#This season sits in my brain rent free

[seashoes]

Let’s (not) get married

[headfullofpresley]

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,5K

Summary: You and Elvis are always playing pranks on each other. This Halloween, you come up with a prank that goes horribly wrong as Elvis doesn't think it's so funny and gets genuinely upset. But like always, your partner eventually comes around and gets his revenge.

Warnings: strong language, playing with a ouija board, fake demonic possession, mentions of the devil, elvis being upset, elvis calling reader a bitch, pranks that you probs shouldn't use on other people, tiny bit of angst, reader and larry gellar disliking each other. guess that's it?

A/N: hello, hi! i guess this isn't really spooky but felt like it fit the season! there's pranks in this that i don't advise you to use on anyone unless that's you're kind of humor. wrote this in an hour or so because it randomly popped into my mind and well... i thought it was funny 👀. just want to make clear that this is in no way me making fun of elvis' spirituality in any way, nor is reader, if some people might think thatttt or if it comes across as that. just wanted to write something else rather than a vamp!elvis fic like my brain already was thinking about for halloween, AAAAH. also, this doesn't include all members of the mm or any of the other guys because i didn't know where to place them. okay, bye. p.s: be a smart cookie and don't use a ouija board.

Elvis didn’t care for Halloween.

Never did when he was young and never did as he was growing into an adult. Sure, when he was a little boy and his friends would drag him along to go trick or treating he could appreciate the free candy, but that was about it. After complaining about the people in scary costumes on the street when he was around 7, his mother stopped him from going out on All Hallow’s Eve and he appreciated her doing so.

As he got older, he’d usually be working on the last day of October and whenever he wasn’t, he would rent out the Memphian and watch horror movies with the guys, other friends and some of his fans. He enjoyed playing pranks and scaring the shit out of the people around him, but that’s where celebrating Halloween ended for Elvis.

His Christianity or beliefs didn’t have anything to do with it. He simply preferred holidays that involved lots of homecooked foods, spreading joy, giving gifts and being surrounded by his loved ones. Like Thanksgiving and especially, Christmas.

You on the other hand are obsessed with Halloween. You always put a lot of effort in your costumes and Elvis allowed you to put carved pumpkins by the front door with a lit candle inside of it, but he wouldn’t celebrate with you in any other way than watching movies. You were too old to go trick or treating, so you were happy when Lisa Marie was over at Graceland on some Halloween evenings to do so with her, but this year she unfortunately was in California with her mother.

 

This Halloween you put little effort into your costume, opting for a black cat suit with a tail, some drawn on whiskers that complimented the dark eye make-up you were sporting, and a pair of black cat ears. Elvis wasn’t complaining because you looked smoking hot in it, but he wasn’t aware that you chose this simple outfit because you had bigger plans for tonight that involved… well, let’s say, a lot of action.

After watching a few movies at the Memphian with Elvis, some fans and the guys, you all made it back to Graceland. It was only around 1 in the morning which was early for the bunch you were living with, so nobody was tired yet. Which was good, because you and Charlie Hodge had come up with the perfect prank to play on Elvis and the two of you managed to convince everyone to get involved in it.

The only one who wasn’t up for it was Larry Gellar and you were slightly worried that he’d out your little plan and ruin the whole thing. You were praying that he’d just go home already, but much to your chagrin, he was sitting on the couch and conversing with Elvis, not looking as if he’d leave any time soon. You were just going to have to risk it.

“Let’s play a game!” You chirped happily as you held up a plastic bag, pulling off your cat tail and throwing it by the side of the couch. “I found this today at the store. The sales girl told me it’s the perfect game to play during Halloween, because then you know it really works,”

Elvis watches with curiosity as you pull a large box out of the bag, turning it around and showing him the front. As he realises you were holding up a ouija board, he was immediately intrigued. Ever the curious person, especially when it came to things about spirituality, Elvis slides to the edge of the couch and takes the box out of your hands, opening the lid to take the board out and inspect it.

“Hell no, I ain’t playin’ that,” Lamar immediately says as he glances at the board and you try to suppress a grin. His reaction was the one you told him to give. If Lamar would play, Elvis was going to take the chance to tease the hell out of him for a week straight because Lamar scared easily when it came to these things.

“Ah c’mon, Fike. It’ll be fun,” Elvis grins as he places the board in the middle of the coffee table. You give Charlie a quick thumbs up and he grins, agreeing to play the game. Sonny and Red agree as well, but Larry decides to sit this one out. You were happy about that and as you go around the living room to dim the lights and light some candles, you feel instantly annoyed when you hear Larry’s voice.

“Elvis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Playing with an object like that can be dangerous, you know?” Larry chimes in, looking at Elvis with worried eyes. Never really having liked Larry, you roll your eyes. Elvis doesn’t see it but Red does and he sticks his finger in his mouth, feigning a gag. The two of you silently laugh and you sit down on the floor by the table, Elvis sliding onto the floor next to you.

“It’s not dangerous, baby. It’s just a game,” you quickly tell Elvis as Larry once more expresses his concern. Elvis looks at Larry once more before he turns to you and grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as he grabs the planchet and puts it on the board. Larry gives you an annoyed glare and you ignore it, happy that he decides to retreat back into the kitchen. Joe sits back on the couch along with Billy to watch the game unfold, simply because there wasn’t enough space for more fingers on the planchet.

 

“You sneaky sonofabitch. You’re the one movin’ that thing!” Elvis exclaims in slight annoyance as he glares at Sonny who sat on the opposite side of the table. Sonny widens his eyes, trying his best to hold back a laugh as he shakes his head.

“I swear to God, I ain’t doin’ it!”

You and Charlie exchange a knowing look. It was the two of you taking turns sneakily moving the planchet with the tips of your fingers, but Elvis didn’t notice a thing. He was too intrigued and focused on the words “it”, or in this case you, were spelling out. You hadn’t propeely opened communication or whatsoever, so the board wasn’t working at all. You believed that a ouija board could truly work if you wanted it to and you could communicate with… well, someone or something, but that wasn’t the intention for tonight.

You just wanted to play the prank of the century on your man like he has done to you so many times before.

All of you ask random questions at first that require simple answers. Then you decide to take matters further into your own hands and add up the dramatics a notch. You needed it to be spooky. Elvis doesn’t scare easily, the morgue trips he often makes with you were proof of that, and you want him to be terrified tonight.

“Someone dies tonight.”

All of you exchange uncomfortable glances, though only that of Elvis was real. He shifts a little on the floor and takes his finger off the planchet, accusing Charlie instead of Sonny now.

“Hodge, stop pullin’ my leg with this bullshit!” He huffs and Charlie widens his eyes, scared that you and him got caught, and just as he opens his mouth to defend his case, you speak up.

“Elvis! You’re not allowed to take your hands off of it without saying goodbye!” You grab his hand and bring it back to the board, putting his finger back on the planchet. He looks at you and scoffs, squinting his eyes.

“Oooh, I see. It’s you, ain’t it?”

You mentally curse yourself. Was your acting that bad? Shaking your head as you give him your most serious face, you tell him that it’s truly not you who is moving the planchet and before he can question you further, Charlie sneakily spells out something else.

“The girl.”

“That’s it. I ain’t playin’ no more. Say goodbye, goddamnit,” Elvis barks in annoyance. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but he truly believed the planchet was moving by itself and spelling out these things. He was having fun when they started and asked random and silly questions, but now it was getting a little too serious for him.

A little too scary.

This thing was threatening your life and he felt a sense of paranoia fill his chest. What if you’d really die because of this stupid game?

No. No, you weren’t going to die. It’s just a game. It’s not real- he refuses to believe it’s real.

You quickly say goodbye along with everyone else, moving the planchet over the word before taking your hands off. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh and wrap your arms around Elvis’ neck as he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms after he shoved the board across the table. You giggle softly and hug him, planting kisses on his cheek.

“Stop that worryin’. It’s just a game, El, nothing is going to happen.”

Although he doesn’t believe you and is still worried, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you back.

 

You spent the rest of the late evening playing some music and Elvis doing a spontaneous jam session, which got his mind off of that damned ouija board. After all, it was just a game. Nothing was going to happen and tomorrow afternoon, he’d wake up with you in his arms.

Alive and well.

But as you two got upstairs to his bedroom and got ready for bed, he wasn’t going to take no risks. There was a baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door and a hand gun laying atop of his Bible on the bedside table. You look at it as you got into bed where Elvis already was, sitting against the headboard with the TV on.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot a ghost?” You joke with a soft snort and he looks at you, simply nodding his head.

“Hell. I will if I have to,”

“My protector,” You swoon playfully as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing. He chuckles softly and sighs, kissing your lips before he allows you to settle in the bed. You pretend to watch some TV with him but couldn’t contain your excitement, curious to know what his reaction was going to be when the best part of the prank would play out.

Since you fell asleep pretty quick most of the time, Elvis didn’t think anything of it when he heard you lightly snoring as you had turned your back to him. He had his arm leaning across your hip, needing to touch you in one way or another, always. Unbeknown to him, you were wide awake and looking at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. You had told Charlie to give you twenty minutes before you’d set things into motion and as that amount of time had passed, you started off your little prank slow.

Ease Elvis into it, so to speak.

 

Pretending you were having a nightmare, you twitch lightly while mumbling some soft incoherent sentences, moaning uncomfortably. Elvis who was still wide awake moves his hand from your hip to your hair, caressing it soothingly as he sits up a little to look over at you. Figuring you’re still sleeping, he leans back against the headboard of the bed but only a split second later, you suddenly shoot up to sit in the bed. Startled, his heart skips a beat and he quickly sits up again too, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. He’s familiar with sleepwalking, but he has never seen you do it before. He knows not to wake someone when they’re in a state like this nor call out their name, but his worries grow by tenfold as your body slumps against him.

And then starts twitching and goddamn near convulsing as you throw your head back. He widens his eyes in shock as your eyes roll in the back of your head, your arms hanging limp by your side. Holding your frame, he tries to keep you still as he cups your face.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He slaps your cheek softly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. He curses loudly as he reaches over to the phone on the bedside table, putting it to his ear as he calls downstairs and yells to whoever is on the other end of the line to come upstairs.

Like clockwork, Charlie comes running in not much later and feignes a gasp at the sight of your state. Elvis looks over at him, desperate for help.

“Goddamnit, Charlie, do somethin’!” Elvis yells as your body seems to be twisting and turning into uncomfortable positions, arching your back as you let out deep groans and grunts. You didn’t even know your voice could get that low, but you were impressed by yourself.

An eerie feeling washes over Elvis and he slowly lets go of you as you push yourself out of arms, standing on top of the bed. And then you just start… laughing.

Like an absolute maniac.

The sound sent shivers down Elvis’ spine and he quickly got off the bed, standing next to Charlie as they both look at you, unsure of what was happening. Well, at least one of them. Charlie was completely sucked up into his role though and he took a step back, fear in his eyes.

He was a damn good actor.

Something clicked inside of Elvis’ brain as you look at him with a menacing look in your eyes, smirking like the Devil himself just walked into the room.

That goddamned board.

