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saetoru · 9 months

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this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!

hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.

i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.

first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did.

that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.

admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.

coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.

it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.

there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.

i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well.

(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)

i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.

at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such.

one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to.

not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.

truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in.

eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby.

at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues.

after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.

the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:

me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)

abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc

now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.

as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed.

i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.

the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point.

not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.

onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.

what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions.

this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over.

i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. 💀. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.

there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.

not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist.

i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.

and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.

i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me.

i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them.

i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.

all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it.

not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)

although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear.

i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.

i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them.

i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it.

anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been.

i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them.

also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!

so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees.

mwah !!

— tee <3

ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽

#thanks to all my mutuals who have reached out !! i love you all #and i will miss you tons !!

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kaeyacollection · 7 months

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Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

#Kaeya may have wandered away from his last family (believes Crepus) but that sure as fuck wasn't gonna happen a second time #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #crepus ragnvindr #Crepus #dawn family #genshin impact #Genshin #thats right now I get to be the one with the many tags trying to get this out there lmao #dont worry I wont do this often here this blog is primarily a trap to get you guys to check out a very talented lore blog #uh I mean...#to show you various fan works of Kaeya?#hey what's that pinned post up there?#god I hope this is formatted right I havent made a tumblr post since we had post headers #and god damn did it keep fighting me #also it's like 5 a.m. if you see any mistakes...#that's tomorrow's problem

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incognitopolls · 6 months

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hi, i sent in a comment back when one (not me) anon said they were unfollowing due to constant cisnormativity and gender essentialism in the polls. you didn't answer my ask back then, or maybe the ask disappeared since tumblr does that sometimes, but i would appreciate it if you would answer this, because i think it would be beneficial for everyone to actually talk about this openly.

i'd just like to ask, knowing that you may edit polls submitted to be more inclusive and clearer, why is the recent poll about preferences for a partner's pubic hair specifically for people with penises? and if there is another poll coming that's the same but for people with vaginas, i'm wondering why it would be necessary for a question like it to be separated like that. personally i don't see how that would make a big, or more importantly an interesting difference in the results. to me all it seems like it's doing is excluding intersex people and supporting this idea of "the two sexes" being fundamentally completely different from each other and someone's genitals playing a big part in defining people's preferences.

i'm not intending this as a hate comment, but as a genuine request for conversation around this subject, as you yourself said to the anon that unfollowed, that you'd like to hear about their side. i know i'm not said anon, but i think we're kind of talking about the same subject here, and recently there's been a lot of polls here separating people via genitals, and it's beginning to make me feel a little uncomfortable, in big part due to it implying that a huge portion of people here see gender and/or sex as a binary, and that people on the opposite ends of that binary are fundamentally different from each other due to their sex/gender.

apologies for the long ask, i just really wanted to avoid misunderstandings so i may have rambled a bit more than necessary.

Hi! Thanks for bringing up your concerns. The way I interpreted that question is that anon was curious whether pubic hair affects the sensation on the penetrating partner‘s penis, or whether pubic hair can be a hindrance– for example, acting as a barrier, or adding friction.

The original question was only aimed at people with penises, and I hadn’t planned on posting any variations for different genitals because (from what I’m assuming about anon’s curiosity) the question is so specific in asking about the sensation and/or logistics for a penis navigating around hair. I don’t think it would be helpful or yield any interesting data to post the same poll for people with other genitals.

In this case, I think my error was in not specifying “does a partner’s pubic hair affect the sensation on your penis during penetration?”. That’s the question I think anon was trying to ask, but unfortunately it was more clear in my and anon’s heads and didn’t come across in writing as clearly as I thought I was saying it.

Also, in response to the sentiment that there have been a lot of genital-related polls lately, there have been about 3 in the past 2 weeks, or about 3%. (7 polls per day; 49 polls per week; 98 polls every two weeks.) I understand if it seems like a lot, but the actual saturation is fairly low. I'm saying this not to dismiss you, but in the hopes of reassuring you that this blog is not shifting to become more heavily focused on separating people's genitals.

I got a number of helpful messages about the previous conversation on dyadism. I didn't respond to them due to some things in my personal life that limited my time, but I read them and have them saved as a reminder to myself when writing up polls so that I can continue to make these polls more inclusive of intersex people– I promise those messages weren’t ignored.

#not polls #nsft

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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June CPNs round-up ❤️💛💚

• Children’s Day candies

• similar we11done pants - i personally love seeing them in same style clothing, especially if it’s as unique as this.

• LOZ preview candies: having the same braincell playing w/ an abacus & the ok gesture reappears

• i can’t link it here because the posts are locked over at weibo, but someone on douyin commented they saw wyb on set of LOZ. but then later on said that they were mistaken. hmmm. you can take it as it is, that this person said something he shouldn’t have. or that he retracted his statement to prevent any problems or rumors. as with these things anyway, we will know as time goes by and as we see clues here and there. i’m just archiving this incident here for future use.

• Beijing same city 6/5 to 6/7 before wyb flew abroad for the french open.

• 6/6 XZ chongqing photos candies 📷

• WYB and the innocence of the little prince

• Look at them and their hats and long hair!

• french embassy paying attention to THEM!

• GG spotted wearing green tod’s shoes! and it looks like they purposely matched their airport fits 😭😭

• XZ’s dragonboat festival photos

• 6/11 xz and wyb together on the hot search

• The similarity in their ELLE magazine previews. you can say that it’s the editing from the same magazine publication that’s why this happened but it’s so uncanny!!!!

• weibo opening screen of their movies winning at weibo movie night!!!!

• August issue of MOVIE STAR magazine featuring them for CQL 5th anniversary!!!!

• venchi chocolate

• new apple watch after spending time in beijing

• rolex daytona paul newman 6263

• XZS chongqing vlog: stone island wardrobe, suitcase, ipad and same city (shanghai) - what i didn’t include here about the suitcase is that, i like the cpn of wyb bringing home stuff that xz’s parents ( in chongqing where he came from before shanghai ) has asked him to give yibo. it may be food items and other things and it makes sense that yibo is the one to take it back.

• 6/16 xiao zhan weibo posts a 🐽 and them posting so close to each other & some more clowning about a sus necklace, 18:23 and venus - i swear! this made me lose my mind! xz is so loud 🗣️🗣️🗣️on yibo’s end we got him imitating the family picture

and i forgot to add the betty boop that looked like she’s wearing luffy’s outfit!

• 6/17 zsww fake rumor

• a cpn compilation about the pig 🐽

• Loewe candies + them being in europe at the same time for 622

• going back to Beijing the same day 6/23!

• rufeng posts new audio snippet where wyb implies he is not jealous of wwx and wq

• them being number 1 for the respective weeks their new endorsements were announced. king behavior!

• tod’s x loewe business photo shoot looks! it’s matching!

• another example of ybo and xzs similarity ( yibo moment )

• the bonus content this month is a tarot card reading done for the boys. if you’ve been following me for some time you’ll know that this is my guilty pleasure when it comes to them. i understand it’s out there so feel free to skip. here is the original video. i will just share here the interesting part that made cpfs 👀.

reading was made 6/19 and people were asking about if whether they will go to europe together. the person said that it’s within the month and not a two person trip cause they will have people with them. and that they have been preparing for this. a section also explained how their state is, that it’s treating one like a husband and they will stay sweet forever. also how the two will remain “hot” or popular. and— that they will sign a contract to put themselves in equal footing which is not limited to a marriage certificate etc.

a part of it too which was asked is how wyb’s relationship is with his dad + i guess how he is taking the romance between him and xz plus other things ( probably ) idk how cpfs thought of asking this. i’m not implying anything okay? the question was “Has the father’s attitude softened?” OP said that wyb has not returned home during this period and him & his father is always separated by by geographical distance. there is no time to sit down and talk with his father so the final result is still a deadlock.But they have to talk and wyb needs to take the initiative to speak to his father.

• adding this here cause it’s blowing my mind how much they look alike recently. like this airport video of xz. i mean. he even move kinda like wyb. LIKE…WHAT…..

-END. See you next month!

<<< previous post

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #I CANT BELIEVE WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH THIS YEAR AND HAVE BEEN EATING REALLY WELL 😌😌😌#this month was unhinged in it’s own little way

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lux-ishii · 1 year

Text

Episode 6 dropped and love is literally in the air... so let's dive in...

We start the episode with an interesting story of a Romeo and Juliette trope. Specifically, a Captain and a Calamari Prince fell in love and run away together, causing danger of war between their species by doing so.

You may think it has nothing to do with either Din or Bo, but if you read my previous post you already know everything is intentional.

They could put here anything, absolutely anything. A pirate, bounty hunter, escaped prisoner... But they put two lovers who with their actions could bring harm to others. It's not truly a happy story, as the woman said before her love confession:

You see, after rewatching previous seasons I noticed that The Mandoverse likes to foreshadow what will happen in one way or another. Mythosaur discovery was foreshadowed by The Armorer in The Book of Boba Fett, for example. So this story here could be a potential warning, or hint at what may happen to Bo and Din. A Princess with a fleet, and a man who isn't considered a true Mandalorian because of his origin (Axe's words). After this episode, I'm pretty sure that Din and Bo are already in love. However, they didn't take any on-screen action to solidify the things we see between the lines. I do believe their relationship will progress further, and...

They may reach the point where things get complicated just because of who they are. You see the lovers from this episode can foreshadow Bo's or Din's dilemma about what they should do for the greater good. They may fall apart if the cause of their interest won't align, or be on the way.

HOWEVER, it may also be used as a future contrast that despite these odds and differences, they would not give up on what they feel for each other. Which I think would go together with true Mandalorian nature. This season is all about what it means to be a true Mandalorian, which is not just a fight for power. It's about caring for one another, especially a family. Mandalorians are stronger together, after all.

More under the cut!

Can we take a moment to talk about how Din IS JUST THERE?

We were making theories if he will go with Bo or not when the show... literally treats them as one already. Whenever she goes, he goes, and vice versa. Without empty promises, they just do it.

And they "moved" to Bo's ship!

To dig into it further, this episode they were constantly walking side by side, to the point of going thru the doors together too if the space allowed it. You can check out this post >here< with more scenes

Glances.

As I mentioned in my previous posts, this form is a subtle tool for storytelling, yet it can hide a whole ton of meaning or can be truly innocent. This episode is full of glances, specifically put in interesting places and I will touch on those later.

Like this one is innocent, just saying "Where the hell we are?" without words.

I mention in the title of this post that "love is in the air" and here's another indication of it, a bizarre one to be sure as ex imperialist and a democrat fell in love despite their differences.

But... Grogu may be the biggest giveaway here:

We don't see Bo's or Din's reaction here at all, only the enthusiastic cooing of Grogu. I asked myself why? Because he matters too, as Din's son. Grogu could be excited about the couple and how happy they are together. He knows both Din and Bo struggle a lot, and they have dark, rather gloomy lives. What if his father was blessed with a love that would make him happy?

In this episode, we also have the first instance of someone recognizing Bo as a Mandalorian Royalty, despite the fact, there's technically nothing to rule for her. No planet, no people.

An indicator that for the outsiders she is still a rightful ruler, despite her own people not believing in her anymore.

Glances. She is not going to make this decision alone, looking for assurance in Din.

An then, at the mention of her ruling Mandalore again she responds with:

Bo doesn't want to rule Mandalore anymore. A theme that goes on since the beginning of the season. But I think just this episode we got a glimpse of the true reason why those plans truly changed.

We got a great sequence with Good Cop - Bad Cop trope. Bo and Din gave us some Detective AU right here, make it black and white and we get a whole Noir setup ready to launch...

But back to the topic. This was yet another example of how they complement each other. Bo's more soft and rational approach would lead to nowhere or would take way longer if not Din's aggressive and hostile take on the matter, and vice versa.

They aren't only a great team, they need each other.

Glances.

Bo for the first time saw the darker side of Din. We knew he had one, but she's pretty taken aback by his hatred of droids. Nonetheless, it doesn't make her fearful of him.

Quite the opposite in fact

as she becomes his voice of reason to hold his horses. She's not scared he would get back at her with this attitude at all.

They had a brief conversation about his hostility, and I'm glad they allowed Bo-Katan to remove her helmet because what Katee is doing with expressing her emotions is phenomenal.

This innocent sentence awakens a lot if you know where to look. And if not I will just show you.

Glances. After the droid, a machine that can outlast probably generations if maintained properly puts importance on human life, and how short it truly is Bo and Din look at each other, accompanied by a romantic melody.

Devil is in the details, as Bo took a deep breath before breaking contact with Din.

What does it mean? As per usual it can mean nothing, or it can mean a thing, and you know me already, I will talk about the thing. You never know when someone's words might hit you, and I think that droid hit Bo and Din pretty strongly. In this lifestyle, they both share, life is even more dangerous than the citizens of that planet. It's a constant battle for survival. Wars, monsters, your own kind... Everything can kill you if you are Mandalorian.

So they might think that there's no time to waste. An indicator that the actions may be taken soon. A way of saying "Life is short so we can as well live together".

The investigation is a success, DinBo detectives can be proud of themselves for solving the issue, and as they came back to the Duchess with the results, we are once again struck with something. The motives of a man responsible for malfunction have their core in his hatred for the ex-imperial husband of the Duchess. So Duchess Lizzo blesses us with this line:

You see, both Din and Bo have past. And those who know TCW know that Bo's past is terrible. She made huge mistakes when she was younger, and she pays for them to this day.

I don't have a gif here, but at this moment you can see how Bo is moved by the exchange of these words, and you can see it all over her face, as her gaze is running away somewhere else.

Lizzo then recognizes the efforts, Bo and Din made, which put a smile on Bo's face. A rare sign, but it only gets better.

You see, I think Bo-Katan is genuinely happy here because she did something good, and her efforts are recognized.

It's safe to say that back at Kalevala, she was severely depressed. Thinking of herself as a failure that caused the doom of her planet and everyone she loved. Everyone left her, no one cared for her, and she was all alone. Then Din needed her help, and from then she was on a streak of doing good. I'm pretty sure that if not for the helmet we would see her smiling similar way after rescuing Rengar. Here, she not only helped people but also secured an alliance with another planet, simply by doing good, with no corruption or violence needed.

Look how proud she is when Grogu becomes a knight! @ladyzirkonia Already noticed in her post >here< that Bo is happier than ever. And It's absolutely true! We haven't seen her as happy ever before. Not when she was getting a new addition to her fleet back in Season 2, or not even when the Armorer announced she is the one to unite them all.

This leads us adress to the bantha in the room...

Where something important happens.

You see, there were many theories that what Bo's doing with Din is just a long play to challenge him when he least expects it, but this disproved it. And later it gets even more interesting.

You see... Axe is accusing Bo of intentionally refusing to challenge Din. Which would mean her people demanded it from her at some point.

Her refusal could be what lead them to leave, claiming she's weak, not only as a leader but also as a warrior, probably thinking she's afraid of challenging him.

However, Bo's motive may be rooted somewhere else.

Bo-Katan had no problem challenging Axe for her fleet, so why would she struggle so much to challenge Din? It was as necessary as getting the fleet back, so what was stopping her?

But she really didn't have to kill him to claim the blade. We saw it as Din and Paz fought for the Darksaber, and Vizsla is still alive.

