#and let's not forget the casual homophobia

[be-my-ally]

The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

As always it's super late here, I will re-edit grammar etc tomorrow! enjoy!

Summary: It’s the next day and they’re off on their return flight. Elvis and Bunny get up to panicking and meditating, and then a couple hours of later one of the other bunnies joins them. Idk I just really can’t see elvis missing out on such a prime chance for a teeny lil bit of voyeuristic action. 

I truly tried to wiggle the wrist weights in but alas, not to be today - next time though, next time. 

Warnings: 18+, p in v penetrative sex, handjobs (v), oral (p and v), mentions of drug use, graphic description of a panic attack, f/f touching, elvis is kinda sweet in this one - except for the voyeurism + girl on girl action; TO CLARIFY - this is asked for by elvis + both parties consensually agree however, I am warning about very teeny tiny elements of internalised homophobia + the fact that reader implies she only does so (at least at first) to please elvis - she is not, however, reluctant nor unwilling.

wc: 11.4k

FYI: I’ve updated my bio to say I’m pausing requests - just until I get my inbox cleared down + posted! xx Also!!! I’ve had a couple of requests for a taglist - so this is my official mention of that; lmk if you want me to tag you in future posts! FINALLY found images of Elvis AND big bunny! pictured on the left and top right below!

Your brief encounter with Elvis had been your first experience of anything casual, or meaningless, and you’ve never had to navigate the emotions or situations before. It makes you antsy that you don’t know the correct procedure even before you’d left the plane; what do you even say to him? ‘Thanks for the sex, see you on the flight tonight?’ You’re not proud of it, but you ultimately panic to such an extent that you hide in the powder room until they’ve all disembarked. You’d not realised you’d have to hide from the other bunnies too though; they’d all converged on you as soon as you’d left - desperate for any morsel of information you would give. You’d somehow, thankfully for your dignity and the taxi driver’s ears, managed to prevent them from asking too many questions until you’d all arrived at the hotel where you would be staying. 

You were looking forward to ensconcing yourself in the hotel room, a proper shower and time to relax for the night and day or so before the return flight. That was, however, not to be, and you were thankful that you’d had the chance to at least wipe yourself down before getting redressed on the plane; your sudden lack of tights had forced you back into your dress - unwilling to be so exposed in your bunny corset. Instead of the peaceful night you had planned Daisy and Maggie were forcing their way into the room (of course, they’d have been sharing with you anyway but you can’t say that you didn’t try to run in and close the door on them) with Darla and Michelle close behind; you forget sometimes that even though they may be more ‘senior’ bunnies, they were still only two years older than you. They sit down around you, demanding you tell them everything, wanting you to fill in the gaps between the assumptions they could make from what they’d heard and when things had gone silent. 

“Oh lord, I just don’t know what to do -” You'd said after you’d recounted, blushing, the majority of the details; you’d left out him licking you, or that you think that might have been the first true orgasm of your life. You leave out that you think the hour you spent with him might have made you fall in love, and other ridiculous notions. And, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a detailed description of him, trying to simultaneously protect him and to keep something just for you; you wouldn’t let them speculate on his size, or his stamina. But you had mentioned that he had a thing for feet, something that had been met with raucous laughter and clapping from the girls when you’d prefaced that with the story of your pantyhose being torn. You were, despite your embarrassment, glad to have these girls around you - you’d grown up in a fairly conservative part of town, and you know any of your close childhood or home friends would have been disgusted with you. They might have let it go - since it was Elvis, or have loudly judged you while silently expressing a level of jealousy but under no circumstances would they have encouraged the behaviour, or been so happy for you. Nor would they have interjected your story with their own, somewhat similar, although far less famous, tales. By the time the conversation had gotten back around to your dilemma with how to deal with Elvis again you were all relaxing on the two beds, piled up and crossed legged like a slumber party. “So really - what should I do?” 

“Just don’t change a thing,” Daisy recommends, “If he wants to make something of it let him, but you have to rise above it all. Seem like you don’t care. “ Maggie offers you differing advice;

“If you want it to happen again, just be all over him, it’s not like you have to worry that he doesn’t like you.” You consider these opposing suggestions, silent, sipping the terrible hotel coffee. Michelle speaks up, Darla nodding in agreement;

“In my experience… you’ve got to subtly let him know you’re there and available, but don’t fawn over him, just … just say hello in a friendly way and it’s all in his hands then. Remember, be casual about it.” You consider this for a moment before agreeing. It does seem to be the way of the least mortification. You try to put it out of your mind for the remainder of the break, taking the time to try and focus on resting and relaxing before you had to be back in the air. 

This time, there’s far less pomp and circumstance around his arrival; and you’re not surprised to see that it’s solely the same group again. Only Darla greets them on the tarmac - the rest of you already onboard and preparing for a quicker departure than last time. This time, you’re all in your little bunny suits, collars and cuffs, cottontails perfectly fluffed - since he’d requested it you all assumed it would save being made to change. This airport was, despite being private, closer in airspace to the larger international airport and your takeoff time was therefore far stricter than any of you would have liked. All knowing that sometimes these celebrities were as difficult to wrangle as herding a particularly difficult group of cats.

So you don’t have a chance to really look at him, take him in, until he’s brushing past you, his thick hands on your hips and waist moving you from where you’re blocking a narrower part of hallway with your body. He doesn’t say excuse me, or ask you to move, just manhandles you across him. You feel then, before you see, the soft plush fabric of his outfit, and when you glance over your shoulder at him you’re a little surprised that rather than the expensive, perfectly fitted, suit he was wearing last time, this time he was wearing a, clearly expensive but nonetheless fairly ordinary, tracksuit - navy blue, low zipper exposing the wide collared shirt underneath - his chest hair peeking out. Your tummy flips seeing him, and you stay very still where he’s put you, struggling to remember what your plan had been. He pats your ass, casually, in the blatantly chauvinistic way that should make you squirm, that implies he could and would do it to any girl at any time - although you hadn’t actually witnessed that yourself, and you’re mortified that at even that brief touch, without any words exchanged your breath hitches and your mind goes slightly blank. He’s gone by the time you try to open your mouth to say something and you try to clear your head by distracting yourself with the take-off preparations. 

Michelle is eyeing you up when you’re finishing checking the door, and she opens her mouth but you’re frantically shaking your head before she can say anything, gesturing to not say a word. She frowns, but complies - a moment later only asking you to help her sort the food out. You do so, happy to disappear for a little while and let the others deal with them for a bit. It’s not long after that the pilots signal for take-off and you sit down briefly as the plane taxies down the runway. You’re distracted enough by the situation you find yourself in; are you making it more awkward not talking to him? That for once the take-off doesn’t bother you at all and soon the plane is balanced in the air, allowing you and Michelle to finish your preparations. Daisy pops her head around the corner a few minutes later saying you’d been requested. 

You breathe in, deeply, as much as you can as a little bunny, plastering a smile on your face and you head out to the forward compartment where the group is sat. You expect to walk straight over to Elvis, but you’re stopped by someone else whose name escaped you - barely greeting you; 

“Look babydoll, last night, you made me the best Mai Tai of my life, and I’m sure you’re all…” he looks sideways, “as well trained as each other, but honey,  I’d really like it if you could do me another one?” You somehow manage to keep your face in check even though you want to scream at his barely concealed innuendo. Instead, you agree, customer service smile on your face, and turn to the rest of the compartment asking if they were all ready for drinks. There’s a resulting chorus of orders and so you head over to the bar to get started. Elvis hadn’t responded, walking out when you’d walked in - he’d gone right into the conference space and one of the boys had mimed a phone to his ear at another's questioning face. You were a little hurt to not be acknowledged but also, truthfully, a little relieved to not have to deal with him for the second. But it wasn’t to last long, upon delivering the other drinks with the other girls to many a relieved sigh,  a different man had pointed through to the conference area, gesturing to the bar, 

“Think you should take the boss a little pick me up too.” You nod in agreement but he hadn’t drank last time and you have no idea what that would mean making so instead you pour a short glass of cola, hoping that’ll do at least, and balancing the glass on the tray, head through the little curtained archway. You try not to show any emotion when you walk through, keeping your face neutral and concentrating on holding the drinks tray, the slight tip of the plane was liable to send a single glass sliding if you didn’t balance it perfectly. You hear him before you see him, curled against the wall with the phone pressed to his ear. His fingers twirling the cord as he looked out of the window, but with how dark it was outside he could only be looking at his reflection. You’d intended your poker face to display that you weren’t going to be the first to crack, to acknowledge anything but now you’re having to maintain it to retain dignity once you hear what he’s saying. He’s sweet-talking a girl, uttering promises and reassurances; 

“No, honey, darling, no - would I be ringing you now? You don’t need to nag me baby, that’s right you’re my baby aren’t ya, ye-ah, put it on your card honey, on my card, yeah that’s no problem… you know I like you in blue…” 

You know you have no claim on him; despite your activities together you’ve barely spoken to him, and you’ve only known the man 24 hours and yet a weird surge of possessiveness fills you. Or is it even possessiveness? Or just plain jealousy? Half the trouble was that you’ve never wanted someone like this — you’d never understood why the girls at school would fawn over a specific boy, it had never interested you. You’d never lain awake wondering what you should wear or how you should style your hair to best catch their attention. But today, just this morning, you’d nipped out to the nearest drugstore to the hotel and frivolously bought a new lipstick; you had no need for a new one, and certainly not in the colour you’d chosen - far flashier than you would usually wear, for some reason certain it would catch his eye, but you’d been unable to resist the temptation of putting on a bit of a show for him. To have that gone to waste, for him to ignore you, preoccupied with worrying about appeasing some other girl? Who wasn’t even there? You were annoyed at yourself, for being hurt by his actions and for doing it in the first place. 

He finally spots you in the window and he turns, waving you over, reaching out a hand for his drink off of your tray. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge you, or pause in his conversation, simply demanding you come closer with an impatient hand raised. You come towards him, dipping to allow him to easily take the glass, and you watch as he immediately tips it back for a gulp and places the half-full glass back onto the tray. He makes a little mmhmm noise down the phone as he turns his attention back to the call, and the girl on the other end. You turn to leave, not willing to simply stand there and wait for him to want the glass again, jumping when you feel him swat at your exposed thigh. You whirl back around, ready to either playfully (or truthfully, actually) confront him - once was fine but twice? But, before you can he’s back giving his attention to the phone again, looking out of the window. You take it as the dismissal he meant it, and you hate that as you walk away you add an extra sway to your walk - bunny tail bobbing with the motion - just in case he’s looking, and that you can feel your slightly smug smile from even that touch.

It feels like hours, but it was probably only twenty or so minutes later when he returns to the forward compartment, settling down into the large sofa-seat in the middle of the cabin. You’re forced to walk past a moment later and he grabs your arm on the way; 

“You look real good today Bunny - very cute.” You wiggle your tail at him and he chuckles; that deep laugh that starts in his chest but ends in his belly. His head rocks and it causes his loose hair to flop about, so different from it’s stiff look from the years prior. You beam at him, pleased to have been so entertaining. He looks you up and down again, still holding onto you,

“Like the lips darlin’. You wear that just for me?” You shake your head no, but he just laughs at you, “Ohhhh, you did it for ol’ Joe over there then did ya?” Feeling the catch-22 you’ve put yourself into you frown, you don’t want to admit that you did do it for him, but god do you not want him to even jokingly suggest you were trying to attract one of the other guys. So you do the next best thing, shaking your head and teasing him back.

“Nu-uh it was for me.” He laughs back at you, his eyes crinkling. When he calms back down he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“ O’course it was honey,” You protest his condescending tone,

“It was!” You gesture down at yourself,  “I don’t put all this on just for you,” He laughs again, eyes crinkling as he crows at you; shouting to the rest of the boys.

 “Ooh-hoo we got ourselves a real-life feminist bunny over here!” He says it mockingly, adding a sneer; “Watch out Ms. Steinem!” He scoffs,  “Now hon-ney, we both know it ain’t true… so why don’t you stop playing hard to get, admit you made yourself all pretty for me and come and sit over here. Right on daddy’s knee.” He pats his lap. You frown, you were a feminist, but his lap did look pretty inviting, and your heels were already hurting and you had wanted his attention. So, you do. 

“I’m only doing this because you’re paying me.” He chuckles again, one hand coming around you to hold your waist, the other coming to hike your legs further up and across him, his broad hand rubbing your thigh as he does so;

“Sure thing honey - you want me to tip you a little extra for whatever we’re about to do in there?” He nods his head towards the back of the plane. You frown a little, you know he’s joking but you’re suddenly a little worried he does think you’re paid to provide him with extra services. ‘We naturally do not tolerate any merchandising of the bunnies.’ That’s what the bunny bible says. Its word is law, so it’s not true that any extra services are expected. But then, when you think about it, you were told to be…nice to him. The annoying thought then registers, less concern about whether what you’re doing is against the rules, that you hope he realises that you’re doing this because you want to and not just because you’ve been told to. You try to shake this thought off, be casual - c’mon be casual, the mantra running through your head as you attempt to push all other thoughts and feelings out. After all, you don’t want him to think you’re not fun, or reading too much in to anything. 

“No-o, that’s, that’s, that’s just an added bonus.” You stroke down the zipper of his jacket, and he laughs again, grabbing your hand and kissing the knuckles.  He spreads your hands in his, assessing them. 

“God, you got such pretty little fingers baby, look at them lil’ nails  - what’s that colour called? Call-Girl Red? Scarlet Tart?” You blush, but you’re able to laugh, recognising that he would only continue to suggest increasingly ridiculous names until you did. He holds you there while he finishes his conversation with the boys, fingers brushing over your skin, until finally, he pats your thigh phrasing an order as a question - “Come through to the bedroom, doll?” You stand up, waiting for him to lead the way to the bedroom at the back of the plane; instead he stands and gestures ahead of him.

“C’mon bunny, hop to it,” He pauses, grinning after his borderline tragic bunny pun as if waiting for a laugh; you comply with a polite giggle even though it’s really not that funny, and take his hand when he holds it out, “let’s go.” When you cross into the bedroom he lets go, leaving you to sit down on the huge elliptical bed while he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You try to breathe, wondering what he has planned when he returns. 

