first time Liam's resolved himself to be damned before.

Fearne Fearne will likely be a linchpin if the Hells seek out Reincarnate. The spell is exclusive to Druids and if Keyleth isn't on hand to do it the task and pressure will fall to her. It'll be interesting how she reacts, I don't wanna say she'll be the most positive of it because she'll certainly be upset, but I can see her being optimistic even if it's to also convince herself, the one who is most encouraging to find a way. As a shipper I of course want her to be the one who comforts and gets through to Ashton while they grieve but if she also is key to his reincarnation that also adds to their slow-burn. Outside of that, FCG's death may also lead into learning about Mori's deal with Orym, which will probably anger her that Orym kept it from her, there is also the fact that having FCG's life in her hands may bring back bad memories of Bassuras and Whitestone. One must also especially worry about her Asmodeus calling card, the Prince of Lies does nothing for free and I still feel like Klask was planted in her path by Asmodeus' (and maybe even Athion's) titan-seeking design.

If FCG does reincarnate though, I could see her friendship with FCG being even greater than it was, since they'll both feel a greater zeal for life - it may also make her feel further distant from her Evil vision, since she will have saved half her friends rather than risked killing them. If not though, Fearne may have to play mediator for the new cleric and may also be pushed towards freeing up more slots for healing to provide more support for the Hells in future battles.

Chetney It's gonna be an interesting one for Chetney too, from one perspective you could see him thinking that FCG traded their life for his; he died, he made peace with that, but then the one who revived him died. Chetney's more personal mindset has often been cloaked in secrecy, perhaps as one of the least open of the Hells despite many claiming him as the Heart of the group, so I wonder if Chetney may harbour some Survivor's Guilt for what happened.

I can see Chetney being the one to keep his emotions close to his chest, even if FCG were to reincarnate he would perhaps try to shrug off that he always knew it'd happen anyway. That being said someone who remains stoic and unwavering may prove a positive or a negative to the group, depending on the person or their interpretation of it. If a new cleric comes along though I could see him being additionally protective of them, having been the new guy before.

Laudna We should all be worried for Laudna right now. The recent 4SD already revealed that Laudna's 'close to the brink' and I'm pretty sure this is the brink. The aftermath of the Otohan fight will likely push each of the Hells to get stronger, since had they hit harder or been able to take stronger blows it wouldn't have come to this, but that will mean bad things when it comes to Laudna, as she may seek to gain power the only way she thinks she can - through Delilah. After all her last two levels went to Sorcery and did little in the fight, whereas her Warlock class Eldritch Blasts hurt Otohan fairly decently, such a thing can linger in the mind for Delilah to manipulate.

It'll be telling if they do try to Reincarnate him whether the damage will have been done already to Laudna, and that the joy of bringing him back turns to tragedy of Laudna losing herself further, as it often does it will fall to how she leans on Imogen, and how open about it she'll be to her. If FCG is lost however, we may have to keep a very close eye on Laudna being next.

Bell's Hells As I mentioned with Laudna, FCG's death will have made something apparent and clear; despite everything Bell's Hells need to get stronger. Even at Lv13, even with Exalted powers, Fey bargains and Titan shards they still just barely escaped a TPK, and granted they were weakened and worn out but no fight is guaranteed to ever be fought at 100%. Otohan may've been the toughest General of the Vanguard but the other Generals - the Weavemind, Zathuda and the Dominon of Cruft Commander - are still not ones to take lightly, Ludinus is still not one to take lightly, and if Liliana is going to be used by him to become a vessel for Predathos, that cannot be taken lightly. Bell's Hells may need to look towards enhancing their stats as well as their equipment, the harness is still a factor too which can boost them all with enough enchanted items at their disposal. An interesting one would be if Otohan's backpack ends up in one of the Hells' hands; many beforehand have talked about Orym being an Echo Knight but I would personally like to see Ashton take it, since it is powered by the Potion of Possibility like their own Dunamancy powers, it's possible (eheh) that they may align in some manner and could you imagine Ashton + 3 Echoes all raging to get All 4 Dunamancies? Otohan's swords may also provide unique properties for Chetney and/or Orym to use. Reincarnation or not I feel like that may be the Hells' next plan once it's discussed whether to attempt Reincarnation and they're off of Ruidus, gathering allies will likely also be something to prepare for for the final battle given how Otohan stated that they have 'enough Ruidusborns' for their plan. As a group it is difficult to tell if this will strengthen or weaken them, it could strengthen them in a 'never again' way like the Nein, but they were also very enthusiastic about bringing Molly back - it drove them through several arcs - FCG however often was the Hells' beacon of hope and the self-imposed attempted therapist, without that the Hells will either have to put it upon themselves to go the extra lengths or they'll close further in on themselves. If FCG does reincarnate I feel like it would definitely strengthen them mentally but if not I am not so sure.

It shouldn't come to a surprise that I will hold onto the Reincarnate potential so that the Hells can get back their friend, but rest assured I'm worried for all of them right now, there are crossroads ahead.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr3 spoilers #cr3 #cr3e91 #cr spoilers #bells hells #bell's hells #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #orym of the air ashari #chetney pock o'pea #imogen temult #laudna #fresh cut grass #fcg #sam riegel #matt mercer #taliesin jaffe #ashley johnson #laura bailey #liam o'brien #marisha ray #travis willingham #needed to get it out of my head so you get two posts! #we all had a cry now Matt can we have a little reprieve where we're not losing our minds over the safety and relationships of the group? #we're not meant to stress this many years off our lives we already work too many years for low pay #Matt you can't let him die believing Exandria was flat c'mon!

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 10 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Ahhhh, my babies, we've finally reached the chapter I've been itching to tell you about for ages! And I cannot WAIT to hear what you think about it!

We left off in Chapter 9 with poor Lori fighting physical exhaustion and a gamut of feelings for Elvis (who's being a stubborn idiot), and when they arrived home to Graceland, their frustrations came to a head. Elvis finally confronted her about her past and a terrified Lori didn't take it well.

Now in Elvis' perspective, we pick up immediately after her collapse. He is mortified and lovesick and convinced that he's harmed her beyond repair. Oh, Elvis. 💔

Like I said, I can't wait to hear your screams about the twists in this chapter, so please don't hold back! 😁 I hope you enjoy!

Much Love! xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: Please scroll to the end only if you need them--I don't want to spoil anything for those who hate spoilers!

Broken Glass Chapter 10

Shit shit shit shit, Elvis chants in his head as you vomit violently onto the pavement, go grey as a ghost, and your terrified eyes roll back into your head. His lean arms wrap around you quickly when you collapse, keeping you from falling into your own sick or hitting your head on the ground.

“Shit,” he curses, out loud this time, following your center of gravity and scooping you up into his arms. “Lori! Come on, darlin’, wake up f’me,” he pleads softly.

Your body seems awfully tiny and much too light for someone who’s presence he can never truly ignore, even when he wants to. His heart slams in his chest, his blood already up from his temper, though it fizzled out the moment you started shivering and sobbing and apologizing like he was sending you to the gallows. The look of resigned fear on your face was enough to give him nightmares and that was before you’d lost consciousness.

He is no stranger to fainting women, it being a staple of his fame since almost the beginning. While he never could quite understand why he of all people caused such a reaction in young ladies, he was always as calm and gentle as he could be. It was his fault they got overexcited, after all—they couldn’t control it just as much as he couldn’t.

But this was different.

You certainly hadn’t passed out because you were overcome by the joy of his presence. Instead, you look like death, and he’s not remotely calm about it.

“What the hell happened? What’d you do to her?” Gene asks accusatorily, running up behind him, followed by the rest of the guys in various states of concern.

“What’d I do…? Shut yer damn mouth ‘fore ya catch flies, ya idiot, and go call the doctor,” Elvis huffs back, hoisting you up into his arms, swinging around, and hightailing it towards the house.

The fear that lances through him at your pallor and lifelessness hits like a knife. The seed of anger he’s held on to so tightly this last week withers at the thought he’s done real damage here.

This is my fault.

He’s not exactly sure how but he knows. He only had to take one look at your face when he called you out to understand you hadn’t meant to hurt him and your past scared you enough to risk the lie. Stupidly, he’d wanted the satisfaction of confronting your wrongdoing, for you to have a smidge of the hurt he was feeling.

But he never wanted this.

How could he have missed something was wrong? You are so damn strong, meeting every challenge thrown your way that he never considered you might be unwell. Selfish idiot, he chastises himself.

He comes close to kicking down the door to his home, but Charlie scoots around him fast enough to open it before he resorts to property damage.

“Come on, Little Bird, wake up for me,” he murmurs softly as he oh so gently sets you on the long sofa. He hates the boneless way you settle, eyes closed and completely unconscious. Nerves shudder down his spine and he doesn’t bother to hide them.

“Did someone call the damn doctor?” he yells at Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s on his way.” Charlie has the sense to look worried, unlike his idiot cousin who peers over his shoulder.

“Wipe that dumbass look offa your face and go get her some water!” Elvis snaps at Gene, who looks at him wide eyed for a moment before disappearing.

Brushing a lock of hair off your forehead, he holds and rubs your cold little hand in his as he quietly talks to you.

“I’m sorry, Lo, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve come atchu like that. I-I realize now that, um, maybe you had your reasons f’not telling me ‘bout your past. I jus’ thought you knew you could trust me, and-and it hurt that you din’t and sometimes I just get so mad I can’t see straight but I shouldn’t take it out on you…” he rambles quietly, “Please jus’ wake up, now, you gotta wake up, honey. I can’t do this without ya.” The admission falls breathlessly from his lips, soft as snowfall.

His heart plummets when he thinks about all the ways he’s taken his anger out on you this past week—ignoring you, throwing girls in your face, making snide comments—and his ego wants nothing more to justify his actions, but in truth, you were right. He had been playing mind games and not communicating why he was upset. He should have just asked you about it right after Frank spilled the beans instead of punishing you for something you didn’t even know he’d found out.

Lord, his mama would have his hide for such childish behavior.

Shame flames his cheeks and worries surround him like a dark cloud until the doctor shows up. You still haven’t so much as stirred and it has him nibbling at his nails—a nervous old habit he’s never quite been able to kick.

When Dr. Shaw arrives, Elvis shoos away the audience of men who’ve crowded the living room when he wasn’t looking. At least they all have the sense to look concerned.

“What happened?” Dr. Shaw asks, setting his bag down next to the couch.

“I-I-I don’t know exactly, one minute she was fine, well maybe not fine cuz we were in a bit of a disagreement, ya see, and well, she, maybe she was worked up? One minute she was standing there and the next she lost her lunch on the pavement and passed out,” he says, unsure if he’s making any sense.

“Did she hit her head?” The doctor asks, examining your hairline.

“Naw, I caught her before she hit the ground.” His leg jiggles uncontrollably, wondering if you’re okay, wondering what he could’ve done differently.

Dr. Shaw looks at Elvis over his glasses, taking in his nervousness. “Has she been ill otherwise?”

Elvis blinks. “Um, I-I-I’m not sure.”

The doctor is one of the only people who knows about his illness, who you really are and what you are doing here, so it’s unsurprising he looks a bit incredulous. “Elvis, you’re spending all of your time with this young woman, and you don’t know if she’s been ill or not?”

More shame bleeds through his chest and settles like a stone in his stomach. His face flushes red hot and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up without him noticing.

“Um, no, I-I guess not, sir,” he mumbles.

He knows his faults, and generally being uncaring isn’t one of them. But these past few weeks, he’s been thinking mostly about himself. His feelings. How your secret affected him. Not how it affected you, or why you might need to hide it. You’d tried your best to take care of him, apparently to the detriment of yourself.

No, he’d been mighty careless with you, and spitefully so.

Dr. Shaw gives him a pursed-lip look.

“I, well, now I know the new hours are keepin’ her busy, what with how I gotta live and all. I-I-I guess she’s seemed tired?” Elvis adds, desperate to fill the silence.

He doesn’t feel he can share all the other pieces, like how you’d been on the run from your mafia fiancé who’d…

Oh, Lord.

Dread rolls in his stomach when he realizes his misstep.