“Get my Bible,” Elvis orders Charlie, never taking his eyes off of you. Charlie does as he’s told and grasps the Bible from the bedside table, handing it to Elvis. The singer takes off the necklace he was wearing with a cross pendant hanging on the silver chain and hands it to Charlie, looking at the smaller male.

“Put this on her forehead,”

“Elvis...” Charlie widens his eyes, holding onto the necklace and pretending to be terrified of going near you. “Can’t we.. can’t we just call an ambulance?!”

Charlie was going to do whatever Elvis told him to do anyways because it makes the situation seem more natural but even if he wouldn’t be acting, the glare that Elvis gives him is enough to have him sprint into action. He runs over to the bed and pulls you down, keeping you down on the mattress as he presses the cross against your forehead. As you look at Charlie, you have to try your damnest not to ruin things and laugh, but luckily you manage to stay in your role.

Writhing on the bed and trying to get out of Charlie’s grip with what truly is little effort but looks like a lot, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Elvis comes closer to the bed while he is quickly reciting any kind of prayer he thinks might work, reading psalm after psalm. He’s taken back for a second when you did what Charlie and you rehearsed- kicking the brunette off of you and making him land on the floor. You swear you could hear Charlie chuckling, but Elvis is only focused on you.

Now you are the one that is taken back as he gets on top of you and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head as he’s still reciting prayers. He’s yelling at the non existent demon inside of you to get the hell out and Charlie has to muffle a laugh in the palm of his hand, curious about what you were going to do because neither of you expected this.

You felt a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat, so before it could come out, you stop writhing on the bed and drop your head to the side, pretending that the prayers worked and it has all come to an end. Elvis sat on top of you for a few more minutes until he releases your hands and gets up, closing his Bible. He watches you, ready to once more go into action as he sees you casually sit up and get up from the bed. He frowns a little as you walk over to Charlie and hook your arm through his, clearing your throat.

“The end.” You and Charlie gracefully bow, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

Until you notice one person in the room isn’t laughing.

Feeling the mood shifting in the room and as if a thunderstorm just passed over Graceland, you stop laughing as you see Elvis glaring at the both of you. You walk over to him as he throws his Bible on the bed and cup his face, but he’s quick to swat your hands away and get back into his bed.

“Elvis, c’mon. Don’t be mad, baby. We were just having a little fun,” you laugh softly, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes icy cold. You weren’t unfamiliar with that look but usually it was something more serious that brought it on and you never liked it.

But what you weren’t realising is that this was serious to Elvis. He thought he was going to lose you to some freaky demonic entity.

“Get out.” He simply states in a low voice, turning his head back to the TV that was still on. You look at Charlie and he gives you a little nod, taking you out of the room with him.

You succeeded in pranking the prank master, but you’re afraid you pushed him too far and that simply wasn’t worth it.

 

You figured Elvis would be over it by the day after Halloween and things would go back to normal. But then again, you know Elvis like the back of your hand and although you were not surprised by him ignoring you for a week straight, you were still hurt.

When he learned that all of the guys were involved in your little prank, he let them have a piece of his mind and that was that. But you were walking on eggshells. He even made you sleep in Lisa Marie’s bedroom for that entire week.

By Sunday night, you were fed up with it. Maybe you had taken things too far, but it was just idiotic that he wouldn’t even let you sleep in the same bed as him.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He snaps as he watches you burst into the bedroom and get into the bed next to him, fluffing your pillow.

“What does it look like?” Maybe you don’t have the right to be annoyed with him, but you are. He knows how much you hate to be ignored and you’ve been worrying yourself all week with all sorts of doom scenarios, like him ending the relationship.

He grabs your arm to pull you out of bed but you sit up and pull your arm out of his grasp, the words flying rapidly off your tongue. “Good God, Elvis. I’ve told you I’m sorry about a thousand times, but you don’t wanna hear it! You haven’t spoken a word to me in a week. At least yell at me, be angry with me, do something!”

His nostrils flare as his jaw clenches and he sits up more straight, turning his body into your direction.

“You want me to yell? Be angry? Fine!” He barks harshly, his loud rich voice booming off the walls. “I thought I was gon’ fuckin’ lose you that damn night! I thought you really were gon’ die, Y/N. That there was some sonofabitch inside of ya who was takin’ ya away from me. If you think that’s so hilarious, well hell, then you really are an evil bitch,”

You weren’t hurt by him calling you a bitch. You and Elvis fought enough times in the past that involved ugly name calling but you always made up minutes later. It never lasted for days. But learning that he was truly afraid of losing you in that moment causes your heart to clench uncomfortably in your chest. You feel a pang of guilt in your gut and your shoulders slump, tears burning in your eyes as you could see a tear rolling down Elvis’ cheek. He quickly wipes it away and looks at the TV set, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Elvis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” You exclaim breathlessly as you crawl closer to him and hide your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His body tenses up but then he quickly relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around your frame, placing one hand on the back of your head to press you firmer against him. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, I really didn’t. I just thought it would be a fun prank for Halloween. I never thought it’d turn out like this.”

It was never your intention to truly hurt Elvis or emotionally scare him. Deep down inside, Elvis knows this and he feels a little guilty about giving you the cold shoulder for a week, but he doesn’t feel the need to apologize to you for that. Instead, he accepts your apology with a long tender kiss and then cups your cheeks as he looks into your eyes.

“You can prank me, baby, jus’… no more pranks like that, okay?” He whispers as he brushes some hair out of your face, thumbing a tear away from the corner of your eye. You nod, promising him that you’ll never do something like this again and keep it at small pranks only.

 

That same night, you and Elvis stand outside at the back of Graceland, watching the ouija board melt into mush in the firepit.

He wasn’t going to take any chances and forbids you to play with a board like that for the rest of your life. You have no problem promising him that you will never touch another ouija board again and content with your answer, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks at the flames.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Little,” he whispers as he presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before he kisses your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold him close as you nod, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t lose ya. Ever.”

“I promise, Elvis,” you say as you raise your head and look up at him, kissing his chin. “You’ll never lose me. Even the Devil can’t take me away from you.”

He grins at your words and pecks your lips, but then he pulls his head back and looks past you, frowning. Curious, you look over your shoulder and a hot feeling of fear immediately spreads throughout your chest, widening your eyes as you see two man wearing scary wolf masks stalking toward you and Elvis.

It was only you and your boyfriend at the house tonight, but still when one of the men grabs you and a few others that came from the other side of the premises grab Elvis, you scream at the top of your lungs for help. It doesn’t do much and your vision is taken from you as you’re being blindfolded, a hand being placed firmly over your mouth.

You were thrown in the back of a car and after driving for what felt like hours, you were being lifted out of the car. You couldn’t speak as one of the men had shoved what you guessed was a tie in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop cussing at them in the back of the car. You were surprised they hadn’t knocked you unconscious yet.

You were terrified of what was to come, but more so you were worried sick about Elvis. The last thing you had seen were a couple of masked maniacs overpowering him and dragging him away. Having no idea where he was or if he was even still alive, you were determined to break free and get out of where ever you were.

You needed to get to Elvis. The thought of never seeing him again made your head spin, feeling like you were about to either faint or be ill.

Despite your inner turmoil, you didn’t stop fighting your kidnappers. Not even as you were being placed on a chair, your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. As the fabric was pulled out of your mouth, you were about to scream again until your blindfold was taken off. As your eyes adjust to your surroundings, you widen your eyes when you see Elvis and the Memphis Mafia standing in front of you, all wearing shit eating grins.

You realise you’re sitting in the pool room.

The guys all burst out into rumbling laughter, Elvis included, and he bends down to be at your eye level, his hands placed on his knees as he grins.

“Honey, I’m gon’ say this once and for all,” he bites his lip as he laughs, that mischievous little boy gleam in his eyes. “Don’t prank the master.”

You sarcastically laugh along with him as he unties you, glaring at Lamar who was having an uncontrollable fit of giggles when he tells you you should’ve seen yourself when him and Sonny were driving you around the block to make you think you were being taken somewhere else.

You stand up from the chair as Elvis has let you free and grab a poolstick from the wall. Red snickers.

“We should probably start runnin’ now, huh?”

“Yup.” Elvis smirks, popping the ‘P’ as he shoves the guys out of the way and starts making a run for it. You were immediately hot on all of their heels, your main suspect being Elvis, as you yell profanities at them while trying not to laugh.

Both you and Elvis know that this was only the start of what would become a very, very long prank war and you’re determined to take his title away from him, although you doubted you’d succeed at that.

As long as it didn’t involve ouija boards and any kind of demonic possession, Elvis was ready for whatever you had planned for him. But just to be absolutely sure, he made a mental reminder to have Lisa Marie stay at Graceland for Halloween next year so he could benefit of the free candy and admire your matching costumes with his daughter rather than thinking he was going to have to give you up to the Devil.

Because one way or another, he would shoot the sonofabitch.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997 @raginginkedslut @joshuntildawn13 @claire-elvisgirl

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Best QL of 2023: Favorite Lines

Okay so I am slightly over my one year mark in the BL Fandom, and have watched over the past like...12-14 months a little under 100 shows, so I am forcing myself to stick to the shows that aired in 2023 or else I would never be able to finish this. But I saw @abstractelysium do this so I had to climb aboard:

Top Five Lines that Lived Rent-Free In My Brain This Year:

"Have you been well? Without me?" - Shin Ki Tae, Our Dating Sim, Ep 4

Y'ALL THIS FUCKING LINE. KNIFE. CHEST. EVERY TIME! This line sits on the same level of absolute and total emotional devastation for me as the "I just want things to be nice for him" link in Big Eden.

"Are you tired, Uncle Jim?" - Li Ming, Moonlight Chicken, Ep 8

Jim and Li Ming's relationship just makes me absolutely so fucking emotional. I love them individually, I love them together, and I love how much Jim does for his community. But no one ever asks him this. And it is so striking to me that Li Ming is finally the one to demonstrate how much he understands and appreciates everything Jim does not only for him but for the entire community when he ass him that question.

"My family is old fashioned. I kept everything in my heart and didn't want to tell anyone until I was 15. My family went to Europe with Wa's family. We saw two women kissing on the street. I saw her and wanted to talk to her. I want to know how she did it. I want to release it like them. But Wa's mother and I...You can probably imagine. A pair of old-fashioned women who think same-sex love is wrong...That's when I realized I wasn't the only one feeling terrible. When we got back that night she broke down and cried. No one knew why. I asked her if it was about the afternoon incident. She asked me if a kiss between two women was wrong. I said no. It's just like two men kissing. It's not wrong. On that night a 15 year old boy and a 13 year old girl held each other and cried." -Sailom, Wedding Plan, Ep. 6

Okay this isn't a line, it's a monologue but holy fucking shit this was such a beautiful speech, and I will quote @bengiyo here and say "I CAN'T BELIEVE PEOPLE HATED THIS MAN." He has spent so much of his life in the closet protecting not only himself but especially Yiwa. Sailom was going to go through with the wedding just to ensure that Yiwa and Marine could be together without anyone prying.

"This is as tender as I can be. Someone like me." -Mhok, Last Twilight, Ep. 4

Honestly you could replace the first sentence with whatever you want, the part that sticks in my brain the most is "someone like me" because I know that Mhok must have heard shit like that his entire life, and Day is here saying it in a way that I don't think Mhok takes as an actual insult or passing of judgement. I like that the line is used whenever Mhok does show who he truly is and how much tenderness or warmth he is actually capable of in a subversion of the expectations placed upon him.