You have no idea why you’re suddenly so nervous. There’s a rising sensation of breathlessness travelling up your chest, your stomach churning a little. You feel inexplicably sick, and for a moment you worry, as the plane bobs the tiniest bit - the motion normally soothing, that you might actually puke. He’s still in the bathroom, and you’re trying to calm yourself down - what will you say to him when he comes out? He’s expecting something now. You don’t want to miss out on anything, it had been so good last time; you didn’t want this to be the new lasting memory of your, however brief, time together. You try to tell yourself you’re being ridiculous - c’mon now, calm down, you’re fine - it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before - not like you haven’t done this before, why are you doing this - don’t ruin it for yourself - oh my god why are you such a little baby get a grip.  But that clawing feeling is climbing your chest and you’re struggling to swallow - to breathe. You’re ripping off your little bow and collar as hurriedly as you can but it doesn’t make a difference. You sink down lower, practically lying down now, attempting to practice deep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s in that moment he comes bounding out of the bathroom - looking you over, as if he’d expected to be ready to pounce; not deal with you still fully dressed (as much as you could be in the bunny corset) and close to tears. 

“Hey - hey honey what’s this?” He sounds panicked, and his pitch only increases at the tear falling down your cheek. You try to speak but can’t; “Just - Just talk to me bunny, what, what’s wrong?”  You whine at him, trying to sit up and look at him rather than peep from your horizontal angle. He makes it easier by sitting by you on the bed and peering down at your face. 

“Nuh-uh-thing,” You finally gasp out, “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just - just got myself all twisted.” A tear slips out, and you angrily brush it away trying to stem the flow. He looks concerned for a second, patting your arm.

“I won’t - we haven’t -  we don’t gotta do anything baby, you know that? Not gotta do a thing you don’t wanna do.” He sounds unsure, like he’s not had to deal with this before, or like he’s nervous he’s upset you. It only makes the tears fall a little faster - at how nice he’s being to you when you don’t feel as though you deserve it.

“No-o no I know, I want to,  I just can’t seem to stop,” You talk through your hitched breaths, trying to explain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t breathe.” He hums, looking over at the little table that ran the length of the wall, at the little black bag settled there before patting his thighs and sighing. 

“Right. ‘nough messing about - lemme just get one of the boys to call Dr. -” 

“No! No! No - I want you! I wanna do this!” You roll onto your side, scrambling upright and turning to grip his jacket, twisting it in your fist. “I wanna - Elvis I promise I’ll be fine in a second just need to calm down. Catch my breath.”

“Well, if its just you’re breathing all funny let me just give you a puff of an inhaler; they’ve barely got anything in them, just wet your throat really but- but they do help,” You shake your head and he sighs again, as if unhappy you’d refuse the offer. But then he nods, almost to himself, and taking matters into his own hands - hauls you up to be leaning against this thick, sturdy, chest. The zipper was a little lower than before and another button of his shirt has popped open allowing you to pillow your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you feel yourself come down. Shame creeping up as you become fully lucid at how irrational you’d behaved. You sit there for a little while - maybe as long as twenty minutes, but could be as short as ten. Elvis hums song after song at you, occasionally breaking into a little quiet verse, chest hairs tickling you as he moved. Finally you feel sane enough to push up a little, pulling away.

“Sorry - Sorry don’t know what came over me.” You stare at his chest, avoiding making eye contact. He brushes his hand over your chin, pulling it up to force you to look at him. He’s looking at you with an expression of tenderness that’s almost too much to bear. 

“S’all right doll, told you - it’s all fine.” You give him a tentative smile. 

“I’m sure that wasn’t very …sexy of me, but I do wanna give it another go, please Elvis?” He looks at you hard for a moment, directly in your eyes, as if attempting to judge you were being serious. He clearly decides you were because a moment later he’s leaning over you and moving his hand up your leg. 

But when his hand grazes your upper thigh, travelling upwards you feel yourself tense, suddenly stiff as a board. He kisses your neck, and his hand retreats. He spends a long couple of minutes stroking your arm, kissing your neck - your ears. Before attempting it for a second time. Again he gets most of the way there before you go stiff and tense. He moves his hand back to your arm,  talking lowly and slowly, practically whispering. 

“Now, darlin’ s’ok - we’ve done it before baby.” He’s soothing you like you’re a skittish horse, crooning into your ear, “If you wanna do this I need you to relax for me darling. Can’t do anything otherwise.” You nod, agitated at the accusation that you’re not already attempting to relax. 

“I’m trying Elvis - I want to too! I just, it’s involuntary!” He hums - looking over at the bag again -

“Look, honey, I’ve got some, some ‘ludes you can take,” You frown, you didn’t think Elvis was known for doing disco drugs. “I take ‘em to uh help me settle down baby.” You start to speak, perhaps to question the veracity of this claim or where he gets these from - considering his position on recreational drugs. But before you can he’s talking again; “Don’t get me wrong doll, I’m not - don’t get it twisted - they’re prescribed.” He pauses again - “But they’ll sort you right out, real leg spreaders. Won’t change your mind, if you say you want it you still will but, trust me, they’ll relax your body enough.” You shake your head at him, not admitting that while you would love to breathe the concept of not being in complete control of your body was terrifying, instead taking deep breaths to try and force yourself to relax a little more. 

“No-no, no need for that, ‘m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me - I’m so nervous today - I just, sorry - just need another minute.” He sighs again, and although the irrational part of your brain worries it’s in annoyance you can tell he’s more annoyed about you consistently declining his offers of help. He’s still doing his best to soothe you, delicate fingers firmly rubbing your arms and sides, a constant motion. “I just - I know it’s ridiculous, but I still feel like I can’t breathe properly.” His fingers stop on the boning of the corset, and he taps it - as if he’s discovered an answer. 

“Awh no this is silly now doll, who could all squished in there like that.” He gestures down to where your chest is threatening to spill out of the tightly laced and zipped bodice. You frown, you’re pretty sure it’s mental and not physical but now he’s drawn attention to it you feel like it’s tightening around your middle. You twist to attempt to unhook it yourself - moving forward to bend out of his lap; “No, no darling, let me - I’ll get this thing offa you.” He pushes you further forward a little way, and then with surprising skill deftly undoes the bunny corset. You don’t want to admit it but the moment the hooks fall away you do feel as if some of the air has returned to your lungs. He’s gently and firmly peeling it away from your body, pulling it down and off of your legs - tutting and stroking the little red marks where the seams and boning have dug into you a little - whether because it was just generally too tight or because you’d been contorted into a slightly awkward position. 

“Lord almighty - they doin’ that to you every day?” You shrug, about to say that it wasn’t that much worse than some of your tighter dresses or your panty girdle. He holds it up though, looking at it with distaste, rather than the humour he had the first time he’d seen it off of you -  as if seeing it for the first time. “They should make ‘em stretchier! Or - or - a better lining!” He frowns again, “I’m gonna ring Hef and tell him - it’s not right!” You shake your head, the conversation at least distracting you from your lungs. 

“Elvis - it’s not like I’m meant to be naked right now. How would you supposedly know.” You gesture down at yourself, a little flushed at the realisation that you were, in fact topless and therefore nude from the waist up. He laughs at you, a little condescendingly. 

“You ‘spect me to believe he doesn’t know what you’re up to?” He pauses, “Or that…, bunny, you know, I was, uh, warned that you girls would be… available.” You grimace, it makes you feel like a whore when it’s put like that and you try to return you mind to the point you were trying to make. 

“Well, still, if it’s because of me that the boat gets rocked - I like my job, and it was at your request we’re proper bunnies today and not in our flight uniforms!” He rolls his eyes at you, huffing at the accusation.

“Ok, ok. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You laugh a little, and you notice your chest bobbing with the motion - it makes you suddenly very aware of your nudity, probably a sign that you’re starting to return to normal, and you wrap an arm around your middle while scrambling to sit properly upright instead of in a semi recline. He looks at you sideways, starting to lean down, 

“Well - now we got that sorted - “ You cut him off,

“It wasn’t about that - it was just, I just got all caught in my head, I think I’m a little messed up; it happens every now and again. It just - anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Could you, sorry, would you pass me my bag from over there?” You nod towards the bag just inside the door, it had been a little presumptuous perhaps but you’d left it close enough that if you had missed the mark it wouldn’t have been tricky to move or hide it. “I’ll get changed now.” He frowns, he’s sat upright again himself, but doesn’t move for the bag, instead pulling your arm around and dragging you to sit over his legs again - he leans back, pulling your head to lie on his chest. 

“Babe - there’s nothing wrong with you… you just gotta, gotta put a little of it into the air, believe it’s happening for a reason.” He pauses, one arm moving up to wrap around your waist, the other stroking your arm, catching on the little cuff that was still there. “You gotta promise you won’t - it’s no secret, not anymore, but I don’t share this with everyone - so you promise you won’t laugh?” You nod, as best you can - he sounds nervous. “My mama, she er, she always used to say I was real special, that I had a gift.” You nod again, assuming this is about to lead into him singing something to you which, while you didn’t think it was going to be key to ending these nerve attacks you keep having, is certainly not something you would discourage. “But, she uh used to say I had the power to heal things, and, and I think its true baby, so will you - maybe if we can; if I can give you some of my ‘nergy and we think about it - real hard - together, we might get somewhere? Just gotta, gotta connect - spiritually. Maybe if I, If I push on you, and we meditate together we might, it might help?” He looks so hopeful and sounds so earnest that, despite your misgivings about the veracity of these claims, you agree. 

“Ok, ok - if you think, if it might help. I just, I do wanna do things with you, I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You won’t baby, you won’t.” He sits down, cross legged at the top of the bed, pulling you around to sit in front of him. He makes no mention of your nakedness, and you’re doing your best not to notice it yourself. “Ok, honey, so just, I’m gonna put my hands here, and you’re just going to breathe with me ok?” His eyes are bright, and his face open, like he’s simply excited to be able to share this with someone. You nod, placing your hands on top of where his are resting on his thighs. “Hold on baby, let’s get these offa ya too.” And he unbuttons your little cuffs, rubbing your wrists where they’d sat, “You don’t hafta, don’t need to think about anything ok darling? You just sit there, and focus on my hands and match my breathing ok? I’ll do all the hard work.” You nod again, and he shuffles himself a little, as if getting himself ready to settle in. “Oh - and I want you to close your eyes.” You look at him for a second, attempting to gauge that he’s being serious and this isn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. He gazes back at you, blue eyes completely calm, and you let your eyes slip closed. He hums a moment later, and then you feel him clasping your hands. 

You can tell he’s focussing his breathing, slowing it down and drawing it out, and you match him as best you can, feeling him spread your fingers and press his palms into yours. It takes all of your attention and sufficiently distracts you from your panic and worry that quickly you don’t realise you’re no longer thinking about anything but the light pressure of his hand on yours and the air filling your lungs. 

You’re entirely focussed on his slow, measured breaths, and your mind is blank - it’s almost a surprise when an immeasurable time later he flexes his hands, whispering at you to open your eyes. You come back up slowly, blinking in the artificial light of the plane, despite Elvis having used the dimmer. 

Although you do, admittedly, feel better you’re still not wholly convinced by his healing properties. What you are grateful for however, is how happy he looks when you open your eyes, as if pleased to have been given the opportunity. And regardless of the ability to heal you, you also feel like something has changed. A shift in the energy between you. 

His hand grasps yours, his fingers releasing you to trail up your wrist, up your forearm, and stroke back down to your palms again, brushing his fingers all the way down to your very fingertips and starting all over again. The motion of it, after the intimacy of the last half hour sends your nerve-endings alight, goosebumps forming over your flesh. You feel completely calm, completely ready for him again, your posture straight but relaxed. He moves his hands further up, brushing against your armpits and you gasp as he tickles you the tiniest amount. Suddenly, you find yourself up on your knees - leaning into him, falling into him. Your hands cupping his face, fingers tangling in his sideburns. He catches you in his relaxed arms, the soft fabric of his jacket rubbing against your nipples. He’s still breathing quite deeply, mouth parted - and it allows you to press your lips against his, tongue rapidly falling into his mouth. His hands spread across your torso, curving around your chest as you lean into him - trying to get as physically close to him as you emotionally feel.

His thumbs twirl in circles and your back arches as your nipples pebble against his soft touch - your pussy suddenly starting to feel unbearably hot in its three layers of tights and panties. You huff against his lips, pulling back to grasp the waistband of them all - determined to simply roll them all down together, saving them from him, and you do so in one motion almost immediately regretting that it left you completely bare while he was still fully clothed. He doesn’t give you a chance for it to be more than a fleeting thought though, lying you back, still focussed on making you breathless with his mouth. He kisses along your cheek to your neck and you gasp as he sucks on the sensitive patch just above where your collar bone joins your shoulder. You try to reciprocate, pushing the jacket off of him and struggling to unbutton the last of his shirt -  exposing his chest and stomach. He bats your hand away when you go for the top of his pants, pulling away from you and he stands up - surveying you. 

“You ready for me, baby?” You squirm a little under his gaze, and you’re not sure where the boldness comes from to reach a hand down, dragging a finger over your wetness, and spreading the folds of your labia open for him to see the glistening stickiness within. 

“I dunno, what do you think?” His mouth gapes at you, breathing heavily, the motion as unexpected to him as it was to you, and as you sink a finger into yourself, moaning while you do, he hurriedly removes his pants - throwing them somewhere, his eyes never straying from your core. He pushes your arm out of the way a moment later, 

“Think you look like a goddamn fucking centrefold - Jesus Christ, bunny, Lord, all for me, Halle-fucking-lujah,” He lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to your chest, pumping himself a few times before lining his cock up with your entrance. 

He sinks into you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that he guides into you. The slight overhang of his belly pressing against your middle as he holds you close, pressing into you as deeply as he can get. You feel every inch of him, every fold in his skin as he pushes in - you know he’s not huge, but it’s been so long that to have something in you two nights in a row, you can feel your entrance ache a little, and inside a slight burn from the stretch. He groans, feeling your tight walls clench around him as you shift, wrapping your legs around him crossing your ankles behind his back. He pants against your ear, kissing the sensitive patch of skin right behind.  He’s encasing you in him, smothering you, the smell of him - he’d clearly showered after his show, the faint hint of neutrogena still clinging to him but his own scent, the mixture of his own musk and woodsy cologne layering over it - surrounds you. It altogether feels as intimate as the meditation did - just his and your bodies entangled together. He rests there, barely rocking into you, slowly, almost tenderly - before dragging himself out, rolling off.

“Gotta let you breathe, mama - wanna get deeper.” The concept seems impossible, but he’s pushing one of you legs to the side, rolling you slightly and clambering on top, straddling your other leg and kneeling down before he’s sinking in again. 

“Oh - shit, shit - how’re you, oh my god Elvis, that’s - I’ve never,” He knocks against your walls, blindly, until he hits the little bundle of nerves inside you causing all thoughts to leave your head, unable to form a sentence past whimpering. You prop yourself up with one hand, holding onto him with the other, it’s new for you - to be able to watch someone’s face as well as watch them push themselves into you. Being able to look at his face, his mouth open, little grunts and moans flowing as his eyes half-close in pleasure is mind-blowing; beyond your wildest imagination. 

