#i think i might not be getting a lot of sleep this week. :(

[endeline]

Let The Light In: Part 2

Part 1

Words: 1,598

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so in the wrong, slow burn.

“Is that Paige Bueckers?” The guy sitting next to you nudges your elbow, his eyes fixated on your computer screen. 

He didn’t need to ask you to confirm that it was her, as if the massive ‘5’ on her jersey and those unmistakable blonde braids didn’t provide enough context clues. But, you indulge him anyways, turning back to the screen of your laptop as if you need to double check who’s picture you’re editing, before giving him an affirmative hum and re-focusing your attention on the exposure curve that’s been giving you trouble all morning. 

Unperturbed by your lackluster reply, he leans out of his seat, inching closer, and letting out a sharp whistle as he gets a better view “damn, that’s good. You take it?” 

“All mine.” You reply hastily, reaching over to pat the camera bag next to you.

“Are you on the media team or something then?”

You just nod, casting a quick glance in his direction while his eyes stays fixated on the image of the girl on your screen until you swear you can see drool forming in the corners of his mouth. 

“You know this should go up on the posters they have around campus” he says, finally leaning back into his chair. 

It’s almost like he knows that stroking your ego is surefire way to get you to soften up. 

You turn to him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips now; “if you think that you should go check them out next week, there might be a few changes you'd like.”

An impressed look passes briefly over his face before returning to a cocky smirk. “You know, you’re doing her a favor, she looks way hotter in this than the ones that are up right now.”  

Guard all the way back up, you turn to him, doing very little to hide your disgust. Without a word, you scoop up your belongings and move to another spot, eager to distance yourself far, far away from him.

However, as you settle into a new seat and reopen the familiar photo, a reluctant thought crosses your mind: 'He's not wrong.' 

Flashback 

"Hey, you awake?” Paige's voice is barely audible over the soothing hum of the air conditioner. You’re half asleep, nestled comfortably beneath the blankets, and all you can manage is a low, affirmative hum in response.

"I can't sleep," she whispers again, this time poking your cheek to ensure you’re paying attention. 

"Count sheep.” 

A loud groan echoes through the bedroom as Paige turns over to face you. 

“We should do something." 

You pretend not to hear her, keeping your eyes shut. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up” she intones, pulling the covers off your chest as she sits up in the bed. 

"Let's go for a drive."

You peek one eye open, glaring at her. "Paige, please, for the love of God, just let me sleep." She keeps her mouth shut, but you can feel her gaze on you as you pull the covers back over yourself. 

After two blissful minutes of silence, a soft "please" brings you back to consciousness. Opening your eyes fully now, you stare at her.

"Paige, I'm really tired." 

"I'll let you have the aux, and you can bring your blanket," she offers, nudging your shoulder gently, trying to coax you out of bed.

With narrowed eyes, you meet her gaze, her face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through your open blinds, and with just that one glance, any remaining sibilance of a resolve is shattered.

"An hour tops, and if I fall asleep again, you can't wake me up until we're home." 

A soft smile crosses her face. "Deal." 

Before you really know what’s happening Paige has an arm wrapped around you, practically skipping as she drags you, half asleep and wrapped in a quilt, through the parking lot to her car. She turns your seat heater on, connects your phone to the car, and lets you choose a playlist before pulling out onto the main road, interlocking your fingers, and letting your hands rest on the center console.

"Dude, come on, really?" she groans as your sleep playlist begins and the sounds of an artificial rainstorm flood the car. 

"I'm going back to sleep," Is all you can manage to say in your fatigued state, leaning your head against the window and shutting your eyes once again. 

You don’t wake up again until sunlight has begun to shine through the trees lining highway, urging you to peek your eyes open, the gentle shake of the car almost lulling you back to sleep before you realize where you are. 

"Paige, you've got to be kidding me," you groan out after catching a glance at the 6:45 A.M. flashing on the car’s dashboard. She looks at you briefly, a sheepish look passing over her face. "You're awake." 

