#∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ just for funsies ⊹ — other.

[honoosenshi]

tag dump i.

∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ blazing beauty ⊹ — visage. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ punishment by holy fire ⊹ — aesthetics. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ aloof yet passionate ⊹ — musings. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ princess of the white moon & dearest love ⊹ — usagi. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ a gentle spray of water ⊹ — ami. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ herculean thunderbolt ⊹ — makoto. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ kissed by aphrodite ⊹ — minako. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ pink rabbit ⊹ — chibiusa. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ our distant comrades ⊹ — outer senshi & other. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ good prince of the earth ⊹ — mamoru. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ pretty guardians in a sailor suit ⊹ — senshi. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ eien no melody ⊹ — music. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ asks ⊹ — answered. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ sentence starters & memes ⊹ — prompts. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ crack ⊹ — laughter. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ just for funsies ⊹ — other. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ headcanons. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ ooc. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ the guardians of princess mars ⊹ — phobos & deimos. ∘⡊ 🔥 ˚⊹ starter call.

[cupidhoons]

MEMORABILIA RANKING & REVIEW BY LIZ

the most random and useless post eva but im doing it anyway 😆 b4 anyone attacks me these r js my opinions and er yeah don't get pressed over them im literally a random girl who loves enha okay ON TO THE ACTUAL POST! (this doesn't include one in a billion & criminal love btw)

FIRST PLACE — FATAL TROUBLE

I AM NOT HEARING ENOUGH ABOUT THIS TRACK GUYS ITS ACTUALLY CRAZY??/?/?

everyone is raving about lucifer but GUYS COME AWWNNNNN

the vocals? HEESEUNG??? THE EMOTION??? i was crying and throwing up it's too good holy shit

i need it in my veins rn LIKEEEEEE please this is my song dpwm

safe to say this is one of the songs that CHANGED MY LIFEEEEEE okay next

SECOND PLACE — LUCIFER

this song just hit all the right places DONTTRR PLAYYY

i know i was dragging lucifer a bit earlier but GUYS ITS SO HOT I CANF DO THISSSS

from the moment i heard the preview i know it was a hit CRAAAZZYYYY how u r all unstanning over the title but more for me i guess lolz 😇😇

sunghoon.......jake............jay...........im feral FAWWKKKKK

anyway 10/10 definitely also exceeded my expectations for this song coz it was already high and this was just perfect

THIRD PLACE — SCREAM

this track reminded me so much of loke dimension answer era DONT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME u can't tell me it doesn't give off that vibe.....

not much to say about this song tbh other than the fact it's SO GOOD??? another no skip foreal UGHHH

it reminds me sm of summer and yes i will be replaying this shit 24/7 over summer break

all i can think about when i hear this song is js dimension answer era BRAAHHH i loved that era sm soz pink haired sunoo come back to me

definitely going on my summer playlist to put in short 🤫🤫🤫🔥

FOURTH PLACE — TEETH

okay don't come at me PLS but this somg....doesn't hit as hard as the other songs for me tbh

IT EATSSSS don't get me wrong it's enha we're talking about but it's js.......it's okay for me imo sawry teeth enjoyers

it will probably grow on me eventually coz that's always how it is for me but for now...teeth u go in last ILY THOUGH!

def gives the vibes of blockbuster 2.0 (to me) tbh

STILL SUPER GOOD and no skips just teeth isn't my favorite thing out of the four songs 😢😢😢

as ive said before THIS IS JUST MY PERSONAL RANKING!! don't hate on me lmaaoooooo 😖😖 also reblog this post if u guys have any ideas on the album & rank it too 😆😆 js for funsie u don't have to ofc

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Need Your Love Tonight ✈️💙🔥...

It's 1961 and we're headed to Hawaii for the U.S.S. Arizona Benefit Concert! ✈️ This one is an older woman and Elvis, so buckle up, babies! All the pics are from the day/night of the concert, just cuz I know a little visual stimulation never hurts...😏

TW: SEXX, age gap (f > m), period appropriate ageist nonsense, fluff, Elvis in that gold jacket, a little sub!e for funsies

FYI: Gold Scarf ✨🧣✨comes out tomorrow for Sweethearts💕 & above tiers over on Patreon! Don't want to miss out? Join HERE ✨

March 25th, 1961

“Are you sure about this, y/n?” Margie asks you, yet again. She looks at the sign in your hand that you’ve got tucked in by your feet with doubt in her ever-practical brown eyes. “I mean, it’s not too late to just chuck it.”

You laugh, unwilling to let her change your mind. “Oh, come on, Margie! Have a little fun, will ya? It’s not like it really matters. He probably won’t even see it, anyway, so why not?”

“But it’s a little desperate, don’t you think? And it announces to the world that you’re practically a spinster at your age!” she laughs, poking you in your side.

You roll your eyes. “A divorcee is not a spinster, honey. Plus, it gives me character,” you say, fluffing your chic new bob. “Plus, lord knows Elvis Presley has plenty of young admirers. Some of these girls are just babies. They wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like him.” You wink at Margie salaciously.

“Oh, how in the world did I let you talk me into this?” she groans, teasing and giving you a smile that only a best friend could.

It’s not that her words don’t sting just a little though. You certainly hadn’t planned to be 35 years old and recently divorced, or for your husband—ex-husband—to be a giant cliché and leave you for his (much) younger secretary.

That’s why you treated yourself on this trip to Hawaii, using his money and dragged Margie, your life-long best friend, along for the ride. It was a huge bonus when you found out Elvis was going to be performing for the first time since the 50’s and for charity no less. You didn’t mind one bit when springing for the $100 ringside seats for you and Margie. It was a win-win-win situation.

Even though you’d been older than him and his target audience, Elvis intrigued and attracted you from the beginning. The young man with the sleek hair, cutting edge style, and wiggling hips set your heart aflutter even though you were married and, according to your mother, should be “beyond such things.”

Hey, there isn’t any harm in looking, was your thought.

You wiggle your feet under your chair to try and alleviate the numbness in your toes. Perhaps heels hadn’t been the most practical choice for this particular venture, but really all you care about (despite what you told Margie) is Elvis noticing you, even just a little bit. God knows you need this after all you’ve been through. And if that takes wearing a sexy outfit and making a ridiculous sign asking, “Am I too old for you?” in giant, bold letters to get his attention, so be it.

You may be in your mid-thirties and divorced, but you still look decent. And you don’t plan on being single forever. Something in you feels like if you can at least catch the eye of the most famous man on earth, you have a chance at catching another man sooner rather than later.

Your stubborn, fiery nature will come in handy tonight, you just know it will. Even as that too-grown-up shred of doubt telling you this is silly winds through your mind, you still have a good feeling about this.

Sitting through the opening acts, you find yourself wiggling in your seat, filled with an excitement you haven’t felt about anything in a while. The other acts are good—you particularly enjoy that the opening comedienne was a woman—but you are itching to see Elvis. In the flesh.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the main event begins. Your eardrums are blasted out by what must be at least two full minutes of young girls shrieking at the top of their lungs. Rightly so, you think as you watch the tall drink of water that is Elvis Presley strut onto the stage. You are blessing your lucky stars above for the divorce settlement because you are so close, you can see just how deliciously handsome the man is in person.

And, boy, is he.

Even having seen his perfect visage in movies on the big screen truly did not hold a candle to the broad-shouldered man in the glittering gold jacket standing on the stage before you. There is almost an innocence and perhaps even a nervousness in his deep-set dreamy blues. His dark hair is coiffed just perfectly and you watch his leg jiggle as he takes the microphone. A wave of heat rolls over you, flushing you from head to toe, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature in the arena.

There is a boyish playfulness to him you do not expect of the seasoned 26-year-old entertainer. He is indelibly charming and likable, not afraid to laugh at himself or the insanity of the crowd around him, but it’s not in a disparaging way. It’s more like he still can’t quite believe it’s all for him.