“Oh baby, mama, you’re so - oh god, how are you still so tight, you ain’t been properly broken in yet, have you, fuck,” His hips are thrusting into you now, little jolts of pleasure running down your spine and you whine as he hushes you, rubbing a hand across your tummy, moving it up to grasp at your breast. He squeezes, on the edge of too hard, swiping his thumb across your nipple as he pinches it - causing you to clench down on him again, prompting a low groan out of his own mouth. He strokes down your torso, before resting his hand on you, it feels huge across your stomach, heavy and hot almost feeling like it’s burning through you. He slips his thumb lower, coaxing your clitoris out from hiding. 

“Want you to go with me, C’mon now baby - c’mon bun, I’m close,” He slams his hips into you, “Al-most there,” His fingers rub over you a little faster, and your nails of your supporting hand dig into your own hair, the other clutching his arm, as you tumble over the edge, shouting,

“Oh - oh - oh, god, Elvis - daddy, god, fuck that’s - oh god,” You hear him swear, pulling out just in time and spraying over your stomach, his fingers coming off of you, allowing you to come down, your body still trembling for a few moments.  

When you feel like you’re properly back on earth, a few minutes later, you’re still lying back, panting, while you hear him stand and  get himself wiped off.  Coming over to you to gently wipe away the mess on your tummy. He looks over at you, eyes still half-lidded, 

“C’mon ‘lil bunny, time to get back to work.” He pats your thighs and you shakily stand up. Despite his hurry he behaves almost unexpectedly gentlemanly and fetches your bag for you from beside the door. “Ain’t gonna make you put that torture device back on - you can do the leather if you want.” You frown, thinking for a moment - everyone will know what you’ve been up to then, but then you laugh to yourself a little - everyone already certainly knows. You pause before getting your underwear back on, slightly surprised at his speed, looking over at him; 

“You sure you won’t…don’t wanna go again?” He looks a little bashful for a second, 

“ ‘m not, I’m an ole man now baby.” Is all he says in reply, but it does the job in conveying what he meant. You look over at him - not sure that you’d describe him as old, he’s what… 38, 39? But you leave it be - dressing in the little leather coat/wrap dress. As you sit to roll your tights over your legs though he stops you, looking you over. “Bunny? Leave off the hose.” 

“Sure daddy, sure.” You obey, stripping them off again and pulling your boots onto your bare legs - undoubtedly you’ll get a blister but it’s worth it for the pleased way he looks at you and the kiss on the top of your head in reward for your obedience. You nip into the bathroom, trying to sort your hair and touch up your make-up, and by the time you’re ready to come out he’s gone. 

You walk out with your head up, and while you’re greeted with a series of smirks and some whispers you’re not as panicked about it as before, and you’re relieved he came out before you, positive that he took the brunt of any teasing. He winks at you when you pass him, dressed without his shirt now, but otherwise ignores you. This doesn’t upset you like before -  you’re content that only you and him truly know what’s just gone on and that your new, intimate, connection is safe and tucked away just for the two of you. It feels like you’ve been wrapped up in him for days and yet when you look over at the clock ticking away you realise you’ve only been in the air for an hour and a half. You feel a little like you’ve left a tiny part of yourself in that room with him, and that you should feel more vulnerable - more exposed than you do. Instead, you feel calm - your tension almost completely gone and with that you start to feel the possibility that you might actually be able to enjoy the next few hours. 

A couple of hours later, you’re dancing in the disco room - providing entertainment although you’re sure most of them, certainly Elvis, should be sleeping; unsure where the burst of energy from everyone has come from. But still, you’re dancing about with the other girls, playfully messing around, when he - from his sat position, lavender tinted glasses now on his nose, pulls you down to whisper in your ear,

“C’mon bunny, give me a little show - pick one of ‘em.” He gestures to the other girls bobbing around you. You look at him, mouth open, a little shocked at his bold request - so different from the sweet, slow, intimate behaviour from earlier. It’s not something you’re totally opposed to, but….in public? It’s as if he’s reading your mind; reassuring you -

“S’ok, baby, s’just us up here - just me and m’boys,” He pats you on the thigh, “Go on - there’s a good girl.” You stumble forward a little and make eye contact with Maggie - who was already looking over, clearly eager to share his attention. You look back over to Elvis, watching him grin at her, pleased that she seems so willing, “Just wanna watch you two kiss honey, nothing more - don’t gotta be that dirty but just… just a little. Just for me.” You nod, steeling yourself. But Maggie isn’t reluctant in any way, threading her fingers through yours to pull you closer. The tie of your leather dress brushes against her bare thigh, still in the bunny corset, and you feel her shudder against you as you step completely into her space. 

It’s a little strange, kissing her, different but simultaneously essentially the same. The startling difference was the … niceness of it, it was sweet and slow and gentle. Different from the lip biting and teasing of the men you’d kissed. You forget, for a moment, all the other people in the room, it’s narrowed to just the three of you although really you’re putting on a show for everyone, and you open your eyes - watching Elvis watch you. Despite Maggie’s lips on yours - her soft body still pressed against you - your focus is solely on him. His eyes are burning into you, and his legs are spread, thighs thick and inviting. You put a little more effort in, grasping her hair, rubbing down her back, and you listen to him huff a little chuckle when you jokingly squeeze her tail, and slot your leg between hers. You keep eye contact behind her head, watching him swallow, shifting a little to rub a hand over himself - completely unabashed at doing so in front of everyone. The sight of him sat there, looking like a sultan surveying his harem, blue eyes serious and intense, makes your eyes slip closed, and you put all your focus into the feeling of being watched and being kissed. You pull away, laughing as you both sway a little from the force of coming apart - you look over at him; 

“That alright Da-El?” He beams at you, 

“Perfect girls - so goddamn perfect.” He pats his thigh, the outline of his hardening cock almost completely visible, “Why don’t you come over here bunnies, let me have a better look.” You both do as he asks, giggling, as you tumble together onto his lap. It’s messier now, more fun, her hands scrabbling down your sides, and yours cupping her cheeks. You feel so hyper from it all that you almost feel drunk. His hand moves to support your lower back as you lean across to kiss Maggie again, giggling a little against her lips as she almost tips backwards until his arm catches her. 

“God, men fucking dream about this dolls - two little bunnies sat in their laps. But this is just for me ain’t it? Just for me?” His head is tipped back, but he swings it forward to look at you both - intensely, possessively. How a man could be possessive over two women he’d only known 48 hours, on a plane he didn’t even own, was mind-boggling - the sheer confidence required for that kind of thought overwhelming. Yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it, your own head nodding insistently to reassure him. Maggie looks askance at you, but still rapidly nods - the slight lie going unnoticed. His thigh flexes and where you’ve leant forward has hitched your tiny skirt up high enough that you’re now entirely sat feeling the soft fabric encasing his thigh underneath you rub against your bare legs. You can’t help but rock against it, just the tiniest amount. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, and instead of the shame you expected to feel, your stomach tightens in arousal at the sensation of being watched. He lets out a little moan, and it only makes you work harder, slipping your tongue into Maggie’s mouth as she pants against your lips. You feel Elvis’  hand slide up your body to the side of your ribcage, his thumb brushing your breast. You pull back, and he gasps as you stroke the outside of his soft trouser leg, gently rubbing the fabric over his cock. Elvis abruptly stands, pushing you both off. 

“Think there might be some important business I need to do in Hef’s office. Why don’t you two run along ahead - gonna need,” he looks sideways, jokingly, playing it up for your forgotten audience, “gonna need a couple of helping hands.” You give what can only be described as a polite smile, wondering what on earth has gotten into you that you were willing to display yourself like that in public. But for whatever reason you’re walking back into the bedroom again - this time following behind Maggie. You’re watching her from behind, and though you’ve seen her in uniform countless times you’re suddenly left wondering if her shape has always looked that inviting to grab - or if the teddy had always revealed so much of her ass. She seems far more at home in Hugh’s private quarters than you ever did the first time, and you realise suddenly that it’s very probable this isn’t her first time back here with a guest. The realisation shoots a burst of anxiety through you again, that you try to immediately brush away, that this whole thing really was just expected of you. 

Elvis shuts the door behind him when he comes in, immediately setting the mood lighting. Before resting his hand on your back and pulling you in for a quick kiss. It’s strange kissing him again now, you expect for some reason his lips to feel rough in comparison to Maggie’s, masculine instead of her soft femininity,  but as always his lips are full and buttery soft a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of his personality. He pulls away too soon and you find yourself leaning into him, eyes still closed, chasing the sensation, pouting when he laughs at you. 

“You good to go honey, or do you need a hand givin’ me a show?” You’re confused by what he’s offering, until you notice he’s holding out his hand two little pills sat in it. “Just vitamins baby,” You shake your head, you’re a little nervous but despite the environment you’re working in you’ve not taken anything yet, and the concept of it scares you more than your nerves. You’re surprised though when Maggie’s hand comes from nowhere, plucking one of them out of his palm and swallowing it dry. He beams at her, “Atta girl.” Maggie giggles at him, 

“Thank you daddy,” and he glances over at you, sideways, again before swallowing the leftover pill. 

He claps his hands, before suddenly, playfully, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You’re shocked at the display of physicality - not expecting it at all, and even more surprised when a moment later Maggie is thrown in much the same manner, bumping onto the bed and knocking into you. He settles himself up by the cushions, looking expectantly at the pair of you of you sprawled out and he gestures to the rest of the bed. He shifts, settling his hands on his open thighs, the hard outline of his cock almost completely visible through his pants. He clenches them into fists, like he’s trying not to touch. He looks, with his hair wild and his glasses on, so classically - typically Elvis that it makes your heart rate increase just watching him.

“Go on then, pretty little bunnies - wanna see you two - wanna see you havin’ fun. Give me a show.” It’s not a request but a command, and even if you’d wanted to (which you didn’t) you can’t do anything but obey. 

Maggie responds with a “Yes, sir,” as you move to situate yourself, kneeling at the bottom of the bed and she crawls over to meet you. This time she takes control, kissing you, her hands moving over the little leather coat-dress. It feels different having her lithe, nylon covered leg pushing in between yours instead of Elvis’ thick thigh. You wouldn’t go so far to say it’s better, but the friction against your thin panties and the way it allows your legs and thighs to stay fairly close, to clench and move is appealing. You can’t help but rock against her, clutching at her waist -  she laughs into your mouth, pulling your hair a little as she presses gentle kisses down your neck. You gasp, head falling back, before you pull away to lean forward again, catching her face between your hands, you rub against her, drawing her front back towards you - you giggle, whispering, 

“Mags’ I can’t - can’t believe we’re doing this...” Elvis chuckles behind you, clearly you weren’t as quiet as you thought, and that makes you laugh harder. It’s fun and flirty and you haven’t felt this chill about something in a while - the ability to just zone out and enjoy the sensations without having to worry about the future. You start to unbelt your dress, trying to move quickly - frantically, and as soon as you’ve got it unbuttoned Maggie is palming at you, pushing it down your shoulders. She moves forward a little more, and you lean back - letting Elvis get a better look at your newly uncovered skin. She moves her hand to brush against your panty-covered mound and you gasp. Your head falling forward onto her shoulder at the feel, so different from your own fingers or his thick digits, she moves her leg and you’re suddenly humping against nothing - you whine into the air, Elvis interrupting you as you try to pull her back.  

“Sl-slow down girls, get tha’ dress off and go a lil’ slower - there’s no rush. No need to rush now - just slow - slow it down.”  You nod trying to still your hips, gasping out, 

“Ok, ok, daddy - well - we’ll slow -ah- down,” and Maggie pushes you, both of you tumbling backwards. You roll for a moment, the silk of Maggie’s costume rubbing against your skin, the coolness a welcome relief to your burning skin. You suddenly catch, out of the corner of your eye, Elvis shifting, his arm moving at a rapid pace and you don’t know why, considering what you’re currently doing, you’re shocked to realise he has his cock out, that he’s touching himself watching you. You accidentally make eye contact, and you’re taken aback by the look on his face, his lip curling in pleasure. To be watched with such burning desire is shocking, and would be enough to make you shy had you not had this overwhelming sexual confidence come over you from somewhere. You absently think that you should probably help Maggie out of her corset, the pufftail isn’t comfortable to lie in and she was probably wishing for more breathability right now, but before you can offer she’s stroking a finger down you and all thoughts fly out of your head. She looks up at Elvis, questioning something that you can’t hear through your single-minded tunnel vision and hearing, but you manage to catch his reply; 

“No - no, just - just, just over top, honey, not - no, that’s just for me.” And she resumes to touching you over the top of the growing dampness of your panties, you groan at the sheer level of objectification; at being spoken about as if you were just there for his amusement, that you were his. Maggie renews her efforts though, and her fingers quickly, even over the soft cotton fabric of your underwear, find the spot to make you squirm, hips bucking into her. She soothes you, and you wonder if you should be reciprocating in some way but as her delicate fingers push the tiniest fold of fabric into you, you’re lost clutching at the fur throw, the slight friction easing as it gathers up your slick. She moves her finger to circle around your clit, bunching the fabric between her thumb and fingers and rubbing it against you. You somehow manage to blink open your eyes, leaning your head all the way back to look at Elvis; his entire focus is on what’s happening between your legs - it causes a shudder to run through you, and your stomach tightens as you feel your legs start to cramp; 

“Go on baby, hold it for me, hold it - don’t - want you to keep her just there for me - that’s it. Stop stop, that’s just for me.” She pulls her hand away and your back arches as whine, so close to the edge. 

He leans in gripping Maggie’s neck to kiss her and you can hear the wet smack of their lips together, he pulls back, briefly “Don’t worry, honey, don't wanna make you jealous…just wanna say thank you for such a lovely show - that’s alright isn’t it?” You can’t do anything but agree and he returns to her, hands on her neck and head to hold her in place. Watching it up close you can understand why he wanted to watch himself, you wonder if that’s what you look like with him too; all teeth and tongue and lips. You squirm, still feeling the possibility of your orgasm. 

“Now go on, there’s a good girl, run along now, thank you darling - You gonna be alright? You want me to get one of the boys to uh, see to ya properly?” She shakes her head, almost fondly as if laughing that she might need his help to find a willing partner.  “Well - You tell ‘em I said it’s ok.” He sends her on her way like he’s pimping her out for the night, you hate how it makes your core throb a little, and you can’t help but glow at being the very obviously chosen one; not just one night but two in a row. Maggie looks back at you, still lying on the fur throw, winks and leaves - sauntering through the door. When she’s gone Elvis turns back to you, rubbing sweeping circles on your stomach,

“Just wanna get you goin’ again for me,” His hand starts to trail down, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you put your own out - grasping his wrist to stop him wanting him to know;

“Daddy, I’ve never - that was my first time with,” He laughs, 

“Oh, honey, I know, I know. Did you like it?” You nod, and he laughs again, “I’ll bring my camera next time baby, can’t believe Hef’s not got one installed in here somewhere. What a waste.” He tries to move but you hold his hand where it is, causing him to look calculatingly over you, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Was there something you wanted?” 