(gifs by @itberice) Do you remember what I said about love in the air? Now, look back at the Captain and the Prince from the beginning, and Duchess Lizzo and her ex-imperial husband. Do you notice the similarity?

Bo-Katan stands up in front of so-called Mandalorians, that are ready to outcast someone like Din, just because his blood is not Mandalorian enough. Just like Lizzo stood up against Commissioner in defense of her ex-imperial partner.

Again @ladyzirkonia made a great post >here< saying what I'm gonna mention.

This is a great sign of what kind of leader Bo is going to be. She walks both ways, she took her time to understand Din's perspective, and because of everything that happened, he is the one who showed her The Way. The right one.

He let her understand what it means to be Mandalorian, and it's not the blood, but the heart and faith of a warrior.

Din Djarin, with all his adventures, made Bo-Katan the person she is now. And she is really fond of him, to the point of standing in his defense, even if before she was among the people who laughed at him.

I know everyone has mixed feelings about the Darksaber, and I fully myself don't sit right with it either, BUT it happened, and I'm here to make surgery on the symbolism here.

I know a lot of people think if Din gave the Darksaber like that, make it look pointless...

But I beg to differ.

You see, the Darksaber for Din and Bo actually lost its value. For him, it was a burden, and for Bo-Katan a symbol of everything she lost. But for everyone else? It still was a symbol of power.

I may sound here like I'm trying to defend the outcome, but I rather like to think I'm just taking a different perspective on it.

Hear me out, the point of Din getting the Darksaber maybe never was to show him as a potential leader, but rather put him on his path with someone who will make his life... better.

The Darksaber is something that put Din and Bo-Katan on the same way. A catalyst for everything we saw this season. Nothing of it wouldn't happened if Din didn't have the Darksaber. Just think about it, if in season 2 Bo got the Darksaber from Gideon, she would have her fleet, and wouldn't rot in her sadness on Kalevala, so there would be no one to save Din on his way to redeem himself. Giving this one sample to just show how big of a butterfly effect we are dealing here with.

So as much as I don't like the way the Darksaber was claimed, I truly don't think it makes everything pointless. For me, quite the opposite really. It's the reason why everything we see is happening.

#dinbo #the mandalorian #din djarin x bo katan kryze #din x bo #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian season 3 #bo katan kryze #din djarin

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dapg-otmebytheballs · 3 months

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hi!!

i don’t feel right putting my opinion here as i am white and from the us so im not even close to the demographic of people you’re talking about, but i just wanted to say i like reading your posts!

now i don’t know everything that dan and/or phil has said, but i do think it’s important to realize the context

i really do wish they were going to other countries, as it does suck that they aren’t able to see everyone, but i’m also sure they have a valid reason for not, whatever that reason may be…i can’t see them deliberately avoiding other countries just cause there’s “better” options (not saying there are better options i just couldn’t think of another word hehe)

i feel very privileged to be in a place financially (barely) and geographically to see it

i don’t think it’s that outlandish to say that they’ll do something to attempt to make up to the people who couldn’t see it, but i know it won’t be as good as it should be, which isn’t fun

also, i will agree that i don’t like the arguments of other countries not accepting of gay rights, as there’s not much weight there. not only do gay people live there too, but they’ve been to japan three different times. they love it there, and while there’s other countries that are definitely worse when it comes to queer rights, gay marriage isn’t legal there and they obviously know that

jesus christ i yap so fucking much i apologize

tl;dr, i completely understand what your saying, and while calling them “racist” is a little harsh, i definitely understand that not going to other places is not ideal and wish they are able to be more inclusive to everyone

i know they’re touring cause they love it, especially dan, and that going everywhere is impossible, but that does not mean that people can’t complain about them not going over to where they live

i’m sorry this is so long, i just can not stop typing ffs

Hey! So yeah again as I've said many times but feel the need to reiterate: what originally started the discussions from poc and particularly non western blogs was that they have made disparaging remarks particularly to do with tours like come to brazil type remarks and then not taken time to add on like, one line or anything somewhere about not touring in entire continents.

Also obviously we don't think they aren't visiting because they think we're lower to them or whatever, and I'd say you'd be hard pressed to find a post on my blog that says that. Seriously, try it, no implications of the sort have been made, we are just saying it's clear that they've never felt the need to makeup for past mistakes either, and then the phandom defends them each time and all of that together feels very alienating, especially when western fans talk down to us constantly and feel the need to tell us to chill out or whatever and make it out to be that the tour is the primary issue

It isn't! This isn't about the tour!!! The tour was the latest thing that sparked the discussions again because some people, especially LATAM fans who have microagressed So Often, were understandably thinking "seriously they aren't gonna say anything about it?"

And again, I will ask that you try because you'll be hard pressed to find a post on my blog where we day dnp "are racists". My previous ask to this also explains this but just because someone "isn't racist" doesn't mean that when they do racist things we don't call those things "racist behaviours". Racist microagressions are still racist even when coming from goody two shoes progressives. Please understand this and don't get defensive over the language, it's a humble request

And if I may for anyone else looking to talk with me about this in any way, please please stop bringing up the tour with me. I don't care about the tour, I promise you I do not care about the tour, you can talk with me about the other stuff but I've just said it in almost every post I've made: I Do Not Care About Them Not Touring Here, it's small fucking potatoes and it's more western fans' defensiveness and racist remarks while trying to defend them for no reason that are Far Far more of a problem racism (and orientalism) wise than DnP not talking about the tour yet, I don't carrrreee About that I care about what you all are directly saying to US which is more hurtful

I hope this clears stuff up for you and others, again, no hard feelings whatsoever, you were genuinely reaching out and I appreciate that ❤️

#asks

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crash-and-cure · 2 years

Text

Devil In Your Eyes (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: It’s a party and you’re invited to the mysterious and eclectic Mr. Preley’s estate, to properly meet your father’s employer.

A/N: This is based on this request here made by @itlover8000. And I know I promised to have the next part of If I Were You up, but I'll post later as to why it may take a little longer than originally planned. This one was a lot of fun to write, and I hope to god that I did the mafia aspect justice, while still keeping reader relatively in the dark. Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat of last time and it gets in the tags the first time. Also just to give a timeline as to the fic, in this story Elvis was pretty much drafted right before he met the colonel which halted his entire music career and he started his criminal one right after returning stateside. If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis but also introducing... Mafia Boss!Elvis, though he’s not called that in the story. There are themes of delusional, manipulative, and gaslighting behvaior depicted. Smut, including oral (f. recieving) and first time are depicted. Sexual tension galore. Implied violence toward reader’s father. Gratuitous but non-sexual use of the word Daddy, but more in the general southern sense of affectionately referring to one’s father. Reader is young but over 18 when she meets Elvis for the first time. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 13.9k

My Masterlist

When you were young you asked your daddy what he did.

"I’m an accountant, little bug" he said with a kiss on your forehead.

When you were a little older, you asked him what does an accountant do?

"I handle money for other people Sweetheart,'" he would say as he looked at rows and rows of numbers that may as well have been hieroglyphics to you.

The boldest question you ever asked him was how much he made as an accountant. You asked because another girl had invited you over to her house and yours was nicer by far, which was weird because she had told you that her dad was an accountant as well.

He stiffened at that question, and it almost looked as though he were trembling. He took a swig of his drink and he would tell you "don't worry about where the money comes from Gem. Worry about where it's goin'."

Before you could argue further he reminded you of that upcoming school dance and how you deserve a real nice dress to go. That's how he would handle any follow up questions afterward.

You're daddy was an accountant, but you didn't live like an accountant's daughter. Your mama passed when you were real little and ever since then your daddy did his best to spoil you with the nicest jewelry, the finest clothes, and the fanciest schools in all of Memphis.You hardly even remember your mama, but that’s not something you say out loud anymore because of how sad he would get at that thought.

You’re given everything you could want, but these days it feels as though you’re rarely ever given what you actually want.

Gem he called you as a pet name, because even with all the money and wealth he had gotten over the years, he wanted you to know that you were his most precious. He had worked hard to raise you without a mama, and as an accountant he did his best to earn a living for you to thrive.

But not a lot of things about his job made sense. He never went to an office, some men would bring boxes and boxes of papers to your house, and would take others away. He rarely ever let you have friends over because he worried about them looking into said boxes. But the oddest thing about his job would be how the whole world seemed to stop the moment the phone rang.

The phone calls weren't that frequent all things considered, but he would drop any and everything to answer it. That was one of the few rules your house had, to always pick up the phone and to always hand it over if a Mr. Presley called. You’ve answered the phone a few times and heard from the mysterious Mr. Presley, but it was never more than a few words asking for daddy, who was always quick to drop whatever he was doing to answer the call. The conversation between the two of them would always be over before you even left the kitchen, and within minutes daddy would be out the door and be gone for a few hours.

When you were little you had a slight resentment toward Mr. Presley for how busy he kept your daddy, even going so far as to slip him a letter in one of those boxes when you were 8 or so, asking him to give your daddy less work so he can play with you more. That was one of the only times that your daddy had ever yelled at you, and it was apparently your polite tone and Mr. Presley’s good sense of humor that prevented your daddy from losing his job. Now his eccentric ways of doing business are the only thing keeping you from going stir-crazy and giving you some much needed breathing room from your daddy.

You were going to graduate this weekend, but you could hardly say you were looking forward to not being able to go to school anymore. Daddy seems to hover around you more and more these days, you guess, because he’s trying to keep you in the nest as long as possible at this point. These days it’s rare for you to even leave the house period, and forget about leaving the house without him.

Of course you tried to make the best of it, afterall you had spent years wishing he would be more present in your life, and not just in your house. But it’s hard not to feel embarrassed when your daddy is a constant looming presence at every dance and social event your senior year. He doesn’t even trust you anymore to be alone with your girlfriends, so forget about being with a boy.

It felt like you were hardly out of his sight anymore, and you were suffocating. Ironically enough the most freedom you had anymore was in school, where you didn’t have to worry about him listening in on your girl talk or chasing away every boy that even glanced your way. You had tried talking to him about it only to be met with some half-hearted apologies and promises to let up once you were out of high school. Though with how from how much he’s dissuaded you from making any plans over the summer due to a mysterious trip to he’s planning, you aren’t holding your breath.

Even the night before your graduation, you could hardly expect much. While your friends were out and about on the town, you were relegated to packing for said trip. The flight was on Sunday, and you were hoping to use your daddy’s promise of letting up to go properly celebrate with them after the ceremony.

You truly believed it was going to be a night like any other, until you hear a knock at the door only to find a decently sized gift box, with a large bow on top sitting at your front door. To Y/N written on the tag in beautiful calligraphy. With graduation being tomorrow it's not too surprising to receive a gift, but when you open it up you find a pair of masks (one a simple black domino mask, the other a beautifully embellished, soft blue venetian mask) and you’re confused by the gift until you find a thick piece of cardstock at the bottom of the box.

Huh, so Mr, Presley’s throwing a party, you think idly as you look at the invitation for you and your daddy. It’s odd and a bit rude that you received an invite the day of the party, but that doesn’t seem very out of character, when you consider the bizarre ways he does business. You know what Masquerade Balls were, you were gunning for it to be the theme when you were on the Prom committee, but ended up losing to Tina Fike’s Midnight in Paris theme.

Picking up the blue mask you can’t help but think as to how perfectly it matches your prom dress in color. You hadn’t been able to wear it due to the shop messing up the dates and not having it finished in time, so your only option was to wear one of their loaner dresses that didn’t quite fit right. They ended up finishing the dress by the next Saturday, and it’s sat in your closet, unworn, taunting you ever since.

It seems like the stars have finally aligned, and considering that this is from Mr. Presley, there is absolutely no way your daddy would refuse an invitation from him. He’s been called in for business in the middle of the night, you doubt this will even register as being unusual to him.

“Daddy! Daddy, look what just came!” you exclaim, bursting into his office. You don’t even question why the invitation was addressed specifically to you, and not him. Nor why you see the blood drain from his face as he reads the letter. You’re busy picturing what will undoubtedly be the ball of your dreams.

“Gem, uhhh….” he swallows hard at this one. “Your graduation tomor-”

“Oh I know,” you cut him off. “But since it’s at noon, I figure it won’t be too bad if we stay up a little later.” You say as you turn around to start rifling through his suits, to find something appropriately black tie for him to wear.

“Baby, I…” he swallows hard. “I got the dates wrong for the tickets. Our flights leave at 6 tomorrow morning,” he said with a sad pitying look on his face.

“...but my graduation is at noon tomorrow.”

“I know,” he says solemnly.

“...”

“Oh.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset,” he says, reaching for you, but you jerk yourself away.

“I’m not,” you reply, your voice cracking as you try to hold back your tears as best as you can.

“I know, Baby girl,” he said, bringing you closer to his shoulder. “But you gotta trust me when I say that this is for the best. I’ll explain everything when we get there, but for now,” he says, giving you a sad kiss to your forehead, “Just go finish packing.”

“...ok daddy.”

You had been packed and ready for weeks by this point, so as you lay in bed, you try to justify it in your head, try to imagine where this mysterious place he was taking you could be that would warrant skipping your graduation ceremony and missing what could be the last time you would see many of your friends. But short of the moon, you can’t. Anywhere in the world you could be, but the one place you want to be tomorrow is with all of them.

So a grand party, your graduation, and possibly the last time you would be seeing many of your friends are all the things you wanted but would miss, in favor of something you didn’t even want in the first place.

You hold up the blue mask in front of your face and you imagine the kind of party it would be. Your mind conjures up the most lavish of gowns and the best music. The riveting conversations to be had and the interesting people to meet. The more you thought about it the more tantalizing it became. But you quickly scrub those useless ideas in your head.

It’s a party for daddy’s boss, you think to yourself. What could be more boring than that?

Not to mention, even if you did go, you recall how boring of a time you had at your prom as you could practically feel your daddy breathing down your neck the whole time.

But daddy was still here, you didn’t hear any of the usual sounds for when he was about to leave and you would be forced to stay with Old Mrs. Sack next door. So he’s staying home, is what you think. This would mark the first time you’ve ever seen your daddy reject an invitation from Mr. Presley.

Well he wasn’t technically invited, you were… your eyes snapped open at that thought. So really it would be on the invited person as to whether or not you would go, so technically you could go on your own. You aren’t his plus one, he’s yours.

It’s a party for his boss, you argue with yourself, so it’s not as though you would be able to go without him. At that moment, do you realize that it'll be the first time in almost a year since you’ve done anything without him practically trying to hold your hand. You think you know why your freedom has been severely stifled as of late and it all stems from a single act of rebellion almost a year ago to the day.

You remember last summer when your daddy had pulled you out of school early claiming it was going to be an early summer vacation. But what proceeded was perhaps the worst week of your life. During the days when he wasn’t driving for hours on end, he was glancing over his shoulder wherever you were stopped at. And those nights he would hardly sleep a wink in the rundown motels you would be stopped at, and you could hardly blame him because you were very much in the same boat. Worst of all was how little you knew about the whole situation, and you hated how even within the confined space of the car he was somehow still able to dodge the questions you had.

Where are we going?

Why now?

When will we be going home?

