#Oh lordy what do I tag this with?

[dinklebat]

art dump

Well one good thing about the annoying ask is it made me realize I haven’t posted art here in almost a year. OOPS

[nebulousmedic]

Is it just me or is Tumblr being weird? Like I've reblogged a couple posts and it just keeps showing me that notification of "failed to send post"

[dazaishoulddie]

whenever like. kunikida does something it’s like. oh yeah. this guy is so autistic.

[hopefuloverfury]

i saw your tags on the bachelor post, sooooo if you please? could you spare some bachelorette hcs for the soul? 🤲🏻

Well, I suppose I could be persuaded—lmfao I’m kidding. You sent this on Sunday, and I assumed you were talking about the Bachelors In Bed hc list, so that’s what I wrote. I’m really glad someone wanted to see the girlies, too :) Enjoy, anon! 

Warnings: heavy NSFW. Sub/dom dynamics, mentions of headspaces, edging/overstim, dirty talk, degradation and praise, tons of swearing, light bondage(?), mentions of feet yikes, and I used GN!reader. They’re listed in ascending age order once again. Minors please do not interact, thank you!

Maru

She’s loud

The slightest touch can have her sighing, and lord have mercy on your eardrums if you nibble on her earlobe, because that’s Her Spot™

She has a tendency to hide her face in the pillows or behind her arms and hands

But that does absolutely nothing to keep her voice down

you’re caught totally off guard by it at first, and at some point you wonder if she’s putting it on, but no

She really is just that sensitive

And loud. Did I mention she’s loud?

Desperate for it, no teasing or edging for her please and thank you

She’s probably a little repressed, what with her dad being who he is (the stick up his ass is massive, genuinely)

So sex with her is going to reflect that, at least at first

Grabs onto you a lot, and her grip is strong as hell

probably has a marking kink and loves leaving hickeys on your thighs during the summertime when she knows you have to wear shorts

And lordy, does she scratch

You might as well have a permanent tattoo of her nails down your back because of how often she uses you as a scratching post

You like looking at them in the mirror though, and she always makes sure to put ointment on them afterward so they don’t become a problem

But this girl doesn’t really talk during sex, regardless of the kind

She’s too busy blowing the fucking roof off the farmhouse

Oh yeah. No sex at her place. Nope.

Not even a gag can shut her up, but you’re certainly welcome to try!

Probably could make your lips numb if you tried to kiss her while she was moaning

And despite what you might think of her at first, she’s not innocent

because of how Demetrius is, she may never have had any experience with another person, but that doesn’t mean she’s never used toys

She can’t buy her own, but she did make a few for herself!

Feel free to use them on her, but be warned that she’ll give you the same treatment afterward

As far as dynamics go, she’s a switch, and definitely overstimulates the fuck out of you as a dom, but when she’s subbing, she’s pretty docile

Listens to you well, and if there’s a sliding scale in terms of brattiness, her and Haley are on opposite extremes (more on that later though)

Overall sex with her is pretty intense, and no it does not settle down the longer you’re together so good luck

Maybe invest in some decent earplugs? For you and the whole town LMFAO

Penny

It’s hard to tell because she’s constantly muffling herself in one way or another

even though it’s implied that she has a situationship with Sam, she’s very inexperienced

She knows how she likes to be kissed, but as far as her knowledge on sex goes, nada

You’re going to have to lead her

She doesn’t really like hearing herself, just because it reminds her of what she’s doing and she’s embarrassed about it

So you can usually trust that she’s not going to be super loud, but she can talk

Nothing vulgar or raunchy

That’s just not who she is

So you’ll probably get way more “I love you’s,” and lots of quiet begging

But as far as noises go, she’ll give you sharp gasps or muffled whimpers

Doesn’t have a ton of confidence and kind of just lets you do whatever you want

That causes some problems early on because she’s not totally up-front about certain things, but you pay very close attention, so it’s not very often that it happens

But it’ll take a lot of trust and communication for her to open up about what she likes during sex

And then you find out that she likes being embarrassed

Make fun of her desperation a little bit, but you should definitely still indulge her 

Not to mention if you yourself are just as desperate, that’ll def make her short-circuit

The build-up is the loudest

Her volume is high when she comes, but it falls back down pretty quickly afterward

Grapples onto you like a koala

Like Alex, prefers a lot of contact, and similarly to Elliott, likes intimacy

But also tease her a bit

imagine her reaching for your hand to thread your fingers together, and you indulge her, but chuckle a little meanly?

Yeah. She's dead.

A sub, 10000%

And if you stop doing all the work and force her to do it herself, she is GONE

“If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it”

And she does work for it, but her face is bright red the whole time

A little tomato lol

You’ll have to give her a second to get over her embarrassment though

You can tease her about that too if you wanna

“Are you embarrassed by how badly you want me?” and she shakes her head because that’s not it but also it is

Probably tears up, but doesn’t cry

At least, none of her tears ever fall

Wants to cuddle after sex, and will not let you go for at least thirty minutes

You also are going to need to reassure her

So go for lots of compliments, be sweet and loving to her overall, and she’ll probably want to take a shower together afterward

You may or may not get a round two in there

Abigail

This girl

Well.

She’s got quite the mouth on her LMAO

What I mean is: Abigail curses like no one else

Which isn’t very surprising for anyone involved, but nonetheless I have to mention it

But as far as noises go—oml this girl is so ridiculous—she thinks her moans sound like a really bad imitation of pornstars faking it? hdsjhDGSKDJGH

So she doesn’t allow herself lol

It would take a lot to get her to make any higher noises

You’re not gonna hear any whines or whimpers out of her for the most part

But if you want to, you can overstimulate her

The thing about her voice is that once she starts using it, she won’t stop

If you open the floodgates, she won’t be able to close them

Things in motion tend to stay in motion, yadda yadda yadda

You get the point

Anyway yeah she sounds fucking phenomenal but don’t bother trying to convince her because it will not work ever at all lmfao

What a stubborn little shit abigail i’m in love with you pls

She jerks around a lot

She’s overall pretty sensitive, and if you catch her by surprise, she’ll yank herself away from you

It’s not because she hates it, it’s just reflex

You’ll have to hold onto her pretty tightly

But also.

Tie her up sometimes, maybe?

I imagine she’s the type to have some fuzzy purple handcuffs 

Probably bought them off amazon after losing a bet

But she’s never used them before

Except she has you now, so. You know. They see the light of day fairly often

If you want to know how she’s feeling, check her feet

Hold on stAY WITH ME—

She curls her toes whenever she likes something you do

So let’s say you’re going down on her, and you’ve got her legs slung over your shoulders

And you can’t hear her or see her face, but just.

Glance up, or to the side—wherever you’ve got them

And you can tell when she’s enjoying herself easily

Give her hickeys and bite her a bit—her neck is the most sensitive, so if you’re looking for some real sounds, go for there

be warned that she might make your ears ring

Haley

Now we know when you’re just getting to know each other, she’s kind of shallow and mean, right?

But give her some patience and she’ll soften over time

So once y’all are together

A brat.

But also not

Like, yeah, she’s bratty, and needy, and if you try to edge her or rile her up, she’ll just take what she needs ugh i love her

But her sounds will reflect that disposition, so depending on what you’re doing, she’ll either be super sweet, or a bitchy brat 

“You’re so slow, hurry up!” or “Please, I’ll be good, I’m so close”

Probably a switch, but leans more toward sub

Sensitive nipples (i hc nipple piercings for her lol you’re welcome for that image)

Latch onto her chest and she’ll be ready to go in like. Two minutes.

But if you want to mess with her, stay there for longer

She could probably come just from nipple play, but she’s never patient enough for it to happen

But touching on what she likes hearing from you for a second, here’s some advice: degrade her

Call her a slut, insult her a little, bro if you scold her for her attitude? Lol you’re never getting rid of her and why tf would you want to?

But despite her general temperament, she doesn’t like pain

So overstim as a punishment is your go-to

But she’ll often piss you off just to get that out of you

Kinda pisses you off sometimes

“Why can’t you just ask me for it? Why do you have to be so bratty? I’d give you what you want in the first place if you just set aside your pride and used your fucking words.”

“Don’t lie, you know you like it.”

She raises your blood pressure every day lmao

She’s versatile, so you’ll hear just about every kind of sound from her

As far as volume goes, she can’t keep her voice down for shit

A fun little challenge is to tell her to be quiet

She can’t do it for shit, but it’s still fun nonetheless lol

Leah

It’s a good thing she moved to the farmhouse with you, because she may not be loud, but you certainly are

This girl knows her shit

She’s really great at reading people, so if you were hoping to slip anything past her, you can toss those plans in the garbage right now lmao

She’s got a tongue and she knows how to use it

Plenty of experience, and she’s gonna make sure she puts it to good use

But she’s not going to go crazy

There’s no dynamics with her, no headspaces, nada

She’s not boring, of course, but she’s not really into all that intense shit

The most that’ll happen is she doesn’t let you touch her until you come at least once, and will probably overstimulate you if you ask for it, but that’s it

Has a very nice voice

Kind of similar to Abigail’s, but a little more smooth, and slightly deeper

She’s not all that shy about her voice, so you can expect an average amount of volume and frequency from her, but she’ll be at her loudest when all of the focus is on you

Very go with the flow, and doesn’t mind a little exploration as long as there’s a hefty amount of communication beforehand

With her relationship history, the easiest way to get her going is to be loving and sweet (FUCK YOU, KEL!)

So if you kiss her with no ulterior motives, or “just because,” that’ll probably be enough to rile her up

Also consent. Consent is very sexy to her

She thinks it’s pretty attractive, seeing you hold yourself back for her benefit

And because she’s so great at reading people, it also means that she knows exactly when you’re doing that

“You keep looking at my lips. Is there something you want to say?”

Likes to tease you about it, but you both know it drives her just as crazy to see you get like that

Likes being complimented quite a bit, (once again, FUCK YOU, KEL) but nothing too raunchy or nasty

Call her “pretty”, or say “I love you” against her lips between kisses?

You’ll have this woman wrapped around your finger like a soulmate string

Emily

In terms of romance, this girl gives Elliott a run for his money

Sex is going to be full-blown occasion for her

Candles, rose petals, music, and definitely some essential oils in a diffuser to help you relax

Probably turns on a salt lamp to align your chakras beforehand or some shit idk

She does not fuck, let’s make that clear now.

Also there are no power dynamics here, nope

Likes intimacy, and prefers any position that makes it easy to kiss you

Which. Oof. She is messy.

Lots of tongue, and if you’re close, probably just gasping into each other’s mouths

She doesn’t actually use pet names during sex

She thinks it’s more romantic and personal to use your name

Maybe a nickname, if you’ve got one

But yeah, no “baby,” “sweetheart”—nothing like that

Also. Eye contact.