The nightmares. You quivering in terror on the bathroom floor. The bruises. Bruises he’d seen staining your body in places no bruise should ever be. The way you’d flinched when he touched you roughly.

Your fiancé had done that to you. That man was the reason you fled New York.

How stupid he was for not putting it all together sooner. Your fiancé hurt you, and you tried to escape the only way you could.

And Elvis was so afraid of loving you, so consumed by his own feelings, he punished you for it. Just another man in your life punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Fuck.

His gut rolls, leaving him queasy. Through his horror, he wonders if you’ll ever be able to forgive him. If you even should.

Your little moan steals his attention as you stir slightly on the sofa.

“Lori?” he asks, jumping to, wanting you so badly to wake up so he can apologize, so he can make it up to you. “Please, baby, you gotta wake up now. The doc is here.” He grabs your hand and doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

“Mmm?” Your eyes flutter open and his heart swells to see those crystal blues start to focus.

“What happened?” you moan quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“You, uh, you got sick, darlin’ and then fainted,” he coos but there is an edge of disappointment in it, in himself.

Your eyes narrow and then widen with what he assumes is your memory coming back. He watches the trepidation and embarrassment fill your eyes. You slide your hand out of his, shirking back from him, and his heart crumbles a little.

I did this.

“Dolores, can you tell me what happened? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

Your attention pulls away from Elvis, your trepidation clouded by your struggle to focus.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, probably just carsick from the bus ride,” you say, voice wavering, unconvincingly trying to blow off the concern.

“You’re not fuckin’ fine,” Elvis snaps before he can stop himself.

Your eyes widen and Dr. Shaw clears his throat.

“Excuse my language,” he apologizes, then tries to continue more gently, “but you’re not. You’re always gettin’ on me about not tellin’ you what’s what, so now you better answer the doctor’s questions truthfully, honey.”

There’s a beaten, submissive look in your eye that nearly breaks his heart. You turn your attention back to Shaw.

“I’ve had an ongoing headache for days…weeks, maybe? And I am exhausted,” you admit quietly. “Carsick on the rides. It’s probably just a virus. Nothing a l-little rest won’t cure.”

Dr. Shaw purses his lips. “I’d still like to do an examination and some tests. Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

“Upstairs.” Elvis jumps up, eager to be helpful and expend some of the nervous energy coursing through him. He extends his hand to help you off the couch, but you shrink back from him. Stomach churning with guilt, he watches as you warily push yourself off the couch to standing.

You wobble and sway on your feet, and his instinct kicks in as he immediately swoops his arm under you and lifts.

“Elvis, stop, I can get up the stairs by myself,” you protest halfheartedly, but by the way your body sags against him, he doesn’t believe you.

“Hush.”

Scowling, you don’t fight anymore, your eyes getting a dim and faraway look when your head plops on his shoulder with defeat. It’s worrisome.

By the time he maneuvers you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his growing unease has taken root. And it grows more when he sets you on the bed and you look like a shadow of your usual self. Like darkness is trying to swallow you whole and you are letting it.

He looks at Shaw, his eyes trying to convey the deep concern he now feels for your wellbeing, the concern that should’ve been there for weeks if not for his head being wedged so far up his own ass he refused to see what was right in front of him.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Shaw says, “Now, I’ll need some privacy to do the examination.” The doctor nods his head towards the door, dismissing him.

“Aw, hell no. I’m not leavin’ her like this.” He shakes his head stubbornly. The thought of her alone with any man but him suddenly makes his skin crawl, even though he’s known Shaw for years.

“Elvis, I’ve got her. Go. I’ll be down to update you in a bit.” Shaw’s voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for question.

Elvis clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring.

Breathe. In, out.

It’s your voice saying it. He looks to you, sitting stock still against the pillows, staring into space, and realizes your voice is only in his head. It’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.

Finally, he nods curtly, then leaves his—our—room, shutting the door quietly behind him, resisting the urge to leave it open just a crack in order to listen in, to make sure no harm comes to you. But even in his current state, he knows that is overstepping. He forces himself to walk down the stairs, his mind churning.

After pacing the length of the house multiple times, beating himself up for his poor treatment of you, furious at your former fiancé for hurting you, and tying himself into knots with worst-case scenarios, he eventually finds himself at the piano. The only thing that ever truly quiets his mind is music. His fingers fly over the keys and he pours it all into the spirituals coming to him from deep within his soul.

God loves him best when he sings. Maybe He’ll hear his pleas for forgiveness, his prayers for healing—not for himself, but for you.

Lost in the music, he’s not sure how long he sings, but stops abruptly when Dr. Shaw appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doc says.

Elvis waves his arm dismissively. “How is she?”

Shaw hesitates. “It could just be a virus, but I took some blood and urine to test.”

There’s something he’s not saying, Elvis can tell. “And?”

Another pause. “I’m a little concerned about her…state of mind. I know I’ve only met her once or twice, but she seems withdrawn, almost traumatized. You said there was an argument?” He looks at Elvis with an undercurrent of judgement.

Heat blazes across Elvis’ cheeks, while guilt stabs in his belly. “I-I-I…yes, sir, but I’d never hurt her! And I-I don’t think…I-I mean, I don’t know…I think something happened t’her before we met,” he eventually gets out. It’s not his place to share your secrets, but damn if he’s going to let this doctor think he’s hurt you physically.

Dr. Shaw’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t press. He looks over Elvis with pursed lips and a watchful eye before his gaze softens.

“Can I go up and see her?” Elvis asks, almost desperately.

Shaw nods. “But she needs to rest. Stay off her feet. Eat well, if she can, and drink plenty of fluids.” Not run around after your ass, is the unspoken instruction. “Make sure she’s doing those things but…I wouldn’t press her.”

“Yessir.”

There’s tension hanging in the air before the subject is changed. “How are you feeling? Do we to have someone else step in until Ms. Cannava is well?”

Elvis grimaces, shaking his head. The last thing he needs is someone else poking around in his business, in your business. “I’m alright, sir. Probably could use a little R & R myself.”

Shaw looks at him with a critical eye. “Alright, son. Let’s keep it low-key, shall we? I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

And with that, Elvis sees the doctor out.

He lasts approximately 90 seconds before he runs to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and takes the stairs quickly enough that he spills half the glass before he makes it to his room.

“Knock, knock,” he says gently, opening the door. You are laying on your side now, away from him, curled in on yourself on top of the covers and the sight nearly does him in for how vulnerable you look.

“Doc said you need plenty of fluids, so I brought you some water,” he rambles, coming around and setting the glass on the stand next to the bed. “Can I getchu anythin’ else?”

You blink slowly, but don’t respond otherwise. His stomach drops. It’s unnerving, the way you’re staring through him at the wall, vacant and broken.

He can’t have done this, right? Not like this. There’s got to be more to this than a silly fight.

You’re a fuckin’ asshole, the voice in his head berates. He wants to disagree but can’t. But this isn’t the time for him to feel sorry for himself. Standing here being useless isn’t helping anyone.

What would Little Bird do? The thought snaps him into action. “Imma gonna just take off these shoes a’ yours, okay?” he says gently, not wanting to startle you. With care, he takes off your heels one by one, setting them on the carpet at the end of the bed. He wants you to be comfortable but hesitates to undress you, unsure if that would be crossing a line. But he can’t well leave you to sleep in the clothes you wore on the bus for near a day.

After a minute of indecision, he plows forward. “Alright, honey, I’m just going to help you out of these clothes, just down to your slip, okay? Nothin’ more, don’t you worry.”

You don’t fight him at all, wordlessly allowing him to move you upright and undo your blouse. There’s certainly nothing untoward about the way his fingers manage the buttons or how they unzip your skirt. It’s not the way he ever wanted to be doing these things, though, he thinks as he strips your clothes and pulls down the spread on the bed. You have no outward reaction to him lying you down and pulling the covers up over your body, other than letting your eyes fall closed.

He thinks back to the care you’ve shown him when he’s been such in a state, and it’s what gets him through the feeling of helplessness churning in his gut.

Once you are tucked in, he grabs his own pajamas. He’s got no urge to leave you or deal with the idiots downstairs. No, even though his mind is going, he joins you in the bed, attempting to read the book on his nightstand while worry nags at him. Eventually, his eyes droop closed and the darkness takes him, too.

*

You are a bit more responsive the next day, eating a bite of the toast and jam he’d brought up for you, but you stay in bed, eerily quiet and entirely too withdrawn for his liking. He does his damnedest to follow Dr. Shaw’s instructions and leave you be, but it’s nearly impossible for him to not check on you multiple times an hour.

Honestly, he’s not sure you even register his presence half the time and fuck if that doesn’t stab him straight through the heart.

Charlie and the other boys do their best to distract him, but he’s got no humor for the usual fun and games. No, he’s much too wrapped up in his own head, vacillating from wanting to punch his way through the wall and being so lovesick he feels nauseous. The only thing keeping him from totally spiraling is the fact you are still here and alive and in his bed. He hasn’t lost you yet, he doesn’t think.

He can’t lose you.

By the time Dr. Shaw arrives in the evening, Elvis is about ready to jump down his throat with questions. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Let’s go upstairs, son,” Dr. Shaw says, in a somewhat ominous tone. If the doc wants him there for the conversation, the news can’t be good.

Elvis’ heart knocks against his ribs with each step closer he gets to you. You can’t be sick. He’s only just found you and Lord, does he need you more than he needs air. If he’s learned nothing else, it’s that.

Fidgeting, he lets the doctor in the room, following close behind.

“How are you feeling today, Lori?” Dr. Shaw asks, sitting near you on the edge of the bed.

Your usually bright and savvy eyes seem dull as you take the effort to focus on the doctor and his question. “I’m tired,” you whisper sluggishly, shrugging.

“Well, I think we have an answer as to the reason for that,” Shaw says kindly, then motions to him. “Elvis, why don’t you sit?” He gets up from the bed, offering Elvis his spot.

Oh, God, it’s that bad. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance, but he swallows the bile down, sinking onto the bed near your legs.

Dr. Shaw clears his throat. “Ahem, well, Lori, the good news is I don’t think you are sick in the real sense of the word.”

A wave of elation hits Elvis. Thank you, Jesus.

“You are, however, pregnant.”

The crest hits, disbelief slamming into him, taking his breath away in a whoosh.

“How’s that possible?” It falls out of his mouth immediately and without thinking, imbued with much too much innocence after his jaw hits the floor.

A deeply biological sense of panic washes over him then because it is most unmarried men’s nightmare, especially a man like him, to be blindsided by news like this. But his biology and his brain aren’t on the same level because it takes him longer than it should to reconcile there is absolutely no way this child is his.  

This isn’t technically his mess.

But the doctor doesn’t know that and peers over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow. “I trust I don’t have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees, Elvis.”

A flush of heat hits his cheeks and he shakes his head. “No, sir.”

All at once, the gravity of the situation sinks in. The bruises. Your fiancé. That fuckin’ monster. The slightly judgmental way Shaw is looking at Elvis because in the doc’s mind, Elvis is the one who got you in trouble.

Shit.

Finally, his head turns to you. Your olive skin is deathly pale, your icy eyes more intense than usual and shining with unshed tears as you stare straight ahead. Your fingers twist around and around themselves, something he’s noticed you do when you are nervous.

Elvis lightly places his hand on your shin and your eyes whip to his for the first time in over a day. At least you don’t flinch at his touch this time. Instead, his touch seems to ground you and he watches carefully as you come back into yourself and out of wherever your head has held you prisoner since he yelled at you yesterday.

Dr. Shaw looks at the both of you before continuing. “It’s very early days, my guess is—”

“Four weeks,” you finish, the pain of knowing exactly how long etched in your features. It makes his heart ache for you, and more than anything he wants to find the man who did this to you and make him regret he was ever born. But now isn’t the time for all that.

Four weeks is the same amount of time you’ve known each other, meaning this happened after he’d already met you.

How?

“Yes, and anything can happen in these early days, as you well know. I know this is a…delicate situation.” There is unspoken subtext in the doctor’s words, and while Elvis is piecing it out, you seem to understand immediately. The look you give him is heavy and filled with words you cannot say out loud yet. The silence sits heavy between you two.