“I am.” You respond, not doing anything to hide your anger.  “Where the hell are we, Bueckers?" You ask before turning to look at her. 

As your eyes meet hers, a soft “Oh” escapes your lips, and suddenly, where you are doesn't matter anymore. 

With your camera, you could have captured every detail—the way the morning light seemed to dance across her blonde hair, the delicate shadows her eyelashes threw across her under-eyes, mingling with the dark circles from a restless night. She looked beautiful.

It could be the best picture you'd ever taken of her. - And if you hadn’t been so clueless and absorbed in your art, you’d probably be paying a lot more attention to the miserable expression across your best friends face instead of the light that was hitting her perfectly.

"Wait, hold still," you whisper, your tone softening as you reach for your phone and point the camera at her. “Just let me get this shot.”

_________

It takes a few seconds for you to dig your phone out of the bottom of your backpack where it had been left it in an effort to prevent distractions, but once you’ve found it you waste no time in opening the favorites album in your camera roll, holding up the image from that morning next to the one on your laptop. 

‘Oh’

Side by side, the pictures are nearly identical. 

Without realizing it, the two of you had recreated the last picture you had taken of her before the two of you stopped talking, before she stopped talking to you. 

In this new version, a stark black backdrop replaced blurry trees seen through a car window, and artificial orange and pink lights substituted the natural sunlight. Yet, in this new photo, her expression remained unchanged—those firm glares and pursed lips staring back at you from both screens. A heaviness settled in your chest as you set the phone aside and shut down Lightroom.

‘I’m not doing this right now.’

It was undeniable that you still missed her, even though the two of you had barely spoken in the past year. And despite all of your friends telling you that you should be furious at her for essentially ghosting you, your feelings haven’t changed. 

Pure, unbridled misery. That’s the only way to really describe it.

The day you realized your best friend wasn’t ever going to respond to the 20+ ‘read’ texts and missed calls from your attempts to reach her was one of the worst days of your life. 

Paige had just gotten the OK to return to campus after her ACL surgery, you had been on your way to try and visit her when Azzi had knocked on your dorm room door. 

“Oh, were you on your way out?” She had questioned, seeing your outfit and the purse in your hands. 

“I was gonna go check up on Paige I heard she was back.” Pausing before you add, “actually I’ve been meaning to ask if you had heard from her? She hasn’t gotten back to me yet and I’ve called like a million times.” You ask, forcing a chuckle to mask the stress bubbling beneath your words.

Azzi's expression hardens, her eyes avoiding yours. "Listen," she begins, her voice heavy with reluctance, "that's actually what I came to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Your voice rises slightly, a mix of confusion and apprehension.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Paige doesn’t want you reaching out to her right now. She needs to focus on getting healthy again."

"Oh." The word escapes your lips softly, tinged with hurt and disbelief, as the weight of her words settles in your chest.

The memory fades but the unmistakable hurt is still coursing through you as you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself breathe.

It had been a mistake to let your guard down.

“You good?”

The voice you’ve been longing to hear for the past year interrupts your thoughts, sending a familiar pang through your chest as you look up, locking eyes with the blonde, her brows raised as she looks down on you with an unreadable expression. 

[hqbaby]

three — have to be

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.5k content. profanity, college kids being stupid, some angsty feels

Contrary to popular belief, college isn’t that different from high school. No one magically matures overnight and goes from being a snot-nosed brat to a sophisticated adult. Try as you might, it just isn’t the way things go.

College is essentially just high school on steroids. The cliques are more exclusive, padded with unwritten rules and covert acts of initiation. Bullies are more subtle, if not more vicious. And the gossip? Well, the gossip is just as venomous, and news spreads just as fast.

Today’s item of interest is one for the books: The big breakup between the campus crush and the golden boy who bagged her. How they ended things rather abruptly. And how they’re both already dating different people only three weeks later.

“Apparently, you cheated on him,” Nobara tells you, pulling out the lollipop she has in her mouth. “Or you cheated on him. It depends on who you ask.”