EYE. CONTACT.

Will hold your face and force you to look her in the eyes if you try to look away

It’s like the world zeroes in on you two, and she will not focus on anything else

Loves cataloging every expression you make, so if you want to fuck with her facing away from you, you better get a mirror because she refuses to miss anything

Surprisingly not very loud?

Like you’d think she would be, but she’s surprisingly quiet

Not because she’s not enjoying herself, but because she’s just. Not very vocal lol

Loving praise, unsurprisingly

And she gives as good as she wants to get

Probably laces your hands together and presses it over one of your chests, just above your hearts emily please you’re killing me here

Skin contact, a fuckton of foreplay, and honestly her room could serve as a hippie’s sex shop lmfao

So many toys, oils, lube, this girl is prepared for anything

Probably a little vanilla, but that doesn’t mean it’s boring

I assure you it is never boring

I think it’s probably a little surprising for you at first, just how loved she can make you feel

I think with the current dating sphere, with the explosion of social media and smartphones and whatnot, everyone is very disconnected from one another

And she hates it, so when she decides to open up to someone like that, she’s going to do it right

Makes you feel so loved, and you’re obsessed after only the first time

She likes keeping your sexual life private

So don’t expect her to be ready to go whenever, and she doesn’t like a whole lot of PDA

Will not fuck you in any part of the farmhouse except your bedroom

No kitchen or couch sex. Boo-hoo

She wants it to be personal and private, because she feels like it makes it more special if it’s only shared between you two

And your bedroom is your safe-space

She probably says it’s about keeping the atmosphere balanced or whatever

She doesn’t want to have to leave charged rocks on every surface to deal with it if something disrupts that positive energy I am literally in love with her

[leupagus]

Three-Legged Puppy Fics

List five of your least-popular fics, as well as when/why you wrote them.

Home to the Weary: Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 2010.

I wrote this at the request of a friend who wanted, I think, something Gwen-centric. Because I was not a fan of the show I decided to focus on an AU in which Gwen backflipped out of that whole situation and founded her own sort of kingdom, only meeting the terrible trio years later. It was really fun and was the first time I'd ever tried writing a fic that hinted at a larger world going on around the characters, if that makes sense. This one's a little pretentious but you can definitely see my "style" as it were.

Treads on the Ground: Babylon (not the sci-fi show, the short-lived british cop show), Liz Garvey/Finn Kirkwood, 2022.

This was written during my Bertie Carvel phase where I'd watched "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" and was desperate for something, anything, that didn't have him wearing terrible prosthetics or playing a psycho. He still sort of plays a psycho in this show, but he looks super hot and angry all the time which is really all I needed. (Also bonus hilarity: Liz's boyfriend in this show is played by none other than James Lance, playing "louche asshole" to the absolute hilt.) Anyway I wrote this because I really wanted a fake dating AU for these two AND a "Finn is secretly in line to the throne" fic and this was the perfect way to combine these two. I'm still legitimately really proud of thsi fic.

The Bright Relief: 1776 musical, John Adams & Thomas Jefferson (and a little bit of / in there, if I'm honest), 2010.

I wrote this because my friends waldorph and screamlet and I were having the Summer of 1776 Feelings and we all wrote various (wonderful) crimes and misdemeanors in that fandom, mostly revolving all the ways in people who love John Adams make fun of him. That was a truly terrible summer but made a whole lot better by those two, and by William Daniels being the most John Adams to ever John Adams. (I actually rewatched the miniseries a few months ago and Paul Giamatti does a great job but that thing is SO DREARY. Although I will say Stephen Dillane first caught my eye in the role of TJeff, aka once again playing a guy who's down real bad for someone smarter than him (in this case both Abigail AND John). The scene where he first meets Abigail is just nonstop flirting, with John making faces in the background. It's great.)

Happy Tails To You (Until We Meet Again): SGA, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, 2009.

Oh lordy — probably the worst fic I've ever written, but I can't quite bring myself to delete it. I've been on the periphery of fandom for most of my adult life (what up X-Files yahoo groups and Prodigy Star Trek RP rooms), but SGA was what made me start thinking of writing fic after a long period of only reading it. (Yes, there is college-era gus fic out there. No, I'm not posting it on AO3.) I never quite got a handle on Sheppard or McKay but I did enjoy writing this and the other SGA fic I wrote, but yeah this deserves its obscurity.

Honey Now I'm Not One To Complain: Dalgliesh, Adam Dalgliesh/Kate Miskin, 2022.

Another one of my "Bertie Carvel is extremely attractive when he's sad and/or a cop" flash-fandoms, although I wrote a pretty good primer on the first season that I think gives a good case for the show as a whole. I wanted to write that largely because the show is so resolutely grim and I prefer stories that are... not grim, so I gave myself the challenge of putting these guys into one of the classic tropes. I did toy with the fake dating/marriage trope but honestly I think this was funnier, and I would always rather commit to the bit.

Tagging uhhh let's see, @laiqualaurelote, @themardia, @sadcypress, @auntieclimactic, and @eyebrowofdoom, if they (or anyone else) wants to do this.

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Five Times Peter's Senses Sucked One Time They Saved the Day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49307662 by kingdomfaraway He could hear Iron Man landing on the ground what felt like a lifetime later. “Oh kid,” he heard Tony say before the man was helping him sit up. “Lordy, you weren’t lying about the smell.” “Ugh, sorry,” Peter mumbled, feeling marginally better now that Tony was here. “Everything sucks so bad right now.” “Yeah, I can see that. Are you hurt anywhere?” “Just my pride,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head. The dampness from the garbage was seeking into his skin and the thought made him want to vomit again. “I’m going to fly you to the Tower, is that okay?” Tony asked him, hovering at Peter’s side like he wasn’t sure exactly what Peter might do. “Yeah, I might puke all over Manhattan but that’s fine.” “Not the worst thing I’ve done when flying, so we’ll be fine. Come on, up you go.” Words: 13281, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, May Parker (Spider-Man) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Vomiting, Senses, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Needs a Break, School Dances, Guns read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49307662

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - Part 19 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: References to sex. Continued ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Thank you for your patience, my beautiful lil mamas, Part 19 is finally here! We are back in Reader's headspace, and lordy, oh lordy, it's A LOT...just remember, I DID warn and promise y'all pain before a happy ending. And the end is coming soon. 😭 I know, babies, I know. 💖

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Silence.

For the first time in over a week, you aren’t bombarded with images of the past or worries for the future as your subconscious desperately tries to guide you places you are not ready to go to yet. As you stir awake, you feel somewhat rested, peaceful almost. Your eyes flutter open and even though the room is dim, you still squint and hiss at the light that pierces through your eyes and seems to rocket through your head like a spear. You can’t help but groan a little at the pain behind your eyes.

The room is not familiar, however, which sets you on edge, that peacefulness of good sleep draining from you quickly. Frantically, you try to puzzle out where you are and how you got here but thinking sends a wave of nausea through you that you can’t ignore. You groan again at the feeling and crack your eyes open the slightest bit.

A man, first crouched in the uncomfortable looking chair he’s perched in, sits up ramrod straight at your movements. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s a vision to behold. You know without a doubt he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, what with his high cheekbones, lusciously pouty lips, and chiseled jaw covered in what looks to be a day’s worth of dark stubble. Raven hair frames his face, thick sideburns curling at his ears and locks haphazard on his forehead. And those eyes, dear lord, those impossibly long, dark lashes rim his eyes. His eyes, which feel as deep and dark blue as the ocean itself, cut through the fog in your head, widening and looking over you with care and concern.

You know those soulful, familiar eyes anywhere.

Elvis.

You blink and the world starts to snap into focus. Through the pain and nausea, you take in your surroundings. The uncomfortable bed you’re in. The IV in your arm. The dreary paint on the walls. The smell of antiseptic.

The hospital. You are in the hospital.

This must be why Elvis looks positively distraught, his large hand now frantically grasping at yours on the bed. You swear he is shaking, steadied only once he touches you and a wave of relief falls over his handsome yet worried features.

“Y/n. Oh thank God, y/n,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? How do you feel? What do you remember?” he barrages you with questions that you aren’t sure you have the answers to yet, especially with the way your head is pounding so distractingly. For some reason, the whole scene suddenly strikes you as silly, what with the most famous man in the world looking at you so damn seriously. You can’t help yourself.

“Who…who are you?” you croak out quietly, your unused voice cracking.

The look on his face is priceless as he rolls through shock, terror, and dismay all at once. His face falls dramatically then and there is no way you can keep up the pretense because the little boy look that comes over him is just too much.

“Gotcha,” you chuckle, cracking a smile that suddenly makes your face feel like it’s on fire and making you regret your smile instantly.

“You little minx,” he growls, a relieved grin spreading over his face before he sees the pain on your face. “You’re hurtin’. Goddammit, I should’ve killed him…” he mutters heatedly under his breath.

It takes more than a moment to process what he is saying and connect that with the burning tightness of the left side of your face. You bring your hand up slowly, gingerly touching the unfamiliar swollen, hot flesh of your cheek. You can’t help but hiss at the painful sensation that runs over you when you do so.

You close your eyes, feeling Elvis’ heavy but comforting hand squeeze yours.

What in the hell happened?

Reaching back in your memory, you attempt to piece together why you are here, why you are in so much pain. Dread fills your heart as flashes of memory come at you:

Jack accosting you in the bathroom.

Losing his mind at seeing the hickies on your breast.

Him dragging you out and humiliating you in front of everyone.

Then…then…

Oh, god.

Jack did this. He hit you.

Your head falls back, and you cover your eyes with your free hand. A wave of shock, then a wave of deep sadness overcomes you. Hot tears spring to your eyes and spill down your cheeks and you don’t attempt to stop them. The salt of them stings the abrasions on your face.

How could he? How could he?

Sobs wrack your body, each one a pulse of pain through your head, shooting red-hot through you. You knew, you knew deep down it was over, but you never expected it to come to this. You never thought Jack had it in him to truly hurt you. But you are lying in a hospital bed, living proof that the man you once loved was truly gone.

And it feels devastating, yet also strangely relieving, in a way you could’ve never imagined.

“Oh, Satnin, baby. Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” Elvis whispers at you, clutching your hand, his concern evident but unsure.

The wave of devastation crashes over you, both the physical and psychic pain nearly unbearable as it throbs in your head. You feel utterly raw. Humiliated. Gutted. Guilty. Relieved. Furious.

The sudden image of slapping Jack’s face as he knelt bloody on the floor resonates through you, the sting still evident in your palm.

Elvis had almost killed Jack, blinded by a protective rage, you now remember. You’d stopped him.

Part of you wishes you hadn’t.