The reason he’s always fascinated you becomes obvious now that he’s right in front of you. He is a walking contradiction—delicate feminine features in a sharp masculine package, a deep low drawl coupled with a light warbling tenor. Singing lyrics that make you think the dirtiest things and then he turns around and does a spiritual. You have whiplash in the very best way.

You’re so distracted by his essence and the hypnotizing way he’s working the crowd that you almost forget about your sign. When One Night croons out of him with the promise of his “sweet helping hand,” a fire lights under you and you fumble around at your feet and flip the sign up for him to see.

Come on, come on, come on, you think, tapping your foot. Look over here.

At this point you will accept anything from the singer—a wink would suffice. Anything to let you know that you’re not just a washed-up divorcee who’s too old or ugly to find happiness with anyone else. Even if that happiness is just for one night because of one small moment, it’ll be worth it.

He’s so consumed by the song, his eyes closing and the rhythm pumping through his whole body, that you’re not sure he’ll see you. Your fingers grip the sign anxiously. You’d rather not have to hold it up for the rest of the concert, and you are kicking yourself for not remembering earlier, but you’ll do what you’ll have to do.

The end of the song comes, to which he adds a toe-curling groan, and when he opens his eyes, they land on you. A bolt of lightning strikes inside you, filling your veins with a scorching desire at the way those pretty eyes fall on your sign. You wait with bated breath as he reads each word silently, “Am I too old for you?” He gives you a quick cursory glance and then starts to walk away.

“Thank you,” he says to the crowd as screams fill the arena. The opening chords of Are You Lonesome Tonight start to play.

Fitting song choice, you think a little bitterly. Well, at least he saw me.

You find yourself fighting back tears, the split-second moment feeling anticlimactic and dissatisfying. A bit of a punch to the gut, really. It’s the dismissal that really stings, though your logical brain tells you he’s concentrating on his work and your sign is likely no more than a short distraction.

Suddenly, Elvis stops. He turns back towards you and steps in your direction. Your breath catches in your throat when he points at you. It is as if his finger is connected to you by an invisible string, and you find yourself sitting up taller and leaning forward on the edge of your seat. Then, he tilts the microphone away for a moment, his infamous lip curling up into a delicious boyish smile.

“Never,” he says, looking you straight in the eyes.

There’s about a hundred horses galloping in your chest and you feel like you might melt into the chair or start shrieking like one of the thousands of teenagers behind you. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief. Margie elbows you in the ribs and you blink, and realizing he’s staring, waiting, you smile the biggest smile you’ve ever smiled.

He winks in response and then turns back to the band. You let out a shuddering breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, dropping the sign on the floor.

“Oh, my god, y/n! He spoke to you! He pointed you out!” Margie whispers excitedly in your ear, bouncing up and down as if she too had been possessed by a teenage girl.

For once in your life, you are speechless and can only nod in her direction, your eyes never leaving Elvis. It’s like you are in his thrall and unable to do anything but focus on his voice and his beautiful face.

Ever the consummate performer, he uses his space well, walking from one end of the stage to the other as he brings the entire arena to quiet with the lullaby-esque ballad. Your frustrated tears from earlier have morphed into tears of overwhelm, of being moved by his voice and the melody. Combined with the lyrics of this particular tune, it feels like he’s somehow seen into your soul and is singing straight to you.

He's in front of you now, and you barely register the fact that he’s bending down, throwing his long legs over the edge of the stage to sit there, as if he weren’t performing for a crowd of 4,000. The girls shriek with even more fervor.

As he begins the spoken part, his legs dangling right there in front of you, he says, “I wonder if you’re lonesome tonight,” staring straight at you once again.

Every nerve in your body is at attention and you know you’ve flushed a shade of cherry red because he smiles knowingly at the effect he’s had on you. He looks away, continuing the rest of the spoken part, and you shiver despite the humid warmth.

Only Margie’s hand clamping over yours reminds you that you are still on earth and that this is indeed all real. And when he looks back at you and says, “I loved you at first glance,” the blood drains from your head straight into your belly and you think you might actually pass out, right there in front of him.

A choked noise escapes your throat and luckily Margie, knowing you as well as she does, starts squeezing your hand with a grip strength you didn’t know was possible from the tiny woman. The pain brings you out of your daze, and you breathe again as he looks away and finishes the song.

It was truly more than you ever could have hoped for and the last three songs of the set fly by. You don’t want it to end, but at least you accomplished what you’d set out to do, which honestly was a little bit of a surprise, despite all your talk at the beginning. For the first time in a long while, you feel a tad bit hopeful about the future. You know it’s probably stupid, this idea that a morsel of attention from Elvis Presley could make you feel valued again, but you feel it all the same. After all, if Elvis thinks your worthy of note, then you must be.

Take that, Mike. You and your secretary can shove it. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

A boisterous version of Hound Dog starts playing and you find yourself grinning from ear to ear, bopping back and forth with Margie. You can’t help but stare at those famous hips as he shakes them oh so perfectly in your direction and are quite mesmerized by them when Margie very pointedly bumps your knee with hers. Looking over, you see a short man in front of you bending towards your ear.

“Hi, Miss, I’m Joe. I work for Elvis, and he would like to see you after the show,” Joe says kindly, presenting it as more of a statement than a question. Your eyebrows shoot up to the sky and you look at him disbelievingly. “You and your friend, of course,” he adds quickly, with a disarming smile.

You shoot Margie a look that you hope conveys the appropriate amount of giddy excitement under the strategically calm look you plaster across your face. It’s one thing to be a mooning schoolgirl with your friend in the audience, but completely different once a very real and unfamiliar young man invites you to meet Elvis Presley.

You give the guy a once over and see the lanyard hanging from his neck that shows that he is indeed working as part of the show, lending some credibility to his request. Margie looks at you with keen eyes, then gives you a shrug of approval before you nod and agree.

“Come with me, ladies, or we’ll be caught in the crowd,” Joe says, ushering you two out of the area before the last song is over. Head spinning, you feel a little regretful that you are missing it, and you are almost out of sight before you realize you’ve left the sign on the floor.

The song and the sign should be the last thing on your mind, but you find your disbelief of the situation feels a little too much to handle as Joe brings you to a black door with a guard standing in front of it. If you had any doubt before, the nod of the guard and the way he instantly opens the door for Joe tells you that this might be real after all.

Margie loops her arm in yours as you step into the dark hallway and Joe leads you away from the stage and the shrieking applause of the arena. By the sound of the immense applause, Elvis’ set is finished and he must be taking his bows.

The butterflies in your stomach make you glad you had only a light dinner as Joe finally opens a door to what you assume is a dressing room. You blink against the light.

“Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. Elvis will be with you shortly,” Joe says before leaving and closing the door behind him.

You break away from Margie, who starts tittering around the room. You are so dazed you barely hear her.

“Are you listening to me, y/n? I cannot believe your silly sign worked! Elvis Presley—the Elvis Presley—wants to see us? I mean, you, really, but hey, I’m glad to be along for the ride! He is awfully handsome, isn’t he?” Margie rambles on.

All you can do is nod while your mind whirls a million miles an hour. Suddenly, all your confidence from before the show disappears and you feel incredibly silly. You’re almost an old woman, for god’s sake. What are you even doing here? What if Elvis comes back, sees how old you really are, and realizes his mistake? Oh, this might be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and that’s saying something.

“Oh, no you don’t, missy. Don’t you give up on me now, not when you’re so close to the finish line!” Margie scolds, then puts her arm around you, leading you to the couch. She sits you down and turns your face to hers.

“He’s gonna take one look at me and run for the hills, Marg,” you whimper.

“Stop it—he will do no such thing. And keep your expectations manageable. We’re just meeting him, that’s all. It’s not like you are going to sleep with the man!” she laughs and shakes her head.

You don’t laugh and Margie stops abruptly. “Oh, my lord above, do you want to sleep with him? Do you think he wants to sleep with you?” she asks, lowering her voice to a whisper, her eyes widening.