"But you know, I already knew your preferences so well. When I go shopping with Kakei-san, he talks about you all the time...He says it with a smile" -Kayoko, What Did You Eat Yesterday?, Season 2 Episode 11

THE WEEP I WEPT WHEN KAYOKO TOLD KENJI HOW MUCH SHIRO TALKS ABOUT HIM. This entire second season of WDYEY Shiro has just continuously shown so much beautiful beautiful growth and my heart twists with pride every single time I see him looking more relaxed and smiley. WDYEY is the most perfect show to ever exist.

[curioussubjects]

Feedback Fest 2024

Since everything I've read for the past 1.5 years has been pilots, all 10 of the fics here are Kara/Lee from Battlestar Galactica. I'm only listing one fic per author, so be sure to check individual author pages if you liked their style.

(go here over on @transformativeworks for more info!)

1. In the Whole World by pennyante (M, ~80K, WIP)

Summary:

The Cylons aren't quite human, and the humans haven't quite forgiven them. Political stability is less certain than ever now that the war is over: Lee Adama finds himself up for re-election, where being defeated will mean a Gemenese theocracy puppeteered by Leoben Conoy. Meanwhile, Kara Thrace has nothing but questions about her death and destiny. The only answers available come in the form of the vision of a temple, and from her hybrid/comatose husband's cryptic ramblings about a sister artifact to the Arrow of Apollo.

There's violence in the air. Civil war looms. Can Lee and Kara save each other, and keep the fledgling colony whole?

Thoughts: The best season 4 fix-it, lives in my head rent free, rewired my brain, etc. Also I've read it, like, 3 times (and I cried).

2. We're Not Friends by ninety6tears (M, ~25K)

Summary:

When two soldiers in the middle of a war can't seem to like each other, baptism by fire is apparently the natural solution. (AU in which Kara never knew Zak and first meets Lee after the fall of the colonies.)

Thoughts: I love a different first meeting AU, and this one takes pilots on a fun rivals to lovers spin that works surprisingly well. They're still very unwell about each other, though, make no mistake.

3. Artemis Rising by clairza (M, ~11K)

Summary:

The next morning Lee makes a few phone calls, and when everything has been organized and his credit card has been used for the first time in three months, and he’s had the pleasure of telling his mother that no, he has plans this week, he tracks Kara down in the quad. 

She's lying on her stomach poking sticks upright in the grass. He sits down beside her, and he can see the tension in her shoulders.

“So,” he says casually, and he’s very proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake at all. “I hear the Aegean Peninsula is nice this time of year.”

“It probably is.”

“I’ve booked a unit.”

“Where are you going with this, Lee?” Thoughts: I have a huge soft spot for fluffy academy pilots and this fic absolutely delivers. Happy baby pilots go to the beach five stars no notes.

4. An Arranged Meeting by lark_ral (E, ~11K)

Summary: Even outside of wartime, you might be surprised by the pressures our service men and women are under. The most effective among them either have, or need a release valve. Thoughts: Lee and Kara are scene partners for years, then the Cylons come. Somehow less messy than the show, but still delicious.

5. Rota by leda13 (E, ~2K)

Summary: The days are arbitrary, in space. Bereft of the guide of a planet's rotation around the sun, they live in slices of time, stealing as many as they can. Thoughts: Emotional support curtain fic of pilots sneaking around.

6. Sufficient to the Day by rachelindeed (T, ~1.5K)

Summary: At the sound of Lee’s voice, she feels her stomach twist and drop. Reluctantly, she opens her eyes and sees him come to a stop an arm’s length away, settling one elbow onto the corner of the bleacher behind her. His jacket is unbuttoned, his hair mussed, jaw ghosted with stubble, and the frakking sun is rising behind him. The look on his face is casual and fond, but he breathes as if he’s been running. Thoughts: Mandatory UB morning after fix-it...sort of. I really like this one because all I wanted was for Lee to get to Kara first. Or for him to call her bluff. This fic is both. It's not a showdown on main street like I enjoy joking about, but it's quiet and it's them (so it's better!).

7. Contrecoup by Fahye (T, ~2.2K)

Summary:

Contrecoup (n): A concussion or shock produced by a blow or other injury, in a part or region opposite to that at which the blow is received, often causing rupture or disorganisation of the parts affected. (One story told right-way-up, the other told upside-down, but both in the same narrative.)

We begin at a single point in time. The present goes forwards. The past goes backwards.

The story is AU-within-canon and set after episode 1x11, "Colonial Day."

Thoughts: I can't say too much because I don't want to spoil the fic. So: a bit angsty, a lot sweet, with a side of Kara's amazing problem-solving skills.

8. Lee's Emo Coffeehouse by haycorn (M, ~2.9K)

Summary: Lee has a bar, and sometimes Kara makes his life more interesting. Thoughts: I love cute modern AUs in general, and I love them even more when there's pining involved. There's not nearly enough of this type of fic for pilots, either! Many thanks to the author for their service. Would read 100K of this 'verse.

9. Breathing Room by callmeonetrack (M, ~12K)

Summary: Kara and Lee adjust to their new, very separate lives on the Pegasus. Badly.

Thoughts: My favorite Pegasus fic! Being on the Pegasus sucks, but then Lee and Kara find each other and things get better. Chef's kiss, peak pilots.

10. And I Feel Fine by hazellazer (M, ~2.4K)

Summary:

“That was… that… why?”

Her hands stay firmly on his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I was just thinking—”

Cutting her off, he smirks. “You think?”

She swats at his arm, hard enough that it might actually bruise. “I thought you were dead, Lee.” Her gaze is harsh on his, voice rasping, before something softens. “And I should’ve done this the second I knew you weren’t.” Thoughts: Season 1, but Lee and Kara are together. It's nice, refreshing, and plain good.

[writertitan]

Impressions

pairing: levi x reader 

word count: 3.5k

themes: modern au, neighbor au, borderline grumpy neighbor levi, protective levi, some mentions of unhinged male behavior (getting followed), but mostly just a fluffy one-shot, talks of the holiday season

a/n: this was so fun to write, neighbor!levi lives rent free in my head and my heart so enjoy some general fluff!

based on this request

Moving day had been eventful, to say the least. By the time all your boxes were in your new home and you had set up the essentials, like your bed and couch and TV (of course), you were dead tired and staring at your phone screen that read a time of nearly 7pm. 

Normally, that would be nothing. You’d whip up a later dinner or snack, maybe pour yourself a glass of wine, and settle in for the evening. There were also plenty of nights you’d wander out to meet your friends and hang out until late. But, seeing as moving homes was one of the hardest tasks known to humankind, 7pm was feeling a little bit like 11pm tonight. 

It was just you now, living by yourself. The movers had left and your little helpers - grumpy friends and family that lovingly but begrudgingly had to help - had long since said their goodbyes as well. 

“Ah, fuck,” you cursed to yourself in your kitchen, staring down at an empty drawer with no cutlery in sight. You’d left that certain box in the backseat of your car. 

The only edible things in your pantry right now consisted of a box of instant noodles and some boxes of cereal, seeing as you’d let your usual list of groceries dwindle down to prepare for moving day so you wouldn’t need to pack a bunch of perishable food. You’d kind of been looking forward to a steamy styrofoam cup of noodles in your hands while you curled up and fell asleep to whatever rerun show you could put on, but now there was a whole entire problem of having to go out to your car, parked several stores down in your apartment complex’s underground garage, to grab a box of kitchen stuff that might be too heavy for your sore arms. 

“Maybe I can just order takeout again,” you mumbled to yourself, wondering aloud in your kitchen. A perk of living alone? Talking to yourself as much as you wanted. 

You’d ordered takeout as compensation for your friends and family who helped you move today, but that seemed a little crazy, to order in twice in one day. 

But…not if you ordered from somewhere different, right? 

It didn’t take much self-convincing. Was it cheaper and better in the long run to just go down and get that dumb box? Of course. Were you so tired and sore that you felt your brain was going to shut down and your limbs were going to fall off? Absolutely. 

The 40 minute delivery time was a little upsetting, but you said a quick prayer that you could stay awake long enough so you wouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. After placing an order at your favorite Japanese place, you practically collapsed on your couch and turned on the TV, whining at even just having to lift up the remote to turn it on. 

It didn’t take long until your eyes started drooping and you felt yourself nodding off, your head jerking back up so you could shake yourself awake and pretend to pay attention to the sitcom on the screen. You tried hard to fight off your exhaustion but it eventually took over and you felt yourself dozing off, forgetting all about your incoming delivery until there was a loud series of knocks on your door. 

It immediately startled you awake and you jolted up into a sitting position, your heart hammering in your chest. The delivery drivers were usually never so aggressive with their knocking but you brushed it off, stretching a little and taking your time to stand up. 

When the knocking happened again, you frowned to yourself. 

“I specifically asked for contactless delivery,” you began to grumble, rubbing your eyes a bit as you rushed to the door. 

Upon opening it, you were surprised to see a man on the other side wearing house slippers and plaid pajama pants, his white t-shirt snug over his torso. He was handsome and he was also the most fed-up looking man you’d ever met, and you hadn’t even really met him yet. 

“Are you my delivery guy?” you asked in tired confusion, blinking a few times as if this were a dream you were trying to wake up from. Were you dreaming? 

“I’m your neighbor,” he said curtly, and then pushed his arm out and held something towards you. It was then that you noticed he was holding a familiar looking plastic bag that smelled amazing. “I’m assuming this is yours? Has your apartment number on the receipt.” 

“Oh, thank you! Weird that they got the wrong apartment,” you said, a little more awake now at the prospect of meeting your first neighbor. You grabbed the bag and introduced yourself with what you hoped was a bright and happy smile, already launching into a little spiel. “I just moved here today, it’s a really great building. Hopefully misdelivered items aren’t a huge problem around here. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” 

“I didn’t say it,” your neighbor said, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s Levi.” 

“Levi…?” you prodded, hoping for a last name. 

“Just Levi,” he answered, and then turned, already on his way back to his apartment. His door was across from yours so the walk was short. Before he went inside, he called from over his shoulder, “Be more attentive in the future. I don’t like handling strangers’ food.” 

The door closed shut behind him after that. 

Stunned, your brain had to process what had happened for a moment before you could finally shut your door. He was…moody. 

You set down your food and walked to your bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, feeling a little more awake now, thankfully. When you looked at your reflection, blood immediately rushed to your face in embarrassment at the state of you. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, pouting. Moody or not, he’d been handsome, and you looked crazy with your frizzy hair that was all in disarray and your disheveled clothes. 

How embarrassing. You’d have to make a better impression next time you saw Levi. Maybe he was moody because he thought a literal psycho moved in. 

Sitting down with your dinner, you made a vow that next time you would wow him. 

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

You did not wow Levi the next time you actually spoke to one another. 

Mostly because you quite literally ran into him, too preoccupied with trying to lug in your big box of holiday decorations you’d stored at your parents’ house. 