By the end of the week you were at the end of your rope and wanted to go home, you missed your bed, you missed your friends, and you were bored out of your mind within the motel. There was only so much TV you could handle before your brain would start dripping out of your ears, and you had already read the few books you had managed to grab before daddy forced you out of the house, a couple times each at this point.

Your daddy was never one to deny you anything you asked for, and so knowing the power of your requests, you never tried to push it. Even when he showered you with gifts, you were careful to accept it but not ask for much else. So it was jarring that of the few requests you have made on this trip, all of them were rejected, in spite of the fact that they were all relatively simple. A request to stop at some corny roadside attraction. No, it’s a waste of time. A new book from that store across from the service station. No, we’re trying to save money. A quick dip into the motel pool. No, you’ll get pink eye.

This one was especially infuriating due to the disgustingly hot summer night you found yourself in, one that makes your sweat sticky and your clothes cling to your body. To add further insult to injury the room your daddy rented was seemingly the only room without a working AC. He was somehow able to fall asleep with the TV still on and you took the opportunity to stare longingly at the pool of the El Rey motel in the middle of who knows Texas, doing your best to ignore the uncomfortable tacky feeling of your shirt.

You hadn’t been allowed to do anything this whole trip, and you’re sick of it. His latest excuse being your breaking point, treating you like some little kid that didn’t know any better. You had just turned eighteen and yet he still insists on treating you like a little girl. This is your last summer before your senior year of high school, and you’re spending it without your friends far from home.

But… did you really need his permission?

Fine, you thought as you gazed at the temptingly blue pool right outside your window. If he ain’t gonna listen to me, then I don’t gotta listen to him. People can call you spoiled all they want, but you thought you were at the very least entitled to water in the desert.

You grabbed a hold of one of the towels in the bathroom and tip-toed past your daddy’s bed as he sleeps like a corpse, and closed the door to your room as you left as quietly as you could. There weren’t that many cars in sight and not a soul to be seen, and with it being well past midnight you figured the coast was clear for your little act of rebellion as you padded your way barefoot across the parking lot pavement.

You didn’t pack a swimsuit with you, didn’t have the time to, but you figure your regular underwear covers about as much as it would. You still double and triple check that you’re alone and no lights are on and no windows are open in the surrounding rooms. The humid night air makes the pool all the more inviting and you quickly shimmy out of your skirt and peel your blouse off your body and before you can lose your nerve you jump into the pool.

It’s a nice shock to your system with the water being cool but not frigid, and as you opened your eyes beneath the water you felt like you were transported to a different world entirely. The light coming from the pool didn’t help clear your blurry vision, but as you look up and see the night sky meet the surface of the water, it looks as though there is no distance separating the two. As though your hand could break the top of the water and you would suddenly find yourself out amongst the stars.

It should be terrifying, but it’s not. In fact it's exhilarating. There’s no one here but you and the unjudging night. You feel like you’re the only person alive and as you breach the surface of the water to take a deep satisfying breath you feel reborn. You feel freer than you ever have been, you're not the perfect unquestioning daughter any longer, you’re a woman who can demand answers and leave if she so chooses.

You were always a good girl, and always listened to your daddy, because you wanted to feel like you deserved what he gave you. But all that pales in comparison to the intoxicating feeling this act of rebellion fills you with, and wanting to make this feeling last, you forgo your original plan of a quick dip and choose to make the most of your time there. You do your best to try to swim like a mermaid. You swim to the bottom to get a feel of the pool tiles that make up the palm tree design. You repeatedly try to break your own record for holding your breath, and you let yourself float to the surface and enjoy the view of the night sky above and the liberating feeling of being weightless.

But it’s the slight burning aroma in the air that drags you back down to Earth. It smells like tobacco and leather and various other spices you can’t quite place. You raise your head out of the water and look around to find the source of the fragrance. The chlorine has made your vision a bit hazy, but you can see clearly enough to see the handsome man dressed all in black, save for a blood red tie, sitting near the pool and chewing on a cigar.

Your first instinct, stupidly enough, is to duck back into the pool and hope he goes away, but that hope dies as quickly as you begin to feel the burning in your lungs for oxygen. You tentatively surface figuring you’ve been caught already, no use in denying it.

“I didn’t realize there were pool hours,” you say through your teeth.

The handsome stranger gives an amused huff at that. “Now that’s a lie if I ever heard one,” he states, a small smirk creeping up on his face. “Don’t worry Darlin’. I won’t tell if you don’t.” he says, using his cigar to point behind you where you find a no smoking sign. You let out a small giggle, some of the tension sapping out of you as at this little conspiracy you hold with this stranger.

“Sorry, I ain’t used to doin’ that,” you say, casting your eyes downward where you finally realize how your cotton bra became slightly see-through, and you pray that he’s too far away to notice. He raises an eyebrow at your answer.

“That I believe,” he chuckles. “So you’re a good girl afterall,” he remarks, and something lights up within you as he says that. The closest you’ve ever felt to this was when you had been kissing Mickey, your next door neighbor, at your friend Jasmine’s birthday party. It had been a simple game of spin the bottle and the kiss had started innocently enough in that hallway closet, as you were too shy to do so in front of everyone. Though it quickly turned into something more when he had put his hand on your lower back to bring you closer to him and something akin to lightning crackled underneath his touch and up your spine. The feeling had been so intense that you audibly gasped and pulled away from him, and now that same sensation runs through your body again.

What was scariest most of all was that this man was able to cause this with his voice alone, a good five feet away from you.

“Not always,” you answer, your voice only slightly cracking in nervousness. You swim closer to where he’s sitting, in part to hide yourself from his view, though mostly to hear him better, as you’re inexplicably drawn to him.

He chuckles at your answer, “Now that’s the biggest lie I ever heard,” he tells you, sure in his assessment of you despite the fact he hasn’t even known you for more than a minute. You're caught between being flustered and offended, at how accurate it is.

“What gave me away?” You ask not to be snippy, but genuinely curious, how he was able to have you pegged so quickly.

“Between your big ole’ doe eyes and your school girl get-up right here,” he said gesturing to the clothes you had haphazardly left on the deck chair. “Figured you’re too honest for your own good.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He looks a bit taken aback by your response, before he gives an amused sigh, “No. Fact it’s a little refreshin’ to know people like you still exist. I’m Elvis by the way.”

“Well Elvis, you still haven’t answered my question.”

His lips curl up, amused at your boldness. “It can be, if you meet the wrong sorts.”

“And are you the wrong sorts?”

“Y’know you ask a lotta questions for someone whose name I don’t even know,” he remarks, though his smile keeps the tone light. “But to answer your question, it depends on who ya’ ask.”

“Well, I’m Y/N and if you ask me you look like a decent man.”

“And who taught ya’ what decent men look like?” he says as he leans closer to you, resting his elbows on his knees,

“My daddy, “ you say earnestly. “He’s a good, honest man, so I know what to look out for.”

He narrows his eyes at that as he takes a puff of his cigar. You’ve never been a good liar, never quite figuring out what your apparently obvious tell was, but everyone you've ever met is apparently able to. But whatever it is he was looking for he apparently found, as he proceeds to ask, “So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way down in bumfuck Texas?”

“Oh umm…” you say, momentarily shocked by his free use of such language. “I’m with my daddy on vacation.”

“No kiddin’, where y’all headed to?”

“I honestly don’t know,” you sigh, putting your head down on your arms resting on the pool's edge. “He says he wants to keep it a surprise.”

“You havin’ any fun?”

“...yes?”

“Now that’s three times you tried lyin’ to me sweetheart,” he chuckles. “One more time, and I may not be so kind.” You don’t really understand why that made your breath quicken.

“You don’t even know my name,” you argue, sinking slightly so that he wouldn’t so easily see his effect on you. “How do you figure you know me so well?”

“I work just about everywhere, and part of my job is knowin’ a good liar from a bad one,” he explains. “And you sweetheart are one a the worst I ever seen.”

“What do you even know about lying?” you ask, a bit defensive of the truth.

“I know how to do it right,” he states genially, before raising an eyebrow to blow some smoke out of his nose. “I can teach you if you want?” You’re at a bit of a loss, though you quickly shake your head yes as you figure what’s the harm in hearing him speak.

Now that you’re getting a better look and the chlorine is seeping out of your eyes, you can truly see how attractive he is. He’s the scary type of good-looking, the type that makes it hard to look at him for too long, lest all your breath be taken from your chest. You have to consciously rip your eyes away from his face several times so that you don’t get too caught up in it. Truly he’s not like any man you’ve ever met before, but that’s not saying much considering how little you ever really interact with men. Sure there are boys your own age, and a few teachers here and there but, none of them talk with you so candidly, ironically enough given that this is a conversation about lies.

“Now the key to lyin’ is to always sprinkle it in with the truth,” he would say. You liked the way he spoke to you, not just because of how he sounds, but because of the way he treated you as you spoke. When he spoke to you, he made it feel as though he were passing on the secrets of the universe to you, and you just about hung onto every single word he uttered. You even bring most of your body out of the water simply to hear him better.

“Why don’t we play a game now lil’ one?” you face heating up slightly with that nickname he gave you. “Two lies and a truth.”

“Isn’t it two truths and a lie?”

“Usually, but you need to get better at the lyin’ bit, so we’re gon’ do it the other way.” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ok,” you say as you exit the pool. “But you go first, and show me how it’s done.”

His lip curls up into a full blown smile, but it quickly drops and he fixes his gaze on the sky. You’re confused at his reaction until you glance down and remember you’re not wearing a proper swimsuit. You scramble forward and do your best to quickly dry off and put your clothes back on all the while as Elvis keeps his eyes closed like a gentleman.

“Thank you,” you said quickly as you sat down and draped the soaked towel over your shoulders to hide the way your shirt clings to your wet brassiere. “Why do I even need to learn how to lie?”

“Sweetheart, take it from someone who knows what the world’s like,” he says. “Being good and honest won’t get you shit in life, especially not what you want.”

“Well…” you swallow unsure of your next words. “Now I think that’s a lie,” you say boldly.

He quirks a brow at this, and a bit of satisfied smile can also be just barely perceived as he is evidently impressed with your ability to stand up to him. “Y’know people are gonna be stirrin’ real soon, why don’t we head up to my room and finish up this game properly,” he offers casually, as though he was offering you a stick of gum.

You’re absolutely struck dumb by that question. Of course you’re not so naive as to what’s on his mind, you got the same wait till marriage speech every other girl in Sunday school got. And as adamant as you were that you would, it’s a very different situation to face now that the hypothetical has become a reality.

To say the least, that man had ignited something within you that you’re not sure how to say no to.

Scratch that.

You’re not sure you want to say no to.

“Y/N?”

You whip around so fast when you hear that familiar voice behind you. Your daddy is standing at the doorway, eyes darting between you and Elvis and he looks like he’s close to passing out. “Hi, Daddy, I-I uh…” your mind blanking, everything Elvis had just taught you about how to lie. “This-this isn’t what it l-looks like?” you say, but your tone makes it sound more like a question. A quick glance at Elvis sees him pursing his lips in a futile attempt to hide his smile, at your miserable excuse for a lie.

You look back at your daddy to find that his stare is focused solely on Elvis, who as of right now has perhaps the most easy-going expression in the world.

“Get inside and dry yourself off, gem. I don’t want you gettin’ sick.” he would tell you forlornly.

“Yes, daddy,” you answer obediently. Though it was as you were about to enter the room did you look back to Elvis still having not moved from his seat, whose focus is still solely on you, not even acknowledging your daddy. You want to say goodbye to him, but you're stopped by a familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Head inside, Y/N,” he says, his voice detached and his eyes distant. “I’m gonna have a few words with that man.”

You expected him to be angry at you, and if you’re being honest, a part of you you wanted him to be. And it was for a selfish reason of just wanting something to justify you breaking the rules in some way. But this is worse, he’s not mad, he’s not even disappointed. He looks heartbroken, seeing you with Elvis out there, knowing you didn’t listen to him.

You’re under the cool spray of the showerhead for a good half hour trying your best to scrub the chlorine smell off of your skin and waiting for that heat in your belly that Elvis caused to die down. You find your daddy sitting facing the window, and you can just barely make out his reflection in the window. There is a solemn expression on his face as he fixes his gaze out toward the pool area.

“Gem, I-I know you ain’t been havin’ any fun on this here trip,” he would say, not turning around to face you. “Believe me when I say we were going for a good reason,” you try not to perk up at his use of past tense, but you can’t help it. “Bu-but things changed sweetheart, and it’s up to you.”

“Up to me to what?” you ask.

There is a bit of a pause at that, and if it weren’t for that look of pain that you see in his reflection as you said that, you may have even thought he hadn’t heard you. “...To choose if we go home or not.”

“Oh…” you say, unsure of this offer. Choice is not exactly something you’re used to with daddy, aside from the occasional “pick your favorite color.” So you’re shocked at the question to say the least having fully expected to simply suffer through the rest of this trip and hope the destination was worth it. But you’ve never been a good liar in your life. “Yes, I do daddy.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep long breath before you see him nod his head, still not turning around to face you. “Well… that’s that then…” he says, as though he’s resolved himself to something, though you don’t know what. “I-I’m gonna go… settle up with the office right now. You get some rest cuz we’ll be heading home come mornin’.” Not wanting to jinx it, you follow his orders and lay down back on the scratchy sheets.

The guilt still eats at you, and as he opens the door, you quickly apologize to him for your disobedience, but his nod of acknowledgement does little to ease that uneasy feeling in your belly.

The trip back was in some ways better this time around, but you could hardly say that it was any more bearable. Daddy warnings came true and you woke up with a pretty bad bout of pink eye, but he wasn’t so stingy about either his time or money so stops were frequent. You were well beyond the age that you should enjoy the cheesy tourist traps, but they are welcome reliefs to the hours long car rides wrought with silence that would follow you and daddy from state to state. Not to mention you’re actually aware of your intended destination this time around, but you do your best to stamp down the burning questions within as to why such a heel turn, especially since the change in plans came immediately after your little stunt.

If he was mad at you, you wish he would just say so, but you can’t even sum it up to that anymore considering the way he looks at you sometimes. There was always a bit of a quiet sadness in his eyes when he looked at you that never quite left even once you got home. He got better and better at hiding it after you brought it up to him but you would still on occasion find that expression on his face from time to time when he thought you weren’t looking. Your best guess is that you’re starting to look more like your mama.

There were some nights where you would wonder if any of this new treatment from your daddy would have happened had you simply not gone into that pool, or even simply gotten out when you had promised yourself you would. You’d like to believe if you had known that that dive would have been your last taste of freedom, you would have done a better job at savoring it. That being said, when you caught a pair of icy blue eyes watching you and your daddy leave the El Rey motel, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret anything about that night.

Daddy was being even more tight-lipped as to what this trip is about this time around. What’s worse, is that he’s not describing the trip as fun or even necessarily relaxing, just “necessary.” with no further explanation.

Elvis’ words about what happens to good and honest people ring in your mind. And as you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you ponder whether or not there was any truth to that statement.

You want to go to this party, if for the simple reason that you would like to dress up and have some fun. You want to go to your graduation ceremony, because you worked hard to finish school, and want to see the fruits of your labor. You want to celebrate with your friends for what may very well be the last time, because… because… well because you want to and it doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.