“I heard that you were sleeping with a professor,” Maki says.

You frown at her, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Yaga?”

“No.” She grins. “Gakuganji.”

You gag at the thought. Which sicko came up with that? Probably Kento, you think. The prick.

The three of you are on your way to a meeting for a pre-law society you joined back in your first year. You’re not quite sure you want to be a lawyer and Maki’s made it clear that she’s just in it for the parties, but as Nobara says, it’s for the connections.

A lot of college has felt like a complete scam to you, if you’re being honest. The classes are fine enough and you occasionally meet interesting people, but for the most part, you’re well-aware that everyone here’s either just coasting or trying to one-up one another. You can’t complain though. In the end, you’re a part of it all.

“I heard something interesting though,” Nobara says, and there’s a dangerous tone in her voice that has you crawling out of your skin. “More than a few people are saying that you’re dating someone new.”

Maki nods, looking at you with a raised brow. “I heard that too.”

“Someone from the business department apparently,” Nobara adds. “Someone you’re incredibly close with.”

You swallow as your two friends turn to you for an answer to their accusations. You and Sukuna made your sham relationship “official” just a few days ago and you haven’t had the time to tell either of them about it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been avoiding the topic for as long as humanly possible because you already know what they’re going to say about the whole thing.

It’s one thing for you to be friends with him despite their clear dislike of him, it’s an entirely different thing to be dating him. To the public’s knowledge at least.

“I was going to tell you guys about that,” you say quietly.

Nobara gapes, dropping her lollipop on the ground. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Before you say anything—”

“Holy shit!” Maki exclaims. She stops in her tracks and grabs your shoulders, shaking you as if to shock some sense into your system. “No. You’re not doing this.”

“I know Satoru fucked you up, but this is not the way to deal,” Nobara tells you. Her arms are flailing around as she tries to get her point across. She probably thinks you’re in too deep, madly in love with the asshole she’s done nothing but warn you about. “Where’s your phone? You’re breaking up with him right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at your friends’ hysterics. Much to their horror.

Maki’s grip on your tightens. “This is serious, babe. It’s not happening.”

“Will you just let me speak?” you say, the laughter shaking your voice. “I’m not dating Sukuna.”

They both let out a sigh of relief.

“But I am pretending to.”

“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” Maki demands. She’s let go of you now at least. That’s something. “Explain, bitch.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking straight ahead, forcing the two of them to hurry along after you. “It’s just a thing we’re doing,” you say. “It’s basically a joke.”

Nobara groans. “Well, it’s not funny,” she says. “Why are you doing this?”

“I dunno,” you tell her. “I’m petty, I guess.”

They’re clearly displeased with your non-answer. You realize that it was more than ridiculous trying to hide it from them in the first place. There’s really nothing to hide.

“We went to a party over the weekend,” you say. “And Satoru was there… with Kimi.”

Maki purses her lips, but you can tell that she understands. She understands you more than she wants to. She was there with you before the breakup, she saw how much the whole thing had been weighing on you, and she was there immediately after it happened. She saw just how badly the whole thing wrecked you. She knows that you’re being stupid, but she also knows you.

It’s Nobara who scowls and shakes her head. It’ll take more than that to convince her.

“So?” she says. “Then date one of the many guys who throw themselves at your feet. Or get a girl! You’re due for a girl. Pick literally anyone else but him.”

You chuckle at her insistence, draping your arm over her shoulder and squeezing her against you. “I don’t want anything real right now,” you tell her. “All those people want a real relationship that I’m just not ready for, and they don’t deserve to be led on. Besides, Sukuna’s the only one I trust to do something this stupid with.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re fucked in the head,” she says. “You cannot trust a guy like Sukuna. He’s an ass.”

“He’s also my best friend.”

Nobara hangs her head at that. “You know, I wish I’d met you sooner,” she tells you. “Then, I would’ve gotten you away from that asshole before he got his fangs in.”

“I know him,” you say, leaning your head against her. “You gotta trust me on this.”