“I…” You squirm under the pressure of his gaze and the tone of his voice. 

“C’mon bunny, tell me what you want.” You nod, a bit nervous - but you had stopped his hand for a reason. 

“Could you, would you… you know.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he responds, 

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?” 

“Ohh - you want me to go back down on you? Have another taste of that sweet yittle bunny cunt?” You wriggle at his harsh wording mixed with his babying tone, but you frantically nod. He grins, taking his glasses off and throwing them somewhere on the bed.

“Well ain’t today just my lucky day.” He manhandles you into a better position, ripping your underwear off, pushing you against the cushions and shoving one underneath your hips -  moving to situate himself between your thighs. He wiggles like a cartoon about to be served at a restaurant - almost certainly to make you laugh and you comply, nervously giggling, mind preoccupied with hoping that you taste alright now that you’ve asked for it. He spreads you open, kissing your inner thigh before moving closer to your core, and you can feel yourself pulse with anticipation.

He tentatively licks you, just a gentle, wet stripe and you immediately gasp - eyes flying wide open, startled at how sensitive you already felt. Although it shouldn’t come as any surprise, you’d been slick and swollen since you’d fucked earlier, and a bit sore since last night. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, and moves his fingers in to keep you spread open. Your hips buck of their own accord when he wets his lips and blows cold air onto you, watching you squirm and clench in response. You can feel his smile before he concentrates again his tongue lapping at your entrance. Your legs come up, needing more support to better grind onto him and your hands move down to grip his hair, thumbs digging into the side of his face, his sideburns, while your fingers find purchase in his long strands, gently holding him in place. He renews his efforts, flicking his tongue in your inner folds and he moves one of his hands to brace your stomach down as he moves to lick directly over your clit - your hips thrusting up enough in response for you to understand the necessity of his hand holding you down. You didn’t realise you could become addicted to the feel of something so quickly, but you’re not sure you’re going to be able to live without someone, preferably him, doing this to you regularly. The warm wet pressure builds, and on top of where you were already on the edge it’s quickly building to be almost too much. He pulls back just as you think you’re about to go over the edge and you groan, but he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick. 

“Oh god - is that, is that me on you?” He grins, 

“Sure is baby, sweetest honey from my honey bun-bun.” He licks his lips, and you groan again, your tummy flipping from how close you still feel, 

“Elvis - Daddy - need you, need more,” He leans back down, whispering, crooning in babytalk to your pussy; 

“Oh baby, baby, poor little, yittle, baby bunny - daddy’s gonna take real good care of you now, no more games baby, no that’s right, gonna get you right there,” He presses his lips to your clit kissing it, nose buried in you. Your entire focus is on the sensations as he moves down to spear his tongue into you, so different from a finger or cock and you almost choke from the force of the puff of air you exhale, as he curls it just so; you didn’t even know it was possible to do that and you wonder how much practice at this he really has. 

You can’t bear to look down at him anymore, the sight of his long lashes brushing against you, reminding you of who it was between your legs, watching you almost too much and you throw your head back, eyes closing as he thrusts his tongue in and out. He moves to add his thumb in, rubbing over your clit as his tongue continues to do its job, soothingly licking where you’re sore around the entrance to your hole. Your stomach tightens as he maintains a steady pace and you clench around him, thighs coming to rest on either side of his head, as you rock on his tongue and fingers. It’s not long, only moments when the pressure and movement get you there, body jumping as you crest over the wave of your orgasm. He licks you through it, and it means you just keep going. It’s overwhelming, and not something you’ve experienced before, the extended shaking and shuddering as you jolt around, jumping with every fizzle of pleasure. Finally, he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again, panting as you force your body to relax. 

A minute or so later you’re able to sit up a little more, opening your eyes properly again. You look over at Elvis and he’s got his cock in his hand - you’re tired but you feel like you have to show him some kind of appreciation for the best orgasm of your life so you lean up on your elbows, reaching a hand down to join his, you pump it once or twice before whispering to him,

“Let me Daddy,” and you sink your mouth down onto him. He gasps in surprise swearing

“Lord hav- oh god baby, bunny, oh shit.” as you hum around him, swallowing. He was clearly already very close and it only takes a couple of moments in the hot, wet, pressure of your mouth and throat before he’s warning you, 

“Gonna, it’s, I’m gonna go off baby, it’s - I’m close, real fu-cking close.” And with that he thrusts once, twice, while you hollow your cheeks - sucking down hard and that’s all it takes for him to be spurting into your mouth. You flinch, surprised, despite his warning, at the speed the taste unexpected, but still you swallow it down. “Fuck - fuck, thank you bunny, thank you.” He’s sweet, offering more gratitude than you’ve ever received from a man. You kiss his tip as you pull away and once again fall onto your back. You lie back, panting, and he joins you, curling around you - cuddling into you for the first time since you started this whole thing. You roll into him, enjoying being cradled in his thick arms, trying to comprehend the events of the past forty eight hours and how you’re going to be returning back to your normal life in only another few hours, wondering what Maggie chose to do, when he starts to talk, fingers tracing circles on your arms. 

“You know - my daddy’s - I got ‘im buyin’ me my own jet.” Your brow furrows a little, unsure where he’s going with this - “I uh, I - you’ll still have a cute little outfit, I like - like to dress ma girls up but, but I promise it’ll be … stretchy and uh, I won’t - I won’t assume anything but - but I  sure would like it if you, you would come on board with me?” He perhaps should have stopped there but he keeps talking, “It also - it would mean more time together, bunny, fewer girls around. Well…fewer in uniform anyway.” You grimace a little - so what is he suggesting; you be his on call plane whore? You hate that you want it, hate that you’re so desperate for him, in any way you can have him - to whatever capacity he’s available that you’re going to agree. 

“Of course - that would, that would be a dream come true Elvis, I would love to,” You’re not entirely stupid though. You smile at him, agreeing but not believing - this happens all the time in the clubs too; men promising things that never materialise - the drunker they get the more outlandish the claims; cars, houses, vacations, jobs. You know of too many girls who quit because they were promised a job as someone’s secretary only for the role to never materialise to put too much stock into his question. Besides, you still have two more flights with Elvis already in Big Bunny’s calendar - you were sure there’s more than enough time for him to make the offer again if he was really serious. 

“Wha-what’s your schedule like?… You got a boyfriend?” You pause, uncertain where this is going, surely these were questions that should have been asked yesterday? You suddenly realise that you know he’s seeing someone if only from the overheard phone-call but that you also had no idea if you were turning into the other woman or something. Or if you were just a girl to pass the time with. 

“I - uh, no. No, no-one. I’m not, we’re kept quite busy…” He frowns, kissing the top of your shoulder,

“Would you, you could come watch a show if you, I’ll get tickets for you and the girls if you want?” You smile, 

“That would be lovely, thank you -” He continues, 

“You could come a little earlier if you wanted, I’m playing somewhere new tomorrow, well - uh,” he looks over at the clock, grimacing, “Today. So I gotta check the sound and things, you could come to the rehearsal? I want you there baby,” You register some shock at his last words but nod, agreeing, it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime and you go to say it but you suddenly realise, from the little puffing breaths on your shoulder he’s fallen asleep practically mid-sentence. You look around for the clock, before you, with some wonder, discover there’s still ninety minutes left of the flight and close your own eyes too. The others can do the stewarding, you’re doing the main job - keeping Elvis happy. 

[skamenglishsubs]

Vincent appreciation post

Listen, Vincent is an absolutely horrible character, and when August warns the others at Forest Ridge that he's gonna be a thousand times worse, he's right! Vincent is worse! He is rude, demeaning, elitist and a shit human being.

But I'm howling with laughter when he's on screen, and he's even funnier in Swedish!

This is a short throw-away comment while the show is busy doing some exposition to set up Chekov's Shooting Range, he's just casually mentioning he needs to practice shooting before going to Zambia with his dad. Why Zambia? Because it's a hunting trip. Others go skiing, he's the type to go shoot an elephant or something. No biggie. Doesn't everyone do that?

In Swedish, he says "...även om ni suger dase", which means exactly what the subtitles says, but it literally means "even if you suck dick". Which is what the two characters on screen at that very moment do. Literally, and figuratively, because they have to cheat to get a spot in the team. Casual homophobia, let's go! Let's just put it on the Vincent-pile of awfulness!

"…as you all know". Let's just throw in some casual body-shaming, let's disparage your teammates, that'll make them love you. Great leadership skills there, Vincent!

In Swedish he says "SOM KAN KÖTTA!", which is completely untranslatable, but hilarious. It literally means "to meat something", in the sense of butchering, brute force, tearing someone to shreds, which is of course something douche-bro over here would say.

If other characters make you forget how terribly elitist and shitty schools like this are, Vincent makes sure you don't, and I'm here for it!

[wires-and-pacis]

Hellloooo!

Hello fellow caregivers and little ones! It's Vox! I made a blog so I could talk to everyone here on tumblr!

Remember that despite being a big goofy uncle, I regress often too! Please be respectful of this!

Let's lay down a few ground rules please!

RULES:

No NSFW, k*nk, abdl or otherwise.

No racism, homophobia, etc no proship

PLEASE READ TRIGGER LIST BEFORE INTERACTING!

Don't forget that I'm part of a system! I have other companions who run blogs as well! @smallishimps @the-radio-flip and @featherylilbrat also have blogs that they use to talk to their friends. BE NICE.

TRIGGER LIST!

Just like a lot of other little AND big guys, there are things that can upset me! please read this list before sending me asks!

Questions about source or my source memories. I'll willingly talk about my memories if I'm in the mood, but I will not answer questions about my source or the difference between it and my real memories. As a fictive, this kind of questioning is really upsetting.

General rudeness. I have a shorter temper than I expected. PLEASE use tone tags if you are being teasing/playing around otherwise I WILL think you're being mean

Recent discovery: Talking about the endangerment or harm of sharks. This seems like an obvious thing not to bring up but people are weirdly casual about it.

Enjoy your time on my blog! :)

[angelphonia]

Okay, I've been binge watching the Stop!!Hibari-kun anime and I've got some thoughts I need to let out.

Firstly, watching the anime makes me appreciate the Manga a hundred times more. Sure, the Manga had its problems, mostly the racism and the casual homophobia jokes and transphobia, but you could save stuff from it, like that even though there were homophobic jokes there was a gay woman who wasn't mocked because of her attraction to Hibari, or that despite the transphobia Hibari was never outright shown as being wrong by being herself.

Now, the anime does a lot of things I dislike. Firstly they make Kosaku's reactions be way more negative than in the Manga. While yes, he reacts negatively he is also seen blushing a lot when Hibari flirts with him. I may need to read the Manga for fourth time, but I also don't remember Kosaku constantly mentioning Hibari is a "guy" everytime she did anything.

There is a lot much more racism in the anime. There were problems with this in the Manga but it just feels way more present in the anime.

This one doesn't bother me too much, but I'm pretty sure the chapters do not align with the Manga, but again, this doesn't bother me.

I also noticed way more incest jokes, I don't care about them. Also the Seiji chapter where he falls in love with one of Hibari's bullies when she's 15 and Seiji is around 25/30 is very questionable. Again, this is a work of fiction so while I was like "why isn't this seen wrong?" I wasn't really uncomfortable. I do gotta say that in the Manga when the Japanese mob grown manchild son asked for Hibari's hand in marriage, it was inmediatly said he was 28 and Hibari was super taken aback. This doesn't happen in the anime, his age is NEVER mentioned. I can't quite remember, but I am sure Hibari also doesn't go on a date with him.

Oof, but here we go with the thing that has bothered me the most. The REALLY bad erasure of Jun's story. They absolutely took away her lesbianism, making it seem as if she was only interested in Hibari because of her volleyball abilities. They also totally changed the episode and made Jun be deeply ashamed of her family, that while in the Manga she was a bit embarassed it wasn't a main focus. In the Anime it was, even making her leave the volleyball club, which is crazy to me. Oh, and I'm NOT forgetting that they made Hibari enjoy getting gropped in the bus, when in the Manga she was clearly just disgusted by it.

I haven't finished it yet, may edit this post with more complains. Positive things? I'm sure Seiji and Sabu didn't have names in the Manga, so now they have identities. They try and give them more backstory, even adding an eye scar to Sabu, which was appreciated. Hibari's voice is absolutely the cutest. I liked the wrestling episode. Oh, the episode with Hibari's mother and her father was a delight, she didn't express this much emotion in the Manga, so actually seeing how she feels was great, and her end interaction with her father was adorable.

Can't remember anything more rn. As a side note, I've developed a little crush on Sabu and I'm gonna draw him. Hope you enjoyed my rambling!

EDIT:

Remembered the Honda thing. In the Anime he almost reaches his 1000 girls flirted with, but with one it is half a girl. In the Manga this was because he looked at a 5 year old by accident and she fell in love, while in the anime they made it so he flirted with a new half. For those who don't know, new half is an old Japanese term for transgender people, mostly trans women who were post op. In the subtitles this is translated as crossdresser, which I don't like. This isn't the first time this term is mentioned, in the spartan son episode, he calls Hibari a new half, which Kosaku tells him to not do. In another chapter there is a trans woman, and she refers to herself as New half, which again is incorrectly translated to crossdresser for some reason.

Even then there was some sort of minimal knowledge of trans people, not only with this, but in the Manga the addition of Genkijirou being a canonical trans man in hormones. Eguchi was aware and while his first idea was to make Hibari a feminine man, it obviously end up with her being a trans woman.

[stormblessed95]

So you don’t have to publish this if you don’t feel comfortable, but I kinda wanted your opinion on this.

It may sound dramatic, but I haven’t been able to call myself an army since the news of the World Cup came out. I am so incredibly disappointed in bts and bighit.

When I got into bts they brought me so much comfort and helped me through some tough times. I enjoyed their music and was always very proud of the message they tried to share with the world. Yes, some of their older content is uncomfortable to watch for the casual misogyny and homophobia, but as a queer woman I perfectly understand internalized homophobia and misogyny and I wouldn’t want to be judged for what I said or did in 2014. They had shown they had grown and learned. They always spoke up against people in power abusing it and about social justice.

So what happened? Did they became worldwide stars and decided “who cares about our message anymore! Let’s support a tournament that is basically a celebrations of the violation of human rights?”

Supporting the World Cup is basically saying they don’t care that over 6000 people died building the stadiums. They don’t care that lgbtq people die in that country. They don’t care about women and women’s rights.