In another life they all aligned perfectly so that you would be able to do all three of these things, but you live in this life and a stupid flight for a trip you didn’t even want in the first place took priority over all of it.

Of course… that is if you get on that flight.

No that’s crazy, you think to yourself. You have to be on that flight tomorrow morning, which is why you need to be ready to leave and so you have to go to bed early. It would be a real shame if you were out so long and slept through the flight.

Maybe… maybe if I did stay out long enough and we miss the flight… There wouldn’t be any reason why I couldn’t go to the Graduation ceremony. You feel awful for these thoughts, and you recognize how sneaky and manipulative the plan forming in your head is. You do your best to ignore them by trying to remember how much your daddy wanted to go. But you want to be with your friends tomorrow, you want to graduate, and see them off properly, because your daddy hasn’t given you a clue as to when you would be coming back.

People have always remarked how lucky you were of all the things you have in your life, but you’ve always known that there was a difference between taking what you’re given and getting what you want. Every fancy or expensive thing you own comes with a story. They’re really all the same, daddy missed a school thing, a recital, a birthday, etc., because of work and in return he would give you something expensive in lieu of his absence.

You were of course grateful for these things but all you ever really wanted was your daddy there. So you always tried to strive towards earning your keep with good grades, good attitude, good social standing, truly all the markings of a perfect daughter. All of this done in an effort to earn his presence.

And what has the perfect daughter earned? You think bitterly to yourself as you pack your outfit into a garment bag. You quickly fix your hair up all fancy like and fix your makeup, all the while planning your escape route.

It’s truly a miracle that you were able to make your way out of your bedroom window without a scratch, but you’re not about to count your blessings yet, as your plan hinges on being able to get there, and you have no idea how to drive. But you know someone who does, which is how you find yourself pounding on Mickey’s front door.

He was the typical boy next door type who was your first kiss as well as the kid who put bugs in your hair when you were little. He was home from college for the summer with his shiny Lincoln Continental, his daddy gave you and according to his little sister, very sweet on you. He was therefore the best/only candidate as your date to this thing. You were lucky enough that he almost immediately agreed, and bolted upstairs to grab a suit to wear. You’re on a bit of a time crunch, so you quickly change in his little sister's room, and before you know it the both of you are on the road.

“S-so Y/N, who-whose party is this anyway?” he stutters out once, while stiffly but trying to appear casually resting his arm behind your seat.

“Oh my daddy’s boss,” you say casually. “I don’t know his full name, I just know him as Mr. Presley.”

He goes a bit, bug-eyed at your statement. “Re-really?”

You confirm, a bit confused at his reaction. “Do you know him?”

He restlessly taps at the steering wheel, before swallowing and saying that he knows of him. “Di-did he invite you personally?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you show him the invitation that was addressed to you personally. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” he responds, the worry still evident in his voice. “Does your dad know you’re goin’ there.”

You swallow, nervous at this new line of questioning. “...yes,” you answer looking out the window to avoid being seen by him.

“Does he know I’m with you right now?”

Your tongue is weighed down by the lies, and you’re unable to speak, so you merely hum in the affirmative.

“Hmm…” is all he responds, and the conversation peters out after that, with the only sounds to be heard being the hum of the engine and his anxious rapping of his fingers, as the two of you make your way to the big white house in Whitehaven.

Finally you come upon the bronze gates of the eye-catching estate. You show the Valet your invitation and they let you through easily, and you’re too busy marveling at the grand residence before you, that you failed to notice the way Mickey seemed to be sweating through his suit right next to you. No, you're occupied by trying to get the mask to sit just right to notice, and when you hand over the domino mask, he declines stating he’ll put it on after he parks the car. He tells you to go on ahead without him, and so lost to your excitement, you do just that, trusting that you would meet up with him soon.

As you made your way to the back of the house, your mind was already conjuring up this ideal image of your grand entrance to the party, where everyone would stop what they were doing to marvel at your beauty. Where you would be the mysterious unknown woman who had just arrived and took everyone’s breath away.

You realize your folly when you actually do come into view of the gathering at large and many people do notice your arrival. It’s not as flattering as you would have thought, and regret starts to seep into your belly.

The men wore pretty standard tuxedos, while the women were all wearing bold reds, striking golds, or even sophisticated black dresses, making you and your soft blue and white prom dress stick out like a sore thumb. It was almost like you had “outsider” written on your forehead. The men don’t really see you or actively look away from you and the many women look like they want to rip your hair out or pinch your cheeks. Despite how perfectly the dress fits you feel like that little girl who tried walking around the house in her sick mama's shoes, trying desperately to get her to smile, only to end up twisting her ankle, and making mama worry more.

You overhear some people say how celebrities like BB King, Johnny Cash, and even Frank Sinatra were present, and this just further tightens the knot in your stomach, and you wonder what you are even doing here.

Not even a full half hour and you’re ready to leave, as you’ve never been put into a situation where you don’t know a single person and you’re far from comfortable simply inserting yourself into conversations. You search to find Mickey, but in spite of the fact that he had worn a pretty distinct suit, you can find neither hide nor hair of him.

This was all too much to handle on your own and you’re silently cursing your earlier, bolder self. The entire floor seems to fall silent for a moment and everyone else’s attention is drawn to one direction for a moment. All except for you, as you take this opportunity to make your way outside of the party to gather yourself. Why did you think this would be a good idea? To go to a party where the few you could only vaguely recognize some, and know not even a single name? You remove your mask, ashamed you ever thought you would be able to pass yourself off as a woman and not the child you were.

All of these doubts are only further compounded as you feel a tap on your bare shoulder. “Pretty sure the point of these things is to wear a mask,” a voice like honey whispers near your ear. You’re so scared that you’ve unknowingly broken a cardinal rule and that you were about to be kicked out, though this eases somewhat as you see a light quirk on this stranger's lips.

Unlike the other men you’d seen at the party, he didn’t wear a simple black mask, no his was far more ornate, and with the burnt burgundy color to match his tie, in stark contrast to his all black suit, overall giving him a very devilish look. Whether it’s the perfectly coiffed hair or the plush lips, something about him feels deeply familiar.

You’re not able to pinpoint what exactly until you're finally caught by his icy blue gaze that was almost entirely muted by the red of his mask. “Elvis?” And when he gives you that devastating grin of his you launch yourself into him to wrap him in a hug. “What are you doing here?” you question, though you’re glad nonetheless to find at least one somewhat familiar face in a sea of masks.

“Like I said I do business everywhere, ‘specially in Memphis,” he said, pulling away to answer you yet his hands remain on your hips.

“Oh so you know Mr. Presley?”

He looks taken aback at your question for the briefest of seconds, before a soft smirk crosses his face. “You can say somethin’ like that,” thoroughly charmed by you. “So whatcha you doin’ in a place like this all by your lonesome?”

You let out a tired sigh before giving a sad smile and saying, “I don’t even know, anymore.”

You feel him put a finger under your chin, and you're brought to look him in the face. He looked genuinely concerned for you as he asked you “hey, now what’s wrong lil’ one?”

“Nothing,” you say, trying to dismiss his concerns.

He gives an amused chuckle, and he sounds mighty satisfied with himself as he says, “Still ain’t gotten any better at lyin’, huh Y/N?”

That does get a laugh out of you, albeit a sorry imitation of one. “Can’t believe that’s what you remember about me,” you say.

“I remember alotta things darlin’” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Despite the fact that you’ve only met him twice in total, you know that there is no use in lying to him. So that’s how you find yourself regaling this man with your teenage woes as well as your devious plan to circumvent your fathers wishes. Elvis luckily enough is sympathetic to your plight, and seems thoroughly unimpressed with your fathers reasoning as to why you’re going to miss a major milestone in your life. “This was a bad idea.”

“Nah, it wasn’t a bad idea,” he reassures. “So-so execution, but not a bad plan.”

“I really should just go home,” you say, shaking your head. You try to turn away from him, only to be lead by the waist back to the party.

“Tell you what, Satnin,” he says. “I’ll take ya’ home by the end of the night. But first you gotta do somethin’ for me.” A devilish smirk crosses his face when he sees your breath quicken. “I want you to be my date.”

“What?”

“Well the flaw in your plan was, you don’t know anybody else,” he says. “But you know me, and I can make the proper introductions to everyone back there and you don’t gotta be Johnny’s daughter, you can be my new girl.”

He reaches to take the mask in your hand and steps behind you to put it in place. The more you think about his offer the more it makes sense. You’re alone here, and you could use a friend right about now, and it makes sense for said friend to be someone who is intimately familiar with this sort of lifestyle.

“What'dya say, darlin’,” he says as he quickly fastens the ribbon of your mask in place. “When you wear this mask here you can pretend to be anyone you want to be. So why not pretend to be my date?” He offers his hand to you and you hardly even hesitate a moment to take his hand.

Elvis is able to talk you through how to walk, talk, and overall, how to act like you belong here in the slightest. He doesn’t mind you practically clinging to his arm for most of the night, and he is able to make introductions to almost everybody attending. Elvis even introduces you to the mysterious Mr. Presley, a soft-spoken salt and pepper haired gentleman, who insists on being called Vernon. You hope your face doesn’t show it, but this is far from the man you always imagined in your head, the man whose name alone could make your daddy quake in his boots.

Though whatever thoughts you have about your host is quickly wiped away as Elvis quickly moves you to the next, more interesting guest. People have a tendency to gravitate towards Elvis, offering their congratulations to him, and remarks on how you’re one lucky lady. You bask in this, as for what for the first time in your life, people look at you and don’t see a child they see a woman.

It is around midnight when your good mood comes to a screeching halt, as you hear a loud commotion coming from the front of the party. “Y/N!? Y/N!? Where are you!” you hear your daddy yell amongst the crowd, accosting several women with even a passing resemblance to you. You quickly try to shield your face with your hand for all the good it would do, your face burning in humiliation.

Elvis seeing your distress quickly takes you by the elbow and leads you out of the bright lights of the dance floor, and into the shadows of the outside, and before you know it he’s leading you through the backdoors of the grand house.

“I don’t think we’re allowed in here.” you whisper to him as you still continue to follow his lead.

“Trust me, baby,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, where you notice an open bottle of champagne. “Boss man won’t mind too much.”

“What’s this party for anyway?” you ask as you relieve yourself of the shoes you had been wearing, and take a seat next to him on the ground beside the couch.

“Mr. Presley’s gettin’ hitched tomorrow.” he says flippantly, all the while removing his mask.

“Oh…” you say, glancing down at your blue and white dress. “Oh dear lord, and I showed up in white,” you say, burying your face in your hands, embarrassed beyond belief at your faux pas.

“Don’t think nothin’ of it baby,” he says, taking your chin in his hand, to bring you to look at him. “Most a the folks out there don’t even know. ‘Sides you dressed all in blue brings back some nice memories a Texas.”

“I wasn’t exactly wearing blue, back then.”

“You weren’t exactly wearin’ much a anythin’,” he says with a coy grin, and you swat at his shoulder in retaliation. “Y’know, I been thinkin’ a lot ‘boutchu this past year and what you said ‘bout bein’ honest.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I realized I needed more honest people in my life.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, unsure as to how to really respond to that. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“But enough ‘bout that. You remember that game we tried playin’ back in Texas?”

“The lying one?”

“That’s the one. Let’s play that again, ‘cept this time we’ll make it a little more interesting.” With a soft smile he holds up the half-filled bottle of champagne, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he says, “you guess wrong or the other person gets it right, you gotta take a hit of this.” You think only for a moment, before ultimately agreeing, not wanting the night to end just yet.

You didn’t expect to win, but you didn’t expect to lose so miserably. He’s able to suss out any and all lies you state. He even changes the game midway to have it be two truths and a lie, hoping you’ll fare better with only needing to tell one lie rather than two. The few swigs he takes are from when you take your chances and randomly guess as to the true or false statement he’s making. And even then you get the impression it’s more to humor you.

Though as the bottle dwindles, you find yourself becoming bolder with both your lies and your truths, but it was all in an effort to keep up with how fantastical his statements were getting, not just the lies, but the truths as well. It really puts into perspective the kind of life he’s lived compared to you where any of the stories he tells you would be the craziest thing to have happened to anyone, yet they all somehow happened to him.

“I got played on the radio. I’m the most feared man here. I dodged the draft.” He said in one round, nothing about his body language giving him away, but with the amount of champagne you had you doubt you’d have picked up on them anyway. You also can’t quite remember at this point if it was two truths and a lie or two lies and a truth. With his fiendish attitude and rebellious nature you figure it was the last one and you tell him as much.

“Nah, darlin’, I did my due diligence for the country. Wish I didn’t sometimes, but that’s a whole other story.”

“Wait… you got played on the radio?” The idea of which was mind-blowing to you, but what was more shocking was his sudden shy demeanor.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, fiddling with one of his rings. “It was a small thing, song didn’t even make it outta the south.”

“Could you play something for me,” you ask, doing your best impression of a doe. You already like the way he speaks, so you can only imagine how it would sound for him to sing.

His eyes grow soft, at your request, and you're reminded of the pool at the El Rey Motel. How inviting those waters were, and how it felt almost like a cool balm on your restless soul.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he says. “‘Sides it’s your turn, and you ain’t even taken your shot yet,” handing the bottle, where you realize, there is perhaps only a mouthful or two left of the bubbly concoction, and it’s your turn.

“Ok, hmm…” you muse, after you had taken your drink, swirling the remnants in the bottle. Point wise, you have already most definitely lost the game, but that doesn’t mean you’re about to call it.

What was it he said about what makes a good lie? You internally ask yourself, trying to remember that little tidbit he gave you almost a year ago. That there’s always a bit of truth sprinkled within. And it’s as you remember this, that an idea suddenly strikes you.

“2 truths and a lie,” you announce to him. “I can’t ride a bike. My favorite candy is Lemonheads. And…” you hesitate, but power through before you lose your nerve completely. “And… I want to kiss you right now,” you’re finally able to stutter out

His eyes widen a little at your audacity, but he’s quick to collect himself, clearing his throat slightly and giving you a rakish smile as he answers. “That second one’s too specific to be fake.” he says, bringing his hands to cup your chin. “And ain’t no way that last ones a lie.” all the while coming closer to you. “So Imma go with the first one bein’ a lie.”

When his lips are maybe an inch away from yours do you put the bottle between the two of you.

“Drink,” you command, backing away from the bottle slightly. “I cannot ride a bike to save my life, it was the last one that was a lie,” you state, willing your voice not to waiver. “I don’t want to kiss you.” To really drive it home how good you’ve gotten at this lying business.

“O-oh,” he says, looking down ashamed.

“The truth is… I really, really want to kiss you,” you say, giggling ecstatically that he fell for your little ploy.

You get the pleasure of seeing a look of shock and confusion pass through his face, before it’s quickly replaced with a look of pride directed solely towards you. You worry slightly until you feel an arm slip around your waist and you're brought closer to him. So close that you find yourself straddling him. You’re not sure if the burning in your face is from embarrassment… or… something else entirely.

“That’s a dirty little trick there darlin’,” he says, his hands firmly on your hips keeping you in place, as though you would even want to leave at this point. “Who taught ya’ to lie like that, huh?”