The doctor takes his cue. “You two have a lot to talk about. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to do your exam and get you set up with what you’ll need going forward? Keep your activity light for now.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Shaw,” you whisper.

Elvis stares at you, trying to psychically glean what you are thinking, but your eyes have shuttered and his own thoughts are going a mile a minute. It’s hard to focus until after he sees the doctor to the door.

“Doc, this probably goes without saying, but we need to keep a lid on this,” Elvis says quietly. He’s too much in shock to understand all the ramifications just yet, but he knows this world is unkind to unmarried young ladies who find themselves in the family way, even if it wasn’t their fault.

He’s got to protect you.

“Of course, Elvis. The same discretion I apply to you will apply to her, don’t worry son,” the man says, patting his back in solidarity.

He ignores the concerned and curious looks from the guys in the living room as he takes the stairs two at a time, his anxiety rising the more he’s away from you.

Skidding through the door, he grinds to a halt when he sees the empty bed. Frantically, he looks around the room, finding you in the closet.

“Little Bird, what’re you doin’?” he says, watching in disbelief as you start pulling clothes and throwing them on the bed before dragging your suitcase, which had only been put away yesterday, back out into the room.

“I have to go,” you say, deliberately not looking at him as you rummage in the closet.

“Go?” he asks stupidly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know…maybe out West somewhere. Canada, maybe,” you mumble, as if this a normal conversation.

His pulse thunders in his head. “What…no, why do you think you’re goin’ anywhere in your condition?”

“I’m not an invalid, Elvis, I’m pregnant,” you scoff. “I’m—” your breath hitches for a moment, your shaking hand revealing your true feelings no matter how calm you are trying to appear. “This isn’t on you, and I know you were getting ready to let me go because I lied to you, which I’ve accepted, but I had no idea…I should’ve known. And I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

His mouth might be catching flies for how dumbfounded he feels as he tries to follow your rambling train of thought. You scurry into the bathroom and rustle around before returning with some of your things, which you dump haphazardly into the suitcase.

“I know you were getting ready to let me go…” circles round in his head a few times before it hits.

You’re running. And you seem to think it’s what he wants.

“Stop.” The command is low and firm.

You freeze in the closet for a moment before grabbing another armful of dresses, ones he bought you even though you insisted you didn’t need anything.

“Dolores, stop this right now and sit yer ass down, goddammit!” he raises his voice, pointing to the bed.

Finally halting, he watches a shudder run through you before you defeatedly sit on the very edge of the bed, your arms full of clothes. Refusing to look at him. He can’t tell if you are more afraid or ashamed, but either makes his heart crumble and the thought of you leaving has him wanting to break in two.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, desperately wanting to take your hands in his own but not wanting to overstep in your fragile state. He softens his voice like he’s going to sing a lullaby.

“Little Bird, I don’t want you to go. Why would you say that?” It comes out too pleadingly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You blink rapidly, once, twice, processing his words, the unemotional mask you are trying so hard to keep on your face cracking. “You…you were so angry I lied and have every right to be! I thought you’d want me gone as soon as you found someone new,” you whisper.

“Honey, no—”

“And now, as if Gianni hadn’t already done his worst, now I’m…I’m pregnant.” Your voice chokes and the façade finally collapses as sobs wrack your shoulders.

Elvis can’t stand it any longer, sinking onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You go stiff for a second, resisting, but he squeezes, and you relent, your head falling on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Every quiet sob coming from you breaks his heart a little. He still doesn’t know you like he wants to but knows without a doubt you didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. You don’t deserve to bear the consequences of an evil man’s actions.

Gianni.

That was the name you said. Rage simmers deep in his stomach, but now is not the time to plot that asshole’s demise, no matter how much he wants to. Right now, Elvis has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like leave him and run to Canada.

His shirt soaks with your tears. The damp sticks to his skin and should be uncomfortable yet it’s not. It’s proof you are here, with him, and he holds onto that.

“Breathe, baby. Just like you showed me—in, out, in, out,” he coos.

Sobs turn to sniffles. Your body shivers but fights for those slower breaths, your grip on him loosening as you seem to calm. He is lulled, too, his racing mind given reprieve for a moment, distracted by your presence in his arms.

Heavy silence fills the space.

“I have to go,” you whisper, sounding pragmatic and defeated, but calm. Peeling yourself from the cocoon of his arms, you stand abruptly.

He grabs you gently by the wrist, turning you back to him. “Din’t you hear me, lil’ one? I don’t want you to go. I-I’m sorry I been such an ass. I-I-I shoulda just asked ya what happened instead o-of punishing ya for somethin’ I din’t understand.” Desperation he’s unaccustomed to feeling leeches into his voice.

He looks up into your shining eyes, hating the warring resignation on your pretty features.

“Elvis…” you begin, stepping away, “you have every right to be angry but—"

“No, n-no…I mean, yeah, I was, but that doesn’t matter now. Please, Little Bird.”

You pause. “I need to leave.” You start putting things in your suitcase, much slower this time.

His heart cracks a little more with every beat. “No, Lori. You…listen, I-I-I’ll be a much better patient, I promise. I’ll stick to your diet and routine and all that shit.” He tries to make light but your face fixes in a determined scowl.  

You just shake your head resolutely.

Finally, he grasps your hands. “Honey, ain’t you hearin’ me? I’m sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, an’ I don’t admit that very often cuz I’m a stubborn ol’ goat, but I’m sayin’ it now. I don’t want you to go. So, stop this nonsense and talk to me!”

Quiet tears streak down your cheeks and you try to blink them away as you look down at him.

“I hear you. But you don’t understand—you’re not thinking, Elvis. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go to save you,” you plead.

“What?” He can’t hide his confusion.

“I already put a target on your back. And if Gianni finds out I’m…he’s coming after me. Whether today or tomorrow or a year from now, I feel it in my bones, and I’ve put you right in the crossfire.”

“I can take care of myself,” he bristles.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. Once the press gets wind of this—” you motion to your belly “—it won’t be good for either of us. If I go now and disappear, you’ll have a chance.” Your sentence ends in a whisper.

He blinks once, twice, trying to absorb what you’re saying. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change his heart. It doesn’t change how much he…

“I need you,” he admits, staring right into your eyes, unwaveringly.

Your lip quivers. “I can’t.” You look away before speaking again. “I’m sure Colonel can find you someone else who can fulfill your needs.”

Fuck. He’s losing you; you are slipping right through his fingers. Frustration fills him with frantic desperation.

“You ain’t gettin’ it, Dolores. I don’t need some other nurse, I need you, goddammit!”

His voice is loud in the small space, echoing briefly before the sound gets sucked into the sound proofing.

“Elvis…” you whisper, eyes going wide with questions he can’t answer, not now.

“Listen—jus’ listen to me, okay? There’s gotta be somethin’, cuz I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you out there by yourself to get hurt by those goons. I’ll fend ‘em off myself.” His brain whirls, trying to see his way through the problem.

“No, Elvis, you don’t understand! This isn’t the movies! Gianni, my father, the famiglia—those ‘goons’—they are dangerous. Lethal. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if Frank knows I left, it means even if they can’t get to you physically, they can do worse to your reputation and your career—everything you’re working so hard to keep.”

Your face blanches and your entire body goes tense. “And if Gianni finds out I’m pregnant with his child, even you might not be safe from him. Oh, Madone, I should have never come here.” Green tinges your face and you bolt for the bathroom.

His heart races, slamming against his ribcage again and again. You paint a bleak picture, and your fear is contagious. But the fear of never seeing you again, of you being out there alone and in danger, strikes not only dread in his heart, but a protective fervor he’s never quite felt before.

An idea comes to him then in a flash, and the sound of your retching snaps him into action. Whether it’s terror or the baby, or both, it has you so in knots you are sick, and he can’t have that.

A few weeks ago, he may have been able to tell himself it’s because you are a good nurse, that he doesn’t want to train some new girl when you already know what you are doing, and that’s why he’s about to do something either wildly clever or wildly stupid. But he’d be lying.

He feels like he’s buzzing from the inside out with nerves, almost like the feeling he gets when doing a live show. It’s equally terrifying and exhilarating and addicting and maybe it’s God’s way of letting him know he’s on the right path.

Barely aware of how he got there, he’s in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and crouching down next to you by the toilet. Not how he ever imagined this would go, but here he is anyway, brushing the hair off your cheeks. He’s so far gone for you, the sick doesn’t even phase him as he wipes your face.

None of it phases him enough to let you go.

You don’t want to look at him, he can tell, but you finally do, your ice blue irises vibrant against your bloodshot eyes, looking defeated and scared and miserable. But still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“Marry me.”

He says it with a quiet confidence only he could muster, despite the pounding of his heart.

You blink in shock, straightening. “W-what?”

“Marry me.”

“Elvis, you can’t be—”

He holds up his hand, halting her reply. “And before you say no, hear me out.”

Your mouth snaps shut in bewilderment.

“Doc said it was early. So, if we get married real soon—love-at-first-sight and all that—it’s still plausible to those without details everything is on the up and up, right?”

Your eyes narrow a little as you work through it. “I…I suppose so, if all goes well.”

A thought comes to him suddenly, threatening to ruin his plan, but he has to say it or he won’t forgive himself for not giving you the out. “I shoulda asked…I-I mean…there are other ways to solve this, less legal ones, but I’d pay for it if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the circumstances,” he says almost bashfully.

It takes you a second to glean his meaning, your face going more ashen than it was already. “Oh. Oh, no. I…I’m Catholic. I don’t…that’s not an option for me.”

“Okay.” He nods, knowing he needs to continue, “T-There’s also adoption. I won’t force you to raise this baby, even if it looks bad for me…I-I-I would never do that to ya.”  

Your eyes fill with tears again, a gamut of emotions running through them. “I don’t think I want that either,” you say quietly.

The weight of that settles between them for a moment before he clears his throat. “Alrighty. I hate to ask this, but you said ‘four weeks’ earlier…so did he hurt you after we met? How—how long were y’all together?” It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth to ask, but he needs to know in order to make this work.

Your eyes close painfully. When you open them, there is resolve there, covering your suffering. “We weren’t. Not really. Gianni set his sights on me a long time ago, and my father…well, Gianni’s family is powerful, and Pop knew a marriage between us would raise his status in the famiglia. My mother didn’t want it, but when she died…well, I had to help raise my brothers, and I was too young, anyway. Then, I escaped by going to nursing school and managed to avoid him for a while, but…,” you take a deep, shuddering breath to keep going. “…but the day after we met in the hospital, he cornered me after my shift. He, um, proposed, and I froze. I didn’t say yes, but I-I was paralyzed, and he took that as acceptance. Then he brought me home to an empty house and…stole what he thought was already his.”

Elvis squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles go white. He has never been a particularly violent man, not finding pleasure in it like some men. Even in his bouts of bad temper, his anger is usually taken out on inanimate objects rather than people, but right now the rage he feels at Gianni is downright murderous. He’d like to rip this man’s heart out of his chest for what he’s done to you.

He swallows the bitter pill of his rage, though, tempered by the anguish in your eyes. A single tear streaks down your cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Never again, Little Bird. As long as I have breath in my lungs, nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You suck in air sharply, then your body shudders on your exhale.

“You can’t promise that,” you whisper tearfully. “I can’t ask you to promise that.”

“Well, I am, and you know better than anybody I don’ take kindly to bein’ told what to do or not do, so you better save us all the trouble and jus’ accept it,” he says, and while there is humor in it, he’s never been more serious.

He fights every instinct in him that wants to kiss your lips, instead pressing his own to your forehead, wishing he could give you some semblance of peace. Pulling back before he does something stupid, he gently wipes your tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. You let him, and he supposes that’s enough for right now.

“Does anyone know what he did, besides me?” he asks, hating that he must.

“No, not unless Gianni told someone. I didn’t even tell anyone he’d proposed. I just went to work and then Colonel offered me this job and I realized it was my only chance to escape. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers in person. I’m so sorry I lied and put you in this position,” you say, voice cracking with emotion.