This time you can’t help but laugh at her. “Okay, first of all, who doesn’t want to sleep with him? Secondly, I have no idea if he wants that. He’s the biggest star in the world, Marg! I don’t know what his expectations are of the women he brings backstage!” you whisper back, looking around as though there might be lackies lurking about listening to you two chirp away.

Margie now looks as nervous as you feel. She starts playing with her wedding ring in a self-soothing motion and you can’t help but fidget with the simple diamond necklace hanging around your neck.

“Look, it’s probably nothing, right? You just caught his eye and he wants to say hi,” she says, trying to be reassuring but it feels anything but.

“Yes, of course…you don’t think he’ll laugh at me, do you? Like he didn’t just bring us back to make fun of me, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t seem the sort to do that,” she replies, as if she knows the man personally.

Before you can respond, you hear people in the hallway, coming closer by the second. You don’t even have time to look in the mirror because the door opens and the room floods with a loud group of men.

You quickly slide your best confident and nonchalant air over your features, a skill well-practiced from your days going to Mike’s work parties with his insufferable partners and their equally insufferable wives.

The moment Elvis enters the room, the air shifts, as though his essence somehow defies physics and the atoms that make him up are different than the rest of yours. He is glowing, both with sweat and the high of his performance, his gold jacket abandoned to one of his followers along the way. His white ruffled shirt is soaked through with sweat and the sight has you beginning to sweat yourself. It’s as if his pheromones have already sent your hormones into overdrive, and you have the sudden urge to rip that sweaty shirt right off his body.

Instead, you dig your nails into your palm and wait for him to notice you. It takes a moment, what with all the hullabaloo around him. He’s still breathing hard from his performance and laughing with the men. You watch carefully as he pulls off his blue string tie and begins unbuttoning his shirt and rolling his sleeves up his forearms. The scene is so natural and intimately masculine in its way that it sends a shiver down your spine and reminds you that it’s been too long since you’ve had a man if this is all it takes to get you going.

The room suddenly feels very hot and it’s in that moment that Elvis sees you. He gives a low whistle. “Well, if it isn’t the pretty lady with the sign,” he says in his lilting Southern drawl, his eyes never leaving you as he makes his way across the room. Your heart flutters as though a hummingbird is caught in your chest. You stand to greet him.

“Mr. Presley,” you say demurely as he comes to a stop before you and takes your hand in his. The heat from it is blistering on your skin in the best possible way, and when he presses his lips into your fingers without taking those gorgeous blue eyes off you, the zing goes straight into your core.

“Please call me Elvis,” he says in a way that is sweet as pie but with an undercurrent of heat that causes you to blush. “And you are?”

It takes a second for you to remember your own name, and in that short break, Margie jumps up beside you. “She’s y/n, and I’m Margie,” she says, and you hold yourself back from shooting her a scathing look when his eyes shift to her with a kind smile.

A kind smile, but without the same heat, you can’t help but notice.

When he turns back to you and guides you back to the couch, Margie gives you a knowing glance and bites her lips in a smile, obviously trying to hold back a girlish grin.

It doesn’t take long for Elvis to cozy up to you. His arm ends up around the back of the couch and then your shoulders rather quickly, his long fingers drawing soothing circles on your dress. If you were younger and less experienced, this might have been salaciously forward. As it stands, however, sitting here so close to him that you can feel the heat radiate off his sweaty body, it is not even close to enough to satiate you.

Elvis keeps asking you questions, looking at you with endlessly deep blue bedroom eyes framed in long, dark lashes, smudged with remnants of what you assume is eye makeup. You answer his questions, nervous and coy at first, then with increasing candor, because all at once you come to a decision:

You want nothing more than to utterly ruin this boy, despite propriety, despite your reservations and low expectations from earlier. No, judging from the curiously passionate way he keeps looking at you and the increasing tightness in your lower belly, you very much know that you want to take him to bed.

Almost as if he can read your mind, he leans in towards your ear. “Would ya like to come back to my place, darlin’?” he whispers. The hushed, warm cadence of his voice sends tingles sparkling over your body. He’s surprisingly shy about the proposition considering how forward it is, and it’s all you can do to keep from straddling his spread legs right there and then.

Instead, you settle for a nod and a quiet, “I’d like that very much.”

With that, he wastes no time, popping up off the couch and announcing abruptly that it’s time to go. His entourage scrambles to attention, and Margie gives you a quizzical look as Elvis grabs your hand.

You smile at her in the way only a best friend can and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, as though she can’t quite believe your intentions. She’s nervous, you can tell by the way her brow furrows. She begins worrying her lip as the both of you are ushered out and down the dimly lit corridor.

Part of you thinks that perhaps you should be nervous, too. After all, you don’t know Elvis or his people. Yet there is something about him that is utterly disarming—a unique sort of charm perhaps, but it really is more than that. It’s a vulnerability you don’t expect from a man like him. A yearning to connect, maybe.

It’s something that makes him not so different from you.

Before you can really absorb what’s happening, you are whisked into a car with Elvis, Margie, and some of his people, and the lot of you are taken to the Hawaiian Village Hotel. Margie grips one hand while you splay the other on Elvis’ thigh. He lays his larger hand on top and threads his fingers through yours, suggesting a level of intimacy which surprises you. There is a neediness to it, and you have the distinct urge to take care of him in whatever way you can. A knot of warmth grows deep in your belly at the thought.

You feel calmer than you should because, despite his fame, every second you spend with Elvis he becomes less of an untouchable superstar and more of just a man. Even though in any other circumstance you might be afraid being in the company of so many strange men, this feels more like you were meant to be here all along. As if everything in your life has led you to this very night. You are excited, to be sure, but not afraid in the least. In fact, you are feeling more confident than you have in a while, an anticipatory excitement building in you with every passing minute.

Once you get to the hotel, Elvis does not want to let you out of his sight, or even his grasp, which makes it a little hard to convey to Margie all these thoughts of yours. It’s not until you abscond to the bathroom that you are able to get her alone, and even that gains you the cutest little boy pout from the young man who now seemingly has his sights set on only you. You escape only after telling him you must freshen up and give him a long kiss to the cheek, which you notice turns him a little pink.

Margie is beyond hesitant to leave here without you. “Don’t you think you are taking this a little too far, y/n?” she asks you with worry in her eyes.

“Marg, I know what I’m doing, and I’d be crazy not to take this chance. You know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t. And it’s not like I’m some young, innocent thing he’s taking advantage of, am I?” you remind her, checking your makeup and hair in the mirror.

“I guess not. But promise me you’ll be careful! And that you’ll call me. I’ll worry if I don’t hear from you,” she tuts.

“I know and I will. You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you smile, hugging her.

“I know I am,” she says, nodding, then whispers, “You better be ready to share all the details when you get back. A married woman can still be curious, you know.”

You laugh and say goodbye before Margie announces that she’d like to be taken back to your hotel. A few men hop to and she’s off before you know it.

Once she’s gone, Elvis grabs your hand and pulls you back into his suite of rooms, alone.

“You go on and make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. I just need to take a shower and get all this grime offa me,” he drawls, turning to the ensuite bathroom.

Emboldened by the quiet and the dark, you grab his hand and pull him back to you. Cupping his pretty face, you plant a long, lingering kiss full of promise on his lips. You can feel his surprise, at first, but he quickly relents and wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Feeling him pressed against you sends your body into overdrive. Besides an angry and cliché tussle with the mailman after Mike had announced he was leaving, you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a while. That coupled with the raw, magnetic pull that had been growing all night between you and Elvis has your toes curling and your heart racing.

Elvis may be young, but he sure does know how to kiss, you think. His lips are incredibly soft and pliant and gentle, but you can feel his passion brewing just under the surface in the fevered way his hands dig into your back and his cock twitches in his slacks.

Even though you are loathe to do so, you break away first. “You’d better go shower,” you command, smoothing the ruffles on his shirt.