“You did,” you declare, moving closer to him so that you’re practically nose to nose with him. For as bold as you’re being right now you wait for him to close the distance between the two of you. And luckily for you, you don’t have to wait long.

Of the few kisses you’ve had, none have ever been even remotely close to this. This isn’t the demure cheek kisses on your porch that just barely grazed the corner of your mouth, nor was it the shy pawings in a hallway closet after a game of spin the bottle. Those were experiences with boys, while Elvis… Elvis is a man.

It started out similar enough with a soft brushing of your lips with his as he slowly but surely the two of you became bolder and bolder. His lips capture yours to nibble lightly on your bottom lip, which you meet by throwing your arms around his neck. He throws you a bit off balance by planting his hands underneath your thighs, so you steady yourself by planting a hand on his slightly exposed chest.

It isn’t until you felt his tongue lightly brush against yours, did you pull back gasping for air. You can only imagine the kind of image you made right now with your chest heaving and your no doubt blown out eyes, but from the fiery look in his eyes he seems to enjoy it very much.

He leans forward into you as he starts to leave open mouthed kisses along your neck, which does nothing to help even out your breathing. Especially not when you can feel one of his hands begin to undo the pearl buttons along your back, while the other slowly inched its way under your dress.

“Follow me upstairs baby,” he whispers in your ear. “And I can teach ya’ so much more.”

Thoughts like the fact that this house doesn’t belong to either of you or that your daddy is out there looking for you are far from your mind as you breathlessly say yes to him. As you move to stand up, he stops you, “Take off the dress sweetheart,” he orders softly, his gaze searing into you, while he loosens his tie. “I wanna see all of you.”

You shakily move to stand and you undo the final few buttons on your lower back all the while hyper aware of his stare. You’re still untrained in the arts of seduction so rather than draw it out, you simply let the material drop down and pool at your feet and onto his lap. A part of you feels embarrassed at your undoubtedly boring white cotton bra and panty set you were wearing, and you silently look up and away from him to await his approval.

“That’s my girl,” he hums in approval, and you’re able to release that shuddering breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Though you quickly draw air back in when you feel him place his hands on your hips and give a quick kiss to your cotton covered kitty.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird as he leads you by the hand up the stairs and the warmth in your belly and the fuzziness in your head makes all of it feel like a dream. Not helped by the intensity of his oasis blue eyes, and you’re once again bathed in that same feeling when you were in that motel pool: that of being the only person alive.

You often thought about that night at the motel, and wondered what would have happened if you were a little quicker on the draw to his invitation back to his room. Through Mrs. Sacks talks and your friends' whisperings you understood the basic mechanics of it, and that if the man was good, it was supposed to be very pleasurable, but not much else. Elvis in many ways was a safe choice to fantasize about, as you never would have guessed you would see him again.

But as he lays you down in the largest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, do you really begin to question how well your fantasies have prepared you. He removes his shirt with practiced efficiency, all the while keeping his eyes squarely on you, the dim lighting doing little to shield you from his piercing stare. You’re left to pathetically writhe on the bed as he stands back up to unbutton his shirt, not being helped one bit by his bitten off smirk at your state.

You’re practically heaving as he crawls over you, and he captures your lips once more. In the privacy of this bedroom, the kisses turn from tender to filthy. His tongue probing your mouth with wild abandon as one hand deftly unhooks your bra. It is as you’re about to

“Lord, I’ve dreamed about these,” he says as he drags the soft cotton material off of your chest. You fight the urge to cover yourself, still wanting to obey his earlier command to see all of you. He leaves a trail of open mouth kisses down the slope of your breast until he finally meets a budding peak and takes it into his mouth. The act catches you so off guard that you can’t stop your lewd reaction to it.

“Ain’t a single day passes that I don’t think about you in that pool baby,” he whispers into your skin. The soft mewls from the warmth of his tongue as he laves at your nipples, are swiftly replaced with sharp yelps when you feel his cool breath blow lightly on the moistened area. Part of you doubts you’re even going to survive this night, given the difference in experience between the two of you. “Seein’ your sweet tits just beggin’ to be touched.” and he emphasizes his point with a slight scrape of his teeth on your nipple.

You’re hoping to make up for your lack of experience by sheer enthusiasm, so when you find him making his way off the bed, his eyes fixated on that final piece of clothing that hides your woman hood from his view, you spread your legs, eager to show him how much you wanted him. But when you’re rewarded for your eagerness with a kiss to your inner thigh, that immediately wants you to close them once more, but his strong hands make that impossible.

“Though I think these are just as wet as they were back then,” he purrs before licking a stipe up the seam of your kitty. You’re lost to the sensation of it, wanting to recoil but simultaneously embrace what he’s stirring up inside of you, much like back then.

You hear a ripping sound coming from him and you suddenly feel the cool night air fully hitting your burning core and you shiver at the delicious sensation of it. Even those few times you were brave enough to do anything remotely close to this it was always over the fabric and now you were left completely defenseless to this man's eyes. And if that’s not enough vulnerability for him, he proceeds to ask how you touch yourself.

You’re at a loss for words at his invasive question, but not so offended that you don’t answer him. And you shamefully tell him how you’ve only ever occasionally rubbed yourself against your pillows to chase that euphoric feeling.

“I’d like to see that sometime, doll,” he purrs, making you shiver. “But for right now we gotta getcha good and ready for me.”

Before you can question what he means about that, you feel something probe at your entrance, and you feel his fingers soft circle that secret little button you’ve always been too afraid to mess with. You’re a panting mess and you’re giving into whatever feels good at the moment, and you can’t help the way your hips move in tandem with his fingers, as it was simultaneously too much yet not enough. Though you quickly learn what is too much when you feel not one but two of his fingers within you and start going at a steady rhythm, all the while the palm of his hand continually rubs at that button.

You’ve long since given into the depravity of this act, but you’re still grateful that Elvis has the judgment to try to muffle your wanton shrieks with his sweet kisses. So sweet that it stands in sharp contrast to the lewd things his hands are doing between your thighs. All too soon, just as you’re getting used to that stretched feeling does he pull his hands free and you let out a needy sob as you’re left feeling achingly empty.

He chuckles at your neediness, as he brings his hand up and you see for the first time the evidence of the long-dormant immodest side of yourself glistening on his fingers. Before you can even begin to feel the burn of shame, he sticks those fingers into his mouth and lets out a long-satisfied hum, and you find yourself burning in a different way.

“You’re so sweet darlin’,” he whispers against your lips and you’re helpless to do nothing but open your mouth to have a taste.

You think you know what to expect next, until he makes a show moving down your body until he’s crouched down between your legs and gathers all the excess wetness between your thighs with his tongue. Your confusion is apparently evident as he takes a moment to pause and look you in the eye as with that trademark devilish smirk on his lips as he dives straight to the source of your heat.

None of your friends had ever described anything close to this, or if they did they failed to mention how wonderful it would feel. Your back arches almost entirely off the bed, as your thighs reflexively box in his head, and you’re moaning freely at the sensation of it. His tongue quickly replaces his thumb at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and with the fingers that were already going at a steady rhythm inside of you, you’re a goner.

After you come down from that euphoric peak, you’ll apologize to him for all the embarrassing noises you made. He’ll quiet you with a kiss, and you shudder at the more potent taste of yourself. “Y/N, you’re one a the few people in those whole fucked up world who can’t hide how they feel. It’s why you’re gon’ be mine,” his dark rasp only adds to the bliss you’re feeling, as he gives you a soft kiss.

He pulls away from you once your breath has steadied somewhat. In spite of how tired you were, you still wanted to know more, now that you’ve come this far.

You go a bit wide-eyed when you see him unbuckle his pants and you see in person for the first time what makes girls and boys so different. You have done a bit of exploring on your own, and you understood from what Old Mrs’ Sack’s birds and the bees talk, that boys have something like that, but you didn’t ever realize that it could be so big. Your mouth is dry as you speak, “How… how is that going to fit?”

Even in the low lighting of the bedroom, you can still make out his dazzling smile before he gives you a soft kiss to your nose. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that sweetheart,” he says as he cups your chin. “This is the most natural thing in the world. You were made to take me like this darlin’.” You don’t fully understand why that gets a particularly wanton moan out of you, but you don’t fight it. “Just lay back and relax baby girl, and I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, taking a nibble of your earlobe.

You follow his orders and lay amongst the pillows as his strong hands align your hips with his. There is a burning sensation below as you feel the head, and he gives you a moment to adjust, and you bite harder into your lip, until he takes his thumb and gently removes it from between your teeth to give you a sweet kiss.

“I wanna hear ya’ baby,” he says, his lips brushing against yours, as he starts to slowly push forward.

And forward.

Until you finally feel all of him, long and oddly heavy, fully sheathed within you. You fight back your tears, but his gentle kisses along your face and praises in your ear as to how good you’re being all make the experience far more bearable. He shifts ever so slightly within you, causing a particularly filthy moan from you.

Elvis takes this as his signal to almost entirely remove himself, and your tiny whimpers are only quieted as he slams himself back into place. The suddenness of the act robbing you of a voice, and it would have scared you to death, were it not for his whispers asking if you trust him on this.

“I do,” is all you’re able to manage, and that seems to set him off like a switch. The hunger for you is apparent in his eyes and as he picks up the pace and you’re freely keening and whining, he plants his mouth on yours as though he wants to consume you entirely.

How can he move his hips like this, is perhaps your last coherent thought of the night as he continually rocks back into you. You, in vain, try to keep up with his thrusts, but your amateurish movements are quickly outmatched with his as he moves his hands on to your waist to move you in tandem with his and you love every single second of it, especially when he’s able to hit a particular spot within you that you never knew existed. That coil in your belly straining further and further, until it finally snaps and you let out an unrestrained cry to the heavens themselves.

He’s not too far behind you as his thrusts begin to sputter, until he finally stills and you wrap your legs around his hips, enjoying the pleasantly warm feeling of his seed within you.

You’re nothing more than a boneless heap after all was said and done, barely having enough strength to open your eyes. Elvis is able to maneuver you under the silky sheets with him and the wonderfully cool fabric is able to dissipate the last remnants of burning heat within you, allowing you to settle in his arms. You shiver as you feel yourself leaking on to a complete stranger's sheets, but you’re so tired right now you figure that that can be a problem for tomorrow.

You’re brought back to the land of the living when you feel the warm rays of the sun on your back, your eyes aching and your nether regions pleasantly sore. You don’t immediately do anything about your current state, wanting to bask in this feeling for a little while, though eventually the soft ticking sound of the clock radio reminds you of why you embarked on this adventure in the first place.

You shoot out of bed to see that you have most definitely missed your graduation ceremony by this point. You hang your head, and will yourself not to cry at the almost karmic punishment, you’ve been dealt. But you can hardly call it one because this is a direct result of your own actions.

And it is as you’re internally berating yourself for your willfulness, do you realize that Elvis is nowhere to be found. And that is truly the cherry on top to this awful sundae, knowing you spent a night with a charlatan in favor of getting what you want.

You feel used and humiliated, and it is as if you're trying to prevent the tears from flowing, do you see the attached bathroom, and realize that you’re in the master bedroom.

Oh dear lord, this is Mr. Presley’s room, you think while burying your face in your hands. You’re absolutely humiliated that you put yourself in this position and you worry as to how you’re going to get home. The solution before you is simple but it is far from an easy choice. It’s hardly a choice at all, considering that the alternative is sneaking off of the property and taking your chances walking home alone in nothing but a white silk robe you found.

And that’s how you find yourself aimlessly walking around a strangers home, and silently praying that they are charitable enough to take you home. Good humor or no, you doubt there is a world where Mr. Presley doesn’t look at daddy differently after this.

Once you’re downstairs do you finally come across a closed door with some sign of life behind it. You’re so desperate you don’t even hesitate in opening it only to be met with at least a dozen pairs of eyes on you, all of which were surrounding your missing lover, sitting with his feet propped up on a desk. “Ahh Y/N yer here just in time, why dontcha come on in?” he half sings to you, patting his lap. You’re beyond confused by this point that you don’t even think twice about doing so, instead focusing on making sure that your robe stays closed. “Sonny, go get ‘em.” you hear from him, as he puts his feet down on to the floor and brings his hands outward to you, and with all of the eyes on you, you comply.

He sits you on his lap, and you can hardly begin to comprehend what’s happening, before you hear a big commotion somewhere in the house, that only seems to be getting closer. You see the men begin to set down a tarp on the floor and you see a row of weapons all sitting casually before you on the desk before you. Panic begins to set in as you see Elvis for the first time in the light of day, and his deranged focus is solely on you.

“Elvis what is going on here?” you question, tears in your eyes, his firm grip making escape impossible.

“I’m gettin’ what I’m owed sweetheart,” he whispers, as the door bursts open and you see two men throw a third to the tarped floor face first. You almost don’t recognize him at first, as you can’t comprehend why he would be here, but eventually there is no denying it.

“Daddy?” you say forcibly pulling yourself off of him to try to get to him. Some of the men hold you back as you see Elvis saunter his way over to him before you can.

Elvis says as he crouches down to where your daddy was forced to his knees, and forcefully pulls your daddy’s head back by his hair to face you directly. “You wanna tell her Johnny boy, or should I?”

Your daddy sputters, eyes darting between you and ELvis once again, before he looks down and tries to say. “Gem, I-I… I don’t kno-”

“You lyin’ sack a shit!” Elvis explosively cuts him off producing a gun from his waist. “Tell the fuckin’ truth to your daughter,” he says pressing a gun to your daddy’s temple. Your daddy looks devastated at his words, his mouth opening and closing, apparently choking on his own words as he looks between you and Elvis.

You’re frozen in place at that moment, too scared of the man you thought you knew, and too scared for the man you thought you knew.

“Y/N, I-I…” he looks close to tears, something you’ve never seen on his face before. “I-I been workin’ for Elvis-”

An ominous click, cuts him off, and the man in question sneers “try again.”

Your daddy audibly gulped at this point. “I’ve been handlin’ the money for Mr. Presley here for almost ten years,” he says in a low whisper.

That sort of answers some questions, but you can hardly figure out what this has to do with you. But hearing who exactly Mr. Presley, is and that you spent the night with him is incomprehensible.

“After,” he pauses to take a steadying breath. “After your Mama passed, I-I needed all the help I could get, and… and… I took more than my fair cut.” he says his eyes closed, avoiding looking at your face, as he takes a steadying breath. “Last year, when he found out what I was doin’, I tried ru-running with you.”

“A liar, a thief, and a fuckin’ coward, is what you got for a daddy Y/N,” Elvis japes. “It’s a literal fuckin’ miracle you came out so perfect doll,” he says as he gently brushes your cheek with his knuckles. You would have recoiled, had it not been for the very present fear you had for this man and the gun still pointed at your daddy’s head.

“Whe-when found us he gave me one last chance to settle. He made me a deal there, that he would forgive me if I… if I…Promised him…” his lip is trembling by this point and he can’t even look at you.

“Daddy… What did you promise him?” You say in a small voice, having a sneaking suspicion and praying to god that you’re not proven right.

“Baby, I-I’ve done some bad things in my life, but I did it all for you,” he says looking down, the tears streaking down his face. “I-I promised him… you.”