It all feels quite unreal yet simultaneously overwhelming, all these flashes of memory hitting you in rapid succession. And you know there are more troubling memories waiting in the wings, ready to knock you off your feet once again. You can sense them lingering at the edges of your mind, somehow closer than they have ever been but still just out of reach.

All at once you don’t feel strong enough to bear them.

Everybody knows, you suddenly realize. Your affair with Elvis was now out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. You open your tear-filled eyes to look at the beautiful man before you, the one you love so much it feels as though it might destroy you, because god knows you haven’t forgotten that. You cannot bring yourself to regret being with him, no matter if it led you to be here, broken and battered in a hospital bed in Las Vegas.

But something is not right. Something besides the obvious. And it’s right there, just out of view.

Your head hurts too much to dwell on it, however.

“I’m gonna take care of you baby,” Elvis finally says after what you realize is too many moments of silence. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

The way he says it so softly and with such righteous conviction strikes something within you. The clasp of his hand on yours is almost too tight, the look on his face both filled with remorse and determination. You know what he says is true—he will not leave you to face this alone.

Despite this, the uncomfortable elephant in the room lingers: you would not be here if not for Elvis, and you both know it.

But with the pain in your body and the ache in your heart, that is not a mountain you can begin to climb yet. There are too many unanswered questions that you need to figure out and this is not the time or place. So, you let Elvis hold your hand with that mournful look in his churning eyes and you try to heal.

*

“Watch your step, watch your step!” Elvis supports you gingerly, his strong arm holding you at the waist, as if just walking will shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“E, I’m okay. I promise I can walk on my own. It’s just one step,” you say, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone. He’s been hovering as much as possible for the past two days you’ve been under observation at the hospital, only leaving when absolutely necessary to do his two shows a night. He sent the hospital staff into a tizzy with demands for your care while still managing to be charming and effusive to all the employees in a way that only he could get away with.

You’re not sure that he’s slept in the past few days, as he seems obsessed with making sure you are alright. Your pleas for him to go back to the hotel and get some rest fell on deaf ears. Hopefully, now that you’ll be in the hotel, he will relax a little.

While your face is healing, it is still covered in a nasty bruise, which you are reminded of every time Elvis looks at you because the wince that passes over his features, while nearly imperceptible to others, is quite evident to you. It serves to remind you how you got here and how he seemingly thinks him controlling everything about your recovery is going to somehow put you back together and make everything how it was before.

But it’s not like it was before.

Not with the looks that the Mafia are giving you. You can sense their pity, their judgement, their fear. Because Elvis having a known affair with you threatens them all. What if it was their wife or girlfriend? What if Elvis turns on them the way he turned on Jack? Jack was their friend, too. It’s written all over their faces. And you can tell they’ve been put on best behavior because more than usual they defer to Elvis, and they are suddenly wildly uncomfortable around you, even though you’ve been part of the group for years.

You can’t help but feel like the king’s consort. The mistress. The usurper.

The only exceptions are Jerry and Sandy, of course. And Charlie, in his usual Charlie way, has been kind and endearing. But the rest are quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t know what’s happened to Jack. You also haven’t seen Red, though you can’t say you’re upset about it. The few times you tried to ask Elvis, he brushed you off, saying you didn’t need to worry about such things while you’re trying to recover.

All of it has you unsettled. You knew there would be consequences, of course you did, but you didn’t expect it to be this strange.

Thankfully, your headaches are becoming less frequent, but when they do come, they are intense and debilitating, and weirdly, each one brings a host of images and fractured memories that you must try to make sense of. The doctor said this should hopefully get better as your brain heals from the concussion. A full recovery, he said, but it might take some time. Elvis takes this to mean you need constant care, and honestly you don’t have the energy to argue with the man about it right now, so you let him escort you into his bedroom suite as though you are frail and fragile.

“There you go, Satnin, all set,” he says, fluffing the mountain of pillows behind you, and then he gently takes off each of your shoes. You lean back with a sigh, suddenly grateful for the comfort of his huge bed in his penthouse suite because that hospital bed was truly terrible.

“Maybe you wanna to get into your pajamas?” he suggests. “I had all your things brought up, but I also went ahead and bought you some things, since I know you hadn’t planned on being here this long, and—” he rambles. The look on his face is almost childlike in his need to please you, to take care of you. It is quite the adjustment after spending a week basking in his masculine sexual dominance.  You aren’t complaining at this change in him; in fact, it reminds you of when you first met, of those early years. It’s just giving you a bit of whiplash.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m fine for now,” you interrupt, trying to keep your tone light. Bringing your hand up, you pinch the bridge of your nose as another headache threatens. Overly attuned to you, Elvis grabs one of your feet and starts rubbing, using his strong hands to knead deep into the sole of your foot.

The hurts-so-good feeling has you groaning and your head falling back onto the pillows.

“That feel good, mama?” he drawls quietly.

All you can do is nod and hum in response. You’re certain if this had happened a few days ago, that statement, this action, would be laced with a fierce sexual energy. You imagine that it would last only a minute before he pounced and worked you into a state of pleasurable bliss. That latent desire is still there—you can sense it—but with everything that has happened, it takes a backseat to your pain.

This both saddens you and makes you feel grateful. You covet your sexual relationship with him, as it is the definitive thing you know he wants and needs from you. You know this for sure, and with your ever-present uncertainty about the rest of your relationship, it makes you feel off-kilter to not be able to share that with him. However, his commitment to being by your side despite the lack of sex, has been somewhat reassuring. You desperately hope it’s not just a sense of guilt that keeps him here with you.

You sigh, your eyes falling shut, and relish in the feel of his hands on you in such a comforting way as he treats one foot, then the other, to this intimate treatment. But he is uncharacteristically quiet.

He practically has you in a stupor by the time he finishes with the second foot, managing to stave off your impending headache. Opening your eyes, you catch him looking at you, those deep blues of his taking on a darker hue in the dim lighting. You can see the wheels turning, the way his hand flexes and releases over his tailored pants, how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What is it, E?” you ask gently, almost afraid it might spook him.

“I-I-I…can I hold you?” he stutters, changing tactics midway to get the sentence out, betraying his nerves.

“Of course, baby,” you respond quietly.

“I-I just don’t want to hurt you,” he says, crawling up the comforter to lie next to you. “Are ya sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” you say, as he curls into you, his arm coming over you.

All at once, you are flooded with memory. Your teenage bedroom. Your single bed. Elvis nestling close into your side, his cheeks still salty with tears. The way your heart races at his proximity and the way his touch, though innocent, burns through you like wildfire. His breath warm on your neck, tickling your bare skin.

He shows up on your doorstep such a mess, coming to you, of all people. You don’t quite understand it. (You’re still not sure you understand it—why it’s you, of all people, at that point in his life, that he’d chosen to come to.)

You fall into caring for him so easily, like it is second nature to run your fingers through his hair and massage his back as he cries in your lap, even though you’ve never touched him like this, so intimately, before. When he asks to stay, those bedroom eyes of his begging, your heart leaps in a way you are ashamed of. Your entire body feels on fire, flustering you as you consider the implications, consider just how badly you do want him to stay, and if it’s worth it to see where this might go.

It only gets worse when you find him stripped down to his underwear, waiting for you innocently in your bedroom, a place no man has stayed before. Your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him sitting there, exhausted and emotionally spent. Before you take him into your bed, he’s so good in reassuring you he would never hurt you, that he won’t touch you like that. Of course, he wouldn’t; you know this. But your trepidation isn’t because you are afraid he’ll take advantage of you—it is because part of you wants him to.

The memory makes you blush furiously. Yet another important moment you had buried so deep that remembering it now makes it feel like it just happened.

After the initial tension of him being curled so close into you wanes, you relax and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Oh, how you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, the musky scent and heat of him surrounding you as he holds on to you through the night. You wake up multiple times, thinking you must be dreaming that Elvis is in your bed, but are pleasantly surprised to really find him there, his warm, lean, young body pressing into yours in various ways. The moonlight through the window lets you see just how innocently beautiful and vulnerable he is like this, like some kind of angel not of this world, his long lashes falling over his cheeks. You feel grateful to see him this way, tucking the moment away in your mind. Despite the rollercoaster of hormones coursing through you, you’ve never felt so safe before, not with Ted, not with any man.

Or felt so aroused. That terrified you, you think, as the wave of feeling crashes over you in the present. You want him with an intensity that shocks you to your core. But he is your friend, for god’s sake, and he’d come to you upset and trusted you to help him, and here you are, suddenly lusting after him like every other girl on the planet. Oh, yes, you are so very ashamed of yourself, for the dirty thoughts you’re thinking.

But, oh, how you imagine him waking to kiss you passionately, willing him to touch you everywhere, wanting him to run his long, calloused fingers up under your nightgown and into your panties. Thinking that, in an instant, he could easily slide between your legs, and you would let him. You’ll gladly give yourself to him right this minute if he wants you. You screw your eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the image of him slowly entering you, joining with you, rocking you into submission, into ecstasy.

Back then, those thoughts were more dangerous than anything, especially when the man in question was in your bed already, holding you close. It was a different time, and at nineteen, you were young and bound by propriety, and yet, in that moment, you hadn’t cared about that part.

But it is Elvis. Your dear friend. He doesn’t think of you that way. He’s on the brink of stardom and already has half the country fawning over him, with girlfriends in every town. You know this, logically. You know this, but for the first time, you allow yourself to think that maybe there is more to the two of you than just friendship. That maybe there is a reason he’d come to you in his hour of need.

A wave of heartache rolls through you as you recall that next morning. You blearily wake up from your fitfully aroused but somehow comforting slumber to him pulling you close, pressing the front of his body into the back of yours. The heat of him permeates through the thin cotton of your nightgown, which is quite a pleasing sensation in the cold of this late-winter morning. You sigh and wiggle back into him instinctually, before you can think too much on it, just needing to be closer to him. But then he jumps out of the bed in a flash, as if you were on fire, scurrying to clothe himself, and then he practically leaps out the window to get away from you.

He didn’t want you. Of course, he didn’t want you. He probably regrets the whole thing, with the way he leaves you lying there. He is Elvis Presley, after all. Your friend, but nothing more. You’d been foolish to think it anything more.

His abrupt absence leaves you cold, tears welling in your eyes, yearning for something you know you could never have from him (or so you’d thought, at the time). You pull the covers over your head, the scent of him on your sheets enveloping you. The grease he used in his hair left a stain on your pillow, but you don’t care in the slightest because it is something tangible, something that lets you know him holding you through the night had been real and not a dream.

Now it hits you suddenly that—oh, god—that was the day Jack had asked you out for the first time. You’d been sad all day, trying to push Elvis out of your mind and Jack had shown up at the diner, suddenly quite brazen in his attraction to you. While you weren’t entirely surprised, as the two of you had been dancing around each other for some time, the timing of it helped bring you out of your funk, reminding you that in the real world, a good man like Jack wanted you.