This is not the bts I thought I knew, and I’m talking about all of them because if the other six were strongly opposed to this, I honestly doubt jungkook would be flying over there right now. But here we are.

I mean I could even understand that it’s a huge honor for a South Korean to sing for the first time at a World Cup opening ceremony, but let’s not forget that SK with Japan hosted the 2002 World Cup (and that was a mess as well, just google about the referee Moreno and bribes about that World Cup).

Idk I think they really fucked up this time. And if they have no qualms to stand up for human rights violations, than I don’t think I can call myself their fan. I’m also disappointed in armies (on twitter mostly) that have been insulting anyone who pointed out how this is a very poor decision that does not reflect well on bts’s character and morals. You may disagree, but you can’t deny the facts.

I read dualipa’s reaction (who I don’t follow and don’t know anything about) about being rumored to sing and the World Cup, and I can’t help but wish that had been bts answer as well.

Hi. So I'm not going to tell you how to feel. Your feelings and concerns are valid and they are your own. What you choose to do based on how you feel is also totally and completely up to you. Your choice/feelings aren't wrong either way you feel about. Nor do i want to dismiss all the issues and valid crisitisms surrounding the world cup and Qatar. So please know that its okay to be upset about it. And I don't want to bring up past controversies either but idk if you were around in 2019 or if you feel like this is any different than the issues surrounding their choice to perform in Saudi Arabia?

For background if you werent aware of the issues they faced for the decison to hold that concert, ill give an overview:

Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman took the throne in 2015, and he has since been making efforts to make the country more moderate and less conservative with several reforms. According to Wikipedia, some of those reforms would be: "regulations restricting the powers of the religious police, the removal of the ban on female drivers in June 2018, and weakening the male-guardianship system in August 2019. Other cultural developments under his reign include the first Saudi public concerts by a female singer, the first Saudi sports stadium to admit women, and an increased presence of women in the workforce." Regardless Saudi Arabia is still quite a bit most other countries in terms of human rights. Its bombings and attacks in Yemen have led to mass famines and deaths, and the Saudi government has been criticized for detaining and torturing human rights activists and LGBTQ people. Women also still don’t have most of the rights they should, and still require a male family member’s permission before doing things like traveling or getting a passport among other things. The Prince and the Gov there have also been heavily critized for their actions being more performantive and less about actually pushing forward more human rights. I don't know much more, so I don't want to speak to heavily on either country (SA or Qatar).

In an effort to be more modern and open, they invited many artists to perform. Among those artists were BTS and they accepted. You mentioned Dua Lipa refusing Qatar performance, so I'll also mention Nikki Minaj refused to perform in Saudi Arabia for similar reasons, citing women's treatment in the country as her reason. Regardless of her close friendships with pedophiles and rapists, she was lauded for the decision as a morally righteous one by many people. Dua Lipa's stance on Qatar is just as morally questionable as being performative based on where else she choices to perform. But that's stuff (for both Nikki and Dua Lipa) that you can look up for yourselves if you want.

BTS were questioned about this decision too actually and in an interview stated: “I wouldn’t say the decision it was easy,” Namjoon said. Jimin added: “But we were officially invited. It’s been a while since we’ve performed in the Middle East – I guess the last time was 2015 in Dubai. To put it simply, if there’s a place where people want to see us, we’ll go there. That’s how we feel.”

Many fans stuck up for BTS during this and said that this performance was for their fans, not for the Saudi government. Which is what their reasoning was. They weren't promoting the governments actions or laws or decisions. They weren't supporting it. They were going to see their fans and share love and music with the world. Both BTS and their staff was also praised for being very considerate of Saudi Arabia's cultural customs and giving space to them and following them when they could (such as not wearing gold jewelry, not showing skin during performances they otherwise do, like Serendipity, pausing rehearsals for muslism prayer times, etc)

Similarly again, just more recently in 2022, BTS were invited by the President of the United States to speak at the White House. And they accepted and went, with little criticism in that aspect. Regardless of the fact that the US is steadily stripping human rights away from people more and more, with endless human rights violations and imperialism over the past few years. With children being taken from parents at the border and put in cages, with POC being murdered by the policing force constantly, with LGBTQ people in fear of their basic human rights being taken away, with women's rights to their own bodily autonomy being argued over daily and taken away in many places in the country. They came to speak specifically about one issue, one problem, that they and many of their fans relate to and face. Anti Asian hate crimes. So they accepted. That's not them promoting and accepting and being okay with everything else.

And yes, BTS are known for talking about controversial topics about their own country in their lyrics. Standing up for people and being willing to criticize their Gov and laws at times, this does not make them politicians or responsible for making a statement over everything. That hasn't changed. Their stance on things or how they feel about it. At least, not that I can tell. I don't know Jungkook's or BTS' motivations behind accepting to do a performance at the World Cup or to do a song for them (because they did release a new verison of Yet To Come specifically for Qatar World Cup promotions). Maybe they will make a statement at some point. Maybe they won't unless asked about it. Maybe they just wanted to do something extra for their fans and found this to be a big opportunity to do so. Maybe they are bigger fans of Soccer/Football then we thought and so they were excited about that portion of this as well. We know they like Messi they've said so. They've had multiple good interactions with Son Heungmin, who is a soccer player for South Korea. We also know Korea will be playing in the World Cup to, so maybe they were asked to represent their country more at the World Cup. And they accepted. Similarly to how they accepted to support Busan's bid to host the World Expo with their free Yet To Come concert held in Busan. Despite the issues with that and with South Koreas own issues with government and laws that are heavily conservative against LGBTQ people and woman as well.

So I guess, my point is, we don't know why they accepted. Even if it's as simple as it's a huge opportunity and they just wanted to... I don't think it changes how they've made it clear that they stand in support of queer people, of women, of love. How they really value their fans and people and want the world to be a better place. They just spoke about all these values at the UN recently as well. So no, I don't think world wide fame changed that for them.

BTS are human. They are not perfect. They will make mistakes and will and can grow from the choices they make. You also, as a fan, do not have to like or agree with everything they do. You aren't even necessarily SUPPOSED to. They aren't God's. They shouldn't be placed on a pedestal of beings who can do no wrong. You will then be disappointed. You are allowed to not like this choice or to think it's a bad one. But I don't think this choice means they are supporting the fucked up violations of human rights that are present there nor do i think this choice is indicative of them not being or no longer being good people. And I think saying that this is them supporting those policies is not fact, as anon stated, but opinion. And you are entitled to your opinion and to your feelings over the matter as well. But these are mine and if you are upset solely about one thing with one place they've traveled to, but not the others, that's something that might be cause for some inner reflection as well.

[bakeryblood]

Memories

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Pt.1

cw: Loveless Relationship, Religious Trauma, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Angst, Flashbacks, Abuse

Recommend other warnings if you feel it’s necessary.

_______________________________________________

Y/N sat at one of the old wobbly tables that were placed spaced out through the bar, watching and listening to the band play from a distance. This wasn’t the first time he’d come to this bar and it wasn’t the first time Corroded Coffin had played here, but it was always the same. None of the bar goers were particularly interested in the music, usually only perking up at the occasional cover song they played. Guns n Roses, Aerosmith or Mötley Crüe tended to get them at least a little attention to the slightly raised platform the bar called a ‘stage’.

“You don’t look like you’re having a good time..You said you were taking me out to dance tonight babe..” Kimberly, your girlfriend of the last eight months settled back in at the table with a soda in one hand and a beer she sat on the table in front of you. She seemed so perfectly average to most people, the kind of girl who wouldn’t catch your eye in a crowd. Dirty blonde, straight hair that stopped right below her chin, parted down the middle. Grey green eyes, and casual clothes typical of your All-American girl with a Christian background.

“Have you heard anything you would want to dance to?” You asked her with a lopsided smile before bringing the beer to your lips. She gave a long contained sigh out of her nose, looking up at the band as they looked over the little notebook they’d brought with the songs they had planned to play. The drummer looked like a honest to god child, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen. And the other two members were difficult to look at.

“I’m just saying, this place is..gross…Everyone at work has been talking about After Dark over in Ft. Wayne, it’s supposed to be so—“ Y/N held up his hand to stop her as the singer of the band moseyed on up to the microphone and turned his head away, clearing his throat before turning back and speaking in close.

“Alright folks, we thought this song would be fitting to play last. As a ‘Thank You’ to the owners here always letting us play for you all when they couldn’t get anything better.” Eddie grinned at his own half joke, it was true for the most part, they weren’t any venues first choice given their self written songs were similar to that of a garage rock band. Which was exactly what they were and always would be, no matter how good any of them became as musicians.

“Thank you, by the one and only Led Zeppelin.” The song was definitely a stark contrast to their usual play list, it was soft and emotional even with the lack of the organ piano the track originally had. Y/N pushed his seat back and stood up, holding his hand out towards the sullen Kimber to slowly looked up at his expecting face.

“You want to dance, we’ll dance. Prom of 84’ style.” She laughed at him as he lead her out to the area of floor in front of the band, taking one hand in his and placing the other on her waist. Taking on a slow side step away to the music. “You didn’t even go to prom Y/N.” God he really needed to stop lying to her and forgetting he had.

“Then I guess you’ll have to take the lead.” He moved to switch their hands position only for her to wiggle hers out of his grip and fix them again. The song breathed easy during the verses and when it ascended elsewhere in the song Y/N let her spin before pulling her back in. She felt like the main character in her own movie, like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing. Even if the song was not even going to last five minutes, He felt success when he saw the smile on her face.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t so bad.” She chirped as the song trailed off and she leaned in to give him a kiss on the lips before he broke away from her.

“Glad one of us had fun.” He took the playful shove from Kimber as they headed back to the table so he could down the beer before it got stale and they had to get back home before too late. They worked together at the local radio station but on alternating days to keep with ‘company policy’ of there being no romantic relationships between employees. It was one thing Y/N would always be grateful for because of her.

Fresh out of high school after repeating a year, graduating at twenty one, he headed to the building of his local station. Wholeheartedly expecting to walk in and be pleading for an internship, probably working fast food part time to supplement the lack of income. When while waiting in the lobby for broadcasting to finish up, he saw Kimberly.

In actuality she saw him first as she came back in with coffee for the program director who she was the faithful secretary for. He preferred to keep her busy with small odd jobs opposed to having her sit and answer the phone all day. God, he reminded her of John Travolta in The Boy in the Plastic Bubble. His face looked perpetually sad, until she’d approached him and asked who he was waiting for. It just lit up when he heard that the director was her boss and she offered to take him up with her. She was smitten. And she got him started on that day, with pay.

It took some following around, the full on puppy love act, for her to fulfill her need for his attention. He had to have been the most oblivious man she’d ever met, but that was just another thing that attracted her to him. She had never pursued a boy she liked before, she had always grew up being taught that she should wait for the man to fall for her, and for him to court her, only after asking her father’s permission to do so.

Things had never even gotten that far for her, she was decently sought after in school but the boys her age preferred to go after the ‘easier’ girls. Not the ones who dressed modestly like her, who couldn’t relate to their tastes in music or plans for college. The day her father told her he couldn’t allow her to apply to universities, no matter how local they were, out of fear his perfect daughter might fall to temptation. The parties, the boys, college seemed to reek of sin to him. If mother had been alive she would have been able to be the voice of reason, but she wasn’t and hadn’t been for a long time. It was one of the things

Y/N and her had found they had in common.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be here though, almost bad.” Y/N said before he turned his head back and downed the beer, the carbonation filling him from the uncomfortable pace of intake. Just being with him made her feel bad and rebellious enough, but he was right, it did feel good.

“You seem in your element here, how many times have you been here before?” She asked as she held the canned drink between her hands, debating whether to sit back down or not, not knowing how much longer they’d be there.

“I think this is my third time.” You decided to be honest, if you had been there more than three times you didn’t remember. This bar was notoriously known to let minors drink and hang out there, probably one of the main reasons the band frequented it so often. He’d came in several when he was younger, shot some pool, drank and so on. It was another reason it was never packed, most adults didn’t want to be around potentially drunk teenagers. Some others did.

“Ready to go?” Kimberly smiled at you as she left the can on the table to wipe the condensation off of her hands onto her jeans, you nodded and also placed the empty glass bottle down to abandon it there. The two of you hadn’t even gotten five steps away from your table when you felt a hand lay atop your shoulder over your leather jacket, causing you to curse to yourself under your breath. Half expecting it to be someone you perhaps said the wrong thing to on some other visit to the bar.

“Y/N? Dude, it’s me! Eddie!” You slowly turned around as Kimberly held onto your arm, looking back at the long, curly haired man who had been the lead vocals for the band.

“I’m sorry, how do you know my name?” You knew several ‘Eddies’ ‘Edwards’ and so on, but none of them looked like he did. Doubled down in denim, rips and tears throughout. Patches hand sewn onto their vest, and what had to be the most worn out, dirty pair of white sneakers you’d ever seen.

“Buddy, Eddie Munson. We were neighbors? As kids?” Neighbors..

You didn’t frequently try to delve into your childhood, your brain kept those memories under lock and key it seemed. It was one of the main reasons or should you say, excuses for why you lied about your past so often.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Eddie felt like someone had thrown a brick at his chest for a moment before he laughed it off, taking his hands and pulling his sweaty hair out of his face on either side, holding it back with one. “Well what about now. Take away the long hair and maybe this face can jog your memory.”

He knew the name, the last name anyway, for sure. But his face just wasn’t familiar to him at all, maybe Eddie was putting too much faith in the idea that he didn’t look much different from when they were kids simply because Y/N looked so similar to how he had. He felt like he couldn’t possibly have been mistaken, but the confused expression you held as you raked your brain for any little bit of a memory you could find was making him begin to think twice.

“Your mom was friends with mine.”

Bingo. That was the key. Your mother had always been the key to remind you of the pleasant and not so pleasant times.

“Oh my god..” You pulled your arm away from your girlfriend and took a step forward as Eddie dropped his mess of hair back down, watching you slowly advance on him with a wide smile on your face. “No fuckin’ kidding, look at you.”

“Psh, look at YOU man.” Y/N clasped a hand on each of his shoulders and brought him in for a hug, taking him incredibly off guard. Him and Kimber both. Y/N had never been one for physical touch even now at this point in their relationship. They must’ve been super close back in the day she thought to herself as she watched her boyfriends face and how it had lit up. “Got you a girl and everything!”

“Oh damn yeah, sorry about that. This is Kimber.”

“So you knew Y/N when he was little? That’s so wild, you’ve just gotta tell me all the embarrassing stuff he probably did.” She smiled and outstretched her ringed hand towards the man who surprisingly wore a few more rings than she did. The settled back in at the table as Y/N left to commandeer a chair from another booth.