You step as far away back as the desk allows you to, and your knees almost give in beneath you at what you just heard. Because there is absolutely no way that he had just said what he did. You can’t believe it, but the more you think about it the more things begin to make sense. WHy your freedom has been limited in the past year. Why your daddy made you focus especially on learning Spanish this past year. WHy you weren’t allowed with any boys.

“One year, Johnny,” Elvis says, interrupting your spiral. He is holding up a single finger in front of your daddy’s face as he continues, “That’s how long I gave you to get her used to the idea. And you fucked it up, for not just yourself but for her. And I gotta find out last minute, that you been wasting it planning another fucking trip?”

“I couldn’t go through with it,” daddy pleads. “Please I-I’ll get the money, I’ll do whatever I gotta, just please let her go!”

“Now how the hell am I supposed to trust that? You already backed out of a deal once, how the hell am I supposed to trust this one?” Elvis asks him as he walks away from him and towards you, while daddy has the decency to look ashamed. “Now lucky for you, your daughter ain’t nothin’ like you, Johnny,” his tone is almost reverent as he speaks of you. “And I don’t believe she’s in the business of makin’ promises she won’t keep, right sweetheart?”

“Elvis… I don’t understand,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“It’s real simple baby,” Elvis says. “I’m given’ you a choice. Walk away and your daddy pays back what he stole the hard way. Or,” he says cupping your cheek far too tenderly for what he’s about to offer. “Be my wife and your daddy can go free.”

It’s hardly a decision for you at that point. Because for as mad as you are at him, that’s your daddy and you could never wish him harm. But there is a burning question, in the back of your mind, and you know whatever the answer is, it’s going to hurt. And yet the newly discovered masochist within you demands an answer.

“How much?”

“What?”

“I need a number,” you declare, “How much was my life worth daddy?”

He looks heartbroken as to how you view the situation, but really how else can you look at it? Your daddy took money from a dangerous man, and now, said man is looking for what he paid for. Nevertheless he lowers his head and he mumbles out a number.

The number he gives is large, but it’s still not nearly enough for what you thought your life was worth in your mind. Your father hangs his head in shame, evidently knowing you well enough to know how much he’s hurt you.

You can hardly call what you had a proper wedding, Elvis is cruel enough to make you go through the motions of it in the still somewhat setup backyard. You’re put into a beautiful white dress that fits like a glove, and handed a gorgeous bouquet, and you’re only a little disturbed by the fact that the dress is perfectly tailored or that these are your favorite flowers. Though these quickly leave your mind as you see your father at the bottom of the steps.

A part of you wanted to refuse your father and walk yourself down the aisle. That petty part, wanting to further twist the knife of his future exile by denying him this near sacred final right of a father to be able to do so. But the better part of you prevails as for as much as you want to be seen as a fully grown woman, you still very much feel like a little girl who needs to hold her daddy’s hand in a scary situation. And this is undoubtedly the scariest thing you’ve ever done.

Which only further burns as you’re reminded that you’re in this situation because of him.

Your father walks you down the makeshift aisle of the backyard with a busted lip and a vacant look in his eyes to match your own. For as mad as you are at him, you don’t want him to be hurt or worse for what he did. That doesn’t mean you want to have to look at him anymore.

Your daddy was an accountant, but as you signed your name on that marriage license, you realize you aren’t an accountant's daughter any more. And just like that you’re a proper married woman.

After the ceremony, there is only a small reception to follow, with those closest to your new husband having been invited. Evidently your father didn’t make the cut, which may be for the best as you doubt you will even be able to look at him right now as Elvis sits you on his lap while all of his men dole out congratulations to the two of you.

Later on when you’re alone with him you will beg Elvis for a reason that isn’t just some power trip over your father or that he truly believes that you were something worth the amount that your father took from him. You’re willing to believe anything at this point.

“Oh baby, you don’t gotta worry one bit,” he reassures you while kissing away your tears. “If this was about money, I woulda taken what he offered way back when. But no I’ve loved ya’ since Texas.”

“But why?” you cry.

“Because of that satnin,” he says. “You’re a rare breed these days: honest. I knew it since the moment I saw ya’ that you were what I needed in my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t lie for shit. Especially not to me.” he says, planting kisses along your newly exposed skin. “I know I chose the perfect wife for me.”

Would you have chosen him if given the choice? You don’t know. You may never know, but if growing up a not-accountant’s daughter has taught you anything is how to take what you’re given and be grateful for it.

Ending note: I was 9k in when I realized I pulled a “I sold you to one direction,” Welp that’s the way it goes sometimes.

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robocoplesb · 1 year

Text

YOU'RE THE GIRL THAT I WANT, nikki sixx. [ 03 ]

warnings: reader drinking, reader smoking, nicknames, female rivalry?, mention of using drugs, reader drunked.

author's note: i ask that you be patient with me when it comes to posting and requests. i'm going through a difficult time, but i'll try to stay active. good read, kisses<3

NIKKI SIXX (bassist): “we get closer after that, but no one knew that except us. only when vince and mick had already returned home, and tommy had gone out to buy something for us to drink or use, or even when he passed out drunk on the couch. those were the only moments i talked to her properly."

★

nikki sat next to you, the wave of cold coming from the floor of the porch step passing through his body. the wind that beat against you was light, but freezing. He looked at you in a mixture of surprise and confusion, staring at your shoulders covered only by the thin strap of your tank top and how his body didn't shiver even an inch from the cold.

"— looks like you're going to sleep here, kitten”

you quickly turned back to see your brother sprawled out on the couch, laughing at the thought that with a little push he could fall to the ground.

“— what did he take?" — you asked.

“— i don't know, but i think i want to take it too.”

you both laughed softly before silence fell over you. not that you minded, you just took another drag of your cigarette and continued looking at the empty street in front of nikki's porch. with him, it was different. not that he generally cared what people thought of him, but he wanted you to like him, not only as the bass player in your brother's garage band, so every time it was just the two of you, he approached and tried to get your attention. you two talked a lot about music, even if your favorite artists didn't look much alike, he discovered that you were an eclectic person, that was a little into the heavy and hard rock after spending nights discovering bands with your brother.

he would never admit that a lot of what you said in these conversations may have influenced just a little what he wanted to do with the band, but he thought that even if you were a girl, you knew what you were talking about. he also left some flirtations in the middle of conversations, which you laughed and ignored, taking as a joke.

but when nikki sees you like this, cigarette between your lips, green and yellow street lights illuminating your skin and no trace of you going to continue the conversation on your face, he feels pressured. pressured to do it himself. because, besides the fact that he simply wants some validation from you, he thinks he can't bear to keep staring at you like that, even though it's a pleasant sight.

“— so... it's a good name, right? ‘mötley crüe’..” — he started, trying to bring up a random topic. in this case, the name of the band, which had been decided today.

“— it's fucking good. i've never seen a name like that before. mick is definitely a being of light sent to guide you, because i swear i would never let my brother play in a band called christmas.” — you laughed, remembering the stupid name Nikki had considered earlier.

“— it wasn’t ‘christmas’. and it was a social critique, lee!” — he said defensively.

“— it's still pretty bad, cutie.” — you smiled when you saw him chuckling with the nickname. “— but seriously, it's original. no way of a band ‘mötley crüe’ not be successful. the syllables sound like fame. m-o-t-l-e-y-c-r-u-e. see it?”

he knew it was a joke, but he saw sense in what you said. he thought it was cute how you believed in the band. you went with them to look for vince, you watched all the rehearsals and sometimes nikki even let you take a look at the lyrics and give some suggestions for the songs. you were actually following them like a fifth member of the band, and he knew it was because of tommy. the first thing he noticed, you would do anything for your brother, but you would never admit it.

“— really, you're pretty good. the only thing i would change is the vocalist whore girlfriend-”

nikki held back a hysterical laugh. he didn't totally hate vince's girlfriend. of course, she was petty and liked to spend her time putting the rest of the band down to highlight vince, but damn, she was hot. unlike you, who hated her with all your strength. you've lost count of how many times you've held yourself back from hitting her in the face, but you know it was a lot. usually, when vince brought her to watch rehearsals, you hid in the kitchen and drank while listening to the muffled music. well, you had a mutual hatred.

“— ah, she's not that bad-”

“— she literally tried to fuck tommy last week!”

“— wow, he's a lucky man.." — he laughed as your hand hit his shoulder, scolding him.

“— god, men are so desperate” — you sighed as you threw your cigarette on the floor before squeezing it under your shoe, putting it out.

“— you will really deny she's pretty?”

you blushed at the question. “— you are really saying you wanna fuck the daddy's girl who says you're not good enough for her boyfriend, who is literally on the same page as you?”

“— jealous, kitten?” — he asked you with a mischievous smile.

you rolled your eyes. “— for the guy who would even fuck a mannequin as long as it had a pair of legs?” — you said as you stood up and walked to the kitchen. nikki passed the room before following you, taking something from his backpack.

when he caught up with you in the kitchen, you were mixing vodka with liquor, two things he had no idea were in his fridge. you noticed he kept both hands suspiciously behind his back as he waited for you to finish your drink.

you drop the two bottles on the table and bring the glass to your lips, swallowing the bitter taste of alcohol with ease.

“— what you got there?”

he laughed and walked to the table, facing you. he leaves a small package on the table and looks at you smiling.

“— for you, gold dust woman.” — you rolled your eyes at the nickname (that you didn't understand, but he didn't interfere, because besides being a good song, you knew that asking him to stop would only lead nikki to call you that as if it were your name) and offered him the glass. he took a sip as he watched you unwrap the wrapping.

you ran your fingers over the plastic, automatically recognizing the cd titles just by the covers. you smiled, wondering why nikki sixx, of all people, would be giving this to you. you quickly realized that he was probably sticking to what you said in your conversations, or it was too much of a coincidence that he chose your two favorite albums. you looked at him with a smug smile on your face.

“— you bought this for me, bassist?”

yes, he did.

“— no.” — he answered quickly. “— my...huh...i went to a friend's house and he said he would donate some things. i brought these for you. it's your favorites, right?”

you thought it was cute how he bothered to lie even when the cds looked untouched for how new they were and had the store sticker on the back.

“— yes, they are.” — you smiled genuinely. It took you a while to consider nikki a nice guy. at first, you thought he was nothing but talented and desperate for a job. after a few early mornings like this, you liked him. not like tommy, who sometimes acted like he was a god, but definitely liked him.

you soon understood why you allowed yourself to get closer to him. he was the first person who seemed to care. you didn't loved music because your brother was into it, and he was the first one who noticed it. he was the first to hear you monologuing about records and artists and didn't take it as some passing interest.

★

you felt your back hit the soft mattress, automatically relaxing onto the bed . nikki, who carried you bridal style to the bed, dropped your gift on the side dresser and looked at you again.

“— comfortable, kitten? want another pillow?”

“— noo...ah, this bed feels like heaven.” — you moaned at the pleasure of your muscles relaxing as you stretched out on the bed, truly looking like a kitten.

your drunken voice was obvious. you drank that entire glass while babbling random things to nikki, hearing him agree with everything while laughing. he thought you had enough after you almost fell over while hugging him, thanking him for the gift for probably the fifth time that night

he nodded and turned, showing that he was going to leave the room. that's when he felt your hand grab his wrist, feeling your long nails gently scratching the spot. you pulled lightly, making him involuntarily take a step closer to the bed.

“— where are you going?” — you whined.

“— to sleep. i’ll stay on the couch with tommy.” — he smirked and tried to move away again, being stopped by an even stronger pull on his wrist, this time making him fall on the bed.

“— tommy is like, aaaaaall sprawled out on the couch, you'll never be able to squeeze in there with him.” — you said slurred, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“— is this your excuse for not saying you want me to sleep with you, princess?” — he said while stroking his own shoulder that had hit the bed too hard.

you laughed and blushed. i mean, nikki is pretty sure he saw you blush. his cheeks already had a pinker tone than normal because of the drink, but he's sure it got a little stronger.

he wished he had gotten closer. he could only faintly smell the drink. he wished he could smell you. he wished he had run his fingers through the curves in the length of your hair. he wanted to touch his lips to your face. he didn't understand why, but in that moment, the first time he felt comfortable with the silence between you, he wanted to touch you.

but he didn't.

he watched the way you slowly accepted the sleep. his eyes closing as he listened to your murmurs getting quieter and quieter. you were even more beautiful when you slept. he’s never seen you so relaxed before. is angelic, delicate, untouchable.

and when he thinks he's falling asleep, sad because he'll only be able to see you when he wakes up, it's you he dreams of.

“ i need an easy friend

i do, with an ear to lend

i do, think you fit this shoe

i do, but you have a clue.”

— about a girl, nirvana.

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yuurei20 · 6 months

Note

Hey Yuurei :) Question - What's Idia's relationship with his parents like? Has he said anything super concrete? I know he's complained about them, but he also complains about everyone haha

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

(This blog pretends that Main Story elements not released on EN do not exist because spoilers are the worst, so this will just be EN-friendly information!)

You are very correct! Idia does not seem very thrilled whenever his parents come up in conversation, but he doesn't seem very thrilled about most things unless they are a particular interest of his, so it can be hard to gauge the degree to which he does or does not get along with his family.

He has a line in Book 6 of, "Classic Mom and Dad, always prioritizing efficiency over other people's feelings."

It would be very interesting to hear other examples of this presumably recurring problem: is this truly an issue that his parents struggle with, or is Idia an unreliable narrator?

Vil and Rook, for example, provide a different perspective:

In Book 7 Idia explains that his parents have told him not to come back home for a while ("That's the diplomatic way to say they're off-loading a nuisance") and Rook responds, "I can sense the deep affection your parents must hold for you."

Idia says he isn't so sure, citing how hard they came down on him post-book-6: "I don't think they've yelled at me that bad since I was eight."

Idia says he gets scolded by his parents pretty regularly, and they will take away his power cables to punish him.

Vil points out that his parents were supportive both of Ortho's enrollment at NRC and Idia's internship.

Idia seems intent on arguing that his family situation isn't as pleasant as it may seem, saying that this parents advised him not to go into the service industry because he would be a bad fit, but Vil observes, "And that's advice they gave to you personally, regardless of the current circumstances."

Ortho talks about how he, Idia, their father and mother would all go to parks, forests and rivers together when they were very young, but after Idia withdrew they stopped going out together as a family. Original-Ortho's death may have been something of a catalyst for Idia's strained relationship with his parents.

Idia may also have a complex about not being born into a normal family, saying that he "just wanted to be like everyone else." He may possibly blame his parents for that, as well (in addition to his ancestors, whom he says "screwed over their kids, their grandkids, and everyone," forever).

Idia says that he got a lot of video games, board games and more from his parents every year for his birthday so he could play in the comfort of his room, which made him super happy, so it seems his parents were supportive of his interests!

But he also talks about bringing an old jammer that he made as a child with him to NRC because if he hadn’t someone would have thrown it away, says he once got in trouble for taking apart a game console and again for turning a vacuum cleaner into a drone with a technomantic beam cannon.