She wraps her arm around your waist and holds you tight for a moment, then sighs. “If he tries anything stupid though, I will kill him.”

“I’ll help,” Maki says. She goes in front of you, walking backwards so she can keep her eyes on yours. “You’re sure about this?”

You nod, reaching your hand out to grab hers. “I’m sure,” you say. “And it’s only for a month. I’ll probably be ready to move onto something real by then.”

The meeting has been going on for hours. They’re not usually this bad when all you have to talk about is a fundraiser or a seminar or a statement against the school administration or something menial like that. But the agenda today is loaded.

The trip.

The big trip that everyone in the society always gets worked up over. It’s the big event of the year, a weekend where the whole group goes somewhere new and gets completely wasted. 

It isn’t enough that you do charity work or contribute to the campus life like any other club would. It isn’t enough that you all see each other on a weekly basis to party at someone’s house or head to a bar together. To truly make the “connections” that Nobara speaks of, you have to relocate everyone to a beach or camp in the mountains or get locked together in a cabin in the woods.

It’s for bonding, they say. But with how everyone’s arguing right now, you’re almost worried that the whole group is just going to end up hating each other. Just another part of the college experience as they say.

“We are not going to an active volcano for our trip,” Utahime says. “It’s stupid and, honestly, not fun at all.”

Mahito huffs at that. “What’s more fun than knowing that we could die at any moment?” he asks like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “You guys just want to go to the beach again and that’s boring.”

“Where would we even sleep?” Aoi points out.

Utahime nods and looks at Mahito with venom in her eyes. “Exactly.”

“As if anyone sleeps on these trips anyway.”

You raise your hand. “I vote against the volcano.”

“So where would you have us go?” Mahito asks. “Kento’s house?”

The man in question scoffs. “As if I would ever let you in my house.”

“I think the beach is fine,” Nobara says. “We always have fun there anyway.”

“We went there last year though,” you say against your better judgment. When Nobara looks at you like, How are you not siding with me on this? You mouth a quick “sorry.” Then, “Camping’s fun.”

“Bugs,” Mahito.

“Oh, and you think there isn’t anything gross on a volcano?” Utahime.

“What about Aoi’s cabin?” Kento.

“My dad just sold it.” Aoi.

“I vote beach.” Maki.

“Thank you!” Nobara.

The conversation goes round and round. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has something to say, everyone has something they don’t like or don’t want to do. It seems like the whole thing will never end.

“Ski trip,” you say suddenly. The room goes silent. “We’ve never been before, and it’s doable. The budget’s pretty good this year. I think we could swing it.”

Everyone looks at Kento, the keeper of the books, as he turns to his laptop to crunch the numbers. After a moment of typing, he looks up and nods.

“It’ll have to be after the children’s rights fundraiser though,” he says. “We have to make sure we can make the downpayment on the hall for the kids, but after that…”

Everyone looks at Utahime now, the club president who has the final word on everything. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Ski trip it is.”

There’s a round of “finally”s and “fuck yeah”s and patting each other on the back for a job well-done.

“Now, about the children’s rights fundraiser,” Utahime says. “We should really start planning that.”

Everyone groans and there’s eventually a call for a five-minute break.

“We should really kick Mahito out at this point,” Nobara whispers to you as she rests her head on the table. “He doesn’t even do his job half of the time.”

You pat her head and laugh. “He’s harmless,” you tell her, getting up from your seat. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“I’ll come,” Maki says, following you out the door.

The two of you link your hands together and swing them wildly as you make your way to the restroom, a habit you two formed in freshman year when you refused to be suffocated by the crowds of people going from classroom to classroom. Despite seeming like two completely different kinds of people on the surface, the two of you are just menaces at heart. It’s why you’re such good friends.

As you approach the restroom, you can hear a group of girls talking loudly inside.

“Locker room talk,” Maki says, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk on her lips.

You snort, the voices becoming clearer now.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Is he good in bed?”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“You guys are so embarrassing.”