“Well I’m sorry to have to disappoint, he was actually really quiet. Shy n’ all that.” It was disappointing to hear. She was looking forward to hearing the verbalized version of baby photos, the kind where your parents have you posed naked in cherub wings or out on a picnic blanket. Or your first Halloween costume you decided on yourself. All the photographic core memories her boyfriend could never give her, or wouldn’t give her anyway.

“How’d you two like the set?”

Y/N slid into the seat and chimed in first before his girlfriend could give her biased opinion, telling him it just wasn’t her style. “Y’all can really play, did you come up with it all?”

“Some. It’s a group effort. Gareth, our drummer, is the only one who actually did band in school. So he can read and write music the best outta all of us.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever learn to play that guitar your uncle bought you. Guess your hands finally got big enough.” Y/N was referring to the old acoustic Wayne had bought him when he was still living with his parents for Christmas. It turned out it was from a pawn shop but Eddie never questioned where it was from, he loved it. He even got a case for it eventually so it could stay safe under his bed, buying himself his red and black warlock he played during other shows when they needed two guitar players for the set.

Eddie held up his hands and grinned. “I guess they did.” The two men were similarly contemplating the fact that the other was actually able to remember that far back. Y/N motioned to two shot glasses he had returned with while Kimber and him chatted away, not noticing he’d even had the time to stop by the bar after leaving the chair there.

“So, y’all bite the heads off any bats lately?” That was about the full extent of what she knew about metal music, having read an article in a magazine once about ‘Ozzy Osborn’ shocking the world with the display. The word ‘Satanic’ had quickly made her put the magazine back and even give a glance around, worried someone might have been watching her read such filth in the little gas station.

“God, please stop trying to be funny.” Y/N lifted the shot glass of liquor up to his mouth after making the dismissive response, until their girlfriend slapped their chest making a dribble of liquid trail down their chin to their neck unnoticed as they finished out taking the shot.

“What’s wrong with you, I was just trying to make a joke..” She was trying her best to relate to the two of them, feeling left out for the majority of the conversation. She also thought nothing of her physical reaction, it was commonplace for Kimber to give him a hit or a shove when he said something that irritated her. One wouldn’t ever think anything of it, he was a big guy, he could handle it.

“It’s fine it’s fine. It was funny.” Eddie sheepishly pushed his sweaty hair out of his face a bit before picking up the shot glass and throwing it back himself. It did feel awkward trying to drag up memories and reminisce about their past with her around, but rightfully so. He didn’t know much of anything about her. She seemed close enough to their age, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

Just from the relatively short amount of time Eddie gathered that their dynamic was a little strange, to say the least. He couldn’t tell who was the one who seemed to be in charge between the two of them, but it was like Y/N tended to let her lead things.

“Eddie! The van is locked! Do you really think we’re just going to load everything up while you get free drinks?” The fluffy haired boy in a red plaid long sleeve on top of a white shirt that has a red demon face plastered on it reading ‘Hellfire Club’ in bold black lettering. Eddie’s head dropped as he gave an irritated half smile, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket as Gareth made his way up to the table, holding his hand out.

“Kids these days am I right? They sure know how to make a first impression. Like I mentioned earlier, this is our drummer Gareth.” He slapped the keys into the younger man’s hand as he gave him a fucked up expression at Eddie referring to him as a kid.

“Yeah, first impressions. Get up and come help us, that amp is heavy as fuck and—“ Eddie shot him a wide eyed look that shut him up before speaking to him through gritted teeth. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I’m catching up with an old friend.”

Gareth was taken aback a bit by how aggressive he’d reacted and held his hands as if to say he’d given up, retreating with the keys at least. Eddie wasn’t used to treating his band mates like that either, he was just so hung up on the fact he’d actually been able to gather the courage to ask the man he’d seen several times before, believing he recognized him but he hadn’t wanted to be wrong.

“Actually we really did have to be getting back home if you’re needed.” Kimber exchanged a glance with her boyfriend before turning back to the metalhead who sighed before patting the front pocket of his jacket and then retrieving a pen from it. He grabbed the napkin the woman had been using to sit her drink down on and clicked the bottom of the pen before scribbling the number to the house his uncle and him shared.

“I hope you give me a ring some time, we have so much more catching up to do.” Eddie slid it over to Y/N before standing up. “It was nice meeting you too, Kimber.”

“Of course! It was nice meeting you too.” She had already forgotten his name. Y/N watched him walk away, back to the stage to start helping the others break down their set up, the bassist saying something before getting into position to lift up and carry out their personal amp as a team while someone else held open the back door.

“Okay, now we can go right? I’m sure you two and talk again real soon.” Kimberly raised up out of her seat and waited for him to pocket the napkin and then do the same. Tonight had been so much more eventful than he could have anticipated, he felt so wired that the idea of going home and getting any sleep seemed impossible. He’d much rather pick his own brain, digging for more memories of Eddie and himself all those years ago.

_______________________________________________

Y/N looked at the napkin he had pinned to the fridge with a magnet as he tromped into the kitchen, stopping to stare at it before opening up the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice and drinking from it.

‘Should I call him? Would that be weird to do it so soon?’ He thought to himself as he stood there in his boxers.

If he didn’t, hypothetically, what else could he spend his day off doing? Go to the gym? He shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to torture himself with visuals of sweaty, robust men. He could just as easily get back in bed and do that.

The lack of restful sleep last night coupled with the urge to talk to him more made him desperate for a coffee and a cigarette. Kimber was vehemently against smoking but thankfully she never seemed to recognize the smell of smoke on him, he was pretty good at removing the nicotine stains on his fingers and he always made sure to leave his pack in his glove box to avoid her finding them while doing laundry.

Y/N had to have chuckle with himself as he thought it over, he really had to go through all of that just for a little cigarette. It was painful. Like he was constantly on a mission to stay undercover and not let ‘x’ ‘y’ ‘z’ be found out.

Shackled. He felt trapped there. No amount of nights out and away from Kimber and the apartment they shared seemed to help him feel comfortable there. It had never been a safe space for him, even on the nights he’d work until late in hopes of proving himself to their boss. Or that he stayed out getting drunk at a bar just waiting for the right man to take an interest and give him a reason to rent a motel room.

At least there he would be able to actually breathe without that tightness in his chest, sleep without the worry that he’d roll over to see her face smiling back at him. It made him feel evil to have come to think of this apartment as a prison and Kimber, the warden.

“Okay Y/N, do it. Just fucking do it.” He spoke to himself as he paced the length of the kitchen, giving the phone on the wall the occasional glance. He rubbed his face anxiously before walking out of the kitchen, thinking perhaps if he got ready first he would be able to force himself to make the decision. But he quickly made his way back.

It’s now or..maybe not never but it would definitely become even harder for him if he pushed it off. “Just call him you pussy!”…

“God, look at you…get up you pussy.” No. Not him.

“Do you really think I wanted to spend all that money on that uniform, the cleats, your bat— just for you stand in the outfield fuckin’ day dreaming?” You looked at your hands laying against the dark grey tile floor as you felt the stinging of your face radiating heat, the tears streaming down your face as your dad paced back and forth.

“You know everyone there hates you? Those kids put their all into that game and you just blow it, God it’s so fucking embarrassing having the other parents know you’re mine..”

“I’m sorry..”

“What was that?” He stopped as leaned down as if trying to hear you better.

“I-I’m sorry Dad!” You flinched when he did so and as he crouched down to tell you one last thing it was as if someone was slowly turning down the volume of a television set.

“Don’t call me that ever again.”

Y/N held a hand against his pounding chest as he looked around the kitchen of his apartment frantically. He wasn’t there. It was his mind fucking with him again. Perhaps this was the price he had to pay for unlocking those memories, was it worth it?

Pulling himself up off of the floor he went, taking the napkin off the fridge and then the phone off of the wall. Leaning against the doorway to the kitchen as he dialed the phone number. Taking deep breaths as it rang over and over again.

‘Please pick up..please pick up..’

[thedanceronthestreets]

Just saw this post on my dash and wanted to comment on this keeley bit cause i've seen this argument made a few times now and i just feel like i wanna add my own carrots to the soup:

Am i pissed off that people keep forgetting keeley's queer? Absofrigginlutely. Am i pissed off that a character can't casually mention her attraction to women and be taken seriously for it? You BETCHA. But the sad truth is that if i asked my family whether they thought keeley was bisexual and showed them the evidence they'd all go 'it's just a joke'. Which, yeah, is homophobic (rural queer rite of passage 😌) and sucks balls. But to me it proves the point that in mainstream media, we've just not reached the point yet where keeley's off-hand comments about her sexuality are enough to make an audience question its own homophobic bias. And i think it's easy to forget that in our tumblr bubble, as op mentioned in their above post, all of these takes and accusations around whether someone is acting homophobic or not (this applies to tedtrent shippers accusing tedbeccas of homophobia as well, though i've only seen that on twitter so far) are so far removed from the ACTUAL homophobic takes that are prevalent in the larger fandom of white conservative christians who think ted lasso is about how to have a positive attitude towards capitalism. Queer people saying 'i wish the ted lasso writers took keeley's sexuality more seriously' are not the enemy, just as much as queer people saying 'let keeley be silly and goofy about liking women' aren't. It's casual audiences who are so oblivious to any sort of queer insinuation that even if keeley were to kiss rebecca on the mouth, they'd probably call them very good friends. And while i think it's flipping fantastic to see keeley be unashamedly bi while being in a relationship with roy (well yknow, hopefully again soon), wanting something more explicit on tv that will cause obvious discomfort in the very specific homophobic audience niche of sports fans and karens is perfectly valid. AND IT DOESN'T MATTER WHICH CHARACTERS WOULD ENGAGE IN SUCH A PLOTLINE. I think many people flocked to tedtrent because people started laying out (very sparse) arguments within season 1 and 2 that could be read in a queer way and now that not only ted is a main character but also trent a title character the ship was bound to gain more popularity as that's just how these things work. But if in the end tedbeard turned out to be canon i would eat my own arm (out of positive emotion and delight). If colin and isaac turned out to be a couple i might worry that the storyline lasts for 1 episode and nothing more due to the size of their roles, but ultimately i'd sob at the tv and wouldn't shut up about them ever again. It really doesn't matter WHO challenges the general audience as long as it happens. And as much as i love keeley, her comments so far haven't managed to trigger that sort of uproar in the audience that would kick off an avalanche of arguments around queer characters and their space in media (and i wanna specify again that this refers to the general audience, not the queer tumblr-residing one that has obviously had this discussion around keeley). Anyway ted lasso writers, let keeley and jodi balfour's character get nasty on screen please 🫶

(Also, i keep seeing posts insinuating that the tedtrent fandom has turned awful and i'd be much obliged if someone could enlighten me on that front as i don't know whether i'm just entirely oblivious in my own bubble of people but whenever i check the tedtrent tag all i see is gifs, theories for the upcoming episodes or people going 'haha i know i have shit brain fungus but what if')

[davemillerreal]

Mentions: suicide, addiction, homophobia, and fake friends

Maybe I Don't Have to End It All

Henry Emily x Willow (my OC) fanfic

This is a picture of my OC to get a clear picture of her

Willow was listening to her friends yap on and on about trash talk as she sat in the bustling bar. The radio was playing the country station (which is her least favorite genre of music) as people played pool in the background and talked to each other.

Willow watched her so called friends talk to each other and the table, like they were not even aware she was there at all. Like she was some ghost. They were sitting in dresses with heavy makeup trash talking about every single inconvenience in their lives.

Willow was not like that at all. She was just simply dressed in a band shirt (the band is Queen) and black jeans with a belt, with green eyes and black short hair to her shoulders. She was also exhausted always, and instead of complaining all the time about other people, she would usually blame herself.

Blame herself for trusting her friends. She knew they were just using her, but they won't let her go and we're like a parasite, clinging on for their own good, no one else.

They didn't care how much pain she was in as long as they got their way. They don't care if she died. They would just go to the club and forget anything happened, like everyone else would. But then she had the alcohol to number her pain. And she only had one person.

Henry

She met him at the older diner He was around 33 when she had met him and she was about 27. He was a very nice guy at the time, but then his daughter was murdered. His whole life fell apart, he abandoned everyone, he was left in unbearable pain and suffering. She tried to make her come back to life with robots. He was a mess.

But why would she judge she wasn't any better. She understood his pain. His suffering. His agony.

All of a sudden, her friend spoke up.

"Hey Willow." Samantha greeted, her long blonde hair behind her back. "So how are you doing? Sitting on your couch all day, chugging alcohol like the casual, boring, depressed you."

"Wow how did you know Sam." She sarcastically stated, while she took a swig of her drink, slamming it down with annoyance. "Why would you mention that everything there is talked about in this God forsaken world?"

Sam chuckled with her friends like school girls in high school. "Well, yeah would, since you're such an emotional mess. Everyday I wake up, thinking when you decide to end it all, to be honest. You look like your suicidal, and you should have stayed in that padded cell back in the mental hospital."

They were basically just trying to play with her emotions right now. She was suicidal. She was a mess. They wanted her to go die. They only saw her as a toy they can play with and leave it all broken when they are finished. Angrily, Willow stood up out of her seat, silencing he friends chattering. She eyed them drunkly with anger, before turning away and walking to the exit.

"Fuck this, IM OUT GO FUCK YOURSELVES!" She stormed out of the bar. She didn't care what people thought about her. She didn't care if she thought she was some mindless monster or an angst 30 year old with no life and future. Her life was fucked already. Everyone left her.

Holding back tears, she went to her car and started it after closing the door on it. She pulled out the address to Henry's house.

Hey Willow this is my address, if you want to come over some time

Love, Henry

She thought about him. His dark brown eyes, his short brown greasy yet soft hair, his light flannels, his smell of oil and cheap cologne, his smile. She was the only person who cared about her well being. She was questioned why he cared about her, no one else did, except her parents, who had died in a fire when she was six years old.

She started to drive to his house, her getting a gut in her feelings that something was horrendously wrong that was going on.

.....

She arrived in his car parking lot. She stepped out of the car. It has stopped raining, the sun peering at her, the smell of rain tainted the air. She walked up to his door, entering, knowing it was unlocked.

The house was a mess and looks like he hasn't cleaned it up in a while. She entered his living room to see him standing in front of a bare Endo skeleton, that looks about the size of a grown person, with a knife as hand instead of another hand. It struck her.

This was the robot Henry was fantasizing about ending it all for him.

Henry noticed her in the corner in his eyes as he turned the robot. It started to wind up as he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Willow?! what are you-"

Willow didn't waste any time. She ran over to him, lunges at him pushing him out of the way of the robot as she felt something cold and painful enter her body.

They both landed on the ground and they both breathed heavily. He finally looks down at her with surprise and concern in his eyes. His gaze then filled with fear and slight panic as he looked down to her side.