The parking garage was eerily quiet, or rather, it had been, until you started your very real struggle with lifting the box overflowing with trinkets. It took forever to lock up your car without having to put the box down and, because the garage always freaked you out, you were in quite a hurry to get inside the building and in the elevator. 

What you hadn’t been anticipating was running into poor Levi, who had been getting his mail from his mailbox. He had been looking down at the pile in his hands, shuffling through envelopes, and you’d burst through the door and nearly knocked him over before he could even look up from his mail. 

The collision made you nearly drop your box and you panicked, teetering with it as it worked against your weight. 

“I’m so sorry!” you apologized from behind the box, peeking over it as best as you could. To your utter embarrassment, Levi’s unyielding grey eyes stared back at you, as unimpressed as ever. 

In the month or so you’d been living there, you’d barely crossed paths with him, only offering enthusiastic waves and cheery smiles and warm but quick greetings because he never seemed to want to stop and have a conversation. It was maddening for you, because of your vow to make yourself look good the next time you could actually speak. Even all your non-verbal efforts were barely acknowledged; if he did acknowledge you, it was in the form of a quick nod of the head or a half-assed wave that looked more like he was swatting a fly away. No smiles, no chitchat, always stoic. It kind of bugged you, but he wasn’t being outwardly rude, just…distant. But definitely not neighborly. 

“Isn’t it a little too early for all of that?” he asked, completely ignoring your apology. At least he didn’t seem mad, and you were glad to be making some type of idle conversation. 

Your face brightened and you shook your head, letting him press the button for the elevator. 

“Never too early to celebrate the holidays,” you answered. “It’s my favorite time of the year and I love how it makes things cozier. When do you typically start decorating?” 

“I don’t decorate,” he answered, his eyes on the closed elevator doors. 

Your smile faltered a little. Tough crowd. 

The elevator opened up for you and you stepped inside, Levi pressing the button to your floor. 

“You’re a walking hazard right now,” Levi piped up again, casting a very quick glance your way. It was odd, the way it had your heart beating a little faster. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mood was beginning to sour because of Levi’s behavior and your mind was whirling. You were always being so nice to him and here he was, putting a damper on your holiday spirit and borderline taunting you for carrying a heavy box all by your-

“Give it here.” 

It was like your brain refused to accept what was going on. You were frozen as Levi scooped up the box of decorations out of your arms like it was nothing, just in time for the elevator doors to open up to your floor. He exited and you followed after in a daze, eyes wide and shock coloring your features until Levi was standing in front of your door. 

For the first time, his face contorted into an expression that wasn’t stoic. He raised a brow and shot you an impatient look, jaw flexing a little as he jerked his head to your door. 

“Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna open the door so I can put this heavy-ass box down?” 

Your face felt hot as you jumped into gear, a shaky hand grabbing your keys from your back pocket to unlock your front door; you weren’t sure how you would have managed this part without his help. 

Levi stepped inside but he looked hesitant to take more than a few steps in. He looked at you, mouth in a straight line before he asked, “Is it okay if I just set it down here?” 

“Yeah, of course, of course,” you rushed out, wringing your hands as he did so. “Thanks so much for helping me, I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Levi’s face was back to that neutral expression and he offered a shrug, already making his exit. 

“You would have probably dropped the box and made a huge mess. I don’t like messes,” was all he said, then he was gone again. 

You closed the door after him, face still hot and heart still pumping faster than usual. Looking down at your decorations, you contemplated hard for a couple of minutes. 

“Maybe this would be a nice ‘thank you’ for the help,” you mumbled to yourself, always talking to yourself. 

You pulled out a wreath that you really liked but didn’t really use, hugging it to your chest as you left your apartment to walk across the hall and knock on Levi’s door. 

He answered pretty quickly and seemed a little surprised, but as always, his face didn’t give too much away. 

“What’s up?” he asked. 

You thrust out the wreath to him, biting your lip. 

“I know you said you don’t decorate, but I was hoping you’d take this as a thank you gift. You should have something to show for having to carry all those decorations,” you rambled, trying your best to seem as nonchalant as he always was, but you knew it looked very different on you. 

Levi stood still for a minute before eventually grabbing the wreath with one hand, examining it and not saying a word. 

And, because you couldn’t help it and it was making you nervous, you filled the silence. 

“I don’t have an extra hook for it or anything but I hope you find a nice place to hang it. And you can’t give it back!” you said, already rushing back to your apartment. It didn’t occur to you until the last second that he might try to refuse your gift, and you weren’t having that. 

You locked the door behind you as if he’d even try to make his way in, but you sighed loudly and slumped your shoulders as you leaned against your door, rubbing your very heated face with one hand. 

“Don’t tell me I have a crush on the neighbor,” you said out loud to no one. 

No. It wasn’t a crush. He was moody and weird. You were just grateful for his help - he could throw the damn wreath away if he wanted…even though it would hurt your feelings. 

You got to work on decorating, putting on some music while you did so, and tried to not think about Levi and his first neighborly act towards you. 

Later that night, when you were leaving to go for a late dinner with friends, your heart swelled at the sight of the wreath that hung neatly on Levi’s door. 

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

You yawned as you neared your apartment building, shivering even in your bulky coat. It was nearing 2 in the morning and you were tired and cold, having spent your Saturday night going out dancing as a last minute “holiday party” amongst your friends before many of them flew out to be with their families. Everything had been close enough to walk to at the start of the night, even in your fancy holiday getup, and trying to order a ride home was ridiculously expensive right now. So, you walked home. 

A fresh dusting of snow on the sidewalk crunched under your shoes and you pulled your coat tighter around your maybe-not-so-winter-appropriate outfit. It was eerily quiet now that you were in a more residential area, with not a soul in sight, but your apartment was right in view and you’d be in the warmth of your home in less than five minutes, so you only needed to brave this quiet winter night for just a little bit longer. 

Gotta hurry inside, you thought to yourself, footsteps echoing throughout the empty street as you approached your building. 

Movement caught your eye and you slightly turned your head to see someone walking towards you, but you tried not to psych yourself out. You were so close to your door, and once you got in, they wouldn’t be able to follow you. And maybe they were just walking in your direction. Maybe they were a fellow tenant! No need to freak yourself out. 

“Hey,” the person called out. A man, with a gruff voice. “Stop for a second!” 

Okay, maybe there was a need to freak out. Chills ran down your spine and you swallowed thickly despite your throat going dry. 

You didn’t answer him, eyes looking straight ahead at the doors and wondering if you should start running towards them. You had your keys gripped tight in your hands, but you were so scared you were trembling. You had to account for extra time in opening the doors for yourself - would he make it to you by then? 

“I saw you at the bar and just wanted to talk,” he continued, and you shivered, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold. He’d been following you since then? You hadn’t noticed at all. You weren’t even tipsy because you wanted to be aware of your surroundings, but you’d definitely had a couple of drinks. That carefree attitude apparently had bled into your walk home. Not your fault, you had to remind yourself. He had clearly been trying not to make noise so you wouldn’t notice. He was sinister. 

You still didn’t answer him and kept walking, noticing a figure coming out of your building. To your immense relief, you saw that it was none other than Levi, bundled up and looking dapper. 

He locked eyes with you, and he even looked a little surprised, until he saw the panic in your eyes and the way you mouthed at him to help you. 

Instantly he was at your side and you whispered in his ear, “Someone followed me home.” 

He saw the hooded figure immediately and you watched as he gave the man the most menacing glare you had ever seen. It wasn’t even directed at you and you felt the way it instilled some type of new fear in you. But that fear went away when Levi’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, tugging you closer to him and even a little behind him so he could be between you and the creepy guy who had followed you home. Suddenly, you felt safe. 

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Levi threatened the man, voice full of authority. “If you don’t, I promise you won’t be around to ring in the new year.” 

There wasn’t even an argument from the creep. He nearly sprinted away and was out of sight in just mere seconds, much to your relief. 

“Thank you, Levi,” you stuttered out, voice shaky and lips numb from the cold. And although it felt a little silly, you felt tears sting at your eyes. “I didn’t realize he was even following me. I don’t know how I didn’t notice -” 

“Hey,” Levi interrupted, his eyes scanning over your face. He looked genuinely concerned, and he still hadn’t let go of you. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to invite that creepy behavior. Are you okay? I can run after him and kick his ass, just say the word.” 

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, feeling much better just in his presence. You gave a small smile, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank god you came out when you did, though. Are you leaving? It’s so late.” 

Then you felt bad, and added, “Sorry if I’m keeping you from something important, like a date or something.” 

It felt silly to feel hurt at the thought of Levi out on a date, but you had fully accepted your silly crush on him. 

Levi snorted a little and shook his head, his expression unreadable. “I’m not going on a date. I just got back from a work party and was going to get some horrible coffee from the corner store.” 

“Coffee? At 2 in the morning?” you asked, raising a brow. 

“I’m a bit of an insomniac,” he said, but you were surprised he’d offered up any information about himself. This was the most talkative and most expressive you’d seen him so far. 

Then, before you could think of something to say, Levi cleared his throat, clearly feeling awkward, and he seemed to finally notice he was still holding onto you. He pulled away slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, and you saw the way his ears were a bright pink that was slowly bleeding into his cheeks. Was he…nervous? 

“Do you want to come with me? Or I could walk you to your door so you’re not alone,” he said, his voice uncertain. “I just want to make sure you’re safe tonight.”

“I’d like to go,” you answered a little too quickly, once again in high spirits. “But I think I’ll be sticking to decaf.”

Much to your chagrin, you watched as Levi gave a little smile, short-lived but beautiful. 

“I’m not keeping you from a boyfriend or anything?” he asked. This time, you could clearly tell he was trying to be nonchalant but was genuinely interested in the answer. Your heart fluttered at the implications of that. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend. What gave you the impression I did? From all the hundreds of suitors at my door all the time?” you joked. You barely had visitors, and if you did, it was your parents or some girlfriends. 

“Well sometimes I hear you in your apartment when I’m coming home and out in the hall. Sounds like you’re arguing with some shithead boyfriend,” Levi scoffed, leading the way to the corner store that was always open. 

At his admission, your entire face heated up and it felt like you were experiencing a hot flash in the dead of winter. 

“I’m not talking to anyone,” you admitted. “Just to…myself. I live alone. I tend to yell at myself.” 

Levi snickered, another beautiful surprise and such a beautiful sound, and it left you speechless. 

You fought back a smile though, aiming to look a little miffed. 

“Am I really that loud?” 

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re getting decaf.” 

[medlilove-fandom-brainrot]

The Coffee Shop of my AU dreams:

This post will be long. There’s nothing me or you can do about it. It is it’s own sentient being.

So, I had an idea for a Coffee Shop Steve x Tattooist Eddie Modern AU. Oh its all sugary sweet. Mostly.

The general bullet points are:

Steve and Robin work in a small cafe run in the same way they worked at Scoops. Just kinda left to it.

Eddie takes over the tiny Tattoo shop across the street after Wayne decides he’s tired of it and wants to retire. So Eddie moves from working for someone else in the city back to Hawkin’s and into their lives. 