You stop in your tracks. The last voice is so familiar, terrifyingly so. It’s a voice you’ve heard from a few feet away. In front of you in a line. In the back of a classroom. On the court, counting out the timing for the next steps of the cheerdance.

“He’s really sweet though,” the voice says. “Just this morning, he showed up at my dorm with a bunch of flowers. He said he got them ‘just because.’”

Maki is watching you with concern, confused by why you’ve suddenly stopped moving, why your breath has seemed to hitch in your throat.

Just because.

A bouquet of now-wilted flowers on your kitchen counter. A teddy bear from a carnival tucked beneath your bed. A tennis racket you made him swear not to buy that showed up in your locker one morning before practice. Just because.

The restroom door swings open and four girls walk out. One of them—

“Kimi.”

The name slips from your mouth before you even realize it. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this moment. For the current to drag you under. For the heavens to crack open.

The girl looks at you with wide eyes. Guilt, you can tell. Pity.

She says your name this time. “Hi,” she says a little nervously. “How are you?”

Just like Maki, her friends watch the situation unfold from a careful distance. Will one of you lunge at the other? Will you pretend to be the best of friends? Should they come closer? Should they stay back?

“I’m doing well,” you tell her. The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like your own. You only realize now that you’re smiling. There’s a hint of smugness to it, a hint of callousness, cruelty. “I take it you and Satoru are going strong.”

She seems to catch your tone. Unintentional of course, but she doesn’t know that. All trepidation seems to leave her body, replaced by a similar coldness. “Yeah, we are,” she says. “I hear you and Sukuna are an item now.”

You try not to cringe at the implication. You’ve traded Satoru, the golden boy, for Sukuna, the bad idea. No point regretting it now.

“Yeah,” you say. End this now, you think. “Well, Maki and I have a meeting to get back to.”

“Oh, sure,” she says sweetly, stepping out of your way. Her friends follow suit. “See you around.”

You take Maki’s hand and wave at the girl as she passes by. “See you.”

The two of you walk into the restroom and let the door close behind you. You’re looking at each other now, breathing deeply as you hear the girls outside walk away.

“That was fucking insane,” Maki finally says.

“Tell me about it.”

You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. It’s not a big deal, if you’re thinking logically, seeing your ex’s new girlfriend in a restroom. You all go to the same school, it’s not like you can avoid each other. Still, the whole thing brings out a viciousness in you that you can’t quite control, one that’s always ridiculous in hindsight.

You go into the bathroom stalls, still laughing.

“You were so cold,” Maki tells you from the stall beside you. “I was so proud, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I was mean!” you exclaim. You groan as you reach for the toilet paper. “She’s so telling him about that.”

“No way. It’d be embarrassing.”

You pull your pants up and head out to wash your hands in the sink, waiting for Maki to finish. “She knows about Sukuna.”

“Yeah,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”

“Humiliated.”

She steps out of the stall and washes her hands in the sink beside yours. “You still think the whole pretend-dating thing is worth it?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s done is done,” you tell her. “Sunk cost, baby.”

Maki dries her hand and looks at you seriously now. “Are you okay?”

Just because.

The words echo in your head. Words that have only ever been spoken to you now tainted by her voice.

“No,” you tell her. When she looks at you with furrowed brows, all you can do is shrug. “But I’ll have to be.”

notes. a little insight into reader's student life and bit of her bitchy side 👀 these chapters are getting longer than i'm used to lmao i fear the plot is getting away from me and just dragging me along for the ride at this point

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 13: Promises and Jealousies

AN: I can't stay away from my original baby. Please enjoy a fluffy, smutty, angsty.... thing from me with all my usual ingredients: temper tantrums, allusions to drugs, both baby and 70s Elvis, Elvis smirking, Elvis... elvising.

You might want a refresh, but it's not really necessary Chapter 12

Thanks for @thatbanditqueen for providing vital feedback as always.

Early 1956

Chancy held her breath as she pulled the car up alongside the Cadillac Fleetwood parked on the gravel driveway. She had only been driving a few weeks and her parking was still a work in progress. Navigating near Elvis’ pride and joy just added to the pressure.