She looks down to see what it was. It was a massive wound on her stomach to the base of her chest. It was swelling with a ton of blood and she was starting to become light headed. Henry then got up, picking her up, as she started to pass out.

"I'm so sorry Willow. I owe you my life. Don't worry I'll save you, you'll be alright." Those were the last words she heard him speak to her before she passed out.

....

She slowly opened her eyes painfully, taking in her surroundings. She was in a bedroom, but not a hospital one yet. Her core was painfully sore, bandaged up. She sat up and rubbed her head. Where was she? Where was Henry?

Henry was sitting in a chair beside her, his eyes relieved and tearing up. He hugged her gently, hugging him back, smelling in his scent

"I'm so glad you're alright Willow. I wouldn't want to lose you too."

Someone cared about her. Out of all of these years, she found someone that would never back stab her, or leave her.

Henry pulled away, smiling slightly, his gentle gaze falling on her.

"You know you're very lucky. You lost a lot of blood and some organs got damaged. I had to use some of the Charlie bot technology to save your life. If you haven't been saved earlier, you would have slipped away."

His smile faded away with a saddened look on his face as he drew in a painful breath. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"No it's okay Henry. You didn't caused he to get injured. I chose to do this because I wanted to save you. I understand what you go through..." She grabbed his gently.

"Do you.. want to talk about it with me." He asked, helping her sit up, and sat beside her.

She explained to him about her toxic friends, her addiction to alcohol, the fire that had killed her parents and the unbearable pain she had to witness every day.

"It's just so hard every day...to know everybody thinks you're a monster...and everyone leaves...and knowing you can't change, no matter what happens. Many times I just wanted to end it all...."

She was struggling to be talking, her eyes heavy with tears, threatening to spill.

"But I remember you...and I'm nothing without you. You're the only one in my life...that would actually stay....."

Tears fell down her face as she finally let her pain out. Henry pulled her in an embrace rubbing he back trying to soothe her. She cried into his shoulder, his white flannel getting wet with her tears. After a while that felt like an internity. Henry sadly smiled.

"At least it's good to know I'm not alone in this. I also destroyed that suicide bot, so you don't have to worry about me killing myself anymore."

"Thank you Henry" She said, fixing her posture.

Henry then stood up, helping her up with him.

"I know a place where we can go to cheer up" He started, trying to brighten the mood. "It's the tree I usually go with Charlie."

"Oh of course I would love to."

Henry pulled up to the spot, parking near the road. He got out of the car to help Willow out of it. The sun was setting, bird sounds were heard in the distance and they went up the hill. As they got up, they could see most of Hurricane down there.

They sat down against the rough texture of the tree. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her feeling comforted by his touch. They talked about their lives and laughed together a little bit before Henry needed to tell her something.

"Hey Willow...you're the only one I ever think about besides Charlie. You understand me more than anyone, and I don't see you as a monster or a bitter person. You are a selfless person who would do anything to protect who they love. You see who you really are." He chuckled slightly as he turned towards her, his soft gaze falling into hers. "I think I might have fallen for you."

Willow smiled back, looking into his eyes. "I think I feel the same way about you Henry. You always make me feel like I'm not alone in this cruel world, like we can move on with this forever.

Henry smiled and cupped her cheek with his palm, wrapping her other arm around her. His nose was touching hers as he gently paced his lips on hers and kissed her. It was soft and gentle but then got more deeper and passionate, she wrapped her arms around him, as if he was to disappear if she let go.

They pulled away, a small trail of saliva from their mouths. They placed their foreheads on each other, looking at each other lovingly.

"I love you Willow."

"I love you too Henry."

Maybe she didn't have to end it all.

[tafferling]

The state of this Taff

It's a struggle, ya'all.

Just before my birthday at the end of November, I learned that my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. Not a big surprise, that, considering I grew up in a household where the kitchen had a literal smoke cloud hanging in it 24/7, but. Still. Supposedly, she says, it's one of those that'll get knocked over by chemo looking at it funny, but there's another problem that's a lot more dire and immediately life-threatening: the cancer metastasized in her brain.

I spent the next few weeks scrambling to buy a car and get my dog vaccinated for rabies. See, I live in Sweden, and she lives in Austria. And I've got no one to look after my dog, meaning he's got to come with me. Therefore, car. Fast forward to the 22nd of December, and I finally start driving down.

Of course, I am going to see my mom! Yeah, she still tells me I gotta go get me a man cause I'm 40 and need to get me that husband to set me right and I am not ace, just broken and need to see myself fixed so a man'll have me yadda yadda (and the racism, let's not forget about the racism and the casual homophobia), but she's my mom, ya know?

She's had her brain surgery at that point already and was recently discharged. Everyone tells me she's doing great. She tells me she's doing great. It's just sweet that I'm coming down and so on and so forth.

Neat, right?

I even call her 10 minutes before I arrive, while taking a quick break to walk the dog near my aunt's and dad's grave. Ask her if she's got dinner for me, cause I haven't had any proper food for two days or if I should grab something on the way. She says she's got it all. Sweet.

ahahaha... WELL, I arrive there, and I find out that, no. She's not doing alright. Turns out everyone failed to mention to me that she has what basically amounts to short-term memory dementia, or whatever you like to call it. I arrive, and I find out that not only is the house barely liveable, but she's got no food (it's the 23rd, 5pm, and shops close at 6pm until the 27th), and she has no idea where anything is in the house or what she's done five minutes ago.

I dump all my shit (plus the dog) in the house and dive into the "last hour before shops close" fun (JFC, where did all those people come from) so we have stuff to eat. When I get home, it all settles in: Not only do I have a full-time job that I'll have to do while I am here (naturally), but (for the foreseeable future) I am also my mom's full-time caretaker from here on out.

She's forgotten her phone PIN since then (getting a new SIM card sent here next week). She was taking her meds wrong and missed two crucial ones. She has a radiology appointment next Tuesday and kept telling me she is being picked up by an ambulance, only for me to call her oncologist and find out that's not true, I've got to drive her (which isn't an issue, but if I hadn't called the guy to figure out her med sdsafkjasdfsa). So on. And so forth, with other highlights including her not knowing how to pay her bills, me getting screamed at cause of that, then her friend screaming at me, her fucking neighbour bringing her cigarettes and smoking in the kitchen with her (THE WOMAN HAS LUNG CANCER) and ---- :sounds of distant Taff wailing at the void:

I also got screamed at by total strangers three goddamn times already, and it's really bringing home why I left this country. Not saying everyone's an ass, but when you got grown men shouting at you for trivial shit like "waiting with your shopping cart to let a car out", "taking longer to put away your groceries cause you're fucking exhausted and can barely see straight anymore", and "going the wrong way in a shopping parking lot (NOT during rush hour, mind you, that was later on in the morning when the place was nearly empty) cause you missed the arrow and haven't been here in nearly 15 years" you just kinda-- *deflates*. Please. Stop shouting at me.

I wanna kick some rocks and mope.

Anyway. Yeah. It's rough, ya'all. And I don't usually like doing this, but this time, maybe I should: If you've ever liked any of my writing and you haven't, like, I dunno dropped a kudos or something, I'd appreciate any sort of encouragement or positivity in my life right now. Any little pick-me-up will do. 'cause I need to admit I am out of my depth, I am overwhelmed, and I have no idea what to do.

[kittyphoenix12-xx]

Hi!

About that why did you get billy hate poll... Personally i dont post about billy or harringrove so i never had any hate targeted at me, and i cant vote in zhe poll because of it. BUT i had to block so many accounts and tags because i couldnt go into the billy hargrove tag without encountering these mile long posts about how awful we all are. I know you know these posts too well, so i wont detail how according to the antis we are all racist assholes. The worst part is that when i first joined the fandom i saw so many of these that i almost believed them. You know, when a bunch of people are all saying the same bs but you start to doubt yourself, it really sucked. It effected me enough thst i had a hard time "confessing" to my real-life (aka not online) friends who are casual fans of the show that he was my favourite character. And the funny part is most of them couldnt even care less, cause being such a passionate anti for a fictional character and writing 10k essays on how awful that FICTIONAL CHARATER is and therefore his fans and the actor too IS NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOUR! It is as chronicly online as it gets. There was only one friend of mine who was suprised and since she is a very opinionated person started to explain to me how SHE COULD NEVER LOVE HIM and she is suprised that i care about him. I tried to explain to her that i know that he behaves like an asshole but its due to his background and i believe would he have gotten the same treatment as steve he could have been redeemed, i was hit with the classic tonedeath answer:

Well my home life wasnt sunshine and puppies either but i dont go around beating up kids

At that point i just gave up in arguing honestly and then i felt like an idiot for not putting up more of a fight, cause this made it feel like her argument i agreed with. God.

I love billy so much, but all this negativity that comes with being in the fandom just drains me.

my dear anon, you are absolutely correct and i hope you have a lovely day.

i confess that when i first watched stranger things, i didn't like billy that much. and i handled that by not engaging with media about him, you know, like a normal person. this was just after s2 came out so i wasn't active on tumblr, i wasn't writing fanfiction, i wasn't in the fandom (and I'm glad let me tell you). but i was also thirteen and related to max more than billy, but the older i got, the more mature and aware i became of just the world in general.

in my humble opinion, the vocal billy antis are ignorant. they don't want to a conversation, they don't want to discuss nuance or entertain the idea of people unlearning things.

we've reached a place in this world where racism and homophobia and ableism are so prevalent that people forget that these things are taught and can therefore be unleant. because a lot of the real life people don't want to unlearn, or can't.

and that idea as spread into fandom spaces. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but the fact that people's response to children/teenagers saying racist/homophobic things is to immediately call for their death is a bad thing actually. and yes, it's spread to characters as well.

it's all performative. i made that poll just to see how performative antis are and, yeah, the results aren't great.

another thing i've noticed about people in general is that they tend to hate characters that exhibit their *embarassing* flaws. media that has racist/homophobic characters in the bad positions aren't really loved by people who hold those views.

^^^^ i think this summarises what i'm trying to say. no one wants to be the bad guy, so when they see something that forces them to confront that part of them, they push it away, deny it.

billy/harringrove stans have been harrassed, told to kill ourselves, called slurs and yet the people who say those things think they're right because they can't fathom being wrong.

so, anon, what i've learnt from my six months in this fandom, is to embrace it. yea billy was going to hit the kids with his car, i actively encourage that now. yea billy was going to kill everyone, he should've killed them all.

but no matter what, we love and support each other. so feel free to ramble in my ask box whenever, start posting on your blog about billy, do whatever you want.

they don't matter to us. they can't matter to us. fandom should be safe and it should be fun and those people are making themselves miserable. and that isn't our fault and it isn't our problem.

[smileylover99]

So i usually dont really make posts, but im doing a supernatural rewatch and ive decided to at least try to chronicle this here.

I've finished the first season (I made an attempt a couple months earlier but got stuck at like ep 16 (when plot started happening)). This time i powered through and before i started season 2 i wanted to finish this post. These are my main take-aways from season 1:

(Warning rambling ahead)

The first couple episodes are actually really good and fun they set the tone of the show so well and introduce us both to the characters as well as the lore. What i also realized is that many of the iconic fanvid moments are from the first season (but also especially those first couple eps).

Also because they have to have their characters talk about their kit in a "natural" way, its Sam being like Dean i KNOW a shotgun doesnt work against ghosts why are you giving me this / Well because Sammy this one is filled with rocksalt (like this is not a thing before). Which knowing the later seasons makes them seem like such amateur hunters honestly. They dont know about rocksalt bullets, they dont know about devil traps, they dont know an excersism by heart (Bobby does say demon possession used to be a rarity and are on the uptick, but STILL) also in episode 4 Dean complains about having to wear suits for their disguise because they never needed to do that before, another later season staple they claim to have been doing for the first time.

I also forgot how early the psychic Sam story line began, its like set up from the beginning and truely gets going ep 5, and it does such good and interesting things with the Sam and Dean dynamic. They also introduce Meg and ol' yellow-eyes (as well as his son, Meg's brother who dies?? I don't remember him coming back? does he???)

Sam and Dean's dynamic is honestly my main reason for rewatching their so stupidly codependent while also being stubborn as fuck and then when you throw John in the mix it becomes even more interesting

also John is a piece of shit father, like yea he loves his sons but not enough to actually spend time with them in a fatherlike role i guess (also also when you tell your 18 y/o son to never return when he runs away from home and then say your both at fault for not reconcilling thats on you pall, youre the adult (or are at least supposed to be)) In ep 14 Nightmare Sam and Dean acknowledge that if their dad hadn't completely thrown himself into hunting (thus also physically removing his presence from the boys) he had a big chance of ending up like Max' (super fucking abusive and drunk) dad, which is its own entiere can of worms.

We also later learn that the hunter community is a diverse and supportive place, which makes it extra - lets say interesting - that John purposefully never interacted with them (cept like a couple of white old guys with guns) it tells us so much about his character.

The ending of season 1 was surprisingly well wrapped up tbh. Like i forget there was actually coherent storytelling in the first 5 seasons. They keep building up to Sam wanting revenge, very much mirroring their Dad, while Dean is on the other side, putting his family's lifes above his need for revenge then in the end Sam has to choose, do this Dad's way, truely commit to revenge above everything, in doing so murdering his own family member or chosing family, chosing Dean. And he DOES, and its very cathartic and then the truck hits 10/10 finale

What I haven't really missed from these earlier seasons is the casual misogyny (and homophobia). There are actually quite a few interesting female characters that are introduced, but the only way they are spoken about is how hot they are/how they would like to sleep with them (Dean is especially guilty of this because of his "womanizing" ways, whereas Sam is supposed to be the loyal grieving bf) but it just really dishearting that even when Sam is just talking to a woman of roughly the same age range the writers make Dean say a comment implying the only reason Sam would want to interact with a woman is because he is interested in her romantically/sexually (which he then does his best to refute, again grieving bf, but it also makes me headcanon Sam as greysexual, which i do like but dont think is what the showrunners where going for)

Because they wanted to throw in basically a hot babe character for them to save there are now also a lot of ppl who know about the supernatural specifically because of Sam and Dean. In my mind a lot of them (especially all the early twenties women looking for answers and community) will join a facebook group of Sam and Dean Survivors. They could share experiences, some of them might become hunters, or allies to hunters (researchers, a safe place to stay, etc.) I kept a list of characters that survived and know about things that bump in the night:

Haley, Tommy & Ben Collins; Ep 2, siblings saved from the Wendigo, one of them was captured and the others joined for the recue

Andrea & Lucas Bar; Ep 3, Lucas almost drowned due to a lake ghosting haunting his bully grandad

Amanda Walker; Ep 4, stewardess who survided the plane-crashing demon

Charlie; Ep 5, teenager who was almost a victim to Bloody Mary

Becky Warren; Ep 6, Sam's college pal, who was the shapeshifter tortured (her brother was the suspect before, but he didn't see anything himself, he might find out from his sister tho)

Lori Sorensen; Ep 7, church girl who got haunted by hookman (her dad got stabbed by the ghost, but might just think it was a dude?)