You’d quickly accepted because you liked Jack and there was no reason not to.

Elvis Presley was just your friend, after all.

Now you realize that in that short 24-hour period, the trajectory of your entire life changed. Maybe you’d fallen into Jack’s arms so quickly because Elvis’ rejection had upset you more than you wanted to admit. It had been easier and more realistic to date Jack, and it had taken your mind off the unwanted thoughts you had for Elvis.

Oh, no.

The intense discovery of this long-hidden memory and the emotions to go with it rocket through your skull with a shooting pain, causing you to hiss. Tears flood your eyes, from both the ache in your heart and the pain in your head.

“Baby, you okay? What can I do?” Elvis shoots his head up, noticing your distress, looking you over carefully.

You can’t explain, not now. “Bad headache,” you breathe out instead. “Can you get my medicine?” You didn’t want to take pain meds if you could help it, but in this moment, everything, pain and otherwise, is too overwhelming and you think maybe you just need some sleep.

So, you take the pill he gives you gratefully. You try not to think about how the way he looks at you now has that same boyish quality it had all those years ago when you’d taken him into your bed and into your arms, and he’d left you cold.

It’s okay, you think. He’s here now, taking care of me. He wants me now, even if he didn’t then.

And with that, you drift aimlessly away into welcome darkness.

*

Everything is fuzzy, the dull ache in your head muddling the flashes that are floating to the surface in your dreams.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

Not Elvis now, you think, Elvis a long, long time ago.

But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t kiss Elvis until two weeks ago.

He’s so sad, though, so alone. He needs you, he needs you, he needs you…

And you need him.

But it’s wrong, all wrong. And so right, all at once. Your body tingles through the ache in your head as you ever-so-gently press your lips to his. You’ve wondered for so long what he tastes like.

Soft and sweet, like marshmallows.

His bright blue eyes widen with shock.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this…” he whispers. The words echo and swirl around you.

He’s right, isn’t he? You can’t want this. You shouldn’t. Of course not…

You’re so angry, so sad, and he’s so beautiful.

Elvis. Your Elvis.

No, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not.

He belongs to no one. He belongs to the world.

Need pulses through you, a need so deep it brings you to your knees. It cuts through the pain in your head. It singes through your heart.

It’s unbearable.

It burns through you, from the inside out.

Those eyes, deep as the ocean, rimmed in black, plunder your soul. You ride the swell of the waves in them as they rise higher and higher and higher until they shatter underneath you.

The fall is blissful and terrifying, all at once, but Elvis is with you the whole way.

Free falling through the abyss, you are scared. It’s never-ending. You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom, and the anticipation of it runs like ice through your veins.

Guilt. Shame. That ache in your chest.

And then you hit bottom.

*

Your eyes pop open with a shuddering gasp. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you frantically try to piece out where you are, that you are not falling anymore.

Just a dream. Just a crazy, medication induced dream, you pray, seeing that you are in the darkened suite in Elvis’ penthouse.

But the unease remains, lurking more visibly now in the corners of your mind, trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear. Something you don’t want to see.

The door to the bedroom slowly opens and you jump, a hand flying over your chest in surprise. Elvis strides in quietly, clad in his white gi jumpsuit, sweat pouring over him. He must have just finished a show.

You had been asleep a while.

You are still amazed at how his presence fills a room, even when it’s just you here, even when there is no one to impress. He looks gorgeous and you know he’s riding the post-show high by the way his eyes sparkle and by the flush of his cheeks.

“You’re awake, baby. How’re ya feeling?” he asks, gliding over to you on those long legs of his.

You are still reeling from the dream. You shake your head, trying to clear that feeling of dread, of falling, and as he sits on the bed next to you, you are sucked into those oceanic eyes once again.

Your heart races.

“Are you okay?” He looks concerned, brushing your sweaty locks off your forehead, thumb grazing your cheek.

“Are you okay? he whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek. You sit still in his lap, saying nothing and can feel him begin to soften inside of you, the wetness of spent arousal leaking down your thighs under your dress…

The flash of memory hits you hard, because it was then, not now. Triggered by the same gesture, the same man, but it was a different time. He looked so young…

But that’s impossible. Impossible. The first time you had sex with Elvis was less than two weeks ago.

Your heart thunders in your chest because suddenly you don’t think that’s true.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, kiss the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, and then, with a strange boldness, you kiss his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

His pants scratch at your bare thighs as you straddle his narrow hips. His tongue explores your mouth, sending searing heat through you. Boldly, you rock in his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.

You need him, oh, god, how you need him.

The flashes aren’t complete, but they are real. You are suddenly so sure that they are, and you don’t understand, not at all. You look at Elvis now, wild-eyed, silently seeking answers. How? How?

His long fingers are cold as they part your wet folds, and he pushes one, then another deep into your heat while his thumb massages that ever-sensitive bundle of nerves at the front. It stings at first, this surprising intrusion, but he’s gentle, letting you adjust around him, letting you decide when to move.

Your breath is coming fast now, and Elvis looks more than concerned.

“Satnin, what’s happenin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, eyes searching you.

You screw your eyes shut. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

You sink down on him slowly, the tightness of your canal stretching around his considerable size as you try to take him all in. It’s easier now, after he prepped you with his fingers, and the discomfort wanes quickly as you bottom out. He’s hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed until this very moment.

Elvis looks utterly ethereal as you begin to ride him, his mouth open and pink, his freshly dyed raven hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him looks carved out by the gods, and his eyes drink you in in a way that strips you bare, right to the heart of you. He looks at you as though you hung the moon and the stars.

Those eyes are now looking at you in a panic.

He brings you to the brink easily and you crest the wave hard, your orgasm fracturing you into a thousand pieces as you fall. You’d never felt this way before, not with Ted, not with Jack, not even with yourself. The pleasure of it rips through you and he follows quickly, a warm, sticky heat pulsing deep as you cling to each other for dear life.

Oh. Oh god…

It was real. You know it now. You are more sure of it now than you’ve ever been.

Graceland, you realize suddenly, when he took you to see Graceland for the first time. That’s where it happened. Nineteen-fucking-fifty-seven.

Elvis and you had sex, a long, long time ago. And he kept it from you. Pretended it never even happened.

You push away from him and stagger off the bed in daze, flooded with so many emotions and sensations at once that you don’t know how to react. Dizzy, you sway a bit on your feet.

Flashes keep hitting you as you move. Waking in the hospital, not knowing how you’d gotten there. Elvis, worried at your bedside. The pills. The accidental overdose.

You think you might be sick.

“What the hell is happenin’? You’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, baby,” Elvis says from behind you. He feels so far away, but that deep seeded need to flee him is rolling through you and you walk unsteadily forward, though you aren’t sure exactly where you are trying to go.

Oh, he must have been so relieved when you didn’t remember anything about that night. That he didn’t have to take back what he’d—you’d—done. That it didn’t completely derail his friendship with you or Jack. That he got to keep being Elvis without any repercussions.

Twelve years. Over a decade built on lies and half-truths and pretending.

Tears are streaming down your burning cheeks now. You feel humiliated. Shocked at both yourself and at him. You’d cheated on Jack, with Elvis. It didn’t matter that Jack had cheated first. You’d had feelings for Elvis all the way back then, feelings you acted on in a moment of vulnerability for both of you. He’d been devastated about June, scared about his fame. You’d wanted to comfort him, but you had also wanted to prove to yourself that if a man like Elvis Presley could want you, then of course Jack should.

You’d thrown yourself at him. He didn’t stop you. And then he lied to you about it all.

If you’d have remembered…Christ, the repercussions would’ve been life altering.

Elvis grabs you then, in the present, his hot, long, ring-clad fingers circling your arm, pulling you back towards him.

And it is then that your anguish fully turns to anger. After everything that has happened these past two weeks, these past fourteen years…Suddenly, that sense of betrayal, your seeming lack of control of anything in your life, all the fear of the past, present, and future, pushes you to the brink. You feel done being at the mercy of the universe, done at being at the mercy of the lies and whims of men.

“Take your fucking hand off me, Elvis,” you hiss, venom in your glare.

You watch as his brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise, and with that, he releases you.

“Is this all a game to you?” you ask pointedly, voice shaking under the weight of your simmering fury.

“W-what?” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for years,” you throw at him. A fueled rage clouds your judgement. You are quickly becoming unhinged and near irrational, but you are unable to stop it, almost like you are possessed, out of your mind, and watching your unusual behavior from afar. It’s as though a part of you wants to blow all of this up and you are powerless to stop this destructive side of yourself.

Elvis throws his hands up in surrender and begins to turn away. “That concussion has you bein’ all crazy, honey. I don’t even know—”

“That day at Graceland, right before you bought it. When I accidentally took too many pills for my headache. You know the one, don’t you?” you interrupt scathingly.

He stops and looks back at you, that pretty brow furrowing, and you think you can sense his panic truly brewing now. “I-I-I thought ya didn’t remember nothin’ about that afternoon.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” You think now you do, but you have to be sure. “You were awfully upset that day because of June, weren’t you? Going on and on about how you’d never know if a women would truly love you. And, come to think of it, you never did tell me how it was that I fell asleep,” you add, turning the knife with both curiosity and fervor, glaring at him.

His eyes truly widen now, his pouty mouth popping open and then shuttering closed again, his pallor turning pale.

And there you have your answer. You are not supposed to know this. He’d told you about June all over again after you’d left the hospital because you hadn’t remembered him telling you at Graceland. But he definitely hadn’t told you again about his insecurity of not knowing if a woman would love him for who he really is.

It’s all true.

That realization is horrible and vindicating and almost relieving all at once. You weren’t wrong when that voice in your head was telling you he was keeping something important from you. You weren’t crazy. And you even think this isn’t all he’s been hiding, but you can’t go there now. It’s too heavy a punch to the gut, and all you see is red.

A frantic, small voice in your head tries to remind you that you should consider Elvis’ feelings about that day, how he was vulnerable and frightened when he couldn’t wake you, and that your concussion has you not in your right mind and missing pieces of all this, but your rage kicks those thoughts aside and you plow forward anyway. You have too many unanswered questions.

“We had sex, Elvis. In 1957! How could you…how dare you then pretend it never happened! How could you not tell me?!” you scream at him, in a way that is utterly unlike the passive and quiet woman you’d become over the years. The woman who had learned to cower instead of speaking up for herself. The stubbornness and fire from your youth flares, driving you forward recklessly. It hurts your head to do it, but you can’t help it.

Elvis just stands there, staring, silent, using that well-honed talent of his to make his beautiful, godlike face an unreadable mask. It kills you inside, but you wait, unwilling to let him off the hook. But he still does not speak.