Steve and Robin are childhood friends who stayed in contact but really reconnected when he transferred to her highschool to play Basketball. He fit in effortlessly with her, and her friends Nancy and Jonathan. Argyle moved to town the year they graduated. Billy he knows through Max who he knows through the kids who he knows through Nancy, Jonathan and Hopper etc idk.

Oh yeah! This is a Deaf!Steve Fic because it was rotting my brain out. But this time no injuries, just been pretty deaf since birth. His parents suck but have money, and send him off to a private school for the deaf with hearing aids. With Robin’s gift for language they are pretty good signers. I think I’m going to make Hop good at singing too, because his adopted daughter El, well for one reason or another she’s not much of a talker.

Eddie often spots Steve smoking out the back door by the bins on his break. When it’s dead quiet he and Robin both sit out there, Robin doesn’t smoke but usually has a can of something  fizzy and full of sugar instead. 

The Young Ones all are Season One little. They go there after school to wait for working parents and older siblings, play board games, annoy Steve and Robin and hang out.

The Coffee Shop also stays open late and works as a sort of bar/art/music space for locals. Regularly renting the space out on the cheap for local community art shows, music, workshop etc. Argyle usually organizes these events, with Jonathan's help.

Corroded Coffin occasionally plays in the bar down the street, can occasionally be found practicing in the cafes open space at night, only if Steve or Robin are staying late.

Robin lives above the shop or she’s staying at her parents. Steve lives in a tiny studio around the corner and does NOT talk to his family. Eddie lives above his shop across the street and has a great relationship with Wayne.

So here’s the THING. I actually created and fully renderd the shop for free over on Homestyler, because that is just how my brain works...

Please do click below for ALOT more images and information.

And if the ‘KEEP READING’ thing doesn’t format correctly I do appologise for how long this may become.

Hope you can read my handwriting......

Homestyler can be a bit fiddly, and VERY contemporary. It also has somewhat limted design options, so you might have to use your imagination a little bit on that DnD table:

I may have edited the wall art in this room a bit heheh:

Don’t underestimate the value of a good washroom!

I don’t have The Sims, so this free shit is what I do for fun.

I know it’s a tiny space, but I love small! Small but has something for everyone. I get that this was a very personal project that not many other people will be interested in, but I had so much fun! Highly recommend trying out Homestyler.

[rainingstorms1220]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ♡

Oooh uh uh that's difficult. Let's see...

1. My OCs and stories

Literally my only motivation to live. I'm very, very attached to my kids—they are the culmination of my blood, sweat, tears and soul. So anything revolving around them makes me very happy, inspired and motivated. I will do everything for them!! Art, writing, even making games if I can! Merch too! Plushies, accessories, anything and everything. All for them. The thousands of little fictional people, worlds and stories living rent-free in my mentally ill brain.

Bonus happiness points when other people also like my kids and are interested in getting to know them better. Like, if you take the time to approach me and ask questions about them, are willing to sit through hours of me rambling your ears off about characters that spawned from the depths of my hellish critter mind, and also actively want to discuss them with me and tell me all of your thoughts—that is like the ultimate quality to my quality time love language right there. It's the most idealistic, unrealistic, impossible thing ever though, mostly because I have a lot of kids and like. 20+ different stories with several more AUs. To have someone else be able to digest all of that information? No way. But yeah.

Fanart and fanfiction of my kids also make me very happy. I will treasure each and every one of the art pieces/writing dearly. Basically anything related to my kids, I will cry over. I will explode over my kiddos.

2. Various media

As of right now, I'm fixated on Twisted Wonderland (LEONA), Bleach (HITSUGAYA AND HITSUKARIN), One Punch Man (METAL BAT AND BATAROU) and Blue Lock (RYUSAE AND KAISER). Very much waiting in anticipation for the TWST anime, Bleach TYBW Cour 3, OPM Season 3 and Blue Lock Season 2 + Nagi movie. I'm also really invested in the Final Fantasy series (III, IV, VII, IX, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, Crystal Chronicles EOT and ROF, etc...)! And I'm a casual player of Punishing Gray Raven (very much looking forward to Wuthering Waves by the same company)!

I also like books! Haven't been able to read as much as I'd like to these days, but I have books I've bought that I hope to read soon. Gotta read Six of Crows (yes, Lune, I'll finish it). Have also been wanting to collect Bleach's light novels (CFYOW currently). And TWST's novels and manga too, once they're translated (Savanaclaw manga and novel C'MERE)! Much to look forward to <3 Fanfics of media I like are also really nice to read. When I have more time, I'd like to write for the fandoms I'm in.

Pretty art is nice. Good games are nice. Good stories and wonderful characters are nice. Beautiful writing is nice. I'm very simple haha, as long as the media strikes my fancy, chances are I'll look into it and derive some form of enjoyment from it <3

3. Writing/Drawing

If it wasn't already evident from the above two points, as well as my own profile, I like to write and draw. Very much an arts kid (creativity is another thing that I'm not sure I have, but let's not get into that). I'm not good at speaking, so having visual representations of the things I feel, be it via written words or artwork, is the best way for me to express myself and communicate, I find. And it's also fun! When I'm not preoccupied with other IRL commitments and stuck in creative ruts, that is.

4. Music

I know nothing about music theory or playing instruments. Not a music kid. I just like listening to good music. In particular, I'm a big fan of J-Pop, J-Rock, Rock, Instrumentals, EDM and Dubstep, Gothic-sounding music, and others, depending on whether they strike my fancy or not. Favourite artists/bands include Tatsuya Kitani, Aimer, Mili and ONE OK ROCK. Banger musicians. You're free to drop recommendations too! I'm pretty open to most genres. Though extremely selective with a few others (K-Pop being one of those genres haha oops).

5. Spending time with friends

Pretty clear cut, I think. I don't have a lot of people I'm particularly close to, but I do cherish those I consider my friends a lot. Quality time love language—just spending time with them makes me happy. We don't even have to really be doing anything. I just like having their company, and if they willingly seek me out and want to spend time with me too, that's even better.

And yep, that's all. I can't think of anything else haha. Thank you for the ask, beloved~

[hylianfury]

So.... I may actually come out of my cove at some point. I have a house, I have a job, I have medications, and despite being exhausted all the time I'm... happy? I just miss the fandom.

Zelda wise... I do admit I'm not having a fun time with totk. It's too much. My brain barely handled one open world in botw and it felt... better, somehow, more cohesive? three maps are genuinely sending my brain in overdrive whenever I try to continue it.

I also ended up replaying Oracle of Ages and Oracle of Seasons and now they have a big portion of my brain, sitting there rent free.

for the rest... I am rereading all my fanfictions, I want to restart writing, it's just been... a while since I put anything down into words and it's being more complex than I expected? It just doesn't flow naturally as it used to do.

Sunstone is... still in hiatus here because I hate anything I draw and it's being... intense? I guess it's natural after more than a year without doodling anything.

So... yeah, still alive.

[kyliafanfiction]

I know this may seem rich coming from me, since at least 50% of this blog is complaints and bitching by volume, but enjoying something is a choice. You can choose to enjoy a thing, warts and all, or you can let the warts consume your enjoyment.

Nothing will be perfect. No perfect book, no perfect game, no perfect show. I'm not saying 'settle' or 'never criticize' - again, this blog is at least 50% complaints by volume - but ultimately, you have to decide:

Are you going to enjoy the thing, while also admitting flaws, or just let your hate for those flaws consume your entire perception of the thing.

Or of course, you can set it aside, but this is about the things we can't set aside. The books or shows or games or w/e that just won't leave our brains no matter what.

And if you can't just set it aside and move on, like a rational, sane person would (or so I hear, haven't meant many of those in my time here in fandom and on tumblr), or you can choose to... just hate. Just bitch. Just refuse to like it, and stew. Just... stew.

And the thing is, I don't actually do that. I don't stew. With the exception of my endless rage at Captain America, who continues to squat rent free in a corner of my brain, I actually don't spend much time in my real life focusing on what I don't like about the things I love, or enjoy, or otherwise consume my life and brain. I have things I don't like about my favorite book serieses (What is the plural of series?), or my favorite shows, or my favorite games. Things that bug me, things that annoy me, things that make me wanna pull my hair out.

And when I bitch about them here on tumblr, it's 'I had the thought, I bitch, I move on'. When I have a whole string of them, it's because I'm consuming the thing actively, and I'm venting about whatever annoys me. But if I genuinely hate or can't stand the thing... 99.99% of the time, I just stop. I stop reading, I stop watching, I stop playing. If there's nothing or not enough drawing me in... I quit. Boom. Done.

Because, at the end of the day, I choose to enjoy. That game that I love to pieces and that so many people make snarky videos about how much it sucks compared to the earlier 'good' part of the series? Or about how the game's developers suck because... other game developer did 'basically the same game' better? (When, 75% it's entirely different and not comparable, or actually didn't do the thing better, just different in a way that appealed to the other person's idiosyncratic tastes) Or that book that's trash that sooooo many people insist X or Y or Z did a better version of? That show that 'became garbage' because of a choice you're still butthurt over five seasons later?

I can give you chapter and verse about what's wrong with them. The little things, the big things, the minor annoyances, the quality of life changes, the big picture sweeping reworks I wish we'd had. The stuff that has left me up mad at night when I really can't control myself. The things that I understand why the creator(s) did the way they did, even if I don't agree, and the things that, to this day, I still don't grasp the motivation behind.

And yeah, sometimes those things bubble up to the front of my mind, and sit there for a while, despite my best efforts.

But frankly? I refuse to let that shit stick with me forever (again, Cappy-Fucker excepted, and for the record, I don't like that my hate for him is so deep-seated). I have shit to do. Books to read (again). Games to play (again). Shows to watch (again).

I'm not going to let my hate or annoyance run the show.

I'm going to choose to enjoy it, god fucking damnit.

[cassierobinsons]

You’re so fucking right about IWTV this next season is going to kill me just the clip of armand being like Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat it’s been living rent free they’re such a goddamn mess like the jump from of course OF COURSE to I HEARD YOUR HEARTS DANCING like oh my god and they had a kid??? Just insane that ending where Louis says armand is the love of his life but he couldn’t bring himself to burn lestat???? It’s been eating my brain

(context)

DJSJDH YEAH. YEAH THAT'S EXACTLY HOW IWTV MAKES ME FEEL. I watched it when it first came out and despite rarely rewatching anything ever, I immediately jumped at the chance to watch it again when it started airing on BBC2 a couple months back. god it’s even crazier the second time around i was sitting there wondering why everyone and their mum wasn't talking about this show at all times of the day. Every element of it is firing on all cylinders and they should’ve thrown every emmy in existence at jacob anderson.

i was talking about this with a friend last year but like. It’s not that i think queerbait > canon gay is a universally awful take; a lot of the time i think it’s true. The plausible deniability that queerbait provides means the rest of the narrative can be as messy and complex as it likes. It’s just that if the universe gives you a show about a gay black vampire and his melodramatic cheating french life partner as well as his biracial daughtersister who violently hates her white stepdadbrotherinlaw and you still haven’t watched it 18 months after its release… do you even want canon queerness? 🤔 SLASH HALF-JOKING but like. Come on. Put some effort into engaging with the narratives you claim to want to see!

Anyway yeahhhhh i think about the final episode so much. It’s fucking crazy. He literally cradled lestat’s corpse.