“Y-Yes, m-ma’am,” he manages to choke out, nodding voraciously. With one last peck to your cheek, he absconds quickly, and in his haste leaves the door open a crack. He undresses in what must be record breaking time, which you can hear from how quickly his clothes drop to the floor. Just thinking of him wet and naked mere feet away has slick gathering in your underwear. It takes everything in you to not follow him in.

Yes, you think you just might ruin him tonight, in the best possible way. Honestly, you’re not exactly sure where this self-assurance is coming from, other than the fact that he seems very taken with you and you have nothing to lose. You’re sure he’s quite experienced—there’s no way he wouldn’t be with his age and level of stardom, and while that should give you pause, you still have nearly a decade on the man. While your sex life had dwindled recently, there were plenty of better years when you and Mike went at it like rabbits.

You sit on the edge of the bed, opting not to take of your dress. There’s something about the fact that he will be naked (or nearly so) with you being fully clothed when he walks back in that entices you in such a way that it sends a shiver down your spine. Of course, it would’ve been prudent of you to wear sexier underwear, but you suppose your white lace set will have to do. Plus, you aren’t entirely certain you will be wearing them for long, anyway…

True to your prediction, the shower turns off in record time. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands, casually but expectantly. Elvis is breathless when he flings the door open, as though he just ran a sprint, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. He looks at you with hopeful, needy anticipation.

He's an absolute vision. Never has a man looked so good, you think. God surely spent extra time crafting this one, what with his high cheekbones and sparkling blue eyes and perfect lips. You make no secret of the way you take in his whole body, either, and his lips part and his eyes widen and you can’t tell if he’s maybe a little self-conscious by the way your gaze is raking over him.

You don’t care. The rapid rise and fall of his chest as he watches you tells you he’s enjoying it. His towel is slung low, wrapped and tucked in around his waist. There’s no hiding how his cock is hardening beneath it, the terrycloth twitching and tenting right before your eyes. Between that and the disheveled state of his wet hair, it makes you want to lick him dry in more ways than one.

You uncross your legs slowly and use one finger to beckon him forward in a come-hither action. You’d seen him do the same in one of his movies last year, but my oh my, how the tables have turned. He gulps visibly, his eyes drifting from your legs to your finger and back again, then pads towards you on the plush carpet until he’s standing right before you.

Looking up at him, you bite your lip coquettishly and see his eyes dilate. Your gaze drifts down his chest to his stomach, then follows the little trail of hair that goes from his belly button and disappears beneath the towel. You can’t help pressing your lips right above his navel and you feel him shudder against you, which you take as a sign to keep going. Kissing across his soft but lean stomach, then down that little trail, you open your legs and grab his hips, pulling him forward to you. He trips over his own feet to get there.

When your hands skirt the edge of the towel and begin to pull it open, his hand stops you. You look up at him to find him shaking his head bashfully.

“Y-y-you don’t h-hafta do that, m-ma’am,” he stammers out, belying his nervousness. You can’t seem to piece out why, exactly, because by the quite prominent erection he’s sporting right in front of your face, it’s evident that he’s excited by the notion. Perhaps he’s used to pretty, young things who don’t know what they are doing, or maybe the notorious 50’s rebel is a little old fashioned. But if there’s one thing you became quite skilled at in the last few years (in the failed hopes it might help your marriage), it was how to make a man fall apart in your mouth. You’d even developed quite the taste for it.

And something about the way he is calling you “ma’am” in his delightful and polite Southern accent has you licking your lips. “Oh, I know I don’t have to, baby,” you coo at him, “but I want to.” And with that, you unravel the towel and let it drop to the floor.

Elvis lets out a choked groan and his hands flail as though he wants to cover the magnificent member that springs forth before you, slapping up against his stomach. You swat his hands away, lips parting with a sigh as you take him in.

He’s intact, the red tip of him nestled under lighter foreskin. Perhaps that why his cheeks are as pink as they are. You’d heard women titter in whispers about uncircumcised men being “ugly” or “unclean,” and while you didn’t have any personal experience with it, it does not turn you off in the least. Quite the opposite, if fact, as you can feel your arousal soaking the fabric between your thighs. What is beyond evident is that God didn’t just give him a pretty voice and a pretty face—he’s got a cock to match.

“Perfect,” you sigh and smile up at him, rubbing encouraging little circles at his hipbone with your thumb.

He lets out a shaking breath and a look of relief passes quickly over his features, but there is still a vulnerable hesitance about him. It does something primal to you. You just want to eat him right up.

But before that, you think he’s due for a little teasing. It’s the least you can do after the show he put on for you earlier and how it had made you ruin your panties to watch him live on stage. Pressing your lips along the cut of his groin, you feel the tickle of the course thatch of hair he’s got curling around the base of him. He shivers violently with each kiss, holding back a strangled moan as you get closer and closer to the place he wants you the most. Not seeming to know what to do with his hands, they flounder a bit before resting lightly on your shoulders, the heat of them blazing through your dress.

Using just the tip of your pointer finger, you run it under and up his large ball sack, noticing the way they seem to draw in closer and the way he jumps when you do so. Your other hand reaches around to grab his perfectly round ass cheek to keep him near and steady. The cutest little yelp falls out of his mouth. You smile, finally dragging your finger up the silky soft flesh covering his rock-hard shaft.

He jolts, the long length of his cock bouncing toward you, knowing and eager for what you have in store for him. The tip of your finger circles the slit of him, already weepy with precum, and you see how sensitive he is around his foreskin when he sucks in a short breath as your finger circles that, too.

Without warning him, you run the tip of your tongue from base to head, savoring the clean but still musky scent of him as you go. You look up to see his eyes roll back and his lips part, a whisper of “Goddamn,” falling from his mouth like a prayer.

You kiss and lap your way back down then take him in your hand to tilt his cock down to you. The heavy feel of him in your palm coupled with the way his hands tighten and dig into the fabric of your dress has you knowing you are on the right track. You pump him once, twice, three times, your wrist twisting and changing pressure to see what makes him moan the most. When you find the right combination, you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip before closing your mouth around it.

The low keen that vibrates out of him is desperate and sensual. Your thighs tighten around his legs, boxing him in, and your pussy clenches around nothing, yearning for friction. Right now, you concentrate on taking him in your mouth, lathing your flattened tongue up and down his penis while you suck in, sealing yourself around him.

It’s then that his hands finally fly up to your hair, carting through it, and you can feel him holding back. It’s good that he knows you are in charge, and he fully submits to how you begin working his balls and the hilt of him with one hand as you inch his ample length further into your mouth.

Obscene moans are falling past his lips now, only getting louder when you match them with your own, the vibrations causing him to thrust a little down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants as you press him past your gag reflex, your throat tightening then relaxing around him. His legs tremble and you pull off him for a moment to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to him still.

Elvis whimpers and you smile up at him, using your hand to pump him fully. You reckon he’s not going to last long in this by the way he’s crumbling so beautifully in front of you. The urge to want to choke on his cock comes over you so strongly that you can’t wait any longer. You take him back down your throat quickly enough that his eyes pop open in surprise and his hand finally tightens in your hair the way you want it to.

He's bigger than Mike in every way, but you don’t let that deter you. No, you feel quite confident as you open your throat for him as best you can, all the while working him with your tongue and hand. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you could conquer the world, despite your age, despite being divorced, because you are going to make the king of rock and roll himself unravel at your feet. The thought has you soaking your panties as Elvis murmurs your praises.

“I-I-I’m not gonna…last…gonna blow if ya keep this up, mama,” he pants, trying to pull away as if not wanting to sully you. But you are far too experienced and far too aroused for such sentiment. Instead, you grab his ass in both hands and press him so far down that your nose hits his pelvis. Feeling him tense and shudder, you give him every trick at once, relishing his pleasure as it serves your own. His strangled cry fills the air as he pulses in your mouth, shooting his salty release straight down your throat as you swallow around him.

The pleasured run of expletives he’s moaning must be loud enough for others to hear, but that arouses you even more because you are causing it. His body shakes hard through his orgasm, and he bows over you, clutching your head in an effort to stay standing. When you finally pull off him, his saliva-covered dick is still heavy and hard.