As the majority of the issues we have heard about thus far have all been from Idia himself, and he does not seem to be an unbiased source of information, it will be interesting to see if maybe there is actually another side to these stories! 👀 Would love to revisit this topic in the future!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #idia shroud

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 months

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M, O, D w/ Narinder (fluff alphabet)

oh i wanna do the angst alphabet with cotl so bad that has so much potential.... was originally going to work through the alphabets backwards with cotl but i said fuck it and chose the wheel to pick prompts prompts: marriage, oddity, dates notes: reader is gn and any species but post mainly focuses on narinder, follower narinder cws: none

DATES

as mentioned in the marriage section, he has no idea what hes doing- the best idea he has in regards to romance is being a third party watching others do their thing

shoves flowers into your hands and calls it a day, does not know what else to do for you

lets you take the lead to get things done, over time takes charge so you wont be the one putting in all the work forever

prefers something private away from prying eyes, you guys probably end up going beyond the treeline of the cults camp or wander around elsewhere

you both end up talking, a lot. from basic things like how your days went to his time as a god... if youre in awe at his former power he takes some level of pride in it... though he may seethe inside at what once was

MARRIAGE

takes a while to warm up to marriage and even then i can see him having the mindset that you dont need a ceremony and rings to show that youre committed to someone

which is valid!

will offer up an alternative if showing you two are together means a lot to you- perhaps matching rings or necklaces to get the point across

its going to take a while though since hes never... really had a long term romantic relationship with someone else

still learning bro does NOT know whats hes doing and he wants to be sure before dedicating himself to someone

ODDITY

cat behavior- sometimes he gives you a huge scare by sending himself down large drops only to land mostly gracefully on his feet and move on like nothing happened at all

even worse if hes using it to save time to chase after someone because of the sheer intensity he puts into the fall and the running afterwards

it just seems so unlike him at first but you guess that ultimately its some childhood habit he never quite kicked for one reason or another

he doesnt get hurt so you never really feel the need to bring it up let alone ask him to stop

#cotl x reader #cotl x you #cotl imagine #cult of the lamb x reader #cult of the lamb x you #cult of the lamb imagine #narinder x reader #narinder x you #narinder imagine #cotl narinder x reader #cotl narinder x you #cotl narinder imagine #canon x reader #canon x you #x reader

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wavyskies · 3 months

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A post that's very much related to a separate post that's been going around the graphic side of Tumblr. (To the person that made the original, this is not in bad taste. I'm just stating opinions of my own and opinions that others may have in common with me. I genuinely have no intent on trying to make you look necessarily bad in any way. The first half is just kind of me rephrasing the original post because I thought it had a good point, but that point got lost along the way.):

Make a pretty blog because: you enjoy making it, having one makes you happy, looking at it comforts you, etc.

If making a pretty blog doesn't feel like something that would be worth your time or would make you happy, then don't.

Just have fun and be yourself, there is no standard to meet and you having a "non-aesthetic" blog doesn't reflect on you. People are here for YOU, not your blog aesthetic.

That being said, to anyone and everyone who DOES have an "aesthetic" blog, that's cool. I hope it makes you happy.

And I hope that some people realize that making and decorating a blog, even if it's super "aesthetic," IS a way to express yourself. Art is self expression, fashion is self expression, music is self expression, even book covers can be self expression. It doesn't matter if it follows a color scheme, maybe that's just what you like and what feels right.

And using myself as an example because I'm sure I'm not the only one, I don't make my blog appearance for ANY of you. I'm sorry. It's for me, because it brings me comfort. I like having a pretty blog because it helps with my anxiety, I enjoy looking at it, and it feels more like mine. And also, there are so many blogs I have made that I find "aesthetic" that are on private. They could not be less for followers or status.

"It's just copying" (<- paraphrasing here.) No idea is original. Listen to me: no BOOK idea is entirely original. Every story has technically been done before in one way or another. Does that mean the author has no personality? Does that mean the author has no creativity or is just trying to seem cool? No. There is no such thing as an entirely original thing. But they we're expressing their talent and what they like to do. Let people have fun, let people do what they want.

This same argument can and does happen in the artist community, the writing community, and every other form of art. This is not a new argument, it's just a slightly different context. If this was applied intensely to everything, no one would participate in hobbies anymore.

I love everyone who doesn't have "aesthetic" blogs. I love everyone who does. And yes, some people with pretty blogs get followers more easily, but those followers have minds of their own. If they realise "hey, this person isn't actually all that great of an individual," then they'll unfollow them. A color scheme and some pngs don't earn love and forgiveness. It's all for enjoyment and fun.

Please do be yourself. But be yourself in whatever way works for YOU. At the end of the day, it really is just pixels. So the appearance of your things or how cool you seem DOESN'T matter. But take that again with the context of this post: the appearance of your things or how cool you seem DOESN'T matter. So do what you want.

I am very aware that this post is much less than perfect. There are definitely parts that I could've phrased differently, and things I could've added to convey the message better. But I hope you can understand what I was trying to say. Thank you for your time if you read this far, and if you have any comments or things you would like to add on to improve this, please let me know. And it's more than likely that I'm wrong about a lot of this, and this entire conversation is up to debate. If you disagree, then please discuss it publicly because I think this is an interesting debate and I would love to understand more than my biased stances allow me to right now. Again, thank you so much for your time. Have a lovely day. <3

#⛓️┈┈┈•༶ talking #rentry graphics #rentry decor #rentry blog #tumblr layouts #rentry stuff #sntry graphics #sntry decor #rentry

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sanguinesky-if · 11 days

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Hello dear author last night I completed the public demo and I just wanted to inform you that the Lexie POV at the end broke my heart, I was gonna have flings with T And S but I don't know whether I'll be able to bring myself to don it now, I just feel bad for Parker he did nothing wrong but stiill got shit on 😔.

Also I find find the Parallels between L and my MC very amusing, L blames herself for EVERYTHING leaving MC to attend her sister's wedding, having Parker over, and making MC sad, whilst my MC would blame himself for having Parker kicked out and having L be scared.

Finally in Lexie's POV Parker tells her that MC already has other friends so is that Reffering to K and will that line always be there regardless of wherever we pick any heart choices for K?

Hello! I'm happy to know L's POV is eliciting an emotional response.

I was gonna have flings with T And S

I apologize if this is disappointing, but (so far)* no one from the main cast can become just a "fling".

You can check out the Romance System Overview for more information about the romance progression and the different dynamics available in the game.

*I wrote "so far" because I'm still deciding how to best approach the issue of route locking. But I'm glad you mentioned this, as it's actually something that's been bothering me for a while.

T and S were supposed to have sex scenes in Chapter 3, Pt. 2 because when the game was originally planned as a visual novel, the route-locking happened at the end of Chapter 2, and the opportunity to have sex with them made sense without implying that the other ROs would be affected.

Since this is no longer the case, I'm hesitant to include their sex scenes because:

This will block some of the ROs' routes (with T, the routes of 3 ROs will be blocked; with S, 2).

This will greatly impact other routes, given how jealous the ROs can be.

Considering that this is my first IF and I already have a lot to keep track of, for now, I've decided to move their drafted sex scenes to the side stories (and part of me happy with that decision, because the format of the side stories gives me so much freedom for sex scenes without need to worry about other ROs).

Though I understand that most people would probably prefer to see the sex scenes in the main story sooner rather than later, I'm trying to make balanced decisions that feel right.

And, most importantly, I don't want to overwork myself.

Still, if anything changes, I'll update the Romance System Overview and release another post to inform about those changes.

I just feel bad for Parker he did nothing wrong but stiill got shit on 😔.

I love hearing different opinions about Parker! But what if they purposely announced that the shower was free louder than necessary? 🧐

MC would blame himself for having Parker kicked out

L didn't kick Parker out just because of what Parker said about the MC.

If you choose the "concealed crush" dynamic with the "MC keeps their feelings hidden" subtype, it'll give you a little insight about L (and a part of the reason why MC might be hesitant to confess):

So even without mentioning the MC, L would have asked Parker to leave because L don't want to give them any hope that their kindness may ignite (as it had many times before).

in Lexie's POV Parker tells her that MC already has other friends so is that Reffering to K and will that line always be there regardless of wherever we pick any heart choices for K?

There are 4 variations of what Parker says, depending on how many romance points you have with K and Morgan.

If you have 0 romance points with both of them, Parker will say something completely different.

Thank you for your message! I hope my answers were helpful!

#asks #if #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #ss general #l conlan #t vazquez #s goldstein

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scoonsalicious · 4 months

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Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

In the meantime, please enjoy this third installment of Unwanted: Unusables, or, chapters from the original story that never made it to the final draft. Today, we're looking at an alternate Chapter 7: (what would become) Unburdened. This draft immediately follows the events of yesterday's Unusable.

I ended up scrapping this entire version of the chapter, because I decided to go in a different direction in Chapter 5, so everything had to be redone. But, it has one of my favorite scenes-- Girls' Night, so I'm glad that I could eventually share it with you, besties!

Enjoy!

When you woke up the following morning, you felt lighter than you could remember feeling in a long, long time. It was as if the maelstrom of agitation that had been coursing through you since Bucky first saw Jade's profile had finally abated, and you were waking to the calm following the storm, everything feeling newly cleansed by the rain.

Granted, your head was killing you with a tremendous hangover, but your soul felt lighter, and that's what should count the most, right?

You stretched, reaching out for Bucky, but finding only empty sheets where his body had been the night before. With a frown, you craned your head to see if he was in the bathroom, but no-- the door was open and the room beyond it dark. Against your will, you felt the weight of your insecurities begin to hover over you once again. Perhaps it was time to talk to Tony to see if you could borrow his Dr. FRIDAY therapy program for yourself. You were definitely in need of some kind of professional help.

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you contemplated whether or not you should change out of Bucky's shirt before you trekked back across the hall to your own room so you could mope. The odds of anyone seeing you were slim, since you were still the only two people living on this floor, but there was no guarantee someone wouldn't be around looking for either one of you. You wondered what would have people talking more-- the sight of you in only Bucky's shirt, or you leaving his room in the clothes you'd worn the night before. Not that it really mattered, you supposed. You were fairly confident from the team's reactions at dinner last night that the majority of them knew the two of you were having sex, or at the very least suspected it, anyway.

Before you could make your decision, however, Bucky's door opened and he walked in, carrying a breakfast tray laden with bacon and eggs and an overly-large water bottle.

"You're up," he said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "I was hoping I'd be back before you woke, but I figured you could use some sustenance for what's probably a major hangover." He slid the tray onto the bed before crawling back in next to you.

"Did you seriously bring me breakfast in bed, Barnes?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. That was beyond adorable of him.

"'course I did," he said, picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite. "Figure your head's got to be killing you, since you never drink that much. Here." He unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and passed it to you. "Electrolytes. Drink up." You took a swig of the lemony-lime flavored Liquid IV he'd prepared for you.

"Thank you," you said. "This is incredibly sweet, but I could have gotten up to get breakfast myself; you didn't have to go to all the trouble."

"I confess, my motives aren't that altruistic," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "I have no intention of letting you get out of this bed at all today, and I figured you should have at least something in your stomach before I launch my nefarious plan." His eyes twinkled with mischievous intent, making your heart flutter in anticipation.

"Your nefarious plan, huh?" Your eyebrow arched in curiosity as you took another bite of bacon, cooked extra crispy, exactly the way you liked. "And what might that be?"

"Well," he started, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear.

"Since I was an absolute ass and made you feel like shit yesterday, I had hoped I could spend today making you feel good. I could lie and say I planed a day spent snuggled up together watching movies, but in reality I was thinking we could explore the possibility of other more... intimate activities."

A blush crept over your cheeks as you met his gaze. The promise lingering in his icy blue eyes sent a thrill down your spine, making you momentarily forget about the pounding headache. "That sounds...enticing," you admitted. "You have my attention."

"Good," he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip. "Because I also remember a promise made to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name."

The heat that instantaneously flooded your cheeks at his words made you glad you hadn't bothered changing out of his shirt, after all. You tried to play it cool, to match his relaxed nonchalance, even as your heart pounded like a drum within your chest.

"I do seem to recall you saying something to that effect last night, now that you mention it," you said, trying to sound casually thoughtful in spite of the tidal wave of arousal that was rushing throughout your body.

Bucky nodded, the smile on his face growing wider by the second. "Let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word." You turned, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled away from you. "Nu-uh, doll," he tsked. "You need to hydrate and protein-load first, then I'll ruin you."

"I dunno, Buck," you contemplated as you dug into a forkful of scrambled eggs. "You may have already ruined me. I could get used to this kind of treatment real fast."

"Sweetheart, if one breakfast in bed has ruined you, you've been spending all your time with the wrong kind of man," he drawled.

"Well, I think we both know that's the understatement of the year," you laughed.

Bucky chuckled, a hearty sound that reverberated through the room and eased any lingering insecurities that had arisen when you woke up alone. He was right; you were spending time with the right kind of man now. You turned to find him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, sweet, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You found yourself blushing again, quickly turning your attention back to the breakfast tray in an attempt to hide it. "Says the man who looks like he fell straight off a GQ cover," you teased lightly.

Even though his smile never wavered, there was a depth to his gaze that made your heart race. "Noticed that, did you?" He asked, his tone teasing as he took another bite of his bacon.

It was your turn to chuckle now, the sound soft and full of warmth. "Maybe once or twice," you said with a shrug.

"I ever tell you you make make grateful I fell off that train?"

Your heart momentarily stopped at his words. You looked at him, really looked, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. His tone was so casual, as if he were commenting on the weather, but the weight of his words were monumental.

"What?" you managed to gasp out, completely thrown off balance, breakfast momentarily forgotten.

He chuckled softly at your bewilderment, his fingers reaching out to gently caress your face. "I shoulda been dead long before you were ever even born, doll. Fallin' off that train, becoming the Winter Soldier, it was hell, but if it'd hadn't happened, I never would of gotten to meet you. That's made it all worth it."

You stammered, trying to find words that could match the intensity of the moment. "Bucky... That's..."

"True," he finished for you, his gaze steady on yours. "You are my silver lining, sweetheart. The best thing this twisted life has given me."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt admission. This was Bucky - raw and open-hearted - sharing something profoundly personal with you.

"Bucky... I..." You struggled to form a sentence that could properly encapsulate how you felt in the moment, so instead, you took the breakfast tray and put it up on the bedside table. Turning back to face him, his expression curious, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand. If you couldn't tell him what his words meant to you, you'd show him.

"I think I'm done with breakfast," you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

His lips moved against yours with devastating slowness. There was nothing rushed or fevered about the kiss, but it was no less all-consuming.

He responded immediately, drawing you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist and maneuvering you until you straddled his lap. His large hands roamed along the curve of your lower back, pulling you against him until there was no space left. The contact made your head spin and your body heat up in places that made you shudder with anticipation.

His taste was as delicious as his touch; a combination of coffee, bacon, and something distinctly Bucky that made your senses reel. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours in an intimate dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel every hard line and muscle of Bucky's torso pressed against your own. His heart pounded in sync with yours, the rhythm picking up as the kiss escalated from sweet to passionate. The sensation made you dizzy with longing.

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. A low growl rumbled from Bucky's chest at the action, sending a thrill of lust coursing through you. His response was immediate, his lips leaving yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, making you gasp in pleasure.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a primal growl that echoed in the otherwise silent room. His possessiveness was as thrilling as it was unexpected. You nodded, unable to form words as desire clouded your mind.