“Did it even mean anything to you?” you then ask quietly, tears prickling your eyes again, “Or was I just another notch on your bedpost?”

He blinks slowly and presses his lips together, and your heart sinks because you can’t tell if being with him so intimately meant anything to him at all. You should be able to tell, but you can’t, not when he’s shutting you out like this. And that deepest fear being realized both destroys you and pisses you off even more.

Finally, Elvis breaks his silence, voice low and measured and too careful for him, like he’s reciting lines in a movie, “It wasn’t…You were high. Your judgement was impaired. I was mortified...” He trails off, looking away. Then he pauses, taking a deep breath before challenging you with his intense eyes, “And would tellin’ you have changed anythin’?”

You choke at that and shake your head as you turn away from him. The words linger in the air, and you are irate at them, at him. They whirl within you, stabbing you in their coldness. He was mortified by being with you. Good god. The wound of that cracks through you like ice shattering.

You know deep down you didn’t sleep with him because you were accidentally high. You are certain of it. It wasn’t just about getting back at Jack, or just about feeling attractive and desired. No, it was so much more than that. After remembering what you have, you know you’d given yourself to Elvis willingly, medication or no, doing something you’d sworn after Ted that you wouldn’t do again until marriage.

He presses you on this, this thing you can’t believe he’s asking. “Would it’ve? You were with Jack, you loved Jack. And I’d just gotten home and was leavin’ again just as fast. What would’ve it changed, y/n, other than to make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship? Other than to ruin what you had with Jack?” Elvis asks from behind you, his gravelly voice strained.

You’re shaking now, your whole being quaking with physical and emotional toil, another headache slamming down upon you. Yes, you’d loved Jack, you truly had. And you know you’ve fallen in love with Elvis these past few weeks. But all of this craziness—these revelations, these secrets, these memories—are finally confirming something your mind has been trying to tell you lately about all those years ago, something you suspected and feared, but didn’t want to admit:

You have been in love with Elvis since the beginning. You had loved him then just as you love him now. And if you had remembered that, if he’d wanted it, if he had asked you, at any point, you think would’ve dropped everything for him.

Even if it would’ve ruined you both.

A bile of panic rises in your throat because, besides the times you truly can’t remember because you’d literally been dying, there had been all those other moments throughout the years where you’d pushed down your love for him. Important pieces of your life that you’d just forgotten, sometimes right away, in order to spare yourself the pain of this realization, the pain of Elvis’ rejection.

Maybe it started in the diner when he comforted you after Ted broke your heart, or maybe it began even earlier because god knows you can’t trust yourself or your memory. In fact, you are quite sure that there are still things he’s keeping from you, pivotal things you still don’t remember and it’s maddening. But after the diner, it feels like every moment you repressed is a missing piece to the puzzle of your life and reminder of how everything has gone so completely wrong.

Oh, and isn’t it rich that you are laying into him about keeping this naughty little tryst from you when you’ve been conveniently forgetting all these crucial moments of your relationship over your lifetime, a logical voice in the back of your head hurls at you.

Fuck you, you throw back, dread seeping through you.

And now your deepest fears are confirmed—Elvis hadn’t wanted you, not like that. He was mortified by it, in fact. He had a taste of you in a moment of weakness, because he’s just a man after all, and got lucky when you didn’t remember. Thinking better of it, he kept it all to himself. All these years, he’d lied by omission. And for some goddamned reason, he’d swung back around to you after all this time, destroying your life as you knew it in the process.

You spin back around to face him. Nausea rolls in your stomach because, suddenly, you’re not sure you know the man in front of you at all.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything,” you say vehemently, honestly, leveling him with your stare.

And it looks like you just slapped him by the way he recoils.

You can’t stop yourself from digging deeper, too angry to care, “But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted, since you were so quick to decide that I didn’t need to know, so fucking cocksure that you didn’t even deem to ask what I wanted. No, you just got laid and got lucky and moved right on to the next girl.”

“Th-that’s not—“ he sputters, those azure eyes a little frantic.

“Isn’t it, though, Elvis? Isn’t that exactly what happened? We fucked and you decided it was a bad idea, so you didn’t bother to tell me when I couldn’t remember myself. Who cares what I thought, right?! Then you went on with your life as though nothing happened.”

As if it hadn’t mattered at all, as though you hadn’t mattered enough to bother. You can’t bring yourself to say that part, though, as the icy pain of saying the rest out loud like this sends more tears pouring down your cheeks, despite your anger wanting to keep them at bay.

As if the rest isn’t bad enough, another thought hits you sideways, “My god, you even pushed Jack to marry me, didn’t you?” You look at him incredulously, remembering how Jack had joked about it after he’d proposed. The words ache through you as you say them, as you realize the implications of that. Yet another one of your deepest fears confirmed.

Elvis looks stricken as he backs up to the bed and sinks down on the edge, putting his head in his hands.

“I-I-I w-was no good for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t get to decide that, Elvis! You took those choices away from me!” you cry at him.

You watch as he holds his tongue, as his body stiffens at your words. His jaw clenches and his breathing changes. You know the signs by now, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s getting ready to explode and that it’s you pushing him over the edge. You want him over the edge. You want him to care enough to be mad about it.

“And what? Did you finally decide after twelve years that maybe you did like my pussy after all, so you decided to come back for more?” you spit at him nastily, driving him right over the threshold.

“I was protecting you!” Elvis bellows, leaping to his feet, face red with anger. His eyes darken and flash in a way that might have caused you to pause before, but not today, not after this.

You don’t let up. “Protecting me from what exactly? A bad marriage? A man that doesn’t love me?” you laugh haughtily at the irony.

He doesn’t elaborate, just bites his tongue in frustration and glowers at you, pulling himself back.

Then, another sinking realization drags you under. “Good lord—you had your hands in my relationship with Jack every step of the way. From day fucking one. You pushed us onto each other, a-a-and then you took him away from me, over and over again. The women Jack ‘dated’…Jesus, that was when he went to Vegas to see you that first time, wasn’t it? Of course. I should’ve known that’s when he started fucking other women. Because of you,” you point at him, more fury boiling in your stomach as you ramble.

God, was it all lies and subterfuge? Every fucking thing in your life related to these men?

Elvis stands there, jaw gritted so hard he might crack his veneers, his hands fisted at his sides, his leg going a million miles an hour. But you don’t stop.

“And then you came back home to find me upset, pretended like you didn’t know why, and then you fucked me?” The memories come to you too quickly, too painfully, fractured moments flashing in your aching head, weaving back together what you’d lost for so long, fueling your pain, fueling you forward. “And that was just the beginning. You sucked Jack and me both into your world, then played with our lives because…why? Why, E?” you demand.

Still, he says nothing, eyes fierce and his body vibrating with energy, letting you continue your verbal assault.

Your heart is going so fast you fear it’s going to explode, but you continue anyway, knowing that this isn’t like you, that perhaps this isn’t truly what you want. I love him, don’t I? But you are so mad, so exhausted from feeling like a plaything in the lives of the men around you, that you can’t stop. They’ve treated you as if you have no agency of your own. As if you were nothing without them. And you are done.

You shake your head. “You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit. Nobody can be happy unless the King is happy, right? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, beside yourself with anger at him, on what he’d done to your life. In this moment, your love for him is entirely consumed by your rage, as your addled and bruised brain tries to piece together just how screwed up this entire situation is.

Elvis roars then and sweeps everything off the nightstand, sending things shattering and flying to the floor. You do your best not to wince at the outburst, unwilling to let him shake you. Then, he looks at you, like a caught, caged beast, his chest heaving and eyes dangerous. But he isn’t blacked out, and you know it because you can see the gears working in his head. You can see that the emotion in his face is not anger alone. There is a deep pain there and it confuses you.

Dread settles into a knot in your stomach because suddenly you can’t shake that terrible feeling that you are still missing something vital here, something both Elvis and your traitorous brain are keeping from you, but your head is pounding and your blood is up and you can’t think straight.

You stand toe-to-toe, staring at each other, chests heaving in the heavy silence.

He breaks first, but with an almost frightening level of clarity that you don’t expect after his outburst. “Fine. Y-you w-w-wanna make me th-the-the villain in this story, then fine, I-I’m th-the fucking villain, honey. I-I-I always w-was,” he stutters wildly, cutting, his stormy eyes narrowing like a crocodile as he levels you with them.

He doesn’t deny any of it. He doesn’t even defend himself anymore.

You don’t know what to do with that.

All you know is you hurt. Everything aches, inside and out. You feel like an absolute fool. You are infuriated with him and maybe even more furious at yourself. Then, your heart breaks, sending a wave of sorrow flooding through your chest and down your limbs.

Everything with Jack was bad.

Somehow, this is worse.

It feels like your entire world has been pulled from underneath your feet. The devastation you felt about Jack feels like nothing now compared to Elvis’ betrayal, and the weight of both together is crushing you from all angles.

There is no escape. You can’t breathe.

Somehow, you’ve lost them both. Or maybe you never really had either of them to begin with.

You silly, stupid girl. I tried to warn you.

You manage to hold back the sob that threatens to break you.

Wordlessly, you nod, clench your fists, then turn and walk out.

Elvis doesn’t stop you.

*

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

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@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

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@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 

Reblogs, likes, tips, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[conkers-thecosy]

Ten Questions for Writers

Tagged by the lovely @mintedwitcher - Thank you!

Q1. how many works do you have on ao3?

Seven on this account, but there are a fair amount of orphaned works by me floating about, too!

Q2. what's your total ao3 word count?

274,610

Q3. what fandoms do you write for?

Only bagginshield just now.

Q4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I do! I've probably missed one or two recently, but I do my best to answer everyone! I think it's so important to respond to people who take the time to leave comments, I've made some amazing friends that way and it's always so fun to chat about fics I've read or written!

Q5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sadly, yes!

Q6. have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I haven't, I've never really had the opportunity. I can't work on multiple projects, so the timing has never been right!

Q7. what's your all-time favorite ship?

Bagginshield! I can't help myself, and I don't want to!

Q8. what are your writing strengths?

Oh lordy, I have no idea! I guess I'm good at zeroing in on small details and expanding them into a story?

Q9. what are your writing weaknesses?

Pfft haha, well. We'd be here all day! Thing is, I always say I'm actually not a "good writer" - I'm a good storyteller. The actual technical part of writing isn't my strength at all!

Q10. first fandom you wrote for?

I started with Redwall, then Utena, then Sailor Moon, then Yami No Matsuei, then Jane Eyre, then Rurouni Kenshin, then I wrote some original fiction, then I came back to fanfic with TESO, and now The Hobbit!