Ah, youth, you think with a smile.

“Oh, oh mama,” he says breathlessly, “that w-was…oh lord...” Then he collapses next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.

You shift your body sideways so you can look down at him in his fucked-out afterglow. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful now than he was before, both innocent and debauched all at once, his high cheekbones flushed and his eyes dark and sparkling with lust. You can’t help but run your hand down his heaving chest, just to prove that this vision is real.

The action focuses him and he looks over at you, concerned, his hand cupping your cheek. “You okay? Y-ya really din’t have ta do that, honey,” he says quietly, his dark brows furrowing together handsomely.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, baby. I loved it,” you say, smiling. “Can I show you how much?”

His eyes widen and he nods.

As bold as you’ve ever been, you take his other hand in yours, tucking it under your dress. Slowly, you run his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His callouses catch on your silky stockings and you hear him hum in approval when you reach the past where your garter belt holds them up and your soft, bare flesh is exposed to his touch. There is no stopping you now, and when you guide his fingers to the sopping fabric between your legs, you watch as his lips part in what can only be described as a reverent, aroused awe.

“Ohhhh,” is about all he’s able to get out, and your body yields to him, legs falling open of their own accord as a sigh tumbles from your lips. You dip his fingers under the band that separates you and press him into the slick, and that’s all it takes for the boy to snap to attention.

In a fast, fluid motion, his lips capture yours, and he reverses your positions so you are lying back on the bed. As his mouth explores above, his fingers mirror below, caressing through your slick folds before circling your clit. It only takes him a moment of experimentation to find what makes you quake and roll in his hand—he’s obviously skilled in the art of a woman’s body, you’ll give him that.

You moan into his mouth when he pushes two long fingers up into your wet heat. Your pussy clenches around him, tight and needy, reminding you it’s been neglected for far too long. Pumping wickedly slow, he uses his tongue in your mouth to mimic what he’s doing to your clit with his thumb. God, you want him to devour you whole, you think as your nails dig into the bare flesh of his back and he curves his fingers inside you just so.

“Elvis!” you gasp and that cheeky lip of his curls up into that famous smirk. It turns your stomach gooey and molten, and your cunt squeezes demandingly around his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, his descent is thwarted by your dress. You whine when his fingers leave you and he pulls you to sit up. In one fell swoop, he deftly unzips your dress and yanks it up over your head, discarding it unceremoniously on the floor. Hungrily, his eyes rake over your form, and the scrutiny would usually have you a tad self-conscious, but he’s on you so fast, nipping at your skin, that you couldn’t care less what you look like.

The boy is proving quite proficient in removing undergarments, unclasping your bra with such skill that you barely realize it’s off before it joins your dress in a heap on the floor. You can’t think about much of anything with how his lips pepper your breasts with kisses, and when he attaches softly to your nipple, suckling there, the zinging sensation shoots straight through you and into your aching pussy.

You want him everywhere, your soft sighs of, “yes, yes, yes” urging him on. Running his hands up your legs, he slowly pops each clasp that holds up your stockings, his thumbs massaging maddening circles on the sensitive inner flesh of your upper thighs. Shivers ripple through you when he starts rolling the silky fabric off each leg, kissing each new inch of skin he exposes as he goes.

“Look at these pretty yittle sooties,” he coos as he takes off your heels and stockings, his hands massaging your sore arches. Your body, already on high alert, nearly levitates off the bed at the delectable it-hurts-so-good feeling. His lips press into your ankles, slowly trailing their way back up to your sex.

Oh, he’s good. You didn’t expect this, though perhaps you should have. The closer he gets to the ruined gusset of your panties, the faster your chest swells. It’s been a long time since any one has been down there like this, and you almost stop him, but the feel of his mussed damp hair tickling your thighs has you in quite a state. You suppose turnabout is fair play when he lightly and quickly presses his tongue into your core over the fabric, teasing what you hope is to come.

He switches gears and makes surprisingly quick work of your garter belt. His eyes flash in the darkness as he takes your panties in his teeth, dragging them with a playful growl down your legs. Completely exposed for him, he yanks you to the edge of the bed and pushes gently on your knees, spreading you open with a delight you didn’t know was possible.

“All that for me, mama?” he asks quietly, running the tip of his finger through your dripping arousal before putting it in his mouth and licking it clean. It’s so wonderfully dirty, making your cunt throb for attention.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding furiously. When he licks his lips, you think you might die from waiting, but then he’s on you, his tongue lathing wide and flat from your ass to your clit.

You don’t recognize the sounds coming out of your mouth, the sensation of his wet softness exploring your most intimate areas being so overwhelming that it is hard to focus. He kisses and swirls around your puffy little nub, and your fingers fly into his dark hair, clasping the wet strands. When he hums against you in response, the vibrations have you gasping.

He continues his work, his tongue pointedly lapping through your swollen folds to your entrance. You think you might be dreaming when he begins fucking you with his tongue, and the tightness in your belly clinches when he flicks his finger over your clit rapidly.

“Oh, god,” you groan, hips undulating against his face, needing more of him. You had set out to ruin this man tonight and now he is undoing you piece by piece instead. He is a responsive and intuitive lover, you realize, as he replaces his tongue with his much longer fingers, pressing up into your body with precision.

Gaping, you push up on your elbows as he pulls back, and you catch the stunning sight of his pretty face slick with your arousal, looking at your cunt with determined reverence. He finds that spongey spot up inside you and takes that moment to fix his mouth to your sensitive bud and your eyes roll back in your head as you arch off the mattress to be closer to the heaven he’s bringing you to.

Fire spreads from your belly into the rest of your body, and you feel your climax closing in on you rapidly, despite part of you wanting this to last forever. When you realize he’s moaning against you and rutting against the bed, it sends a whole new set of fireworks through your nerves.

He’s getting off on this, you think. My pleasure his getting him off.

And there’s nothing sexier than that.

Adding another finger, he fucks you faster, harder, all the while massaging your clit intentionally with his tongue. He is a man on a mission now, and the searing wave of heat crests inside of you. All it takes is the guttural moan he lets go against you and you break apart.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and you thrust into his face as you come. It hits you hard and you cry out as he fucks you through it, catapulting you from your sensitive body to somewhere in the stratosphere.

Your eyelids flutter as you float back down to earth. The feel of his tongue licking up your release has you shuddering against him.

“Oh. Oh,” is all you can seem to manage, and you stare up at the ceiling wondering what good deed you did in your life to deserve this.

You feel Elvis slide his body up yours to lay beside you. He kisses up your neck until he reaches your lips, and you taste the tang of yourself on him. It shouldn’t entice you, but it does. Lying there, his naked body pressed against your side, you feel the hot heaviness of his erection hard against your hip.

“Best poster I ever made,” you breathe out, your filter completely gone after your mind-blowing orgasm.

Elvis chuckles in your hair. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age, young man?” you tease, poking into his side.

“Hey now! I jus’ wanna make sure I don’t hurt ya. Don’t wanna send you to the home quite yet,” he smirks, then bites your shoulder.

“Oh, one of us is going to the home alright, and it’s not me,” you retort, pushing him over and flipping on top of him. “I’ll show you.”

He grunts as you straddle his hips. “Yes, ma’am, you’d better show me,” he says coyly.

“Good boy.” You grind down on him.

Being in your 30s has never been so sweet.

TAGLIST

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @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-little-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 

[strawberryjamsara]

oh idk if you're still taking these but... how about a 🔥 for Utena? Maybe something about Dios/Akio just for funsies :O

So idk how unpopular this is but I’m glad Akio didn’t die at the end of the series.