“You were jus’ tryin’ to survive, honey. No one can fault you for that. I’m glad you got away.” And he is, he thinks, as he smooths your hair. He nearly gets trapped in the blue of your mournful eyes before he snaps himself out of it. He’s got to focus.

“The timeline works out, then, darlin’. Even if people believe we did the deed before marriage, there’s no reason for them to think it’s anyone’s but mine. Gettin’ married cements it, ‘specially with this new, a-dult image Colonel is tryin’ to push of me.”

Colonel is gonna hate this.

“Colonel is never—” you start, seemingly on the same wavelength.

“I know, which means there’s gotta be no doubt in anyone’s mind this baby is mine.”

Your eyes go wide in understanding. You haven’t said yes yet, but he knows how logical and practical you are. He’s got to make you see this is the only way.

“Will Colonel believe it, though? He knows we—I—didn’t take to this arrangement so easily in the beginning.”

“We gotta make him. And I think you continue to underestimate my powers of seduction,” he jokes, wiggling his brow, trying to lighten the increasingly heavy mood.

You sigh. “Be serious, Elvis.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter what really happened, honey, it matters what people think happened. And I’m bein’ honest when I say it won’t take much for most to believe we fell in love and you fell into my arms. Or vice versa. My, um, reputation’s gonna work in our favor.” Heat flames his cheeks, which he knows is silly, but he plays it off with a smirk.

Your eyebrow quirks, but you leave it at that.

He rambles on, “And I don’t know this, um, family of yours, but I’m guessin’ even Gianni is gonna have a hard time provin’ anythin’ if you’re married to one of the most famous men in the world. I can’t imagine even the mob will try an’ steal ya out from under me, so to speak. Not with our ‘love story’ pasted across the world in black and white for all to see. It keeps you and the baby safe.”

You go quiet and still, and he can see the wheels in your head turning. “I…okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’re on to something,” you finally relent.

His heart jumps and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face from your almost-praise.

“But Elvis, this is too much to ask of you. This is your life. I know you had no plans to get married, at least anytime soon—”

“Plans change,” he throws back, quickly and a little too adamantly.

“Not like this.”

“Things changed the minute I got this diagnosis, honey,” he adds soberly.

You go quiet, as though with everything going on you forgot what you were doing here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” you apologize.

Elvis shrugs it off. But he doesn’t want your pity. No, he wants you safe, and he wants you to stay. And he’s man enough to admit this isn’t all for your benefit. He’s being selfish here, too, because, somehow, you’ve wrapped yourself around his heart and the idea of you ever leaving him fills him with despair.

You continue, “I hear what you’re saying, I do, but, Elvis, I’m afraid you’re not thinking this through entirely. You’re offering to raise another man’s child as your own, offering to marry someone who you don’t love…there’s no going back from that, especially when there’s a child involved.”

He swallows thickly, but not because he’s in doubt. Anything but. The image in his head of you smiling and laughing as he plays with the baby, of early morning whispers of love and sharing a bed in more than just name, of you helping fill the rooms of this damn mansion he bought for his mama with gorgeous blue-eyed children…it is so enticing and so close he can’t bear to think what might happen if you don’t say yes.

I love you.

And even if you can only give your trust in him to keep you safe and help raise your child and nothing else, he would still rather have you at his side and love you in secret than not have you at all.

God, how I love you.

If he let the words fall out of his mouth right now, would you agree, or would they send you running?

He can’t chance it. Not with the state you’re in now. So he steels himself instead, using the charm God gave him to get you to understand.

“Honey, I know what you’re sayin’, and it don’t change a thing.”

Those eyes of yours go wide, and he can tell there’s something you’re debating on sharing. A few moments pass while he lets you deliberate.

“Elvis, you need to know before…,” you trail off. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “This is it for me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but with my beliefs, even in this insane situation, this wouldn’t be temporary. Gianni, my father…it’s possible they’ll never stop trying to get to me. And in my world, marriage is forever. Divorce is not an option. I…I can’t bear to think I’m the one ever keeping you from true happiness, from a love and children of your own. Instead, you’re getting a sullied wife who shackled you in a moment of need and who you’ll come to regret. I can’t have you regret me, Elvis.” Tears pool in your eyes and if he wasn’t already on his knees, he thinks this would have brought him there.

This is a tipping point, just like the moment the doctor handed him his diagnosis. Nothing will be the same after today, for either of you. God has a plan, he’d thought when you’d shown back up in his hospital room at just the right moment, and it hits him now—he swears on his dear mama—it was all leading to this.

“There’s no me without you anymore, darlin’. Who else is gonna take care of me? Who else can I trust with my life? I’m helping you and your baby, yes, but you’re keeping me alive, too. And you aren’t ‘sullied’,” he says with more conviction than he’s said anything before, his voice trembling with all the words he cannot say to you yet. He can only pray you see him, too.

The welling tears in your eyes overflow once more, and it cuts him to not know what you’re thinking, to think he’s the one making you cry this time.

“Don’t be sad, honey, please,” he whispers, begs. “I can’t bear to make you cry.” Unable to stop himself, he brushes your cheeks with his fingers, cupping one in his hand.

The way you lean into him is so slight he might be imagining it, but it’s enough to give him an ounce of hope, one he latches onto immediately.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, not about you anyway. I’m crying because I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. You hardly know me,” you weep.

“I know enough.” And I’d do anything for you.

You close your eyes, dark lashes clumped with tears fanning across your cheeks. “Can you…can you give me a minute?” you say, not unkindly.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, o-of course,” he stutters, his heart fluttering nervously as he stands. Holding out his hand, he helps you up off the floor, making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go. “I-I’ll be in there, when you’re ready.”

The door to the bathroom shuts behind him and he hears the faucet running. Waiting has never been his strong suit, which he’s brutally reminded of as the minutes tick by. He tries to sit on the bed, but he can’t keep still and jumps up immediately, running a hand through his hair while pacing the room.

But as much as he should be doubting his decisions, he’s not. He should be questioning his damn sanity, proposing to you like that—a woman he’s known all of a month who comes with more baggage than an airliner—but honestly, he’s never felt so sure of something in his life.

Sure, Elvis from five weeks ago may have sent him to the looney bin for offering to marry a girl and raise another (apparently very dangerous) man’s child, but that Elvis hadn’t been handed a death sentence and a ticking clock. That Elvis didn’t know his Little Bird.

That Elvis didn’t love her.

Hell, he’s much more worried you’ll leave out of some hairbrained thought he’s better off without you and get caught by Gianni, who he’s absolutely certain will hurt you in ways you never thought possible if he catches you.

No, Elvis isn’t scared you’ll say yes—he’s terrified you won’t.

He can’t begin to think of the despair he’ll feel if you disappear. Selfishly, he’s not sure he can stand to take another heartbreak, not now. It would be a cruel joke for God to put you in his life and then rip you away just when he needs you the most.

It makes him think of his mama and the gaping wound of her loss that’s only begun to heal. All Mama ever wanted for him was to be settled and happy, with a good woman by his side. He hadn’t understood why at the time. He’d wanted to focus on his career, to be free, to enjoy his youth and all the perks of his fame. But God humbled him right quick, first by sending him off to the Army, then by taking his mama. Since then, he’d spent too much time falling into the arms of woman after woman both drowning his sorrows and in the hopes he’d find the one to magically fill the void left in his heart.  

Yet all of it led a path straight to you. And there’s something serendipitous about it he can’t ignore, no matter how batty it all might seem.

So, he best convince you to stay.

After what seems like an eternity, the bathroom door swings open. Your color is still drawn and sallow, the dark circles under your deep-set eyes more pronounced than usual, but you are hauntingly beautiful. Silent, you glide your way towards him slowly, your face shuttered in that way of yours, giving nothing away. His blood thunders in his ears and he hopes you cannot hear it.

You stop before him, mere inches away. Anticipation itches under his skin as his pulse ratchets up. He jumps when you place your palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, the way he knows you do to ground yourself.

Well, hell, there’s no hiding now, not when he knows you can feel just how fast you have his heart beating. You’re probably counting his pulse and getting ready to tell him to relax.

But you don’t. You don’t speak at all. You stare at your hand over his heart and wait, but he’s not sure what for. It’s not until his lungs scream for air that he realizes he’s holding his breath. He feels like he’s going to float away and finds himself shakily breathing in. He knows you feel it. His hand covers yours, anchoring him to you, trying to prove he means everything he’s told you and so much more he can’t yet say.

Finally, your eyes raise up to meet his so intensely he might have been knocked off his feet if he wasn’t locked onto your hand so tightly, feeling his heart thrum against your palm.

“Lori—”

Your finger shushes him, pulling against the fullness of his lips. The touch is electric, zinging through every nerve in his body and buzzing around his chest. He doesn’t understand what’s happening until you’re on your tiptoes, your cold little hand pulling down on his jaw.

The two of you have kissed before, of course, but always for an audience, and even then, you’ve never once initiated it. So, when your lips meet his so softly, he’s taken aback with disbelief.

You don’t waver, however, through the milliseconds it takes him to recover his wits, waiting patiently until every sense in his body hums to life all at once. His heart swells and his belly tingles and then he’s kissing you back, as gently as he can, swearing he won’t be careless with you again.

He wants to devour you but doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to ruin this blissful, unbelievable little moment where your lips are pressed so chastely against his own, using them to say all the things neither of you can seem to say out loud.

The sliver of logic still left in his brain tries to convince him this slice of vulnerability you’re sharing with him is likely nothing more than a show of gratitude, but his aching heart can’t tell the difference.

So there’s no helping the way his other hand falls to your waist, cinching there, pulling you closer. Your minty breath puffs against him in surprise, then he’s gently chasing your mouth with his, unable to stop himself—the hope of it all, of what could be, is too consuming. He can’t stop the way it blossoms through him, opening pieces of him he didn’t know existed.

It’s dangerous, this hope, but Lord have mercy, he can’t bring himself to care about the risks. Not when you’re in his arms like this. Not when he needs you like he needs oxygen.

This little kiss is like heaven, he realizes, because you are giving it freely. It’s not for show; it’s not begrudging or afraid. No, a kiss like this from you means only one thing:

It’s an answer.

A promise.

Or it’s a goodbye, you idiot.

The horror of that possibility squeezes his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pushes it away fiercely.

When the sweet kiss breaks, he finds himself winded even though he shouldn’t be, his head bowed and pressing into yours. He threads his fingers through yours over his wildly beating heart. Anything to keep you tethered to him.

Not one kiss out of the hundreds he’s had in his life has ever knocked him flat quite like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Elvis. You are offering me so much—too much—and I don’t know how much I can give you in return…I—,” you whisper, voice wavering.

“You’re enough,” he manages to get out, not wanting to hear the rest. And it’s true. God help him, it’s true.

You breathe in a little gasp of air, one that makes his heart flip. Then your crystal eyes raise to meet his.

“Then, yes, Elvis Presley, I’ll marry you.”

 *

TW: physical illness (fainting, vomiting), dissociation, Gianni and references to previous sexual assault, lots of cussing, unplanned pregnancy due to sexual assault, brief allusions to abortion

*

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#oooh can't wait to hear those screams 🤭 #broken glass #broken glass ch 10 #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis x dolores #italian mafia #elvis 1960 #post army elvis #elvis fic #angst #slow burn

[theysaidhush]

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Chapter 1: Animal Farm

Pairing: Stray Kids x 9th member!OFC

Warnings:

I'll say this only once, this is the only warning you'll get. Future chapters will contain lot of smut (eventually) angst and fluff. Heavy topics will be discussed (idol life y'know) but I don't wanna spoil it. This story isn't for sensitive person? I don't know how to put it. Just don't read if you think you'll feel uncomfortable!

This is a x OC but will be tagged as a x Reader. I find it difficult to write properly about a character while worrying about making it inclusive and fitting my story. I don't really care about her name or physical apparence though so if you have any suggestion I'm up for it.