Non-obligatory tags for the following: @fantasyinallforms @lordoftherazzles @sunnyrosewritesstuff @domesticgoddesswriter @filiswingman @thatfancygirlinblack and anyone else who'd like to take part!

[chained-sweater]

remake of my angieboy headcanons because my last post was BAD.

anygays—

uhh, tagging @fictionalcharactergraveyard bc on my og post they asked for these hcs, and since i like, uh..deleted my old post i need to like—let them see this one.

───── ° ❤︎ ｡ ─────

⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻ 𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝓰. . .

· angela has a lot of nicknames for ponyboy, and vice versa. they're either very cute/sappy or it sounds like they're insulting each other. there is no in between.

· very, very cuddly couple. they're always cuddling. ya walk into the room and boom: pony and angela are snuggled up on the couch.

· the reaction their siblings had when they found out they were dating, oh lordy loo.

· tim gave pony the classic 'older-brother-talking-to-his-little-sister's-boyfriend' talk, but other than that, he's fine with them being together. ponyboy is intimidated by him and every time he tells angela 'i think your brother hates me' angela's like, 'which brother?' pony says, 'tim' and angela responds with, 'you're fine, he likes you.' yeah, tim's pretty chill w/ it.

· CURLY, ON THE OTHER HAND.....

↑ let's just say pony's lucky to be alive. curly's their #1 op, fr.

· darry doesn't care, tbh. he's just glad pony's in a happy relationship.

· sodapop, however, is very wary of angela. he was still recovering over sandy at the time and he's worried that pony would go through something similar to what he went through with sandy.

· don't even get me started on the gang, oh jesus.

· two-bit literally starting cheering and gave ponyboy a big bear hug. he then proceeded to start gushing about how adorable they were 'n stuff. (i can't, i love two-bit sm.)

· steve was just like, 'yeah, whatever.'

· dallas was all, 'ooh, you go horseman.' ponyboy threw a book at his head.

· johnny was still recovering at the hospital (yes, ofc he and dally live), and when he found out, he was SO jealous. *heather by conan gray starts playing in the background.*

· pony and angela never get past the puppy-love stage of their relationship. that is their relationship. (they're so cute, omg.)

· ponyboy gives angela some of their drawings he made (they're of her) and she keeps every single one. she pins them on the wall above her bed in her and curly's bedroom.

· curly's all, 'FOR FUCK'S SAKE, ANGIE, TAKE THEM DOWN' and angela's just like, 'no.'

· you do not want to see these two on a date, sweet jesus christ.

· THEY ARE SO MUSHY, ISTG. THE PDA IS ASTRONOMICAL.

· dally once went to a restaurant to grab some dinner and when he walked in he found angela sitting on pony's lap and they were feeding each other and giggling 'n shit and istg dallas gagged. (tbh, i don't blame him, i would of done the same. 💀)

· angela made them matching bracelets. ponyboy (and angela, ofc) never takes theirs off.

· holding hands is like, their lifeline. they're always holding hands. (i'm making myself feel single writing this, smh.)

· it's basically your average middle-school relationship, but it's actually successful.

[■■■■■■■■■■] 100%

[jeyramarie]

You and me?- Alice Chambers x Reader (Part 5)

summary: Victory was supposed to be perfect but William never was.. 

wc: 2,580

warning: cursing, mentions of sex, domestic abuse, mentions of blood, gaslighting, suicide themes, self harm

a/n: oh lordy... oh lordy... it’s about to go down👀 lmk if you wanna be tagged, feedback is appreciated and happy reading  🦋

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4~

“Hello?!” Alice shouted, walking the last bit of the road as I made my way to the stairs. 

“Is anyone here?!” I called out, shielding my eyes from the setting sun as it reflected on the glass. “Can someone help us?!” 

“We need help! There’s been an accident!” She continued, looking around to see empty land for miles and miles. 

I started walking up the stairs, taking deep breaths as I kept my eyes on the glass. The wind blew strongly into my hair causing me to blink repeatedly until I reached the end of the stairs. Alice stood next to me and took a deep breath before putting down her purse to walk towards the glass. 

“Alice..” I muttered with a frown as I walked towards her to grab her wrist, making her turn to me. “What are you doing?” 

“We have to go look.” She whispered and moved her arm to take my hand. 

I  walked slowly behind her until we both reached the glass. It was quiet and hot, both of us feeling the single drop of sweat dripping down our backs. I placed my shaky hands against the glass and stared right at it. And I saw it. I saw all of it. 

My eyes fluttered open and I was laying on my bed. I sat up quickly and looked around before hearing a loud clutter from outside the bedroom. The room was dark and only the light from the kitchen shone across the hallway. I walked slowly to the kitchen to see William taking something out of the oven. 

“William?” I called out in confusion, causing him to look up at me. 

“Oh, honey!” He exclaimed with a smile. “Good, you're awake. Bunny brought over some lasagna for us.” 

“Wha- wait.” I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What’s going on?” 

“Well, Dean called me and told me that Bunny had cooked and ‘accidentally’, as he said, made like 4 lasagnas.” William explained, grabbing a knife and a spatula. “So, he asked if we wanted one and I completely accepted since our dinner wasn’t even made.” He chuckled. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Uh, just a few hours.” He replied and turned around to grab the plates from the cabinet. “I was thinking about it earlier and I’m convinced that Bunny did that on purpose. Like she wanted to give us food for some reason-”

“Was I here when you came from work?” I asked in confusion. 

“Yeah, you were in the bedroom.” William said, placing the plates on the counter. 

“But how did I get here?” I said, placing my hands on the counter. 

“Honey, you came on the trolley.” He furrowed his brows in worry. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

“William, I got off the trolley.” I looked up at him. “I saw a plane crash into the mountains and I- I went towards it.” 

“A plane crash?” He asked and chuckled jokingly. “Honey, there are no planes here.” 

“But I saw it, William.” I frowned. “I saw it, it flew straight to the mountain a-and it was just-“ 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n.” William interrupted, cutting the lasagna. 

“I was in the trolley with Alice and we saw it-“I continued, walking around the counter to stand closer to him. 

“You were with Alice?” He asked with slight anger in his tone. 

“That’s not the point, William.” 

“It is the point when you decide to hide it from me.” 

“I didn’t hide it from you, I just didn’t mention it because-“ I started, rubbing my hand through my hair. 

“Because you’re hiding something.” 

“No! Because it’s irrelevant to what I’m explaining.” 

“What you’re explaining it’s utter nonsense!” William raised his voice, waving his hands at me. 

“But it’s the truth!” I shouted. “I saw a plane crash into the mountains!” 

“You imagined that stuff, Y/n.” He sighed in annoyance. “Maybe it was a bad dream.” 

“It wasn’t a drea-“

“Maybe you’re hungry.”

“William..” I shook my head. 

“Come on, let’s eat some dinner.” William walked towards me, pushing softly towards the dining room table. 

Surprisingly, he pushed my chair back, allowing me to sit down before he disappeared into the kitchen again. My head began to pulse causing me to groan in pain as I rubbed my temple. I wondered if Alice felt this way. Maybe Jack wasn’t believing her either. 

“Here’s your food.” He said, placing the plate in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry at the moment.” I muttered with a frown. 

“You have to eat, honey.” William replied and pecked my forehead. “Maybe you’re catching a cold and that’s why you’ve been sleeping for so long.” 

“I don’t feel sick, William.” 

“Well then maybe it’s some other thing..” 

“Like what?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder. 

“Like maybe you have a little Y/n growing right now.” He whispered with a small smile. 

“We haven’t had sex in a while, William.” I muttered and stood up abruptly, walking angrily towards the bedroom. “I’m not hungry, enjoy dinner.” 

I slammed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as my thoughts got the best of me. After a few minutes, I went to the bathroom, filling up the tub with warm water before settling inside. I sighed in relief as I leaned against the porcelain. 

I closed my eyes and tried to drift my mind elsewhere. To Alice. I remembered where my mind traveled to yesterday. The way her lips were just grazing mine. But why would I even kiss Alice? Why would she want to kiss me? 

We’re both married. Happily married, I suppose. She has never tried to overstep boundaries with me before or looked at me differently. Perhaps it was only me who saw that. Perhaps it was only me who deep inside wanted that kiss to actually happen. 

I went to bed before William. Neither of us had the energy to continue the conversation or argument. But my mind went back to the haze again. I was in a hospital, walking down the hallway before I stopped at a desk. The women there started speaking to me, it seemed like I had known them for a while. 

That’s when Alice appeared. She was wearing the same blue clothes I had. Her hair was up and her shoes were covered with a blue sort of bag. 

“Hi, Dr. Y/l/n.” She smiled, leaning against the counter as I opened a folder. 

“Hi, Dr. Warren.” I chuckled with a smile. “How are you doing today? How was the surgery?” 

“Oh it went really well.” Alice nodded, grabbing a folder as well. “How about yours?” 

“They’re going gre-“

“Dr. Y/l/n needed in OR 5 STAT.” a woman’s voice came from the speakers, interrupting my sentence. 

“That’s my queue.” I sighed, closing the folder before putting it back in its place. “I’ll see around Dr. Warren.” I winked and jogged away back down the hall. 

I stopped in front of two metal doors before putting some numbers in a keypad. The door buzzed and I pushed it open to see a blinding white light. When the door closed, I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, realizing I was in my bed all along. 

The next day I decided to not think about what has happened recently. I went to dance class alone. The last one to arrive to be exact. Alice was the only one who kept her gaze on me. Everyone else was focused on Shelley’s words and directions. 

We began to do the routine, all of us turning in sink and into the required position. I turned my head and noticed that Alice had stepped away from us. She was walking towards the mirror, moving her arms in an odd way. 

Suddenly, she let out a horrified scream causing all of us to stop and look at her in question. Without uttering a word, Alice turned to us before running to grab her purse. She ran to the exit, leaving the studio in silence. I walked to my purse and quickly went after her, quickly catching up to her. 

“Alice!” I shouted from behind her. “Alice, wait!” 

The blonde never stopped running. Her legs moved fast, never allowing her rhythm to falter. She ran straight into her house, leaving the doors opened on purpose. 

“Alice!” I shouted again, closing the door before running after her. 

I looked around the house until I found her standing in her backyard. My purse fell to the ground once I relaxed my hand as I saw Margaret standing on her roof in her nightgown. 

“Oh my god.” I muttered and ran outside to stand next to her. “What is she doing?” 

“I don’t-“ Alice began but gasped as she saw Margaret pull out a knife. 

“No, no, no.” I muttered in fear and let out a scream once she crossed the knife over her throat. 

Margaret’s body fell from the roof onto the ground with a loud thump. I placed my hands on my chest, feeling my heartbeat speed up. My legs moved by themselves, getting closer to her with Alice trailing behind me when suddenly, we were both pulled backwards. 