Don’t get me wrong, the entire time I was watching I was waiting with bated breath for Akio to eat it, and also Anthy killing him in Adolescence was a certified #girl moment but. There’s something so satisfying about the end of the series where Anthy just packs up her things and leaves him. Akio made Anthy think he is nothing without him but it’s the other way around. Without her he can’t maintain his system that he built up on her suffering. The dollhouse that is Ohtori, where Akio plays pretend he’s still the heroic prince and his sister is the poor damsel he’s “trying to save” will crumble to ash, and Akio within it while Anthy is gone, and Anthy does not give a damn. She has a person she loves, and she’s going to find her.

In general I don’t think Adolescence of Utena is the best sequel (and I DO think it’s a sequel) since it seems to stir in recapturing the image of the old series without striving to expand it, and you can in some senses feel the manga writers touch in some places. They basically made killing Akio a necessity to the plot this time, which seems like it’s for the want of a climatic end to a big bad, instead of the series showing “This man is so pathetic he needs his fourteen year old sister to run his empire, does everything to keep her, and she realizes he’s full of shit and leaves anyways.” Yes, it’s satisfying to see Akio dead, but it doesn’t seem to understand why Anthy leaving him alone at the end of the series was far more satisfying, and in a sense, a fate worse than death.

[rottencoreflesh101]

This is a 18+ account. Please do NOT interact if you’re a minor. If I find out you are a minor, you will be blocked.

HI! Im just a silly lil’ guy/gal’ on the internet just wanting to share my content!!

Alex/Alexis, 20 yrs old, puertorican🇵🇷.

I go by any pronouns.

I am a multi fandom artist & I write stuff for funsies.

Douma, Jiro & Tatsuomi are my bbgs, my meow meows, my princesses.

And happily married to HIM🔥🥢

This blog contains a few things that ppl might find uncomfortable, if this isn’t your piece of cake, please leave or DNI.

This blog haves the following:

Blood & Gore

Dark themes

Manga spoilers

Aged up characters

Oc x Canon

Suggestive & Nsfw content (with warning)

Status

Commissions: CLOSED 3/9 working Trello

Art Trades/Trades: closed 0/3

Collabs: closed 0/2

Art Request Note

I don’t do requests frequent but you can leave a request in my ask box, it will be just a sketch. Whenever I feel like it, I’ll just pick randomly from there, if its not from there, I won’t do it.

Other places where you can find me!

My linktree

Dividir credit: here

[taeiris]

Fav winter wear gear?

Fav thing to during winter season?

What inspired you to draw in the first place? Was it a show/book/picture?

I'm just asking all the questions lol

i don’t have any fav winter gear cause i live in the caribbean LMAO but ig for funsies maybeee those ear warmer thingys

CHRISTMAAAAASS is my fav thing of winter

im not rlly sure what inspired me to draw at the very beginning like i just drew lol, i do remember drawing monster highs🔥 but when i look for inspiration to draw i always get inspired thru music listening, movies and edits and even seeing other art!

TY FOR THE ASK!!!!! hope u have a lovely day❤��🪄

[daisyvramien]

HAPPY CAMP NANO PEOPLE !!!

So, you're curious about this thing called Camp NaNoWriMo, huh ? Well, buckle up Buttercup!! Think of it as the road-tripping sister of NaNoWriMo (that's November's version, in case you're new to the family). April's Camp NaNoWriMo is like her July twin, always up for a spontaneous writing journey with a side of literary shenanigans and, of course, camping!

Now, here's the difference: during Camp NaNoWriMo, you're the master of your writing destiny. No rigid 50,000-word goal here, you get to set your own word-count target. Want to write an epic poem based on a shopping list ? Go for it! Feel like penning a short story collection about sentient pineapples ? The forest is your oyster, my friend.

But wait, there's s'more! (Yes, pun intended) If you're new to the NaNoWriMo scene, Camp is like dipping your toes into the literary lake. You can set a goal that feels just right for you and still be part of this crazy (lovingly), supportive writing community.

Oh, and did I mention the campfire sing-alongs ? Okay, maybe not sing-alongs, but we'll definitely be cheering each other on, hosting special events, and offering support like marshmallows at a bonfire.

And the best part ? If you conquer the official Camp NaNoWriMo challenge, you'll earn exclusive digital badges, a printable certificate (because who doesn't love a good certificate ?), discounts and goodies from sponsors, and an extra leaf on your writing streak laurel. Yes, you read that right: extra leaf, extra bragging rights. So hop on the Nano's website here and, if you're interested, we're hosting campfire writing sessions (digitally, yeah, but the ambiance is there), writing sprints, funsies and games as well here in the Fox' Den!! DM me to get an invite!!

Good luck fearless campers! 📝🦊🌟🏕️✨

Wishing you the best smores, vibes, tunes to dance to and I hope you're able to make all your goals a reality!!🌲🔥

Writing marathons can be exhilarating, but it's important to pace yourselves and remember that self-care is just as crucial as hitting those word count goals. So, between your epic writing sprints and plot-twist brainstorming sessions, make sure to:

🍃 Take Breaks: Give your brain a breather every now and then. Step outside, stretch your legs, and soak in the sights and sounds of nature (or your local coffee shop – no judgment here!).

🍲 Eat: Fuel your creativity with nourishing snacks and meals. Remember, a well-fed writer is a happy writer! So, stock up on brain food like fruits, nuts, and maybe a chocolate bar or two for good measure.

💤 Rest: Don't underestimate the power of a good night's sleep. Your imagination needs time to recharge, so make sure to get plenty of rest to keep those creative juices flowing.

💧 Stay Hydrated: Keep a water bottle handy and sip regularly to stay hydrated. Trust me, your body (and your brain) will thank you!

🌿 Get Some Fresh Air: Step outside and bask in the glory of the great outdoors. A breath of fresh air can work wonders for your mood and your creativity.

🧘‍♀️ Practice Mindfulness: Take a moment to center yourself and practice mindfulness. Whether it's through meditation, deep breathing, or simply taking a moment to appreciate the present moment, mindfulness can help clear your mind and boost your focus. 🌟 Remember the real Goal: To have fun. If it's starting to be taunting to you, take a break from it. Your work isn't going anywhere, you can take a break for a few days, I promise. Have funny activities in between and try to not burn yourself out.

Remember, writing is a marathon, not a sprint (we do have some though in the Fox' Den if you're tempted). So, be kind to yourselves, listen to your body, and don't be afraid to take breaks when you need them. Your story will still be waiting for you when you return, I promise! 📝🌟

[luderailing]

Alright friend

🔥give us a hetalia hot take!

💌 what are your "essential" ships? (in your version of the hetalia universe, these characters have to be a romantic pair - and them not being one feels weird/wrong)

🗺️ who's your favourite allies member? axis member? nordic? and favourite character who's not in one of these groups?

I love u for writing the whole question in the ask fr anyway

🔥 - They’re not nations, just immortal. (This probably counts as going against canon but. Eh) they all have biological parents. At what time any of them are born doesn’t really depend on the independence of the country, they’re just an offset of humans with an immortal lifespan. Also countries having more than one native “nation” is pretty common ex: the Italy triplets. The concept of a “nation rep” is a social construct that society built around them over the years. By the time America became independent everyone was scrambling to figure out which of the many children born in that time would live a little longer than the others, and not even Alfred knew at the time, so for a while he probably felt different or outcast from the other children around him. England could be his biological dad, who knows.

They’re just famous people categorized by the country they come from, and the nation rep thing is a title and position given to them for funsies. Other than that pretty normal civilians. They could have served in their countries’ military, they could’ve ruled over a kingdom 50000 years ago, or they could have a boring office job where they print papers and sit in the break room thinking about that sheep they owned in the 1600’s.

If any of that makes sense, to me this also explains some countries not having a nation rep.

💌 - off the top of my head RoBul! I can just imagine them meeting a few times here and there, without really knowing each other, and then boom a hundred years later, wow, this guy is still here?! And they both kiss and live happily ever after. Also I will always love Tolys and Natalya together no one can tell me that Tolys is not absolutely down bad for her.