No pressure chill under the trees. Updates will not be regular as this story is solely for my entertainment and whenever I feel like writing it. Means that I'll keep on posting even if I don't have any feedbacks but also means that chapter lengths will vary to very short to more words. You can have many chapters the same day, depends on my life, but I don't really like short chapter so ill do my best.

"I am not being a pain in the ass."

"Yes you are."

"You kinda are."

Minho sent a chilling glance to the boy who was curled up next to him on the living room's couch. It was enough for Jisung to shudder. But the topic was serious, he wasn't about to change his opinion just because his hyung was giving him that look.

"No seriously, you really are."

"Okay."

Minho smiled and kept on doing what he was doing on his phone, ignoring everyone's stare - Jisung's stare particularly. The younger boy was looking intently at him, he was waiting for something, something he was sure his hyung would do. And he did. Like three minutes after. He blew through his nose, still looking at his screen.

"Ah! I knew it!"

"I really don't understand what's the problem. Has she done anything to upset you? We can talk it out like adults."

The couple on the couch looked up from each other and Minho stared at Chan intently yet silently. The leader couldn't really tell what was on the dancer's mind, and it was upsetting him to no extent. Any other day he would have brushed it off as Minho being Minho. The latter was a great friend, he almost considered him his brother, despite not knowing on the tip of his fingers the boy's small quirks and habits. It was a Jisung thing. But now, more than never, he wished he could know him a bit more, he wished for the other boy to let him in.

"I don't want to talk it out with you."

"Minho..."

Jisung's hush whispers was not a warning, yet, it felt like one. He was not scolding his Hyung, he was just trying to appease the tension. Chan's face was contorted in what people would consider anger, but Jisung knew better. He was frustrated.

"This is about the whole group, not just me. I didn’t come to you as a friend, Minho, I'm here as a leader."

And it might have not been the right thing to say. Because Minho frowned, and retreated into silence.

"What a mess." was Jisung's thoughts, his eyes drifting toward his leader’s, whose head was turned toward a silhouette standing in the hallway.

"No. You can't do this to us."

"You don't have a choice."

"We do! It's my group, our group, we've worked so hard to reach our goals and create the music that will fit us!"

Chan did not know what was more upsetting at the moment; the fact that he was having this conversation while he was sleep deprived - he would blame himself for that latter, saying that it was the reason he couldn't plead their case better - or the fact that he was even having this conversation.

"They've let you do your things, you know that Chan."

"No, they gave up on us, so we had to fight our way to the top! That's what happened."

The word 'top' was a far too big word for Chan, but one he had to use nonetheless to prove his case. They were enough. They were just fine.

"They..." his manager sighed and pinched his nose. The situation was getting out of hands and even he could not do a thing about it. But at the the end of the day, his job was on the line, and he had a family to feed. "They threatened to disband the group if you don't agree to the term."

"Just fine by then! We'll go elsewhere and keep on doing music together."

"You don't understand Chan, think it through! This is not a GOT7 type of situation, they'll take Stray Kids' name, your music, your brand and all that you've accomplished by yourself, and if you do try to prosecute them you'll lose. I've read the contracts, everyone's contract. You can't refuse."

"I can't - " Chan laughed and sat on his chair, running his hands on his face. "This is disgusting and despicable."

"I know, Chan, I'm sorry."

"They just want to make publicity, it'll bury us."

"I know..."

It was a one in a life time opportunity, the young woman really and truly understood that. She was considered too old to even sit in that room, she was told countless times. Yet, it did not change the fact that she was sitting in that room. The room where all important decisions were made.

She felt uncomfortable, growing uneasy, fighting the urge to scratch her skin off - one bad old habit. Her choices, her decisions; all of those were flashing in her mind like a broken tape, image and pictures of the times she spent practicing to be here - not that much, if you ask her.

Those people stare - those important people's stare was making her fidget in her sit, avoid eye contact. Were they testing her? Waiting for a particular reaction, the one which could get her out of here in a matter of seconds? The room was feeling too warm, she will sweat buckets if she doesn't go out. Right now.

"There you go. Miss?"

They did not even knew her name. It was a bit disappointing, but then again, she was just another someone wandering between those halls, wasn't she?

"Athéna."

"A- Axina..?"

"More like, Ah-thé-nah." she corrected their pronunciation with a soft voice, continuing, "You can google it."

But their glare was enough for her to shut her mouth and look at the ceiling. It was a fool idea to correct them, they were older, knew much more things than her. It was a little unnerving, this whole elder situation was a lot to get accustomed to in South Korea.

"Axina. Have you read the terms and condition of the contract?"

"I have."

"Any reclamation?"

She wanted to laugh at their face, but she couldn't. She did not had it in her to do that. So she nodded, pretending to be genuinely interested by their answer, even if she quite knew what they would say.

"Regarding the whole part of you managing my...image. I'd like to know if it concerns my hair too?"

"Yes, obviously. And your weight too."

Freezing cold in her bones. Was it because the window was opened? Or was it their stares? It was chilling nonetheless. It was sending her back into a period of her life where she had looked at her reflection days and nights to get a glimpse of her ribs and be satisfied with the view.

"Oh."

"You'll have to work on your Korean too, your pronunciation isn't that good."

"What are you?" another one asked, shifting through the page of the contract she had signed.

What she was. Not who. Not her nationality. But what.

"I'm French, mister."

"Great, it'll help with publicity oversea. Are you fluent in English?"

Why was she having this discussion with them?Wasn't she supposed to talk to the manager and the team helping Stray Kids? Why was she sitting in front of JYP's shareholder.

"I'm almost fluent. I've learned while traveling."

"What a shame. If she was prettier we could have scored partnerships with French luxury brands such as Dior or Channel."

"She'll be perfect for the role that will be given to her."

"I guess so."

"We're done with you."

Was it an animal farm? She never felt that disturbed by a conversation in her whole life. She shuddered, getting up from her sit as she grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt to pull on the lose strands. She couldn't help herself but rock back and forth on her feet - another bad habit of her that some even called weird.

"And stop doing that it's weird."

Chapter 2

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #poly!stray kids #stray kids angst #swan dive and she met the stars #idk how to tag this

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.187 thoughts

[Just the Way I Like It - Extra Crispy]

(Contents: immediate reactions, small Andy analysis, speculation)

Ohhh, the DNA hair isn't supposed to represent chromosomes, it's supposed to represent evolution! You know Tozuka did that on purpose. He wanted us to think she was Sex so we'd be surprised when she was Change. And from what I've seen, all of us sure were

But that's not the most interesting part of this chapter, not by a long shot. No, the most interesting part has got to be, without a doubt, Andy

As always, Tozuka provides us with a shot that's instantly iconic, this time in the form of Andy's charred body sitting stalwart on the barren surface of the extinguished sun. The linework and shading here is phenomenal, it almost feels like something out of Berserk. In the hands of a lesser artist, Andy's body might just be completely blackened with a barely recognizable outline, but here, even through all that ink you can see every contour of his physique, almost like you could count the individual muscle fibers. It's eerie, it's haunting, it's melancholy, it's beautiful, and to top it all off, it's metal as hell

Understandably, everyone is terrified when they see Andy in that state; they've only seen Andy in action for the span of about a minute, so they don't quite understand the extent to which Undead really works. Seeing someone charred to cinders but still shockingly intact like that would definitely be unsettling, especially if you aren't used to seeing death the way that the previous Union members all were, but being told that he's still alive through that? Knowing that the heat you're feeling on the extinguished sun, likely a fraction of how it feels normally, is the sort of condition he's been stoically enduring for eons and somehow he's still conscious? That's pushing eldritch horror territory

But of course, Fuuko isn't even phased. She's seen her fair share of the things that Andy's had to go through, and she knows that however hard it was for him, he'll be able to bounce back better than ever. Seeing Fuuko run up to hug him and thank him, telling him that she learned to live as she does from him, is so heartwarming and sweet that you almost forget that Andy's a smoldering statue

Now, the whole time that Nico was talking about Andy's sensory nerves and organs being fried, I was thinking one thing: he doesn't really need them, does he? He was able to move his body with his soul even through the effects of Unmove, and we've seen him moving his body while the sun's flames were active, so we know he has some way to tell what's going on around him, so why even worry about conducting sound through his bones?

The first answer is probably that Fuuko didn't know that or couldn't rely on it. Even if he could hear her through his soul, it's best not to take any chances and guarantee that her message is going to get through. Secondly, though, it's way more dramatic to shoot him in the head and jam her fingers into his skull. It makes a beautiful parallel to the events of the Spoil arc, it cuts the tension of the movement by being surprising and funny, and again, it's a striking image. Not even just the gunshot, but Fuuko having her hands on Andy's head while she talks to him, almost like she's holding his face but in the macabre and disturbing way that only UU can provide

My concerns were then answered though with Andy not only raising to his feet, but also firing off a brand new move: Soul Boosted Parts Bullets! Whether it can actually deal damage remains to be seen, since we've seen in the past that souls can only interact with souls, but Andy also created a soul chain to hold Change in place, suggesting that he's able to interact with a target's soul while its bonded to its body, much like how Ichico gained the ability to force a target's soul out. This implies that Andy can in fact deal damage with this move, even if only to the soul, which would arguably be more effective than harming the physical body of a UMA since they can regenerate any damage that isn't to their core anyway

Andy leveling up to the point that he can weaponize his soul like this, coupled with Enjin having solar-level control of Unburn, suggests that Tozuka is nowhere near showing us the real ceiling of everyone's powers. I talked about it in my response to @buhbuhlmao's post the other day, but there really is a good chance that, while no one's going to be able to solo Sun, everyone's probably going to be able to operate on a scale that would let them at least hold their own if they needed to

That said, Andy's new ability made me realize something: Victor probably wouldn't have been able to hold off the Master Rules like Andy did. While Victor never believed that his mind was a necessary part of "being alive," he also was stated not to believe in the soul as a concept, meaning that if his whole body were charred inside and out like this, he wouldn't have a mechanism for forcing his body to move anyway - he wouldn't be dead, but he also wouldn't be able to regain consciousness until someone brought him somewhere he could heal, and he certainly wouldn't be able to use his soul to suppress the Master Rules. Andy's ability to pull off such a feat proves that he's surpassed Victor, or at least caught up to his level by traveling a different path. Honestly, if we ever do get to see Andy and Victor split, I hope that we get to see them using Undead in completely different ways to show just how much of an individual Andy has become

To cap off this stellar chapter, we finally get a glimpse of our last five members (excluding Ruin and Lucy). Bunny, Tatiana and Kururu are all how I'd expect them to be, and Top is a bit older looking, but the real surprise is that Juiz is clearly younger. Not only that, she looks remarkably like Fuuko. Twitter user Junebug pointed this out too, that Fuuko and Juiz's positions and appearances have switched: Fuuko went from short- to long-hair and has become the leader of the Union, and Juiz has become short-haired and naively bright-eyed. The impact that this will have on their characters remains to be seen, but I'm super excited for it!

I do hope that meeting Juiz will allow us to fully understand the mechanics of the loop, though it's probably not super important that we get that. I just really want to know myself. Was Juiz always supposed to be a child/teenager in the 2010s, or did her soul hold her off for a few extra years? Also, she looks completely different compared to her child self before, is this because this is her first reset in the loop after getting transed as many have theorized? Oh, and could it be that Sex isn't the one who made Juiz into a woman, but Change? There are so many questions, and I hope Tozuka deigns to answer them all in time!!!

Until next time, let's enjoy life

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

[thewomanwhoboughttheworld]

Last night I finished watching Barry and, after having slept on it, I want to say something.

WHAT.

A.

SHOW.

I mean, if you haven't already seen it go and catch up because wow. It's only four seasons, eight episodes each, about 30 minutes each episode. I promise it's worth it.

Little shitty recap if you haven't seen the series: Barry Berkman is an ex-marine who comes back from Afghanistan and becomes a hitman. When he discovers theatre and meets Sally (a girl he falls for) and Gene (acting teacher), Barry decides he wants to change his life. Shit happens, the Chechen mafia is involved, he can't leave his life behind so he always finds himself in the darkest place.

Don't keep on reading if you haven't seen the show because I'm about to go and spoil it for y'all as I will talk about the last season and the last episode.