“Wait! No!” Alice shouted, kicking her feet. 

“You have to help her!” I groaned, pulling on their restraints. “What are you doing?!” Four men in red suits grabbed us and pulled us into the house. 

“Get off me!” She shouted in anger. 

“Stop it! Stop!” I moved violently. 

Alice was pulled into her kitchen but I was dragged outside, going towards my house. One of them opened the door and the other pushed me inside, guiding me to the living room before throwing me on the couch. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I shouted, standing up before being pushed back down again. 

“Your husband is on his way, Mrs. Lowell.” One of them replied, standing by the couch. 

“Why?” I asked, standing up. “He has nothing to do with this.” 

“He was notified about what happened and he is on his way to stay with you.” 

“I don’t need him to stay with me, I need to go help Margaret.” 

“Margaret is fine, she just slipped.” One of them said, holding his hand out to stop me. 

“Slipped?!” I shouted angrily. “She cut her fucking throat and you’re telling me she slipped?!” 

“That’s what actually happened, Mrs. Lowell. Margaret slipped and has a small cut on her forehead.” The other man said, making me turn around to face him, looking at him in disbelief. “Her husband, Ted, is with her at the hospital right now.” 

“Why are you lying to me as if I didn’t see what happened?” I asked with gritted teeth. 

“Because you didn’t see what you think you saw.” He said, holding his hands together in front of him. “Miss Margaret slipped. That is what really happened.” 

“That’s not what happened and you know it!” I yelled, pointing my finger at him. 

“Y/n?” A voice said, making me turn around once again to see William. 

He stared at me in confusion, almost in disappointment actually. I stared at the ground as I bit my lip, listening to him place the briefcase on the ground. 

“Thank you for keeping her company while I arrived.” William said, walking into the living room. 

“Anytime, Mr. Lowell.” The one in front of me said before beginning to walk away. 

“Have a good night.” The other one said and they both walked out the door, leaving us alone. 

I paced back and forth across the living room, nervously biting on my thumbnail as William sat down with a sigh. He placed his elbows on his knees and covered his mouth as he watched me walk in front of him. I stopped and turned to him, crossing my arms as I waited for him to speak first. But he didn’t. 

“What did they tell you?” I whispered. 

“That you saw Margaret’s fall.” He replied in a serious tone. “That Alice saw it as well. You were both speaking nonsense-”

“Not nonsense!” I shouted. “We are telling the truth about what we truly saw, William! Why would we lie about that?!”

“To get attention? I don’t know.” 

“Attention?!” I asked and scoffed. “You are unbelievable, William.” 

“Unbelievable is what you keep saying about Margaret.” He stood and moved to the hallway as I followed behind. “What you and Alice keep saying.” 

“How do you know what Alice says?” 

“Jack tells me.” William answers, shrugging his shoulders as he enters the bedroom. “At work.”

“Jack tells you… oh…” I nodded my head slowly as I licked my lips. 

“What?” He asked, sticking his head out of the bathroom. “What’s the problem?” 

I placed my hand on my hips and I stared into his eyes, looking for a glimpse of truth. For a glimpse of the man that I thought I married. My eyes moved to the ground as I felt them water up. And in that moment, I finally realized, I finally accepted that the person I was destined to be with this whole time was Alice. 

“I don’t know what Jack told you or what Alice told him..” I began walking closer to him. “But Margaret did not slip, she slit her throat.” 

“You’re ridiculous, Y/n.” He whispered, standing close to me as he tried to intimidate me. “Margaret is fine. Ted is with her at the hospital. So stop being fucking delusional.” William muttered, moving around me to go to his dresser, placing his wrist watch in his drawer. 

“You’re delusional for worrying so much about a pathetic promotion.” I whispered, walking into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the tub. 

“That pathetic promotion is what puts food on the table!” He shouted, stomping towards me. “It’s what keeps a roof over our heads! So don’t you fucking dare call it pathetic! You’re pathetic! With your weird ass shit!” 

“You’re the pussy who keeps sucking up to Frank’s balls to get that stupid ring.” I muttered and felt a sting on my left cheek. 

William just slapped me. He fucking slapped me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. I just stood there, staring at the ground in shock. He walked away and I closed the bathroom door before closing the faucet, noticing how it was about to spill. I shakenly undressed and climbed slowly into the tub, letting my back lean against the cold porcelain. 

I ran my hands over my face, taking a deep breath as I felt my mind going into its familiar haze. William stood over me, screaming at me as I sat on the ground crying with blood dripping down my lip. He was shouting about another man. Apparently, someone I had gone out with. His hands got closer and closer to my body when my mind came back to reality. I opened my eyes and immediately noticed that my head was underwater causing me to sit up in fear. 

I looked around before leaning back against the tub again. Many things ran through my head. Mostly thought about Alice and how we could get out of here. But right now, I had to keep up the act. I had to continue this ‘perfect wife’ act. At least until William received the promotion. Until it was safe enough to leave.

florence taglist: @flosbelova​ @kassies-take​ @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​ @florencestann1234​ @freewaysigns-underpasses​ @snooy245 @wandanatvoid @gay-vet-student​ @yelenabelovastolemyheart @marvelwomen-simp​ @simpforflorencepugh​ @laaurel​ @yelenabelovasbxtch​ @geico-insuranc​ @oh-its-jennyyy​ @bandit2029​ @youresuchamom​ @simpforyelenabelova​ @omega-horus​ @sat-yrr​ @alwaysbimyself​ @girraffy​ @froufrousnowman​ @slytherinchevy​ @randombush3​ @dumb-fawkin-bitch​ @rob1nbuckl3ys​ @xsophiesx​ @karsonromanoff​ @imkikibtw @natashas-soul​ @monstermunchies69 @cmfouatslota77​ @maxmayfieldsrealgf1986​ @champagneneen​ @zendayabelova​

[darlingian]

🌿w e e k l y 🍄 t a g 🕯️ w e d n e s d a y🌙

hello forest dwellers, star gazers, and dream weavers. let's reveal a little bit of ourselves to each other and experience the joy of being known. (Or keep your secrets, Gandalf, idc.)

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?: Bob Belcher. Omg that man. 🥹

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?: a skunk. like obviously I'd have a lot of money to figure out the smell issue. But have you SEEN THE BABIES?! 😭 (everyone google a baby skunk rn. you won't be disappointed.)

what is your Chinese takeout order?: I like ginger beef, honey garlic veal, all the dim sum, and mango pudding.

what's your favourite emoji?: ✨this one. I held myself back from adding it to the title but couldn't resist adding it somewhere apparently lol

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?: a library. Hands down. The library from "A Marvelous Light" specifically would be lovely

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?: Arthur. Oh my gosh I am still so in love with that show.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?: I joined in June 2010 according to my archive. It was a much different place. Lol my blog was just a bit of everything. But leaning more on the aesthetic side because I was in highschool and wanted people to think I was cool.

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?: Fairy-kei and goth lolita! So unique and beautiful.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?: I think I'd know my way around Stars Hollow pretty well.

what is your favourite piece of art?: Ophelia by John Edward Millais

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?: I have a venti white pearlescent Starbucks cup. I need a new one though. Those owala ones are tempting!

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave?: I don't shout about it, but sometimes a slow burn is sooooo good. The yearningggg

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?: my current bag is a leather crossbody satchel purse. I thrifted it and I love it. I have a hospital bracelet and a packet of Mrs dash from the psych unit in there. Lolol

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?: Oh lordy. Carl. Lol I think Carl has similar dufus energy to Ian and Mickey clearly likes that. Ahaha 🫣

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?: AUs. I was so determined that all I wanted to read was canon compliant, post-canon, and filler.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?: Yes. And I think he tests it all the time. 😂 (Maybe that's part of the reason he wanted to get swole. Ian has bulked up and it is getting harder. Lol)

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?: I think Lip just assumed he could have it. And Debbie stole it at the soonest opportunity. "Because I'm a vulnerable, single mom, Lip!"

Thanks for playing! I'm gonna tag all these fine folks: @deedala @michellemisfit @suchagallabitch @jrooc @mybrainismelted @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @heymrspatel @thepupperino @mickeysgaymom @milkmaidovich @creepkinginc @too-schoolforcool @tellmegoodbye @metalheadmickey @heymacy @iansw0rld @callivich @energievie

[aintashes]

— get to know astraea !

what's your phone wallpaper: my lock screen is a compilation of affirmations that i made, and my actual wallpaper is my husband's sweet face ♡

last song you listened to: i'm literally so taken with wonder eye by little moon right now, it's absolutely criminal that emma doesn't have more listeners because this song fucks so hard

currently reading: does it count if i say my mutuals writing on the dash ??... i need to pick up another book LOL

last movie: idk if it counts but i had one of my absolute favs, iron giant, playing in the bg recently :')

what are you wearing right now?: the sexiest comfy t-shirt-and-shorts pajamas combo you've ever seen

how tall are you?: 5'4" !

piercings / tattoos?: yes, and i'm currently planning more ! right now i have 4 tattoos and a nose ring.

glasses / contacts: yep, and while i do love my giant orange 70s specs, i wish i didn't need them LOL

last thing you ate?: a sandwich !

favorite color: i love so many colors... purple is always my go-to answer, but pink and yellow are close seconds !

current obsession: you can always assume that i'm currently obsessed with daryl LOL but other than him ?? i've been listening to a couple of new albums and eps lately and they're all so good i can't stop listening. if anyone's interested, here's one, and another, and another.

do you have a crush right now?: my husband is my forever crush, he still gives me butterflies ♡

favorite fictional character: oh lordy... how many times can i say daryl's name before i pass out ?

last place you travelled: i went out to columbus, ohio to visit friends for a few days ! it's so cute out there. cool little college city with lots of interesting spots.

tagged by: @innerwar tagging: my newer mutuals ! tag me so i can learn more about you !

[seaofolives]

thank you for tagging me @ofdemonsandangels!! sadly I don't really know who's active on here anymore (it's been ages since I really checked into tumblr I'm sorry 😭) so if you want to play, I'll be happy if you take a tag from me!! 💖💖💖

Add 10 gifs from your favorite shows and tag 10 people

I don't know if I'll have 10 shows but I'll give it a shot under the cut!!

1. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury (obviously, and it remains my number 1 love one year after the finale)

2. New Mobile Report Gundam Wing (a surprise addition!! I wasn't rocking with it until I was well past episode 30 and next thing I know, I'm catching up with the mangas!!) (anyway did you know that charmuro crawled so 3x4 could walk so sulemio could run? like jesus I keep calling the whole thing a convoluted 3x4 love story but they really are so gay for each other even in the mangas I'm—!) (some characters are bi but jesus christ in a zero system, quatre and trowa are not they are fucking gay and gay for each other—!)