Larry, Matt & Joanie Pike; Ep 8, the housing development family who survived the bug horror night

Jenny and Sari; Ep 9, new residents of the old winchester house, got haunted some ghosts (also baby Ritchie was lured into the fridge, but he is also like 4 at most)

Kat & Gavin; Ep 10, ex-gf and bf who got trapped in the super haunted asylum with Sam and Dean (Kat is the one who inspired this list and also def a future hunter)

Emily Jorgesons; Stephen & girlfriend; Ep 11, they were all chosen to be sacrifed to the scarecrow, Emily actually knows why, the other couple just knows some shit went down

David Wright; Ep 12, the atheist protesting against faith healing who saw a reaper attacking him (also 2 young kids at the start who were captured by a rawhead)

Cassie & Audrey Robinson; Ep 13, would-be victims of racist ghost truck, Cassie was Dean's old flame

Alice Miller; Ep 14, Max' stepmom, who is the only survivor of the family after Max killed his dad, uncle and then himself

Ed Zeddmore & Harry Spengler; Ep 17, intro of the ghost hunters!! they already believed, but now they actually saw a supernatural creature

Micheal; Ep 18, kid whose younger brother also got his life engergy stolen so was willing to use himself as bait

Sarah Blake; Ep 19, auctioneers daughter, she helped destroy the haunted painting, had a thing with Sam

Monica Holt; Ep 21, mother of the fam they saved from yellow-eyes, by breaking and entering their house (Dad Charlie didn't see anything supernatural, but was also there, also baby Rosie)

Hon. Mention: Kathleen Hudak; Ep 15, cop only heard Sam and Dean talk about how the assailants "are human" but did let them go before the rest of the force would arrive, I imagine she would join the facebookgroup and then just figure it out on her own from there

(- unrelated mostly but the rewatch i never continued with i did that one on netflix, because that was available to me then, now i just watch it online elsewhere and i didnt realise netflix changed a lot of the music lisencing so i went into ep 6 kinda hype cause the last time i heard the song Mary by the Death Riders for the first time and thought it was a dope song that added a lot to the scene of the shapeshifter actually shifting and developing his character, so i kept waiting for them to play it and then they didnt, which had me frantically googling what the music of the ep was cause i low-key felt like i was going insane for a second before i found out it was a netflix vs non-netflix thing)

I have thoughts about each individual episode as well, but I think ive rambled on long enough, lets see if i keep this up for season 2 and beyond lol

[ame-sea]

blorbo bingo! sweden and finland!

SWEDEN

let me tell u for a very long time i was like "yeah he's okay i like him" but this year i have been especially in love with him. thinking about him makes me feel so comfortable about my own socially awkward behaviors and also helps process masculinity as something more soft and gentle than most men in media. super awesome guy to look to as i grow up and get older and need to conceptualize what i want to be as an adult.

i appreciate more recent fanon iterations of him so much. i think now that we're all growing out of our 13 year old twink yaoi fujoshi phases, we're all exploring what it really means to look and act like a grown ass man LOL. i think he really truly fell victim to the "here's our gaybies" back in the day and, also because the nordics are so minor, he's been so void of personality in fanon works. like he's always just kinda There. always around do be The Guy Seen With Finland.

but he's got so much personality behind that stern-seeming face. like, man, he's just got autism guys he cant mask to save his life. im excited to share the version of him in my head with everyone because he's so interesting, and has so much going on in that little head of his, so much in that lil heart too. im so glad everyone else is coming around to it as well. i hope those of us around continue to do him justice and rectify the sins of our past.

FINLAND

it is not that i dont give a shit abt aph finland but i think nobody does him right, not now and not ever before, and ive not done much thinking about who i wish he was. i think he is Fine in canon, but just a little bit boring. i wish he was a bit more standoffish, had a bit more of an edge to him. he's been so yaoified so feminized and while neither being gay or feminine are bad, i think it has really come at the expense of who he Is as a character and as a Person, and also as a representative of a culture!

he also tends to be relegated to housewife and it drives me crazy genuinely. stay at home dads are awesome but not when it's bc kids feel the desperate need to make a gay relationship look like traditional straight relationships in media.

for both of these guys, i just wish they were more complex on their own, and not viewed solely as extensions of each other.

their relationship is super awesome though they are endgame fr. their banter, the quiet domestic love, soft glances and knowing so well how each other communicates.

i think i also hate the sufin + sealand household dynamic everyone has created. and i have to preface this by saying the basis of every fic i have ever built or planned or written or fantasized about has been about them. like okay. i just think. they would not be traditional parents. they are so uncle core. casual friendly hands off uncles. sea is like the neighbor's kid that comes over every night for dinner bc his parents work graveyard shifts and he always forgets his front door key at home, and while you're not ready to be a parent, you help him with his homework and make sure he eats his dinner and teach him how to swear in languages his parents dont understand. (also sufin + sealand has a chronic lack of ladonia which is so very upsetting! they would be so funny forced to be in the same house so often.) sufin (and the nordics as a whole) is so build a relationship from the ground up vibes, and their sense of family is absolutely about building a space with those around them. found families not by chance but by forging deep relationships and care for each other over time.

i think the need for sufin to be so 'traditional white cishet american parents' core stems a lot from general ignorance and homophobia that stained fandom culture for so very long (and honestly still does) and it pisses me off to no end. i demand so much justice for them.

[alterin]

My thoughts about Hyde, Sakura and all these rumors we are interested in

Well, I know my page is not Hyde related, but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway.

Disclaimer: it’s all based on different interviews I read and saw, and on Hyde’s book. I’m not sure if I could provide valid proofs, it’s your choice to agree or disagree.

Let’s start.

Hyde is a person who doesn’t lie. He considers it as a weakness. And that’s probably the reason why he doesn’t debunk rumors about his orientation and family. Hyde reads (or used to read) them and he simply asked people to stop and that’s all. Probably he just doesn’t want to lie. 

Hyde is a conservative person when it comes to family and children. He wanted to have a family like his parents had. He got married because he thought it was right (hello, internal homophobia), had a child and his expectations were not met. Whether he is divorced or not, he said “his family has plans for the future”, so he didn’t confirm rumors. Such an abstract answer, but again, Hyde is not a lier.

About Sakura - I think there definetely was something between them. I wouldn’t say that they dated, most likely there were a lot of misunderstandings. Sakura and Hyde have a lot of similarities and, at the same moment, they are very different. After the drug situation Hyde he locked himself at home and didn't talk to anyone for 2 monthes. Hyde had dreams about him everyday. He said he liked Sakura very much and he believed he would eventually came back. It wasn’t his decision to find a new drummer and for me it seems suspicious (I think Tetsu planned it). Hyde said he still has a wound on his heart. 

My absolutely insane thoughts on Sakuhai history:

1. 1993 - Sakura moves to Osaka, hangs out with Hyde a lot and lives with him. Don’t forget when he said that he was proud/happy to go out with Hyde, because he looked feminine and people thought Sakura was with a beautiful girl (just casual bros behaviour). Hyde was clueless about that and probably dated some girls.

2. Interview when Sakura was on a leash?? Excuse me???

3. The ring as a gift from Sakura? And Hyde literally didn’t take it off???

4. The interview when members were asked who would you marry from the group and both Sakura and Hyde called each other.

5. Entire I’m so happy song. No comments needed.

6. May 23, 2009. Concert in Fukuoka. Sakura and Hyde accidentally met after live. Sakura said he came for someone birthday and decided to show up on concert, but he was late. It reminds me cliche from bl, when person A comes to person’s B house without them knowing, braves himself to go into and then person B suddenly appears and asks “long time no see, what are you doing here?”. Person A says some stupid shit like “my friend from school lives here, came to meet them” and then says goodbye. Ah, misunderstandings again.

Well, basically I think something intimate happened between them, but Hyde decided to act like nothing happened, because he wanted to have a “normal” family after that. Sakura fell first and was happy just to be close and make music together. Then, after _something_, Sakura started to feel left out, did drugs, Hyde realized how wrong he was, after being locked at home he wanted to confess his feelings, but Sakura was restricted to go out in public. Then meeting with Megumi, Hyde believed he loved her, so then he could be normal, but it didn’t work in fact. I don’t think it was staged, I think Hyde truly believed in that. I’m homosexual myself, but I used to date men and even planned a marriage, and only several years after I realized my feelings to the person in school, but it was too late.

Thank you for reading that self-indulgent confession. Would be happy to learn more rumors that fit my perception of them <3

[alterbarekjaerlighet]

tw: a rant on casually homophobic statements

Liberal homophobia is a rather...grating thing. You have these folks (mostly boomers and up in my experience) who acknowledge that LGBT discrimination, harassment, and criminalization is very much a horrible thing that shouldn't happen, but then they go on to assume that all gay people are young, hip, fashionable, and a powerful well-connected group, even going to call them pampered or privileged and not "truly oppressed". Well okay, I get that some segments of such folks might be relatively more fortunate than others but that's not a sweeping rule, not every gay man or lesbian woman is a fashionable married person with a chic apartment in the city - there are so many other LGBT people who live in hostile families, in poor families, and/or in countries where being LGBTQ is criminalized. They acknowledge that this is wrong, and then say stuff like "you are not the most oppressed, you are not a priority." Like just because being LGBT/marrying is decriminalized doesn't mean there aren't other things to fight for! Let's not forget other discriminatory laws re: legal/healthcare services they should be entitled to. The absolute cognitive dissonance here blows my darn mind. They get it, yet they really don't get it.

[terrifyingstories]

lucas scott but it’s pride month and i’m putting my gay hands on everything so let’s talk about pansexual lucas because it just makes sense 

begins to question his sexuality in high school, but doesn’t come out until he’s an adult, though it becomes apparent to him that gender doesn’t have much to do with who he’s attracted to much earlier 

experiences a lot of sexuality-related confusion earlier in his life, but isn’t really forced to confront it until he’s joined the ravens and becomes closer with jake jagielski, who he develops deep romantic feelings toward (unfortunately probably not admitted until much later in his life) 

struggles with a lot of internalized homophobia and compulsory heterosexuality that takes a lot of time to work through. becoming friends with anna helps him a lot and gives him a lot of clarity and peace with himself even though he isn’t ready to go deeper at this time in his life

when he’s younger, he purposely leaves out some magazines featuring men for karen to find as almost a kind of secret call for help, hoping that she will see them and help him work through a lot of the confusion and fear he’s struggling with. 

unfortunately this backfires as she reacts poorly, not out of plain homophobia but out of fear for her son; she’s immensely fearful of the struggles lucas faces already as the son powerful, influential white businessman dan scott abandoned and as a biracial man and is terrified that if lucas isn’t straight he will face yet even more harm. it comes from a place of love and her own trauma rather than malice but unfortunately causes lucas to withdraw and shove down his feelings as he can’t bear worrying his mother or experiencing further shame or hate from his biological father. after she’s calmed down and tries to reenter the conversation with better control over her emotions, lucas says he was just curious and that they don’t need to talk about it. karen doesn’t want to feel relieved, but she is, and lucas can see that within her, which of course only makes it all so much harder. it causes a fracture in their relationship that doesn’t fully heal until adulthood and reinforces a cycle of lucas burying his feelings to protect karen’s. it doesn’t come from evilness or a lack of love for lucas, but causes some deep wounds regardless. 

his confusion and fear leads to a lot of overcompensation with women; he gets a little lost with all of the new attention he’s getting as a raven and makes a lot of mistakes trying to figure it all out. it’s easy to throw himself into his attraction to women to try and forget about all the other feelings he’s struggling with and he messes up a lot because of it. he so badly wants those feelings to go away and shoves them down the best he can, clinging to his new position in society and what that means. that isn’t to say his feelings for and attractions to brooke and peyton aren’t entirely genuine, just that he isn’t being honest with himself and it manifests in a lot of clumsiness and messiness in his romantic life. 

keith hears about their fight upon karen finding the magazines and wants to address it but doesn’t know how and doesn’t know that it’s his place, but gives lucas a comforting shoulder squeeze and reminds him that they both love him, which doesn’t make it go away, but does help significantly. lucas doesn’t ever have the chance to come out to him, but keith tries to support him in all the little ways that he can, and had he still been around when lucas was ready to have that conversation, keith is the person he would have gone to first. he deeply wishes he’d had the chance. 

the first person he comes out to in actuality is haley. it’s a very easy, normal conversation for the best friends, one that isn’t A Talk so much as them discussing his past feelings for jake and feelings in general and what that means. it’s casual and warm and supportive and everything he needs. as an adult, he’s much more comfortable in his sexuality, though private about it, at least at first. eventually he’ll become more open about it and use his own experiences to help others, which in turn brings him a great deal of healing and inner peace. there comes a day where he’s comfortable discussing all of his identities and it’s beautiful. 

[dirtmunch]

wall of text abt dating troubles if ur into that

Ok my gf and I r officially broken up, mutually might I add cuz we r both moving like in the next couple days, I should b sad ig but honestly Im kind of relieved which is terrible but It was rlly obvious she liked me way more than I did and was getting too invested, which, since we started dating on the explicity pretense that it was meant to be very casual and temporary, made be kind of uncomfortable and fenced in. Kinda felt overall to me at least that we fundamentally didn't mesh, and I found myself privately annoyed a lot because she would always speak over me and assume I didn't know things that I obviously would in my line of study. Also not that I don't love being a gay thang, but I'm not fully out so having it pointed out to me by her (you look so nb!! Oh the way you xyz is just so lesbian! <- said in public very loudly) constantly and in public too made me feel reduced to those labels and somewhat unsafe which I really hate. I am uncomfortable with a lot of pda in general, gay or not, but she would always ignore or "forget" and get very handsy in public even though I would tell her constantly to knock it off. She brought up once kind of annoyed at me for it and tried to frame it as some internalized homophobia thing even tho it's really not and is just something I've always felt. Even after in explained it she kept doing it, I remember once she grabbed my ass in the library LOBBY and I got so mad I almost walked out and went home. The worst though was any time is bring up my move to TX for grad school, her immediate response would be like ooooo be careful, they HATE lesbians down there! Like thanks. Yeah sure I put in over 5 years of effort, countless hours of art making, paper work, and thousands of dollars to reach this point and to get to work with one of my favorite artists in a huge next step in my education and career, but instead let's focus about how everyone there HATES me and I'm apparently going to inevitably get hatecrimed and curb stomped instead! Such an encouraging thing for my gf to say wow! In the end we both were dating each other bc of convenience and proximity...