I get it, alright? I get why people don't like the ending. It's because it doesn't have a build-up or a build-down, it doesn't resolve anything, it's just... An ending. Just like in Bojack Horseman, when Bojack is sitting on the roof with Diane and she tells him it's just an ending. That's exactly what Barry's last minutes are. Just an ending.

We don't need something big, some action-packed gran finale with whatever you can think of. We already had that. We already had an adrenaline-filled last episode in past seasons, but it always meant that something else was going to happen, that the story wasn't finished. And you know what they had in common?

Barry.

Those endings all had to do with Barry. Barry killed Janice. Barry went on a shooting spree. Barry wanted to seek revenge. But Barry's not there anymore, so who else is going to keep on the violence and the blood thirst? Nobody. Not NoHo Hank, who is dead. Not Gene, who's in prison. Not Sally, who wants to get away from all of this and care for her son.

This simple and bitter ending is just perfect for the tone set by all of the series. It's a satire, it's sad, and it makes you want to shout at John not to believe in what he's seeing. But it's real and raw. It is upsetting, that's true, just as the whole series is because Barry's point isn't to comfort you. It's never been.

Furthermore, what else could we have more? Every character got their own ending, in a way. That's it, there was nothing more to say.

Fuches (my God, Stephen Root you excellent actor, how I hated your character throughout the seasons) served his time in prison and got what he deserved. He still couldn't leave his criminal life behind, but we see that he understood his mistakes. We can see it in his eyes when he brings John back to Barry. Don't fuck it up, kiddo, don't fuck him up. Will he keep on leading a criminal life? Of course, he doesn't know anything else. Will he manipulate another kid like he did with Barry since he was a child? Not likely.

NoHo Hank... Listen, I still had my heart in pieces from the Ineffable Divorce (my babies deserve so much more, I believe in the South Downs cottage) and now THIS?! I WANTED TO SCREAM, OKAY? Nohobal was so precious and the healthiest couple on the show (I can't believe I just said that about two criminals but whatever) and this is what they pulled? Bill Hader, I love you with all my heart but I'm never going to forgive you. But it's so incredibly in character for Hank because even if we see him as this sweet and polite guy, he always chooses violence. Ever since the first season, his answer was always violence, even if it was to protect Cristobal and their future together. We just see him in a darker place and I just-- That last scene with Hank dying and holding Cristobal's statue's hand is *chef's kiss*. Give Anthony Carrigan his fucking deserved Emmy Award.

OH. MY. GOD. GENE. Even though I thought he was slightly off the entire season, I think it's fine. We've always seen him composed and rational, but this season he just let emotions take hold of him. He was so scared and angry and just didn't know what else to do. I was so worried he was going to unalive himself with that gun but boy. He did it. He really killed Barry. I couldn't believe it at first but wow. And Henry Winkler, my friends, is the reason why NOBODY should be typecasted. He was so good and believable and overall GLORIOUS in this series that I can't believe the industry didn't see his talent back then and just wanted him to play different versions of the Fonz. But Henry darling, I love you so much but I can't look at that hair and that beard.

Sally's such a complex character it is really hard to break down. I love how we can still see her trauma, her abused and abusive nature. She's always true to herself, even if she grows and changes for the better. I love that she found a passion for teaching and decided to be what Cousineau was for her. I really think she will be a great mentor if she can let her ego go. I love how she understood what John would have done at his (boy)friend's house and accepted it. I think that, while in the car, she was choosing what to do next. Do I tell my son the truth, that that movie is bullshit and his father was a killer, or do I play along so that I won't fuck him up? That's what her eyes told me, but I may be wrong. But wow. Sarah Goldberg is perfect. Just perfect.

And now Barry... Barry, who I loved so much, who I believed in, who I rooted for. Barry who can't stop being violent, is a killer at heart, who can't be redeemed. He's unforgivable, he can't make it right. We've seen it in the past seasons when he couldn't escape from Fuches and the mafia and all of that, we see it now as he dies before turning himself in. It's mindblowing. Bill Hader is such a fucking genius and such a good actor that I don't even know what to say. I could talk all day about this series and this character, but I think this post would be too long.

In the end, great series. One of the best I've seen in recent years, one of my favourites. Thank you, Bill, for making this show come to light and being so freaking good at writing, directing and playing in it.

#barry berkman #barry hbo #barry block #bill hader #henry winkler #anthony carrigan #Barry #sarah goldberg #stephen root #Emmy #emmy awards #hbo

[duckielover151]

Some OPLA Thoughts: Episode 5

Wow.

My post about the last episode started off with how Zoro's backstory (the portrayal of Kuina particularly) was the first thing in this adaptation to seriously disappoint me... Only to immediately follow that up with the best episode so far. I don't think I have anything negative to say about this one.

We've finally started to see that other side to Garp that I was worried had been edited out of the live action completely. That wilder, goofier side when confronted with his grandson as a pirate for the first time. That grayer portrayal of morality in this universe, when he and Koby talk about the Warlords.

I found it really interesting that Koby was so betrayed by the concept of the Warlords. I mean, I also think that's the right response, but it really hasn't been made clear yet in the live action that the World Government is super corrupt. Honestly-- I'm pretty sure I mentioned this in my post about the first or second episode-- they even toned down how much of a tyrant Morgan was. The anime made it really clear that the people of the town were just as scared of Morgan as they were of any potential pirates his unit was supposed to be protecting them from. In the live action, it could be read that Helmeppo was just an errant bad apple.

And speaking of! He's finally starting to come around. It's a prickly sort of friendship that he's building with Koby... but they are noticeably talking more-- and saying more. Those conversations aren't all insults and then stalking away in a huff like they have been up to this point. I didn't mention it in my last post, but Helmeppo had a line that really stuck out to me in episode four. It's still all argument about how they should be handling their duties in Syrup Village, but he's let his guard down enough to admit that he is jealous of the shine Garp's taken to Koby.

What stood out in this episode was his line about how Koby doesn't know shit about how the world works-- in reference to his disbelief about how the Government handles the Warlords. I was kind of ridiculing that... and kind of not. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was along the lines of, "Really? Pampered, spoiled Helmeppo is going to lecture the boy who spent his childhood enslaved on a pirate ship about the harsh realities of the world?" But you know... That is a really interesting angle to take. That being the son of a high-ranking Navy captain, maybe Helmeppo has seen some of the injustices of how the World Government runs first-hand, and it would be great if that's what these two bond over in the live action.

Sanji's introduction has been great so far-- his fight scene looked fantastic-- and we haven't even gotten into the really hard-hitting stuff with his backstory with Zeff yet.

There were some interesting changes... but nothing that left me feeling uneasy about how it might impact the story as whole. I really hope they leave the whole issue with Don Krieg as the abridged version that it is right now. Honestly, that whole ordeal was really tedious to me in the original. I love that Nami was around for Zoro's duel in this version. (Though maybe a little disappointed that Sanji wasn't. I felt like witnessing that was a pretty major moment in him starting to understand what this insane crew is really all about.)

And Mihawk... Steven John Ward's portrayal of Mihawk is everything I was promised it would be. Really stole the show this episode.

The fight with Zoro was amazing. But also just his overall demeanor... and they gave him the best lines! Like, obviously the "I don't hunt rabbits with a cannon" one comes to mind-- in regards to only using that tiny knife against Zoro. But also, I loved his interaction with Luffy. The little, "Though I do like your hat" was such a great nod to his friendship(?) with Shanks... All of his moments were just so good.

I saw an interview with his actor where he talked about the secrecy behind the audition process-- how he didn't even know what role he was auditioning for until he got it. And how his response was to immediately call up his friends who are anime fans and ask them just how bad it would be if he fucked this up. XD

Which is exactly the response I would want. Any time I've had concerns about this show, it's always been about the writing. (And nothing too major has been messed up yet.) I've got no complaints about the acting. Everyone has killed their roles so far and brought exactly the energy to the table necessary to make this something special.

#one piece #opla #episode 5 #dracule mihawk #steven john ward

[munsons-maiden]

I’m really starting to lose hope about Eddie’s return now😞 what with Joe’s new role in A Quiet Place and him saying that he’s ready to say goodbye to Eddie.. Like Joe! The rest of us aren’t ready to say goodbye to Eddie though!😭 Like don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy for Joe and wish him all the best with any new projects. Just I honestly don’t think we’re getting Eddie back now..😮‍💨😔

Nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing.

All the symbolism, the way Joe is still doing promo, nothing has changed.

Joe has been telling people "thank you for having him while he was here" since July 1st and look how far we've come since then.

In the past two weeks, we didn't simply get new hints - but we got the first two hints that CAN'T be written off as coincidence, but they are very much intentional. The icon color backgrounds and the Alive in the Upside Down poster are the first two hints at Eddie's return that Netflix put out knowing damn well what kind of havoc they'd cause, how much they'd reaffirm our theories and build our anticipation and confirm our hopes as very much rational instead of delusional, and after the backlash they got after killing Eddie in Vol2 they know they can't do this and not bring him back. They want us to love the final season, and by fueling false hopes they would risk our love for ST and our trust in them, and they can't do that because they want us to watch their spin offs and buy their merch and hype the cinematic universe they're trying to build. If anything, the past two weeks have given us so much more reason to believe Eddie will be back - but of course Joe won't spoil that in an interview with GQ. He will keep lying, just like everyone else who's involved.

If Eddie doesn't return in ST5 - and I'm absolutely certain at this point that he will - then he'll get his own spin off. Most probably even both, because Eddie is THE money machine and what Netflix wants, in the end, is money.

Don't worry, dear. Eddie will be back 🖤

And as for the Quiet Place: everyone else involved in ST has other projects lined up, and David Harbour will be filming ST5 and Marvel's Thunderbolts at the same time, as a lovely anon pointed out yesterday, so that doesn't have anything to do with Joe's return to ST 🥰

#kiki answers #eddie munson #stranger things 5 #joe quinn #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[george-weasleys-girl]

Chapter 26 - Halfway Out of the Darkness

Warnings: one curse word

Summary: Love letters between George and Y/N

Start Here:

~•~

January

Y/N held the envelope to her nose, enhaling deeply. Gunpowder and caramel flooded her senses. His scent alone was enough to ease the near constant pang in her heart. For a little while, anyway.

After a few moments, she pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

I got your letter this morning that you'd arrived safely. I think I'd been holding my breath this whole time. Airplanes are cool and all, but they still worry me. Maybe one day I'll understand the psychics. Isn't that what you said muggle science is called?

Anyway, things are going ok here. Fred and I have been seeing loads of magpies recently. I wish you could be here to see them.

I'm counting down the time until you're home for good. Five more months. We can do this, right? We survived the first half. We can survive the second.

I just wish it'd hurry up and pass. Even when I'm surrounded by my friends, I'm lonely.

It seems silly, doesn't it? Being lonely when I'm with Fred and Ginny and everyone else. Or maybe it doesn't. None of them are you, and you're the one I want most right now.

Anyway, that's enough of my mopiness. I hope things are off to bright and shiny start for you. How are things going with your apprenticeship? With the senior prank? Let me and Fred know how we can help. Maybe it'll help keep his mind off Angie. He's been trying to make up with her, but she's still barely acknowledging him. Or me and Harry for that matter. Damn that girl can hold a grudge. It's making him grumpy. Ginny has taken to calling him Grumpasaurus Rex. Ha ha! Fred is not amused.

And speaking of Fred, he's ready to go down to dinner. Take care of yourself and make sure you're eating properly. Please. I'd really prefer not to hear that the love of my life has collapsed from malnutrition.

I can't wait until I can love and spoil you properly again.

I love, love, love you

Georgie

~•~

George lounged on his bed after shooing Fred and Lee out of the room with Y/N's questions concerning the senior prank. He preferred to read his private letter in private.

Once he was alone, he tore open the envelope. George chuckled when a little origami magpie popped out of it. The tiny bird stretched before flapping its wings and taking flight, fluttering around the room. Smiling, he watched it circle the room a few times before turning his focus to the letter.