🗺️ - Allies…I’d have to say Matt. He’s pretty cute I think. For axis I honestly can’t really pick XD. They’re all pretty equal in different ways in my mind. NORDIC I CANT PICK EITHER,,,,,I lov Norway though. And Iceland. I love their brotherly/friendship relationship they have too

Also I do fr love India,,, I don’t really think about his hetalia character nearly as much as I should,, India is such an interesting country to me and I think its beautiful. The history was really cool to learn about

ALSO i love all of your guy’s interpretations of Yugoslavia <<<33333 giving me hope. And I’ve said it before but @piceaobovata ‘s Kazakhstan is real real

[moonspower]

have said before, said it again - like the language, the details, the imagery - there's constant imagery being invoked in the way that you write vi. it's a complete experience and the way that you dive into the impact that his life has taken on him, the work that he does on himself every single day, the ways that it gets harder .. but sometimes there's still growth. the fun, the varying verses that he gets into and exposes other sides of him. like he's incredible and i can't get enough of seeing him,

✨ @escapedartgeek. meme. still accepting!

💖🌟🔥🥰💘😍💞✨💗🤩💖🌟🔥🥰💘😍💞✨💗🤩💘☺💖🌟🔥🥰💘😍💞✨💗🤩💘 sorry for being fashionably late._.-._.-

he's just here 4 funsies ya know. like he's here to become a better person, help people be their best selves, and then also kick someone's ass along the way if he has to that's just the law 'round here in these parts. like yeah he's this fashionable, uber coolé dork that just likes to do what he wants, but i think his backstory really is the bees knees so thx… he's been hurt a lot. he's been hurt his entire life. from various sources. so rn hes just like?! doing his own thing . ty....!!!

uve been here since his beginning so uve seen him go from a shy, mousey doormat to..... whatever the hell hes doing currently.

[hailtheknownworld]

I can't choose a single oc for the piping hot asks but all your ocs: 👃🔥😍 i wanna take notes pls

SIS!!!

👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?

Most of my OCs are nobles 🙈 so yes, they're more or less bathed in perfume lol But Amund and Svana both come from cultures that prioritize bathing a lot!

Alaric likes woodsy, musky scents, with a hint of spice. Very fitting for the Prince of Autumn, no? He needs to smell like he just stepped out of a Mercedes and he's about to treat you to an eye-wateringly expensive dinner.

Camille likes light, citrusy scents-- basically if it smells like he just came out of an expensive bath, that's him. Basically the smell you think about when you fantasize about a romantic summer fling.

Amund and Svana come from humbler stock, but~ Svana often smells like fire and smoke. She works as a blacksmith, so it's something that just can't be washed off. Her mother makes little bath oils from local wildflowers. The scent is very light, only detectable when you're within kissing range ;)

Amund usually smells like a mix of old books and baking bread. But those freshly cut florals linger on him too after a long thoughtful bath.

🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?

Alaric loves confidence, and is sure to melt in your arms if you can give as good as you can take. He likes to be wanted and adored, and a good round of dirty talking will have him hot and bothered all day.

Camille likes it when someone is in charge and shows it. He isn't nicknamed the 'pillow princess' for funsies. He likes being spoiled and will get absolutely flustered if you make him promises of spoiling and pampering.

Amund gets flustered easily from romantic attention, so even just going up to him and tell him he's good looking is enough to get him blushing madly.

Svana doesn't fluster easily, not outwardly at least. She's used to men making lewd advances to her. But... if you're tooth-achingly romantic to her? Flowers and hand kisses? She won't admit it but she will get soft and blushy.

😍 : What does your OC find irresistible in others?

As mentioned above, Alaric loves confidence. He recognizes confidence is more than just being boastful and loud however. He also likes people who are adventurous and fun, willing to try new things with him.

Camille likes the finer things in life and it'd be hard pressed for me to admit that he can sometimes come off as a gold-digger. But beyond that he likes people who can also enjoy life in a Big Picture kind of way? Expensive wines and lavish dinners, making love that leaves you breathless, followed by a luxurious bath and then bed time together? Sign him up NOW.

Amund is very romantic in the sense that most of his ideas of love and courtship came from the many, many books he's read in secret. Coming from a small village, he's not exposed to a lot of different folks, but he can't lie that he isn't swayed by a handsome face that packs a whole lot of charm behind it.

Svana isn't really one for romance, per se. At least, not in the way she thinks girls ought to? Like, most girls (and some boys) in her village wish for a handsome stranger to romance them by the lake, sing them sweet songs and bring them gifts. Svana is more likely to be swayed by a set of muscles and big, kind heart. She will never, ever admit this, however.

[chaos-event-horizon]

🔥 Dabi

*Inhales*

He's an overhyped piece of shit whose actions are far more inexcusable than, say, Bakugo's or Endeavor's.

Yes, I am being serious.

Bakugo had been a terrible bully, but grew up real quick and made amends. His shit relationship with his family evolved into him not knowing how to regulate emotions or how to express himself in a nonviolent way. He's fixing that. While he had previously been a bastard who told someone to die, he has never actually committed murder. The line there is not fine, it is in fact easy to distinguish.

As we find out, Endeavor's entire attitude was born of the trauma of Dabi's actions, and he has realized the damage he himself has also caused and is working to be better NOT because he wants forgiveness, but because he knows his family deserves better. The things he did to his family are not easily remedied, but yet again, none of them are nearly as bad as murder.

DABI??? He is the opposite. He murders for funsies and has even tried to harm the siblings that had nothing to do with his attitude problem. He tortured people. He doesn't see himself as ever having been in the wrong. His family wanted him to do something as simple as NOT kill himself by lighting his own body on fire, and he took it as a personal insult. He attempted to murder a baby because he didn't like that said baby might be stealing attention off of him. He injured himself because he refused to be a reasonable person-- and yes, at that age where the incident happened, "please do not light yourself on fire because it is hurting you" was not too complicated of a fucking request.

Speaking as someone in a very similar situation, Dabi is honestly just a childish and selfish pos. The trauma he inflicted on his family and his MURDER VICTIMS is far greater than... *Checks notes* the trauma of being told that you can't be your father's successor because doing so would kill you and that there are other things you can do with your life. In my eyes he's a truly irredeemable person, because he will never want to change. He will never admit that he did something wrong. He will never consider the feelings of anyone besides himself, unless it helps him further his own agenda. Every single bad thing that happened in the Todoroki household stems from Dabi's blatant disregard for the lives of himself or anyone else. Flat out.

If I see one more fucking idiot say that Bakugo or Endeavor are irredeemable but Dabi is just THE SWEETEST LITTLE BEAN WHO DID NOTHING WRONG, I'm legitimately just going to show you what the fuck having a sibling like him does to a person. Because it is not pretty. Not by a goddamn long shot. It ruins lives.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk. If you're a Dabi stan who wants to argue please proceed to hit the block button instead because you are not my clowns and you ain't gonna have an act in my circus. Either admit that your Bae is less than perfect and love him anyway, or pick a different bae, because in my house we do not sugarcoat murder. Embrace what he's done, or learn to accept the fact that you might have to block some people.

[abnerkrill]

4, 6, 9, 12 Rop asks!

thanks friend!!

4. Favorite story arc?

the Khazad-dum arc is my favorite purely based on the Elrond/Durin/Disa chemistry and the cave conversation. Closely followed by the Elendil family soap opera, which is just so darn compelling for so many reasons but mostly because we know where these characters end up!!! aaaahhhhh! cries forever.

6. Favorite character dynamic?

I already answered Elrond/Durin/Disa but my next answer is Elendil/Míriel, for shippy reasons but also because the queen/knight dynamic is 🔥, and there's the whole "we know where these characters end up" thing, and the way they're tied by their faith and their duty and their love for Numenor...... i cry.

9. What is your favorite scene?

the elrond durin cave scene ofc!!!!!!! it was what finally got me to go oh frick i'm deeply in love with elrond and also this show. never getting over it.

...closely followed by the white leaves falling and Míriel and Elendil making the most intense eye contact known to man...

...closely followed by the whole this wandering day sequence...