[blurredcolour]

Awarded

Summary: As award season arrives, you and Austin find peace in one another's arms during the whirlwind of celebration.

Part Six (Final Part) of Production. Read Stuck (Part One), Caught (Part Two), Lost (Part Three), Found (Part Four), and Reunited (Part Five).

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Wild Speculation & Starry-eyed Optimism About Awards Season, Intoxication, Anxiety, Tears, Mature/Explicit Themes [manual stimulation - m receiving, penetration] - 18+ Only

Image Credit - Unknown

Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based on fact. It is simply the product of my fevered brain which has finally allowed me to lay this story to rest.

Word Count: 5967

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“So, they’ve sent me a plus one to all these things…” Austin speaks up from the other end of the long grey couch. The pair of you have your legs stretched out between you, alternating. His legs are so long, the sole of his right foot is nearly at the apex of your thighs, while his left leg rests against the outside of your right thigh, squeezing your leg between his. A book of poetry lies unopened on the back of the couch; his mind seems too busy to read properly.

You squeeze his right leg between yours as look up from your own book, blinking slowly as it takes you a moment to catch up to where his mind is at. Of course – awards season is upon you. You could tell he’s been preoccupied these last few weeks…well really, since the two of you arrived together in Los Angeles once his time on Dune was finished.

You are not sure how to respond, honestly. The two of you have been playing things rather close to the vest – eating in or only at places that respected your privacy, leaving and arriving separately, him attending industry functions on his own. The majority of it is happening naturally as you are working on a new film in town and your hours dictate when you have free time to spend with him. A quiet evening such as this, simply basking in one another’s company, is a rare treat.

Dishes from the pasta dinner you had cooked together are sitting empty on the coffee table beside you in your rented Los Feliz home. The mid-century meets west coast home is flooded with natural light, the floors are the colour of driftwood, the walls white. But truly, it doesn’t matter where the two of you are; it is always home when you are together.

“Do you have any thoughts about who you’d like to go with you?” You tilt your head not wanting to make any presumptions.

“Yeah. You.” He nods firmly without hesitation.

Your cheeks blush softly, always taken aback at how forthright he can be with his feelings sometimes.

“I…would love to be there with you, but are you sure? There’s a lot of press…” You reply thoughtfully, hesitantly.

“You don’t have to do the red carpet with me if you don’t want to, there are lots of people who take the other path inside and meet up after the circus. I…would really like you there, none of it would have been possible without you…” He looks to your eyes. You can see he is being earnest…and can also see the hint of anxiety there.

“Then I would love to attend with you.” You smile warmly, anxiety in your own stomach at the scale of the events – the Golden Globes, the Screen Actors Guild Awards…perhaps even the Academy Awards.

“Besides, not only did you work your fingers to the bone for Catherine, you’re in the freaking film so you have to be there...” His eyes twinkle with sudden mischief and you scoff in reply.

“Bullshit, Butler” You smirk and shake your head. “You don’t have to butter me up.”

His eyes widen and he presses an elegant hand to his chest in an affectation of offence.

“I would never…Seriously! You’re there. Around the 56-minute mark. You have to zoom in, but you’re there.” His hands busy themselves with pulling the film up on his phone before he carefully extracts his legs from yours, sitting up. He pats the couch beside him, and you sit up as well, shifting closer.

Austin lets about a minute of the Russwood Park scene play before smirking and zooming in. There you are, that look of awe and lust painted on your features. He looks quite pleased that he is right, a smug grin tugging at the right corner of his rosy lips.

“Baz said he just had to put this shot in the movie. You look like you are ready to unhinge your jaw and swallow me whole. Direct quote.”

You choke on your own saliva; disbelief mixing with mortification.

“Oh my god…I’m just going to go die in the corner if that’s all right with you.” You press your face into the shoulder of his soft, long-sleeved t-shirt, and he throws his head back, laughing richly.

“We thought we were so subtle, and there we are making eyes at each other on film.” He remarks ruefully.

You groan into his sleeve, not sure how you are going to face the director and his wife at all these events. He pats your head affectionately, kissing your cheek.

“I’m really excited to do this with you.” He murmurs gently and you finally look up, meeting his eyes.

“Me, too…even though it’s also a little intimidating.” You punctuate your reply with a soft kiss; gently brushing your lips against his.

Focusing on preparing you – hiring a stylist on your behalf, browsing through offerings from designers and labels you had only dreamed of wearing – seems to help Austin’s nerves. He is with you for every fitting, encouraging you to go with what you like, not just what the stylist might dictate. Even though you don’t intend to walk the red carpet with him, he’s thorough, ensuring your outfits for each event coordinate.

He practices acceptance speeches on you, though the presumption of winning necessary formulate them brings him obvious discomfort. He hones the words to capture all his gratitude in the brief time allotted to recipients.

Professionals arrive at your shared home in the afternoon before the first event and make sure you and Austin look flawless before you take a car to the venue. He’s seated on the curb side of the car, plump lips pressing to the back of your hand as it inches further ahead in line to drop you off.

“I’ll see you inside.” He smiles warmly, leg bouncing with nerves.

You squeeze his thigh encouragingly.

“You look fantastic…good luck out there” You smile, earning a quick kiss before he slides out of the open car door. You slide out after him and part ways, turning to walk down the quieter lane. You look back over your shoulder as he’s stepped onto the head of the red carpet and the screams from fans, from photographers calling his name in an attempt to get his attention, swell. He stands there, basking in their attention with a lazy elegance that is so hard to tear your eyes from, but staff are urging you to keep walking. After showing your ticket, you head inside pausing mid-step as you hear someone calling your name. You turn to see Baz and Catherine approaching. You cannot help the way your cheeks colour at the memory of Baz’s comment, but Catherine pulls you into a fierce hug and you forget to be embarrassed for a moment.

“Goodness is it ever good to see you here.” She is beaming and looking over your outfit, complimenting you warmly.

“You look amazing, both of you.” You smile brightly in response. “Are you staying in town for the next few months?”

You are so busy catching up with them, you don’t notice that Austin has finished with the red carpet until his arm snakes around your waist as he comes to stand with your group.

“Aha!” Baz declares proudly, earning an elbow to the ribs from Catherine as you flush scarlet.

He pulls each of them in for a one-armed embrace, refusing to let go of you while he greets them. One of the ubiquitous people in suits with headsets approaches the group and leads you to your table inside the auditorium, getting you all settled. There’s food, drinks, cameras. Catherine does a particularly good job of trying to distract you whenever they come close, but you are always very aware as you can feel the jumping of Austin’s leg pressed against yours.

It is a very successful night, both Baz and Austin win their individual categories, and Elvis takes Best Picture: Musical or Comedy. It flies by in a blur of applause, speeches, and toasts. As you circulate through the after party, Austin grips both your hand and the golden statuette. Everyone is so eager to celebrate him that you are happily unnoticed for the most part. There is speculation, some of it rather cruel, online the following day – wondering who that person at the Elvis table was, but it never really blossomed into anything problematic. Most likely because you refuse to let it affect what you have built with Austin.

The morning of Oscar nominations, you open your eyes blearily as his alarm chimes. He fumbles a little to silence the noise that felt just a little too loud in the pre-dawn January light of your bedroom. You push yourself up to lean against the headboard as he turns on the TV, hand clasping yours tightly as the announcements begin. The first nomination for Elvis is Catherine Martin for Costume Design, and you can’t help it as your lips are pulled into a grin of pride. She is also nominated for Production Design, and Baz for Achievement in Directing…Neither of you are breathing as Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role is announced – until they read his name.

“Austin!” You gasp and hug him tightly. He clings to you tightly, shellshocked.

“I…” He is grasping for words, but just shakes his head and presses his face into the crook of your shoulder.

His phone rings then, and hardly stops ringing for the rest of the day. He is restless – driven to distraction by the calls, the excitement, the anxiety, the fear, the pride. It is impossible to process it all, though he tries; tries going to the gym, tries writing, tries reading, tries cooking. By the time the sun sets that day, he is left both exhausted and wide awake.

As he steps out of the bathroom, flushed from a shower meant to soothe him, towel slung low on his hips, you can see the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders from your seat in bed.

“Come here…” You part your legs, patting the space between them.

He blinks a little as he surfaces from his internal tumult and sits between your legs wordlessly. Reaching out, you cup his shoulders, pressing your thumbs into warm skin on the back of his neck.

“Do you want to talk?” You ask quietly as you quickly find the first knot of muscle, pushing against it gently but persistently.

He shakes his head, and you press a soothing kiss against his spine, moving on to another knot as the first has surrendered to your insistent pressure. You work down either side of his spine before leaning back against the headboard. You pull his back to rest against your chest as you massage down each arm, working at the tension in his forearms and hands. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, breath evening out as you feel him slowly melt into you.

You smile a little to yourself in triumph as you lay his hands on his abdominal muscles, just above his towel.

“Sleep?” You ask softly into his ear, and he shakes his head again. You blink and tilt your head to the side to meet his eyes, the bulge beneath the towel catching your attention. “Ah.” You intone in understanding and shift to press your lips to his, licking into his mouth to meet his tongue. You are careful to keep your actions slow. You have worked hard to calm him down; you don’t need to wake him back up to make him cum.

As you kiss him languidly, pulling at his lower lip with your gentle teeth, your palm slides over the cotton of the towel to encompass, and apply gentle pressure to, his growing erection. You drink in his soft moan, pride bubbling up in your chest. You shift your hips a little as you tug the towel free, letting it lay across his thighs and onto your legs on either side of him.

You teasingly slide your fingertips along his cock, mapping every ridge, every vein, as he grows thicker and harder. Fetching the lube from the beside table with your free hand, you generously pour the smooth liquid over his sensitive flesh, making his hips jump eagerly. He groans your name raggedly along your lips and you smile softly.

“Good?” You ask softly, fingers wrapping around his length completely before sliding along his cock smoothly.

“Yes” He breathes, shifting back against you even though there is hardly any space separating your bodies. His hands rest on your bare knees, long fingers sliding along your skin affectionately.

Your hand glides down his cock before you bring your other hand forward to follow its path, making his head fall back on your shoulder. You lick your lips, swallowing tightly as his hot breath is caressing your neck with each needy exhale. Your hands continue the pattern, following each other downwards from crown to base.

You pause your sliding motions to circle to tip of his cock, collecting the beads of precum leaking from his slit, before wrapping just the thumb and forefinger of your dominant hand around his girth. With rapid strokes, you apply a little more pressure to his weeping length. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as his head lolls on your shoulder. He’s cursing and moaning your name and even begging a little.

“ohpleaseohpleaseohplease…” Austin pants.

His hips are floating, pushing up into your grasp. You press your free hand to his lower abdomen to push him back onto the bed so he doesn’t pull a muscle. You can feel the taught skin of his stomach fluttering erratically, see his heels digging into the bed. He is close. You slide your hand from his abdomen down between his legs to feel his balls have tightened and drawn close to his body. Without the gentle pressure on his hips, they begin thrusting into your hand in time with your strokes. His agonized moan floods right into your ear as you caress his hypersensitive flesh, and his hips snap up harshly as thick ropes of cum paint his stomach and your arms. Softly, you continue to stroke him to prolong his pleasure until his hips finally still.