Dear Georgie,

Lots of magpies, huh? I wish I could be there to see them, too. Coming back here has been so much harder this time. In the fall, it was easier. I had to hit the ground running. I didn't have alot of time to dwell on being away from you . But now it's different. It's so quiet right now. Just like Januarys always are. Time is just plodding along at a snail's pace. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and missing you like crazy, when I'd much rather be cuddling with you during these cold, dark days.

I can't lie. Being away from you is really starting to get to me, but, I'm still eating, so don't worry about that. (You know me so well, my love.) I reasoned that if I end up in the hospital from not eating, it might prolong our separation, and that will NOT be happening if I have anything to do with it.

In other news, my apprenticeship and classes are going well so far. We've hit a couple snags with the senior prank, though. I sent a separate letter with questions for you and Fred, which I'm sure he's already swiped.

Tell Fred I'm sorry Angie's still being stubborn. I'll put in a good word for him next time I write to her.

I'm so glad our relationship is strong enough to survive all this. We will get through it. Like you said, we're halfway there.

Just like this time of year, I think. We're halfway out of the darkness.

Yeah. That's us.

I love you with all of my heart and soul,

Y/N

~•~

Next Chapter:

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader

[natasha-in-space]

hii!! can I request something like going somewhere nice for dinner with saeyoung and going back to the apartment? I imagine that they'll end up having a nice talk and I love reading the way you write meaningful talks in your writing it makes me giggle so much I can't 🥺

"Hey, don't stress so much! There's really no need to overthink this, sweetheart. You could take me out to a McDonald's joint down the street, and I'd still be super happy to spend time with you."

You put your hand on Saeyoung's shoulder from your passenger seat in one of his most fancy looking babies, patting down the soft fabric of his sharp suit in an attempt to reassure him with your warm touch. While you were, without a doubt, flattered by him putting this much effort into your first proper date together, you were kind of starting to worry that he was way too occupied by the idea of making it a 'perfect' date and not what really mattered at the end of the day. He did have a tendency to be too hard on himself at times, after all.

Being treated to an expensive restaurant sounded lovely, you couldn't deny that, but it's not like you need any of that glitz and glam to feel satisfied.

You went through thick and thin by each other's side, there was not a slimer of doubt inside of your heart that he was the one who you wanted to eventually grow old with.

"Thank you." Saeyoung gave out a nervous chuckle, clearly trying to play it off like this wasn't a big deal to him. Though, you could see how tightly he was squeezing the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from way too much pressure put on them. "B-But hey! No deep and heavy topics for today! We've been together for months now, but with the whole 'saving my lost family and taking down an evil underground organization' shenanigans, we've never had time to go out on a proper date before... And you deserve better than that. I want today to be all about you, Y/N. If you let me."

Stopping at the red light, he took this small opportunity to put his own hand on top of yours, bringing it up to his lips to give your knuckles a light kiss. You pursed your lips into a thin line, still not liking where he was going with all this. There was no need in treating you like some royalty for him to serve and please. You just wanted to spend some meaningful time together and relax... not be spoiled by costly food and fancy atmosphere for a couple of hours.

Then again... this was clearly very important to him. He was planning this date of yours for weeks now. You kind of felt bad for wanting to call this off so quickly, without even giving him a chance. Maybe, you should just see where this whole thing goes. And if things really do turn south in the process... you can take it from there.

Feeling satisfied with your final conclusion, you smiled, reaching forward and chastely kissing him on a cheek. "Alright, Casanova, you officially won me over. Just please remember that any time we spend together is precious to me. I love you."