3. Boukyaku Battery (the first season just finished but pls pls pls give it a shot it's so funny and the heartfelt scenes really are so very heartfelt) (also mamo's vocal skills and the animation come on!!!!!)

(watch boukyaku battery)

4. Yuuki Bakuhatsu Bang Bravern (a wild obari masterpiece from start to finish. you want gays and robots? it's available on crunchy roll)

(is this the most definitive bravern gif? trust me, it is) (sulemio and 3x4 may be gay but oh lord. oh lordy lordy)

5. Pluto (do you love crying as much as I do? do you love crying for inhuman humanoids who just want the best? well guess what!!!!!)

6. Wolf's Rain (speaking of crying!!!!!!) (this one is also available on crunchy roll and if you're going to watch anything on there, let it be this)

okok I think I can add some non-anime shows!!

7. The Makanai: Cooking for the Maiko House (for food lovers like me!!!! also it's just a very calm and sweet show, very reassuring and you get to root for everyone)

8. Signal (if you're going to watch a k-drama watch this. it's ace attorney meets frequency the movie. I've never been desperate to binge a k-drama show and been excited for news of its continuation until this show) (the continuation is soon!!!!!)

ok back to animes XD

9. Kuromukuroo (a hidden gem!!! love the historical speculation and the fluid robot motion animation and can I just say, one of the best love stories to have ever been concocted by an anime)

10. Slam Dunk (i watched all 101 episodes of it!!!! and all of the movies and ovas!!! I felt surprisingly nostalgic for its brand of humor and man, you spend so much time with the boys, you grow to love them and cheer for them)

[im-no-jedi]

Let’s get some fun recommendations goin around here! What’s a piece of clone content (art, fic, etc) that has stuck with you as being notably excellent? Tag it in your answer so we can all find some new fun to read! If you want, of course; feel free to ignore! 💕

🤩 oh what a fun idea!! I would LOVE to gush about some really cool artists, thank you 😁

I'll start with @shyranno, whose art I absolutely adore. her style is so clean and expressive and colorful, and she makes amazing comics. the TBB Downtime series is exactly my kinda Clone content, filled with lots of fluff and feels. the "baby" batch ones are my favorite, but I'm also fond of this one where Tech gets teased from not being able to grow a beard 😜

another artist I really love is @zaana! she also draws a lot of really sweet and funny moments with TBB, and I'm super fond of her more sketchy style of drawing. she's got a "Crosshair defects the Empire" AU about Cross rejoining TBB sometime during season 2 that I love soooooo much. honestly, all her stuff with Crosshair (especially the ones with Omega) is top tier. although I think my top favorite is this one with Hunter and Crosshair (which @questforgalas also wrote an amazing oneshot about!); it's so simple but so sweet, and I automatically love any wholesome content between these two 🥰

then there's @lightspringrain, who makes beautiful portraits of TBB. I've been wanting to buy some of her prints (and will absolutely do so once I have the money!!) because they are seriously gorgeous. her "Crown" series is the best, it's so lovely! and she does an amazing job capturing the style of the show! to no one's surprise, my favorites are the Hunter and Omega moon crowns. the Hunter one is legit one of my favorite art piece ever; it's been my lockscreen on my phone ever since I saw it 💙

someone I recently started following is @thattoothpick! after seeing her "TBB Happy on Pabu" comics, I had to see more. the best way I can describe her style is "soft". everything is just so soft; the lines, the colors, all of it. it just makes me happy 😊 I have two favorite pieces; the first is this one about Hunter and Crosshair from the Pabu series. literally made me cry. I need this to happen SO badly 🥺 and then this one that I refer to as "the Sad Batch"... oh man. also had me crying (but also simping for obvious reasons LOL) 😭

now for a big one. I can easily say my favorite SW related artist of all time is @lornaka. her art... holy crap y'all. it's so freaking good. she makes everything from simple portraits to stunning dynamic pieces, and I'm obsessed with all of it. she even was featured during SW Celebration last year!! she's that good!! \o/ I have a few favorites of hers. which obviously includes the TBB poster she made for Celebration. still sad I couldn't get my own copy of it 💔 then there's this... lovely portrait of Hunter from behind. oh Lordy 🥵 and finally, my top favorite is actually this simple portrait of Hunter. I had it as my lockscreen for a LONG time. it's just... so good. the colors, the stars, his expression... I'm still obsessed 😍

finally, I can't talk about amazing artists without mentioning my sister @jam-n-ham. her art account is @joyjababanoid. y'all. please just scroll through her TBB art, you will not regret it. I've always adored her cartoony and expressive style, and it makes for hilarious Clone content LOL. she did a bunch of drawings for Inktober last year, solely focused around TBB. she's also done some comics that I've had a part in helping her develop (specifically the Padme pin-up art and the AZI going on a mission). but my absolute favorite is by far the Valentines collection. y'aaaaaaaall. I had the Hunter one as my phone background for over a year haha. she knows how to personally get to me, let's just say that 🥵

oh, and one last thing I wanna mention is that the one thing these folks all have in common, aside from being fantastic artists, is that I love how each of them draw my bae. seriously, y'all draw Hunter so good, and I'm smooching each of your different versions of him 🥰😘

thanks for letting me gush about some cool people!! everyone show them some much deserved love please!! 💙💙💙

[hardly-an-escape]

20 questions for fic writers!

thanks for the tag @signiorbenedickofpadua! gonna put this under a cut since it's a little long :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Just under 77,500.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, just Sandman – but I do have an unfinished MCU story that I'd like to get back to, and there are definitely other fandoms I'd like to play around in at some point. I'm pretty unfocused, it just depends on whatever tickles my fancy.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kind of Blue, a kind of fire (443) In the February Sun (437) let your heart be light (381) Headache (356) First Time (322)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment! (Although I'm super behind right now. Sometime soon I'll have a nice long self-indulgent afternoon of re-reading comments and finally responding.) I like to respond mostly because, as someone who reads a lot of fic, I get really excited when an author responds to my comments, and I want people who read my work and take the time to leave a comment to have the same feeling :) Also, I just feel like it's polite to say thank you when people say nice things!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I... don't really write angst. Like, at all. I am all about fluff and disgustingly happy endings. I have a WIP that has a fairly angsty beginning/middle (the shellshocked WWI veterans one which I swear to God I will finish), but even that will still have a happy ending (maybe a little bittersweet, but not angsty).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ummm all of them?? Like I am genuinely not sure that one rises above the others in terms of its happiness.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I never have! I'm grateful to be active in a fandom that is almost universally kind and supportive! Also I don't really write the kinds of pairings or subjects that might draw the ire of the general public, tbh, so that's probably part of it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! At the moment mostly M/M since I'm still very Dreamling obsessed, but also F/M. I don't generally get too kinky or monsterfuckery with it, though. Pretty much just regular-degular sexy times around here.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really! Nothing against them, just haven't gotten a spark from that kind of idea. Wait, I take that back. A while back I started a Clintasha fic set in the Station Eleven universe. I never finished it, because I feel like I need to re-read the book in order to do so, and I haven't done that yet. But I'd definitely like to.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I would love it if that happens someday! I've considered translating my own fic (I speak fluent German, so it's not outside the realm of possibility), but I'm not sure I'm up to that kind of project at the moment.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I've had some fun brainstorming sessions and just back-and-forth reblogging with mutuals and trading ideas, but never actual co-writing. I'm open to the idea, but I would hesitate to inflict my writing process on anyone because it is extremely slow and piecemeal. I feel like a lot of co-writing relationships these days are developed on Discord, and try as I might I just cannot become an active Discord user.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Oh, lordy. Genuinely not sure how to answer this. If you go back to like... my very first childhood OTP, it'd have to be something like Han/Leia. But I've never been active in online SW fandom and never written that ship. I mean, Dreamling is obviously a contender. I do also love Stucky and Clintasha, although I'm not really into the MCU these days. I've recently been jumping on the Steddie train, but it remains to be seen if that will last or not. Going back a little farther, I'll never not be a Spuffy shipper. And I'll admit to Nine/Rose and Ten/Rose, and (wince) some JohnLock tendencies. But I really don't think I can point to a single all-time fave!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't think I have anything that's published (or at least begun publicly) that won't ever be finished – hope springs eternal – but I certainly have things I've started and abandoned in my personal WIP files. I've got several Dreamling-related bits and bobs that may or may not ever come to something, and maybe 2300 words of a Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries fic that will probably never see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I have a good ear for dialogue, and I'd like to think I come up with some nice metaphors/similes and descriptive language.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually writing lmao. No seriously though, just sitting down and getting a first draft done is the most challenging part of the whole deal for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's fine and can add some interesting color! Just make sure there's a way for people who don't speak the language (or who are using a screen reader) to understand what's being said.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First I ever wrote was Star Wars Expanded Universe (now Star Wars Legends) fic in elementary school. First I posted on AO3 was a Lizzie Bennet Diaries 5+1 – which, looking at it for the first time in many years, is actually pretty okay! I did something kind of interesting with the form, I think. I think I must have had a fanfiction.com account at some point but I truly cannot remember if I ever posted anything there... I can't remember my username and I don't even think I have access to the email I used to sign up with.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Among the Stars We are Reborn, for sure. I'm really proud of what I accomplished with that story, and to be honest I wish it had gotten as much attention as some of my other fics.

this was fun, thank you! I know this tag game has been going around and I'm not sure who's done it already and who hasn't, but I'll tag @valeriianz @landwriter @teejaystumbles @tryan-a-bex @cuubism and @tj-dragonblade (and as always, no pressure, just for fun!)

[leatafandom]

🍇🍍🥝 for the ask game?

Hii love! Thanks so much for the ask!

🍇 Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

Ahh mmm, I had to come back to this a few times and nothing is like flying into my brain. I feel like a lot of fic ideas I have are inspired by the absence of a scene or an interaction. Oh! Wait as I was bout to just give up, and it came to me!! Supernatural the first time we see Gabe fake his death with Kali, my god I could write forever about the look in her eyes when she killed him. I just - forever.

🍍What kind of AUs do you like? Are there any AUs you hate or just generally have beef with?

Oh, these are so hard, I don't think I have like a favorite AU over all the fandoms that I read and enjoy. I don't hate them, but I do not enjoy A/B/O I've read a lot of them in the past, but I just... not for me. I can't do them anymore, it's a whole thing.

🥝 What’s your favorite trope/AO3 tag to write?

I'm so bad at knowing tropes, so I'm gonna go with ao3 tags. I really enjoy writing angst, gore, and bittersweet happy/sad fics. I like that almost happy but not completely, that is very fun to write and very satisfying.

Lordy you picked some good ones, I had to think about these for a bit. Thank you again for sending such a great ask!

For the Fruit Emoji Ask Game