He is boneless against you as you tug the towel out from beneath him, feeling his shiver as you wipe the cum from both of you. Tossing the towel aside, you reach over to his side of the bed and pull the inverted duvet over him. He sighs a soft declaration of love against your neck before his breathing deepens and he is finally able to rest.

Things only get more hectic after that. The wins rack up at the remaining ceremonies, though it isn’t consistent who takes home a statuette between Austin and Baz; sometimes one or the other, sometimes both, sometimes neither. He is out all the time, making appearances, having meetings, wining and dining Academy voters with breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.

The Oscar campaign is grueling. You support him as best you can, keeping the apartment chaos free; a safe space where he does not need to sell his talent or his wit. He can just be himself with you. You are grateful when the latest project you’re on wraps in February, giving you more time for the rest of the events and the multitude of fittings for what seems to be the most important outfit. At least that is how Austin’s agent, his stylist, Baz, Catherine, and your stylist are behaving.

When the date in mid-March finally arrives, it feels as though you have all run a marathon. It is reminiscent of the end of filming, now just shy of two years ago. It feels surreal as you put on your final, and most elaborate look of awards season. Austin is getting ready in the living room, several people fussing over him. You lean in the doorway to watch quietly, drinking it all in. To think that you would be here, experiencing this with him. You cannot help but feel like it is an out of body experience.

You blink your eyes into focus as he murmurs your name, holding out his hand to beckon you closer. You close the distance between you, taking his hand in yours warmly and lean in to kiss him quickly. You’ve come too close to the stylists and are pulled into your own chair to be fussed over. Trying to be patient, you can still hear him chuckle at the face you must be making from all the attention.

At last, you are both deemed acceptable to leave the house and have barely two minutes alone before the car will be there. You gravitate towards him, setting your hands upon his shoulders.

“However this night ends, I want you to know that what you have accomplished is incredible and I am so proud of you that I could burst…I love you.” He lunges forward, lips sealing yours in a tight kiss. You force yourself to keep your grip on the jacket of his tuxedo, to not muss with his perfectly styled hair. His phone chimes with the notification that the car is ready, and he pulls back with a sigh.

“I love you, too. I…would not have made it this far without you. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead before taking your hand. Your smile is watery as you look up to him lovingly, your chest tight with emotions. Before you head out, you do a quick check to make sure you have everything – wallet, keys, phone, lube packets.

After a heated moment in the bathroom at a Golden Globes after party, you had been sure not to attend anything without a lube packet tucked in your wallet. Condoms were no longer something you two used, taking other precautions instead. You nod that you are ready to go, and the pair of you head out to see what the night will bring.

The traffic is heavier, the line-up is longer, the stakes are higher, the sun is hotter, the nerves are wound tighter, the crowd is larger, and the screams are louder. Everything at the Academy Awards is just more. You part from him at the curb, as usual, taking the non-celebrity path as he steps out behind the curtain to a tsunami of noise. It is harder to see him with this set up, there is so much press and the security guards in your lane are constantly urging you all forward with shouts of ‘Keep Moving! No Pictures!’

Once inside the dark of the theatre lobby, you find a quiet corner to just take a breath, waiting for him. There is a warning call thirty minutes before show time to those on the red carpet to ‘exit immediately and make your way into the theatre.’ Your eyes scan the sudden rush of very famous faces, and you smile as you see him stride in with Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson, Baz, and Catherine. You take a breath to remind yourself that this is in fact your life, and weave through the sea of bodies to grab his hand.

His face is a bit flush, eyes bright from the rush of the circus, as he referred to it. He pulls you close to him, arm around your waist, as the crush pushes you all to your seats. You all share a look as Austin and Baz both have aisle seats. You and Austin are a row behind Baz and Catherine. Tom and Rita are seated to their right. Aisle seats were usually given to those thought to be likely winners.  The rest of the rows are filled with studio executives and other department heads who were involved in the Elvis production, but you had honestly never met most of them in your life.

Sitting carefully, you put a hand on Austin’s bouncing thigh and smile encouragingly. He slides his hand down between the seats and yours quickly follows, fingers lacing with his and squeezing reassuringly. You take slow, measured breaths and he is watching your chest rise and fall, mimicking the pace until eases back in his chair a little. People are still milling about, and he stands every so often to chat with those who come over to offer compliments on his performance and the film, to wish him luck, to express interest in collaborating with him. You prickle a little, rather annoyed that the business never stops, even when he can barely breathe from the anxiety.

Catherine turns at this point to engage you in a conversation about your next potential project. You are both grateful and suspicious that she had felt the malice rolling off you in waves. The lights begin to dim, along with the buzz of the crowd, and everyone settles into their seats as the show finally begins. You roll your shoulders back, taking a deep breath to focus on being present. You were here, at the Academy Awards, and though you wanted to fast forward to the categories you cared about, who knew when, or if, you would be back. Soak it in, remember it.

The host is pretty fun, the production slick and enjoyable. You glance at Austin every so often and press your lips together as his own are looking especially plump with the way he constantly tugging and chewing on them. It was a delicious habit that you found both endearing and arousing. Your attention is drawn back to the presenters as Costume Design is being announced. You find yourself biting your own lip as they play the clips from Elvis, to enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

“For Elvis, Catherine...” You don’t hear any more of the presenter’s announcement. You are all surging to your feet, cheering and clapping.

Catherine is hugging Baz and then suddenly she turns and yanks you down in a big embrace. Tears flood your eyes at the recognition, and you do not notice the camera on you. It is the first, but not the last time you appear on the telecast. She makes her way up to receive her Oscar and you are watching her in awe as she so eloquently gives her thank-yous.

“I am, of course, but one person and none of this would have been possible without my incredible department.” Your eyes widened as she lifts the golden statue, pointing the head of it right at you. “Each and every one of you deserve one of these.” Your hands fly to your mouth, and you chew the inside of your cheek, hoping not to cry.

Disappearing for a while down winner’s walk (Austin had explained it to you – a drink backstage, the photo room, then the interview room before you decide to come back or go to the after party), Catherine returns in time to take Production design. She accepts alongside Karen Murphy, completing the circuit one more time. She rejoins your group just as Baz takes Achievement in Directing.

There are more hugs and cheers, the man beside you practically vibrating as he has now added the pressure of not letting the group down to the weight already on his shoulders. Your hand seeks his between the cushions as they present the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role. His grip on your hand is so fierce you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers. You find yourself more than willing to make that sacrifice. The camera is trained on his face, and you are careful to look straight ahead, at the presenters on stage.

“And the winner is…. for Elvis….” The blood is rushing in you ears, the crowd is screaming, everyone around you is leaping to their feet. His grip only tightens on your hand, rings biting into your skin as his other hand comes to cover his face. You turn to him at the movement, see the tears he is trying to wipe away. You swallow and reach out to squeeze his knee, trying to comfort and calm and encourage and congratulate all with one gesture.

His eyes meet yours suddenly, rimmed with tears of disbelief, before his hand reaches out to grip the back of your head and pull you in for a crushing kiss. The noise of the crowd is pushed out of the small bubble around you, tears falling from your own eyes as you return the kiss warmly. You pull back a little, forehead pressed against his. He looks to you, uncertain still…even as he’s just won. You smile broadly and nod encouragingly. You take both his hands and haul him to his feet, Catherine leaning in to help spur him on towards the stage. All of it, of course, is broadcast to millions of television and online viewers.

He makes it to the stage, manages to accept the award despite his shaking hands, and takes a steadying breath before beginning his speech.

“This one…this one is for my incredible partner. My partner who has done everything humanly possible to keep me sane, without whom I would be so very lost…”

You know the camera has stayed with you, can see it out of the corner of your eye, but force yourself to keep eye contact with him…pressing your hands to your chest over your heart as tears of love and adoration steal down your cheeks. It is a line that has never been included in any of his prepared speeches and it takes your breath away.

He manages to make it through the rest of the prepared remarks before he is whisked off backstage and you settle into your seat, glad Catherine has some tissues to share. While they are on a commercial break, someone with a headset creeps up to you, trying not to attract too much attention.

“Mr. Butler would like you to join him, please follow me”

You blink, uncertain if this is normally ‘the done thing’, but you slide to your feet and follow them quickly. They are walking briskly, and you push your legs to keep up with them as they lead you out to the hotel behind the theater. You are led through a maze of halls and velvet ropes, finally coming to a hallway with two large sets of doors on either side, a roped off walkway in between. That is where you find him, walking with Baz out of the room on the left. It is bursting with flashes and calls of his and Baz’s names. His eyes find you immediately and his long legs take him over the rope easily, closing the distance between you with two long strides. He pulls you close, the weight of the award pressing into your back.

“I’m so sorry, it just happened and I…” He is rambling, a ball of energy as all weight has been lifted from him and replaced with pure, unadulterated joy. You press a finger to his lips, smiling brightly.

“Congratulations Austin” You beam, and he takes a steadying breath, kissing your cheek.

“I am going to step through that door right there” He gestures with his Oscar…it must come naturally to anyone who holds one… “and three hundred journalists are going to ask me about you.”

Your cheeks bloom with crimson heat, but you nod to him bravely.

“I expected as much…I trust you…tell them as much or as little as you would like...I don’t promise I’ll be good at being known, but I promise I’ll be here.” You focus on the effervescent blue of his eyes. Just the two of you, everything else was just noise.

The breath is stolen from your lungs as he pulls you close in a crushing embrace, lifting your shoes from the hotel carpet, as he slams his lips against yours in a frantic kiss. Baz is laughing, saying something about how he will go on ahead, but you don’t really register anything until one of the headset wearers is coughing and repeating his name. He reluctantly pulls back, setting you down before smoothing your hair.

“Will you wait here?!” He is so amped up you just laugh and nod warmly as he is pulled inside. You hear a snippet of the applause and see just a fraction of the flash he’s assaulted with before the door closes behind him. You lick your buzzing lips as you follow the staff person around to the exit from the interview room. Everything has taken on the haze of a dream, the twinkle of star dust, at this point. It is utterly apart from any reality you had ever known. Hollywood magic…you snort at the cliché thought but shake your head as your minder looks at you questioningly.

The two of them eventually tumble out of the interview room and Austin seizes your hand as soon as he is able. By now, the last few awards have been given out, so Baz texts Catherine to meet you all at the Governor’s Ball upstairs. Apparently holding your hand does not bring you close enough and Austin’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against his side fully.

“You want to see it?” He holds out the golden statue to you after you’ve been loaded into an elevator.

You carefully take it from him, eyes widening at the weight of it.

“It’s heavy!” You exclaim, watching the way the light reflects off the curves of its surface.

“Over eight pounds!” Baz declares euphorically, quickly finding Catherine as you step out into a party that is well underway.

There is incredible food, an abundance of beverages, and hundreds of people wanting to congratulate him. Throughout it all, he is holding you close in a way that feels possessive, protective, and yet also support-seeking. He reluctantly releases his hold on you to stand at the bar while they engrave his name on the golden statue. You smile warmly, patiently waiting to the side, watching him bask in his well-deserved glory. His eyes glance at yours every so often and you nod in affirmation, as though to say, ‘still here’.