"Love you too, starshine." While he couldn't turn to look at you properly, your eyes met through a rear-view mirror, as he gave you a tender smile, squeezing your hand in his own for a couple of lingering moments before he had to let go in order to focus on the road ahead.

~~~~~~~

You could see that he was upset, even if he was stubbornly trying to hide it from you all the way back to the bunker. In the end, the date by itself went smoothly and peacefully, leaving you feeling perfectly satisfied by the time that you two had to leave an elegant establishment located right at the center of Seoul.

Though, Saeyoung, clearly, couldn't share the same sentiment.

Sure, maybe the waiter messed up your tables and some stuffy old man sitting on the other side of the room thought that you were laughing too loud for his liking, thus making a complaint that you two eventually had to deal with, but it's not like that means that the date was a failure! You still had a very good time, and enjoying a chance to try out some high class food with Saeyoung by your side was a treat in and of itself. Not because of the food itself, but his company that went along with it.

In the end, you were right when you wondered whether or not Saeyoung was putting way too much pressure on himself to make this date of yours 'perfect'. You could practically see nasty thoughts gnawing away at him like a swarm of tiny parasites as he drove you back home, guiltily avoiding your worried gaze, like he did something wrong. Still, you decided to wait until you were both back home to start up this conversation.

"Who knew it would start pouring the minute we get out of the car, eh? Now you're all soaked. Like a huge grumpy kitty!" You giggled, ruffling up his red hair on purpose with your towel, as you sat kneeling on the bed, trying to dry each other off. Well, more like you drying him off. Your boyfriend was looking more and more gloomy by the minute, and frankly, you were not having it. With one short sigh falling from your lips, you shifted closer to him until you knees bumped into each other, gently cupping his cheeks and prompting him to look in the eye at last.

"Saeyoung, seriously, what's wrong? There's obviously something bothering you, and I need to know what it is. Come on, I hate seeing you like this..."

In reality, you already knew the likely root of his problem, you just needed him to finally admit it not only to you, but to himself as well. You didn't want to out him like this when he might not be ready to do that yet.

Saeyoung chewed on his bottom lip, clearly doing everything he possibly can not to run away from this topic completely. You appreciated his efforts, merely caressing the damp skin of his cheek with your thumb and giving him time to come up with a proper response. Finally, he gave up, dropping his eyes to the ground and slouching his shoulders.

"Are you... really okay with how this date went? There's no need to sugarcoat anything for me, you know. I... don't understand how you can be so bright and happy when so many things have gone wrong for us. I thought I made a mental note of every possible scenario, and from what angle I should approach it to make everything perfect but- When it came down to it, I couldn't do anything." He sounded almost ashamed of himself, keeping his voice low and bringing his brows together into a dark frown, one that you were not pleased to see at all. This really was bothering him...

Still, it's a good thing that he opened up to you about this issue, instead of bottling it up as he sometimes did.

So, you treated him with compassion, lightly brushing your lips on the tip of his nose to bring back his attention to you, rather than let him continue focusing on those ugly thoughts inside his own head. "Saeyoung, what in the world are you talking about...? Of course I'm okay with how our date went! I'm more than okay. I told you, just spending time with you makes me the happiest I can be. It was fun to laugh at these stupid mishaps with you and try to figure out the names of the dishes. I love you, silly. I don't care about some spiteful old man grumbling about me laughing when you're right next to me. I don't need 'perfect', I need you, you big goof. You're already perfect in my eyes, no fancy restaurant can compete with that."

He stared at you, eyes wide open, like a deer caught in the headlights, as his cheeks were slowly turning into a deep shade of red, only making you smile further at the sight. God, it was such a relief to finally get this off your chest!

"So... You... are not upset? I just- I think that you deserve all of the best, and-"

Before he could continue this line of thought, you shushed with a delicate kiss to his lips, lingering on his skin just long enough for him to relax into your touch, letting some of the tension finally ease up out of his body. Slowly pulling away from him, you left a trail of butterflies kisses down his jaw, making him shiver under your affections, clutching onto the bedsheets under you. "You are the best, Saeyoung. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and no date can ever beat that. This date was perfectly imperfect, and I will treasure this memory forever. So don't talk to yourself like that, okay?"

Before you could pull away from him completely, you felt his hand gently grab you by the wrist, tugging you into him and making your forehead bump into his chest, as you tried to blink away your confusion.

"Uh, Saeyoung...?"

Being this close to him, you could hear his heart hammer away right under your ear. It was fast, really fast, actually. Was he nervous? Embarrassed? Scared?

Either way, soon a pair of strong arms pulled you closer, holding onto you tightly as you two easily fell back onto the soft bed with you now laying on top of him. Glancing up at his face from your comfy position on his chest, you were met with flushed cheeks almost the colour of his hair and glossy amber eyes looking down at you like you're the most beautiful creature in this whole entire universe. Or, maybe, you were projecting.

Because that's how he looked to you right now.

It took you some time to register the next few words he mumbled to you, tenderly running his fingers through your hair. "Then... If what you're saying is really true, does a date in my garage sound good to you? To be honest, this was my first idea, before I got carried away with the whole 'proper date' idea. Is it not too boring to you?"

"God, I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at him, gently flicking him on the forehead with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "That sounds amazing. And hey, I know practically nothing about cars so it'll be like an adventure into the unknown!"

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #this turned out to be more hurt/comfort than just pure fluff but i hope u still like it! #i actually headcanon saeyoung as being pretty nervous and insecure at times in the beginning of your relationship #he wants to repay you for all of the hurt he caused you during your time at the apartment and it can get to his head #moreover he struggles with his self-worth

[subskz]

i want to discuss a... very dark and depraved thought... (not really, just a really big dacryphilia kink of mine) but skz who are crybabies in bed *heart eyes*

i just know han, felix, and hyune are. i mean, we've already discussed that hyunsung would be very reactive, of course they'd be criers too. their cute faces covered in tears, sobbing and whining the whole time. *swoons* felix, however? he's just soooo sensitive. every single touch him gasp. a little graze against his nipples would make him tear up, the touch going straight to his cock, making him all hard for you <3

hyung line would probably be easy criers too but it's more of when you really take them there and get them all frustrated. chan's more of a service sub so he cries when he can't get you off how he wanted. he just wants to be good for you so why can't he hold off his orgasm? make you cum first? he cries into your chest, overhwelmed by his unexpected orgasm. poor thing. you always praise him anyway. he's a good boy that always tries his best. changbin cries when you edge then overstim him. he gets real pouty when he doesn't get bites of food from the members or when they deny his affection right? what more when you deny his orgasm? he'd probably start tearing up by the second time you do it because he knows you're actually not going to let him until he does what you want. and when he finally does? you don't stop. and it makes more tears fall from his eyes as he's overwhelmed with the pleasure he was denied of. now, your favorite, minho. this spoiled kitty is always expecting you to give him what he wants. i mean, why wouldn't you? you love that boy too much. so he definitely hates it when you make him work for his orgasm. he hates riding. he always wants to just lay down and take it from you. but when you make him ride your strap/dick or grind on your thigh, he huffs and whines. you don't break though, being firm about letting him do all the work. it's only when his legs start to ache and he's brought to the edge without cumming for the fifth time that he looks at you, sniffling, his red cheeks are littered with tears that you finally have some mercy on him.

NOW... seungmin and iyen. i have a hard time really deciphering them but here's my thoughts. for seungmin, we all saw how he cried during the ments at the concert. he's a singer, it's easy for him to be sentimental. (the man listens to day6... it's obvious!) so i see him being the type to tear up when you make love to him. he gasps and moans out melodiously when you kiss up all over him, slow strokes, feeling up every moment. he just thinks you looks so beautiful and he's yours. you want him, want to make him feel good. he can't help the tears welling up in his eyes, especially when you look at him like he hung the stars. now, iyeni.. ok maybe i'm a bit of a freak but c-corruption kink?! jeongin has these wide, expressive eyes, and they stare at you so curiously when you touch him like he's never been touched before. you love the way they follow your movements, up and down his cock, as little whimpers leave his mouth. when he cums, it's explosive. i mean, it's his first time recieving it from someone else, let alone someone like you. his fingers grip your wrists tight, hips bucking wildly, a shout leaving his lips. and then he cries. he doesn't know why and he's honestly very embarassed but it felt so fucking good. he's never cum that hard before. he doesn't wanna look at you, too humiliated. but when you carress his face, turning it to look at you, he sees your kind smile. you coo at him, it must've been a lot, hm? don't worry, i'll give you more. just let me show you.

crybaby skz…and from you no less…i’m abt to short circuit the number of times i’ve reread this is unhealthy 😭 i can’t decide which description is my favorite lino crying from frustration bc he can’t get himself off without ur help quite literally caters to me like nothing else but also…binnie n jeongin’s hit extra hard 😵‍💫

yes hyunjin lix n hannie our crybaby line <3 whether it’s from pleasure or pain or just being overwhelmed with emotion those three would be tearing up in no time hehe i also loveee the thought of that for seungmo! i admittedly see him as pretty vanilla so him starting to cry just out of pure tenderness when he thinks abt how much he loves u and how loved he feels is so sweet ㅠㅠ and yeni…singlehandedly making my corruption kink go 📈📈 oh my god poor baby just bursting into tears bc all these sensations are so new to him and he doesn’t know if he’s doing the right things to please you…so so cute i will never recover from this 💔

#ask #🤍 anon #at the point where i have to prepare myself for psychological dmg every time u send an ask 😭 (in the best way) #💌 skz #long post

[silentwillowwhisperer]

THE WEEK IS OVER!!!

I'm finally done! I have had a perpetual headache since yesterday, and I feel slightly like throwing up (but in a relieved tired sobbing happy way, if that's possible).

Which means I have time to write something! Yay!

Okay, I have another thingy of Klance as parents. This was inspired entirely by my band teacher. He told us to "Not let the notes/rhythms catch us off guard like a deer in the headlights, because what happens to deer in headlights?" And everyone immediately went, "They get run over!" But of course I said, "They get smooshed! Like a pancake! Pancake deer!" And the guy 1 seat over from me (my semi-friend, but that's not important) said, "Damn, that was dark," to our other friend and they both proceeded to stare at me like I'm a madwoman. (Haha jokes on them, who ever said I'm not crazy. It would only raise their concern levels if they knew that I'm writing something about this now.)

Ok, sorry. That was longer than I thought it would be. I'll stop talking about my life and let you move on with yours.

Their daughter is a 6 year old kindergartener, and she is genetically related to them and therefore looks like them. (Don't ask me how that works, Blue and purple-eyed female Lance with A Keith-ish personality is unbelievably cute to me.)

Yes, she is part Galra, though that's not really important.

Wow, the intro is probably gonna be longer that the actual writing.

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

You might think that Lance is the dad that worries constantly over his child, the one who spoils her rotten.

But, nope. Keith, after having been a lonely kid, and having a lack of parental figures in his life, (The only reason he is a functioning human being is thanks to Shiro) HATES the thought of his daughter being lonely or feeling unwanted by anyone. He's felt that way too often over the years.

So when it's Kayla's first day of kindergarten, his protective dad levels go through the roof.

"Alright, my Rose. Remember what I told you. No matter what, do not be a deer in the headlights. Because what happens to deer in headlights?"

As loving as Kay is, she inherited her Daddy's impatience and fiery temper. She can only take to much of her Dads' worrying before it gets tiring.

"They get mushed into pancakes, I know, Daddy. We've gone over this 5 thousand times."

Keith blames Kay's sassiness on Lance.

Speak (Thought?) of the devil, Lance walks into the room at that moment. He starts to back out at the annoyed look on Keith's face.

"Oh. no you don't. Get over here and help me tell our daughter how bad it would be if she turned into a deer pancake!"

Lance rolls his eyes.

"Ugh, Keith. The poor girls brains will ooze out of her eyes if you don't stop. You've been going on about this for ages."

Yep, the sass is definitely all Lance's fault. Kayla giggles at thought of her brain liquifying. (In her mind, it would be electric blue and if it got in her mouth, it would taste like blue raspberry.)

Keith starts to argue, but his husband shoos him out with his shoe.

Do NOT get in the way of a McClain with a shoe in hand.

Once Keith is gone, Lance turns to Kayla.

"Don't worry him, baby. He's just being proud in his own way."

They both hug before Lance finishes packing Kay's lunch.

Before Lance goes to call Keith back into the room, he crouches down to her height.

He holds up a small pink bejeweled bottle.

"But just in case, you know how to use pepper spray. Don't you DARE get kidnapped. Me and your Daddy have already fought a war, all we ask is that you let us stay peacefully retired."

Kayla giggles. "Okay, Papi"

Keith breaks down sobbing when they drive Kayla to her school.

Lance just shakes his head and pats his husband's back. Keith is so going to deny this tomorrow.

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

OH MY GOODNESS. I was just spellchecked for writing "kindergarden!" Is that seriously not how you spell it?!?!? I've been writing it that way my whole life! Also raspberries! I thought it was Razberries or Rasberries. That is so weird. This is just proof that I would wither away and die without spellcheck.

I have officially decided that the only thing that I can call their child is 'Kayla Rosa McClain.' She's bisexual, though she leans more towards the lesbian side. She calls Lance Papi, and Keith Appa (the Korean version of 'dad') or Daddy. I'm not sure how the last name works, though. In my head, she decides when she's older which last name she likes better or uses both with a hyphen. With Keith, he either hyphenates it or uses McClain.

This song makes me happy:

Go listen to AJR. They'll make you smile.

And this too:

#klance #klance child #keith kogane #keith vld #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #lance vld #keith mcclain #Spotify #tawny post

[aleatoryone]

In the graveyard

The sun begins to set down behind the dark clouds that poured rain all day. The streetlamps begin to light up, and another night begins on the small city. I looked past the graveyard. Normally, it is a silent place in which people can pay respects to their loved ones. For a moment, I thought today wouldn't be different, especially in a small city like this, when a notice a small purple thing beneath the graves. It looked like some kind of silk. 

I get closer, in an impulse of bravery, and begin to hear sobs and tears falling. The purple silk turned out to be a girl’s hair. It's Abigail. Daughter of the local grocer, known for her adventurer wannabe lifestyle. I consider her a friend of mine at this point. We've done a lot of things together. 

I have never seen her crying, though. 

I enter the graveyard. It seems that she noticed my presence and tried to recompose herself. Her clothes are soaked due to the rain that felt down all day, her normally pale face is completely red, and she didn't seem to care the smallest about all of that. At least, until now. 

“Abi?” I spoke, trying to get a sense of what happened to her. 

“Oh, hi.” She said shyly. “Not trying to be rude, but why are you here?” 

“I saw you crying. I thought you may need some help.” 

“Everything’s alright.” 

“Sorry to bother, but you don't seem alright.” 

“I'll be. You don't need to worry about me.” 

I notice some tears rolling. She seems so weak. I wipe her tears away and hug her, reassuring things would be okay.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk...” She sobbed. “Is that I know it’s not a big deal.” 

“If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be crying.” 

“Seriously, I'll be alright, you shouldn’t be bothered.” She muttered. “It’s just... eh... ah... I can’t.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Like, I know I shouldn’t be crying. Everyone around here has their reasons to cry. Sebastian and his father, Shane and his depression and alcoholism, Jodi and her husband, and here I am, crying because things don’t go my way, like the spoiled child I am.” Abi confessed, between the tears that were escaping her eyes. “And that’s what makes everything worse.” 

“You’re not a spoiled child.” 

“I am. That’s how you perceive me, all of you.” She breathed deeply. “And I do notice the faces you guys make when I say or do something.” 

“Girl...” 

“I heard Haley saying that once near the library, with everyone agreeing. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t say anything to anyone.” She bemoaned. 

“Not even to Sam and Seb?” 

“I don’t know... I was never that close to Sam to begin with... I’d hang out with him because Sebastian does. But Seb has been acting weird lately... it seems his jealous of you and me. He’s barely talking to me now.” 

“Is that why you were sad in the first place? Come here.” I whispered just before hugging her once again. 

“It can be one of the reasons. I don’t know… I don’t even know how to tell you what I feel... sorry. Guess I kept everything hidden for so long that I can’t control anything anymore.” 

“It’s okay. You just shouldn’t be bottling your emotions--” 

“I KNOW! But who will I ever talk to? No one cares!” 

“I care.” 

“…you do?” She says looking directly at my eyes. Her face shows a mixture of thankfulness and surprise. 

“I suppose we’re good friends since the day we’ve been at this graveyard practicing.” 

“Thank you. For real. I was afraid you didn’t consider me a friend of yours."

================================================

I always thought Abi would be that kind of person that suffers a lot in silence. Like, damn, she comes from a disfunctional family, have her feelings and wishes invalidated etc. I've never seen any piece of art that reinforces that.

So I decided to make one myself, and I'm finally brave enough to post it for the world to see.

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley abigail #sdv abigail

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

The Bogart Diaries #33: National Dog Day

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer] [The Bogart Diaries]

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex (F!OC) Book: Red Carpet Diaries Word Count: ~500 Rating/Warning: General (no warnings) Prompt: @choicesaugustchallenge 31: Favorite Food (ice cream); @choicesmonthlychallenge: Favorite Family

Summary: Alex forgot National Dog Day, so they take Bogart out for a special afternoon with all his favorite things, but is it enough?

Alex leaned against the dark mahogany archway leading to the den where Bogart lay sprawled across the floor. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Thomas questioned, finding his wife staring at their dog.

"Do you think he knows?"

"Bogart?" He rested his hand on her lower back, his thumb caressing soft circles. "Knows about what?"

Her lips turned down as she signed regretfully. "That we forgot to celebrate National Dog Day?" She turned to him, her wide eyes glistening with worry. "I can't believe I forgot! Me! Me who celebrates all the holidays. I mean just last week, I made us celebrate National Potato Day! How could I forget National Dog Day?!"

"My love, I know you choose to ignore this fact; however, Bogart is, in truth, a dog. He doesn't know what day it is. For all he knows, today was National Dog Day. You filled it with all his favorite things, even ice cream!"

Her gaze drifted back to the sleeping black lab, who hadn't stirred once since their return from the big day out. "I hope so."

"I know so." Thomas shook his head slowly to the sides, unsure how their life had been overtaken by a dog. This was not a conversation he would have even fathomed being part of his life prior to Alex. But love changes everything; somehow something that was so inconsequential before can become the most important thing. "Besides, Bogart doesn't need National Dog Day. He has every other day of the year where you—" he sighed reluctantly, knowing that wasn't the truth, "—where we spoil him. For better or worse, every day is more or less Bogart Day in this house."

Her nose scrunched as her grin grew. "Not every day," she feigned protest. "I just feel bad for our goodest boy. I know we've been so busy with the twins, but I don't want him to think we love him any less than them."

His gaze narrowed on her, his mouth parting slowly.

"Yes, yes," she lowered her voice to a whisper, before he could say what he was thinking. "Even I know we do love the twins more. You, Felicity, and Vincent are my entire world; you need not ever fear that. It's just, Bogart doesn't need to know that. He's part of our family, too."

"I know he is."

She wrapped her arms around him. "I love our family. It's perfect."

Thomas pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I wholeheartedly agree. I wouldn't change a thing.

"Good!" Alex took one last look at Bogart. "I think he enjoyed his special day, but I guess we should relieve Auntie Addi from babysitting duty."

"Not yet. I asked Addison if we could have a little longer because I believe there is somewhere else you are needed first."

"Where?" Her brow piqued curiously. "What did I forget now?!"

It's not what you forgot, rather, what you miscalculated." His eyes darkened, and his lips pulled up at the corners. "Your percentages were severely skewed. I can guarantee you we are more than 10% sandy, even though I'd also insist we are 100% happy."

"My apologies," she chewed her lower lip, attempting to school her growing smirk. "How ever do you suggest we remedy that?"

He interlaced his fingers with hers. "Follow me!"

A/N: I didn't forget National Dog Day, but I didn't get a chance to write for it on Friday, so I thought maybe Alex could relate, especially if she and Thomas have to

Bogart's FC: sweetlou_theblacklab on Insta (first picture); The video/gif is from Pinterest, but I don't know who the original owner is.

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

And because the gif insists on lowering the quality, here is a clearer view of the second post sans gif (even though it's the same as the first one 🤷‍♀️ )

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #thomas hunt x oc #red carpet diaries #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #alex hunt #alex spencer #halex #thomas x alex #bogart hunt #baby hunt #felicity hunt #vincent hunt #fan fiction #theBogartDiaries #the bogart diaries #puppy hunt #thomas orson hunt #hunt x mc #august2022 #lovealexhunt