...closely followed by Galadriel kneeling before Míriel while Elendil CRIES ABOUT LOSING HIS SON...

...and the whole adar and arondir conversation is also really good--but I should probably stop myself there. (other honorable mentions: the battle scene/charge especially galadriel wholly flinging herself off a horse & arondir and theo making heart eyes. also, everything with disa. also, everything with adar being the most emo guy in middle-earth, which is saying something.)

12. Which outfit do you like the most?

Ha, I get to talk about costumes more! I really really like Bronwyn's outfit. (quick, someone do some analysis on the meaning and importance of the color blue in ROP.) I'd love to wear the costume IRL (could totally cosplay……….) and it fits her character so well—pretty but practical and well-used; very fitting for a mom and a healer and a future leader of her society. also, I freaking love a good cloak, and she gets TWO!

another favorite, just for funsies: CELEBRIMBOR'S FORGING OUTFIT. i adore his leather apron thingy and his disheveled hair in this scene. RIP in advance celebrimbor, it was nice knowing you.

rings of power asks!!!

[renemesis]

if you and your f/o(s) had cellphones, what do you think the contact names for each other would be?

YAAAY ANOTHER ONE YAAAAY!! This is a really really good one too I love your mind...

Ok picking these out on the idea that over half of them either don't have phones at all or own the oldest brick flip phones known to man for funsies so umm. Hmm.

Starting off hot with KIRA. Ik he might seem like a flip phone guy (and in his canon time period he IS) but. Cmon. Kira is all about average appearances. Average guys dont use nokias theyve got mid pixelated-ass 5 y/o androids be for serious. Ok ANYWAYS!! He'd keep his contact names very simple, concise, easy to recognize and hard to criticize if someone we're to be snooping his phone for one reason or another, so he'd have me as just my name maybe with a heart emoji if hes feeling indulgent... Veeery later on into the relationship he'd may change it to like 'Spouse' with a heart or two. I'd have my contact for him be anything from "💖💗💖💗pookie bear 💖💗💖💗💖" to "THE KILLER!!!💀💀💀🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥" and he'd fucking despise it he'd threaten to blow up my phone at any given moment. We compromise occasionally but I still continuously choose names that'll infuriate him for funsies bc mike loves poking the lethal bear yaaaaay yay yaay

Ok next up Eric bc I dont talk abt him undead gothic ass enough !! Hmm. Ok well I dont think he'd use any outwardly romantic names for a loooong time just bc of his. Circumstances (I am unfortunately his rebound/situationship partner after him and his fiancée's brutal murders. This is the choice I live with </3) but maybe he'd use some edgar allen poe ass terms of endearment after awhile ('My Unbeating Heart', 'My Mourning Dove' etc etc) but I'm gonna be real. I love him so so bad but I'm not abt to do all that. Hes going into my phone as some shit like "Crowboy" or "Zombie Clown" or maybe if I'm feeling romantic I'll give him a little "My Undead Freak 😊💗💗" I might be obsessed and in love with him but I'm a silly guy first and foremost

Ohh my God this ended up so long. AND I ONLY DID TWO FMLLL. whatever I'm ending it here this is good enough

[firechampion187]

HEY YOU GUYS ITS RHYS

YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ME NOW BUT YOURE GONNA GET TO KNOW ME SOON BECAUSE IM GOING ON A PO9KE JOURNEY RIGHT NOW!!! LIKE RIGHT NOW IM STARTING RIGHT NOW!!!!

THIS IS CHASE hes my pokemon0 partner now. say hi to chase (m sorry that his photo is blurry my mom took it when i was gettin ghim)

gimme a FOLLOW rn because after i become the champion im gonna start my own fire hym and its gonna be amazinf and awesome and youre all gonna love it!!! or i SET YOU ON FIRE!!! NOW!!1 🔥🔥🔥

OOC SECTION

Hi, mod here! You can call me Atlas, I use he/it/vil

This is an rp blog kinda? But like in the format of if someone in the pokemon universe had a tumblr account. And said person was like. Ten. This and my other pokeblogs are just for funsies and very casual

It's important to note that THIS BLOG IS UNREALITY CENTRAL! Although I will be tagging non-ooc posts with tws, if you're somehow still reading this I still suggest you block this blog in its entirety if you're uncomfy with or triggered by any unreality content pls!!!

Also, keep in mind that both the mod and the character are minors. So. No NSFW or face the block button bitch >:(

Some other pokeblogs I have:

@cluelesspokeperson

@definitleynotdedenne

@coordinatoramity

[danpuff-ao3]

19, 26 🌹

Hi there Anon! 🌻

19.) What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

What a good question! Tons, actually. For femslash, I'm thinking Ginny/Gwenog! I'd like to expand on Red All Over and show how Ginny and Gwenog first got together, while also showing Harry and Ginny's marriage (and slipping in that good ole background Snarry while I'm at it!) Where I will is a whole other question, but I'd really like to!

More Draco ships, too! I most want to write Draco/Sirius (I love them and I need more of them in my life), but I have a more solid idea for a Draco/Remus story (also very valid and good). But I actually have a Draco/Albus Severus in progress so...who knows! It would be nice to finish my Dralbus fic, but I'll be most pleased if I can manage a Drarius story at some point!

26.) What’s your most common category?

Hmmm...I'm guessing this means what AO3 calls a category, in which case I don't even need to look to know it's M/M. 😂 But for funsies I looked. 69 M/M fics! 🔥 What a great number. 8 F/F, 3 F/M (I side eyed that one until I remembered: oh yeah the doomed het couples, gotcha.), 3 Multi, and 2 Gen (Gen?????) (Oh wait, that's right.)

Is it weird to want to swear off M/M now?? Guess I have to dedicate my life to femslash now. 🤣 Just kidding. You know I can't stay away from Snarry long!

ao3 wrapped [writer's edition]

answered: 19, 26

[impossible-rat-babies]

🔥🍊🍑 for eyrie!

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colours, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

likes: fresh tea in the morning, lemons and yogurt, working with their hands, fussing around with stringed instruments (pianos included), pretty rocks/shells, those courtyard pools with lily pads and fish living in them, light and airy clothing, silks/cashmere/linen/fur fabrics. also chocobo feathers. they like oranges, golds, sky blue, deep emerald green, warm leather brown, cream. things with sentimental value are also very dear to them; they have a few little petite mobiles and delicate golden hourglasses that are utterly useless but they were gifts. they have several other little things given to them by apprentices they've taken in over the years.

dislikes: harsh alcohol, the smell of wet canvas (and wet leather), sand (rip ul'dah), dry heat (rip ul'dah again), candle smoke, shoe and armor polish.

🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes? What is your OC’s most hated food? Stuff they can’t stand to eat or drink?

eyrie is the sort of eat lots of small meals during the day instead of big meals--it's old habits from years of rationing their food over long periods and eating what they can when they can. they're a fan of simple foods for the most part--easy to eat breads, hard cheeses, dried and salted meats--fresh fruits too. soups and stews too. they're one of those people that would eat a lemon for funsies. they've grown fond of softer cheeses after spending time in eorzea though, and they have a very soft spot for doman cuisine.

they're most inclined towards water, tea and very mild fermented fruit drinks like they had back home. stuff that's very lightly alcoholic/bubbly so it's fine for consuming often.

they hate sort of "heavy foods"--the sort of foods of excess. textures and layers upon layers of complexity. fussy foods, to put it plainly.

🍑 Where is your OC’s favourite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them?

in gridania it was the airship landing--or on top of the main building where all that stuff is "housed." they liked the docks in vesper bay, and after that it was the walls facing out towards the crystal tower in revenant's toll. they haven't found a place in ishgard yet to sit on their lonesome. eyrie is by years and years of habit a solitary person--they crave alone time to sit in their own head and Process Stuff. so these alone places are special just by that virtue, and especially so with all the burdens placed on their shoulders.

(there's just something tragic about minfillia looking to the WoL as her pillar of strength and wondering who is there for the WoL?)