There are countless after parties happening around town, but the only one the two of you want to attend is at the house Baz has rented for awards season. The ride there is filled with companionable silence, both trying to process the night, punctuated with enthusiastic kisses.

As you arrive, the house filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces, all tied to Elvis, erupts in celebration. Fatigue is tugging at your eyes, but the whole night has been pure magic, so you push through your bodies demands to avoid missing a single moment. There are more beverages, celebratory toasts, delicious bite-sized food. Stories are told, songs are sung, dances grace the kitchen floor. Some people are swimming in their formal wear, others retreating to darkened corners to get closer. As the crowd thins, Austin pulls you upstairs to one of the empty rooms.

Fingers are barely functional at this point as you pull his bowtie loose, your progress on the buttons of his shirt is slow and cumbersome. His usual efficiency is lacking as your clothing seems to confound him in the cloud of alcohol and fatigue, in the glow of frenetic celebration. Eventually you are both divested of everything. You remember to pull a few packets of lube from your wallet, setting them on the bedside table, before you both fall into the bed. Sleeping washes over the two of you almost immediately, like a dark, warm blanket.

The realization that neither of you bothered to close the curtains sinks in as the early morning sun pierces through your eyelids. Consciousness is slightly elusive. The first thing you become of aware of is you are still definitely under the influence of…well who knew how many celebratory drinks at this point. It can’t have been very long since your last drink, based on the angle of the sun in the window overlooking the pool. Next, you become aware of Austin’s body pressed against your back, his arms around your torso…clinging. His erection is pressed against your butt, hips the softly undulating as his body is desperate to do something about it.

You lick your lips as your awareness shifts between your own thighs, to your own urgent desires. You reach forward to grab one of the packets of lube, coating your hand before reaching back under the duvet to work it along his length. He moans hungrily into the back of your shoulder, hips bucking to your grip needily.

“Fuck, yes…” He murmurs groggily and you are wondering how awake he is really. “Need you so bad…” He moans your name, and all hesitation is burned away by the flames of primal need. You need him inside you this instant or your body might just incinerate to ash. You shift your hips back against his cock, the head snagging on your entrance as you rock against him enticingly.

His hands find your hips and hold you at just the right angle as he presses into you slowly. There is a burn at the stretch of your unprepared walls, but the pair of you are still in the grips of sleep and intoxication and the slow pace allows you the time to adjust and accommodate his entire cock. His hips rock back and forth, stroking against your sensitive flesh before he begins to thrust in earnest. You are both too far gone to be quiet, to consider how loud your exhales, moans, whimpers, and cries are. Your being has been stripped back to nothing but raw need, and right now you need more. Before you can even think about reaching back to grab a handful of his ass, he is rolling you onto your stomach. His hands find yours, pressing them palm down, fingers laced, into the sheets.

He can apply a lot more force in this position and he wastes no time, hips snapping forward against yours, fucking you into the plush mattress. Your cries are someone dampened in the soft fabric, but his grunts and curses sound freely above you. Each thrust drives the source of your pleasure into the sheets, dragging the sensitive skin along the silky cotton. Your eyes are rolling back into your head, your legs beginning to shake.

“Close?” His voice is gravelly from sleep and lust. It is half statement, half question.

“Yes!” You manage to force the word out of your throat before it seizes in a silent cry as your orgasm blinds you, turning the room into a bright white light as you convulse in ecstasy.

Austin’s hips somehow find a faster pace, beyond your comprehension, driving into you wildly before he howls your name in the sweet agony of his orgasm. You feel the hot ropes of cum as they spill into you. He collapses to your side, and you manage to turn your head to look at him. He is still breathing erratically, his plush lips parted, cheeks flushed, blue eyes sparkling in the morning light. He manages to give you a lopsided grin, which you echo lazily. The shifting light catches the golden statue on the bedside table behind him and your heart swells with pride yet again.

“I love you, Austin Butler.” You slur, afterglow now added to your list of impairments.

“Mmmmm…love you more.” He sighs your name reverently, pressing his lips to yours lazily.

You shift to your side to face him, and he pulls you into his warm embrace. There was an entire world outside, waking up, soon to be clamouring for both of you. But for now, for always, it is just the two of you, together. Home.

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Tag list: @jazmin2211

Author's Note: Thank you all very much for coming on this journey with me! It honestly started with the intention of a one-shot but somehow turned into all of this! It's been a lot of fun but now it is time to move onto other ideas that have crept into my mind.

[billfarrah]

I have nothing much to say except I adore jealous Simon with my whole entire heart. I didn't know how much I needed him. I never thought we'd get to see him. But damn am I glad we have. The way he just throws the ball straight (ha!) at Wille, and the way he looks at him as Wille goes to sit down.

Anyway, this was just a love declaration to jealous Simon. He'll always be iconic.

Jealous Simon changed my life. Cured my depression, cleared my skin, paid my bills and took up residence in my brain rent free. It was so, so important to see that Simon is just as obsessed with Wille as Wille is with him. It creates a balance in their dynamic; if it had just been Wille pining for Simon while Simon happily moved on with Marcus, the story wouldn’t have worked, because then why would we root for wilmon if Simon’s feelings for Wille aren’t at the same level as Wille’s feelings for him? Simon’s feelings for Wille make him just as stupid as Wille’s feelings for Simon.

The ball throw is fucking iconic. I could watch it on loop for hours. It’s so delightfully petty. Simon is dating a whole ass guy and is kissing him in front of Wille and he has the audacity to throw a ball at Wille for kissing someone else in private? It’s hilarious. So teenager.

We got to see so many more sides of Simon this season and I’m so grateful.

[ineffablegallyfreyanimpala221b]

It's been almost 24h since it's out, but I can't get over the trailer.

We've been waiting for this new season for so long, and everyday it's getting closer, it's getting more real. Like, since may 10th, we got so much new content, and the season is litterally released in 50 days.

But as much as I'm looking foward to watch it, I can't actually believe we're getting a new season, my brain won't process this fact until I'm sitting on my couch, watching the first episode.

It's a bit weird to explain, but it feels so... unreal to me? As if I'm gonna wake up and realize that it was just a dream. Even if it's getting more and more real everyday.

Anyway, three things:

-The whole "everything would be better if you were just near one particular person" is living rent free in my head.

-Muriel is so precious and I will cry if anything happens to them

-What the **** is that angel outfit that Crowley is wearing??? It's giving y2k/soccer mom vibes, I can't-

[soupernatural]

spn girlies: a fic masterlist by ao3 user dirtybackroad

…mary… some men are like mirrors (T, 2k) : what if mary got to go a little roxie hart for the night? let her cheat on john and kill a guy a little bit, y'kno? two discount lives (T, 1.4k) : in progress. my season 12 rewrite. mary’s back, but this time she’s gay. men of letters but without all the fuckin consent issues and absolutely no ketch. <3 taking careful aim (G, 1.5k) : teenage gay mary feat. some gender issues and gay weird girls in the woods learning how to shoot. lonely for words unspoken (T, >1k) : mary goes to ellen’s roadhouse for a visit post hunt. mary/ellen

…claire… a holy fire (G, 400) : holder of my favorite claire line: “claire sits in church. somewhere out there, an angel wears her father like a coat.” miss nothing miss everything (T, >1k) : gracefreak claire. hunting angels for their grace, taking what she wants from the world. a 600 word peek into an au that lives rent fucking free in my brain and i plan on writing more of.

destiel aus | destiel canonverse fics | misc. spn

[skjeinon]

begging for more cale x reader x nate content 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 soft, smutty, both, neither, whatever you’re in the mood for

you ask? you receive.

nate definitely lays in bed with you longer then he should while cale makes breakfast. he insists that it’s because he’s bigger than cale and that he would keep you warm better than the other blonde would.

when nate stays in bed with you, his arms stay wrapped around you , and he wakes you up by gently kissing your skin and shaking you slightly, not hard but just a gentle squeeze and a little rustling in the bed usually worked.

cale, rather than holding you with your back to his chest, when nate goes to make breakfast. he pulls you to lay on top of him like an animal, so he lays on his back while you have your face in his chest. or you’re just laying on your sides and have your arms and legs around him while his legs are tangled with yours, has his hands on your back, on your head or just anywhere that makes you comfortable

those two boys are at your beck and call and love you so much. cale makar indulges when you make sweets or want them, he gives them always but even will enjoy it until nate finds out. you hated the regular season for it because you couldn’t actively bake for them and let them eat it until the off season.

you all go to calgary for the first half of the week then all go to halifax for the second half of the week at christmas. to media, you’re nate’s girlfriend so when cale brings you both back home, especially you, they’re confused and cale is scared to tell them so he insists it’s just a family affair and you had no one else to spend christmas with.

nate’s family in halifax is also oblivious but when going out with sidney for nate, you were all over cale. hockey captain status was important.

you play with cales hair a lot, even tho it’s really short, but his hair feels so much better then nate’s and sometimes nate makes you want to pull his hair , and not in any other way but out of spite or anger.

nates sweet spot is on his hip bone while cales is on his neck

the guest bedroom is set up so that if there’s an argument or someone is uncomfortable, they can sleep there, but usually they prefer to both sleep with you.

cale and nate aren’t the type to go down on each other, it’s just not their cup of tea, but cheek and forehead kisses are a must. if nate’s leaving and you and cale are laying on the couch, he will walk over and give you both little kisses before leaving. same with cale.

nate and cale show affection through words, small actions and their love for you, and you’re essentially just their princess. they will do anything for you

you and cale find photos of nate when he was first a rookie and then beg him to regrow his long hair/mullet.

he says no, obviously.

i’ll make 18+ ones past here

the two usually take turns with you and the other one will help comfort you through your orgasm, but sometimes the two are inside of you at the same time and you’re literally laying between them, trying not to just shut your brain off.

both of them are bigger than you’d think, especially cale. while it’s a burden for cale, you love it. @/flashyfucker’s fat cock makar live in my head rent free. so usually having them just take turns is for the better so they don’t actually hurt you.

both of the boys are into different stuff while some things may overlap, the two definitely have nights where it’s just one on one with you. you always want to try new things and when it comes to said new things, it means that maybe nathan wants to sit out or cale wants to sit out.

[demonmary]

spn girlies: a fic masterlist by ao3 user dirtybackroad

...mary... some men are like mirrors (T, 2k) : what if mary got to go a little roxie hart for the night? let her cheat on john and kill a guy a little bit, y'kno? two discount lives (T, 1.4k) : in progress. my season 12 rewrite. mary’s back, but this time she’s gay. men of letters but without all the fuckin. consent issues and absolutely no ketch. taking careful aim (G, 1.5k) : teenage gay mary feat. some gender issues and gay weird girls in the woods learning how to shoot. lonely for words unspoken (T, >1k) : mary goes to ellen’s roadhouse for a visit post hunt. mary/ellen

...claire... a holy fire (G, 400) : holder of my favorite claire line: “claire sits in church. somewhere out there, an angel wears her father like a coat.” miss nothing miss everything (T, >1k) : gracefreak claire. hunting angels for their grace, taking what she wants from the world. a 600 word peek into an au that lives rent fucking free in my brain and i plan on writing more of.