"Yours," you managed to gasp out, the word coming out as a half-sigh, half-moan as Bucky's fingers danced down the length of your back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

His hands moved with a purpose, tracing paths of fire along your skin. Every touch was measured and precise - he knew exactly what he was doing and how it affected you.

It was almost too much to bear - this closeness, the intimacy of his words. It was overwhelming and wonderful all at once. Bucky's touch was like an incantation, a spell that had you completely entranced.

The world narrowed down to just the two of you. The crisp sheets beneath you, the cool morning air filling the room, everything felt insignificant compared to the heat radiating from Bucky's touch, from his gaze. You were lost in him, and it was a sensation you never wanted to quit.

His fingers dipped lower, trailing up the hem of the shirt you wore. A shiver coursed through your body as his cold metal digits met the warm bare skin of your stomach. You gasped audibly, your back arching slightly.

"Sensitive?" Bucky teased, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, circling around your navel before moving upward.

"You have no idea," you managed to breathe out between gasps. Every nerve ending was on fire, your senses heightened by Bucky's seductive touch. His fingers traced a path up your body, fingertips lightly grazing the underside of your breasts. You bit your lower lip, stifling a moan. Bucky noticed, his ocean blue eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own.

"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to yours once more. This kiss was different, though - more demanding, more intense. He claimed your mouth with a burning passion that left you breathless and craving more.

His metal hand moved from your stomach to cup your breast through the thin fabric of the shirt. His touch was electrifying; every stroke sent shock waves coursing through you straight to your core. You moaned into his mouth, arching into his touch.

Bucky pulled away slightly, his gaze sliding down to where his hand was on you. "You like this?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"So fucking much," you admitted, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him back down to your lips. You kissed him with abandon, pouring all the pent-up desire you had been feeling into the action. His groan of pleasure was muffled by your mouth, further stoking the flames of your desire.

His hand kept up its unhurried exploration, fingers finding a hard nipple through the shirt, brushing over it in slow circles. The sensation made you whimper, pulling away from his lips to gasp for breath.

His eyes were filled with a wicked gleam as he took you in, his gaze heated and full of desire. It made your heart beat faster and your body ache with need. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into him completely.

"Bucky," you whispered, the sound coming out as a high-pitched plea. His touch was driving you wild, making it difficult for you to think straight.

"Hmm?" His voice was rough with desire, his breath fanning across your face.

"I... I need..." you trailed off, unsure of how to put your needs into words. You've never wanted someone this much; it was disorienting.

His lips curled up into a smirk again, understanding flashing in his blue eyes. "I know what you need, doll," he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, skin on skin contact causing you to gasp out loud. His touch was demanding, taking and giving pleasure in equal measure.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, causing your nerves to sing with exhilaration. Playing your body like an instrument he'd long ago mastered. He skillfully made his way to the apex of your legs, his fingers just ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"Does this feel good?" he asked in a low growl, his voice rough with need. His fingers dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down slightly.

Your heart pounded in anticipation as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as desire coursed through your veins. His eyes never left yours - an intense gaze filled with passion and unspoken promises.

His hand moved lower still, slipping beneath your waistband. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as his fingers touched you where you wanted him most.

His fingers were cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sent sparks through your body. You couldn't help but shift against his touch, seeking more.

"Bucky," you whispered again, this time in a desperate plea. His smirk widened at your response to his touch as he rubbed slow circles around your most sensitive area. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist as he teased you. He watched you carefully, taking in your every reaction and using it to heighten your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said in a low murmur, his voice filled with raw need that caused your pulse to flutter. He continued his slow exploration, dipping a single metal digit into your heat, causing you to gasp at the intrusion.

"Yes... Bucky," you stammered out, your voice barely above a whisper. The slow stretch of his finger inside of you sent fire shooting through every nerve ending. Each stroke of his hand was perfectly orchestrated as if to bring you the greatest amount of pleasure possible.

"Shh, I got you, doll," he reassured you, his voice low and thick with wanting. His pace didn’t quicken; instead he kept a slow, torturous rhythm that had you squirming.

You could feel the tension building within you, spiraling up from the pit of your stomach. The pressure increased with every skilled stroke of Bucky’s fingers until you felt like you were on the edge of something monumental. Your breath hitched, and your grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where you were sure it would leave marks.

You wanted to look at him, wanted to see his face as he watched you unravel under his touch, but your eyes were squeezed shut, the tension mounting within you too intense to bear otherwise.

"Look at me," Bucky commanded huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You obeyed instantly, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue gaze. The raw desire there took your breath away. "That's it," he murmured approvingly, his fingers continued their exploration, every touch igniting a flame that threatened to consume you completely.

"I want you to come for me," he growled, pressing harder against the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. You whimpered at his words, the knot in your stomach tightening further. His command added another layer of intensity to the already building climax.

Your body tensed and you gasped audibly as waves of euphoria crashed over you. Your mind went blank and your vision blurred as the orgasm hit you with full force. All you were aware of was Bucky; his intense gaze, his fingers relentlessly driving you through your climax, and his voice murmuring words of encouragement.

"Good girl... that's it. Let go," he coaxed, his rough voice a thread anchoring you in the storm. As the tremors began to recede, he slowed his movements, easing you through the aftershocks.

Your senses slowly returned, and you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding wildly. You were still clutching his arm, your grip loose now but no less desperate. His touch was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and need that left you craving more.

Bucky eased his hand away from your core. His gaze was steady on your face, watching as you tried to regain your bearings. His eyes softened as he took in your flushed face and disheveled hair.

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm securely around your trembling form as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. There was a tenderness in this gesture that moved you deeply, causing tears to pool in your eyes.

"Bucky..." you murmured, turning your face further into his chest. He hummed a quiet acknowledgement in response, his fingers beginning to draw soothing patterns on your back.

"Yes, doll?" His voice was still rough, but the edge of raw need had smoothed out. Now it was gentle and filled with warmth and affection that had not been so evident before.

"You...you're..." You found it difficult to articulate what you were feeling right then. It was overwhelming - the intense euphoria from the pleasure he'd given you combined with the burgeoning emotions that threatened to spill over.

He seemed to understand regardless. "I know," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I know."

There was an unspoken agreement between you both then; an agreement that this casual arrangement you had entered into all those months ago had transcended into something far deeper, far more meaningful, than either one of you had ever anticipated.

You sat together in silence for a while, foreheads pressed against each other as you regained your composure, breathing in each other's breath. When your limbs had finally stopped shaking and your pulse had evened out, you met his gaze.

"Buck, we have a problem," you murmured, sliding your cheek against his, the rough stubble tantalizing against your skin.

He nuzzled into your face. "What's that, doll?"

You pulled back to look him in the eye, a wicked glint in your gaze. "I seem to still be able to remember my name."

He reached for the hem of the shirt you'd borrowed and pulled it up over your head and tossed it to the floor. "Honey, I haven't even begun to fuck you yet." With a wolfish grin, Bucky picked you up and maneuvered you so that you were lying on your back, his form hovering above you. His drew his head down to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking long and hard on your nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his eager mouth. He devoured you like a man starving.

You lost yourself to the sensation as he continued his ministrations, and it wasn't long before he had once again reduced you to a whimpering mess. Time itself lost all meaning as he brought you over the edge over and over and over again. Finally, after what seemed like hours, you were sobbing with over-stimulation and the sheer intensity of what you felt for him.

After he'd finished inside of you for the second time, Bucky leaned over you, planting feather-light kisses along the planes of your face. "What's your name, doll?" he asked, voice husky.

You tried to answer, but no coherent thought would come to you; all you could do was pant as you tried to focus and re-center yourself.

He had done it. The man had fucked you until you'd forgotten your own name.

And you absolutely loved him for it.

The days that followed were some of the very best of your entire life. If you weren't training or working (well, okay, plenty of times when you were working), Bucky had you on your back. Or bent over a desk, or up against a wall, or down on all fours. Several times, he had sat you on his face, your hands gripping on to the headboard for dear life as his tongued probed as deeply into your cunt as he could get it. You had fucked in so many positions, in so many places, you were sure the entire Tower knew what you were doing. Not that you cared; you were head over heals in love with the man, and you were fairly confident he felt the same about you.

It was just that neither one of you had actually spoken the words.

So secure were you in this new connection with Bucky that it didn't even phase you when Tony announced one afternoon that Jade Carthage had officially accepted a three-month probationary appointment with the Avengers, and would be moving into the Tower in just a few days time.

"Okay, Pocket, what gives?" Nat asked you. Girls' Night had come around again, and the two of you, along Wanda, were set up in the common room, working your way through two large pizzas and a couple of orders of mozzarella sticks. Pepper was unfortunately on the West Coast, away on some official Stark Industries CEO business. "Tony announces Jade's imminent arrival and you don't even blink."

You shrugged your shoulders as you popped half a mozzarella stick into your mouth. "I'm not worried about her anymore," you told them. "I mean, I still don't like her, and we're not going to be best friends, but Bucky and I are in a good place." You paused and gave them a knowing look. "A really good place."

"So you are sleeping together!" Wanda leaned back, lifting her feet off the floor and kicking them in delight. You ducked your head, trying to stifle the smile and hide the blush that bloomed across your face. "Okay, I have so many questions! First of all, how long has this been going on? Second, what' it like? You know, his..." she tiled her eyes down. "Third, how is it? It's got to be so good, right? I mean, look at him!"

"Slow down!" you laughed. "God, Wands, should we change your name from Scarlet Witch to the Sokovian Horndog? Cause damn, girl!"

It was Wanda's turn to blush. "I'm sorry; I've just wanted this for you for so long, I can't stand it!" She stood up and threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, which you gladly reciprocated.

"Thanks, sweetie," you said with a laugh.

"Thanks later, answers now," she told you, pulling back from you to lean against the arm of the couch.

"Oh, I got this," Nat said, grin plastered across her face. "Let's see... One: four months, since the night he got back from his first mission. Two: She's called him Magic Dick, to his face. And three: Sometimes, when they're done, she can't even walk." She turned to you. "That about cover it?" You laughed, nodding your head.

"Yeah, that basically covers it," you said with a grin.

"I cannot believe this has been going on for four months and you both kept it from me," Wanda said with a pout. "I have been shipping the two of you for over a year, and this is how you repay me?"

"We weren't telling anyone, Wands," you said, trying to placate your friend.

"Oh, I'm too excited for you to be actually mad at you," she confessed. "So, you two a legitimate couple now, or what?"

You paused, biting your lip in consideration. "Well, no? I mean, it started as this completely no-strings-attached, casual sex, friends-with-benefits thing, but the morning after the dinner disaster, he told me that I made him grateful he fell off the train and--"

"I'm sorry, he said what?!" Nat interrupted at the same time Wanda grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into with with excitement, kicking her feet once more.

"Pocket," Nat continued grabbing your arms and shaking you, "for Barnes, that's practically a declaration of undying love!"

You scrunched your shoulders in glee. "I know!" you squealed, not being able to help how exhilarated the idea made you feel.

"And then what did you say?" Wanda asked.

You dropped your shoulders. "Um... well, I didn't actually say anything."

Wanda's eyes went wide. "So you just left him hanging there after he said that?" she asked, incredulous.

"No! I absolutely replied!" you insisted. "Just... not with words. It was more of a... physical response."

Wanda and Nat shared a look. "Okaaaay," they both said in unison before the three of you burst into laughter.

"Pepper is going to be so pissed she missed this," Wanda said, pulling out her phone to text your missing friend. "Though she'll probably be more angry about losing the bet."

"The bet?" you asked, confused.

"Oh, I bet her $100 that you two would end up together before your birthday," Wanda said with a grin as she texted away. "Pepper thought it wouldn't happen until night of, or after."

You tossed a pillow at her, knocking her phone from her hands. "Hey!" she cried out.

"That's what you get for betting on your friends' love lives," you told her, though your voice held no heat. If anything, it was weirdly sweet. Except... "Wait, is it super bizarre that Pepper's making bets on my sex life when she's technically my boss?" you asked.

"Yeah, you going to HR with that complaint?" Nat asked, laughing at the face you made. Her laughing set Wanda off, which set you off in turn, and soon the three of you were in hysterics.

"Damn, we too early for the panty pillow fight?" a voice from across the room caught your attention, and you looked up to see Sam, Steve, and Bucky standing in the doorway.

God, Bucky looked so good. He was wearing a Henley and a pair of jeans, but damn it if it wasn't doing things to you. You flashed him a giant smile. "Hey, Buckaroo," you said, your voice coming out far huskier than you intended it to.

"Don't engage, Pocket," Nat murmured. "They'll think think it's an invitation to come join us." But it was too late; the boys had already begun walking over to where you sat, Sam immediately grabbing a slice of pizza and digging in.

"Hey, doll," Bucky said, leaning over you and placing a kiss to your lips. He quickly pulled back as though he'd been burned, realizing what he'd done of your friends, and the two of you started at each other in surprise and shock over his actions.

"You know what, fuck it," you said, fisting his shirt and pulling him down, slotting your lips over his like your life depended on it. He responded instantly, practically crawling onto the couch to deepen the kiss, pulling you into his lap. You barely registered the sounds of your friends whooping and cheering around you. After what felt like several heady minutes, when you eventually came up for air, you were both smiling, red embarrassment creeping up your faces.

"It's about damned time!" Sam shouted, throwing a mozzarella stick a the two of you. With lighting reflexes, Bucky caught it midair, bit half of it and fed you the rest.

"All this fanfare over a simple kiss?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring the pointed looks. "Stop making it a big deal."

"I have literally wanted nothing more in my entire life," Wanda said, fiddling with her phone. "And I may have taken a picture to send to Pepper to prove she lost."

Bucky gave you a questioning look.

"The Sokovian Horndog over there has been placing bets on us," you sighed. "We just won her $100." A corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

"Best buy my girl something pretty with your winnings then, Red," he teased. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched in amusement as Wanda's cheeks flushed at Bucky's words.

Your friends continued to playfully give you both shit for a few more moments when you realized someone was missing from your little group.

"Hey, where did Steve go?" You were sure the blond super soldier had entered the room with Bucky and Sam, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, he sort of ran out when you two started to play tonsil hockey," Sam said between bites of pizza.

"Bathroom, maybe?" Nat suggested, her eyes glancing towards the hallway, but you could tell there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Bucky, however, seemed to have a better grasp on what might have occurred and his eyes scanned the room with a more discerning look. A sigh escaped him before he gently nudged you off his lap, rising from the couch. "I'll go find him," he said, turning down to give you a quick kiss goodbye. "Come on, Sam. We've disturbed Girls' Night long enough."

The Falcon began protesting, unfinished pizza slice still in hand, but Bucky grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off toward the hallway. Once they reached the doorway, Bucky turned around and gave you a quick wink.

"I'll see you at bedtime, Babydoll," he said, before dragging Sam off with him.

You waited a beat, giving the boys time to get out of earshot before the three of you began squealing like pre-teens.

"He's never called me that before," you gushed, the happiness coursing through you so intense you were afraid you'd launch into orbit.

"You are going to get such a good dicking down tonight!" Nat declared, coming around to playfully punch you on the shoulder.

And you absolutely did.

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