“Oh my goodness, we made it!” Alicia gasped, opening the rear door and staggering out dramatically. 

“I wish you’d stop doing that every time we go anywhere!” Chancy snapped, leaning out of the car to change her shoes. 

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all thinking that you’re a brat!”

“Chancy!” Grandma reproached softly over the top of the car, both her tone and her face suggesting she was disappointed rather than angry, which was always worse. 

“Sorry, Grandma.” 

Alicia skipped across the yard, swinging her arms in that loose-limbed unself-conscious way of a child and Chancy envied her a little. She couldn’t remember ever being that unconcerned and content herself, but then again, she and her sister had had very different lives though they came from the same family. 

Chancy walked with studied casualness alongside Grandma to make sure that she didn’t slip on the wet grass or leaves, trying not to let her know that was what she was doing. 

By the time they had reached the steps up to the porch, the front door was open and Mrs Presley was standing silhouetted in the light with a big warm smile on her face. She commented on how tall Alicia had grown, which was the perfect thing to say since Alicia was the shortest in her class and conscious of it. Over the top of Alicia’s head she gave Chancy a knowing smile and ushered them in. 

In the living room, Mr Presley was dissecting the newspaper on his lap and gave them a brusque nod as they all piled in, shedding their coats. 

“Make yourselves comfortable. Chancy, come help me fetch the drinks?” 

Chancy smiled and shot up from the sofa, following Mrs Presley into the kitchen. 

“Where’s Elvis?”

“Oh, he only woke up not ten minutes ago. You know, I don’t think that boy rests at all when he’s away from home, and it takes a full day just flat out sleeping to catch up. He needs to start taking better care of himself. Here, why don’t you take this lemonade in to him.”

Chancy glanced into the living room where Grandma was sat in silence waiting for Mrs Presley’s return and the only noise that Mr Presley produced was a rustling of the newspaper. Alicia was on the floor playing with Elvis’ dog, Boy, giggling as he excitedly licked at her face. 

Chancy tapped on Elvis’ bedroom door and pushed it open. 

“I’m up! I’m up. I’m… almost up,” came a muffled mumble from within the darkened haze of the bedroom. 

“You liar!” Chancy said playfully, treading cautiously over carelessly discarded shoes, clothes, cases and instruments.

There was a pause and then Elvis sat up slightly, pulling his blanket to his chest like a maiden protecting his virtue.

“Cha-Cha?!” His voice went high and she couldn’t help giggling, enjoying getting the upper hand and surprising him for once.

“Get a lot of girls coming into your bedroom, do you?” she returned, perching on the side of the bed. His hair was sticking out in all directions and he seemed to think of it just as she was noticing, his hand reaching up to cover/smooth it. 

“What are you doing here, what time’s it?” His voice was adorably hoarse and matched his sleep-puffy face and squinting eyes. 

“A little after six.” 

“At night?!” 

Chancy couldn’t help but giggle again at the way his voice cracked and he dropped back onto his pillows in stunned realization that he had slept the whole day away. She slid the glass of lemonade onto his nightstand and watched him grab it and gulp it down thirstily. 

After a few seconds, his legs moved around beneath the blankets and he complained, “Ugh, I have got one hell of a crick in my neck.” She shot him a disapproving look at his language, but it got lost in the murky darkness. “Rub my neck for me, baby.” He rolled onto his front and grabbed her hand, pulling it and dropping it on his shoulder like she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. 

Sighing affectionately, Chancy started kneading her thumb into the muscles and tendons that passed down the back of his neck and into his shoulder, trying not to respond to the soft little moans he was making, she knew deliberately, to get her riled up. 

“Ain’t no one can do that the way you can,” he murmured, one hand hanging off the bed and gripping her ankle. 

Chancy had no doubt that he had discovered this through rigorous testing too. They had broken up just after Christmas and the grapevine had been sure to let her know that Elvis was getting over her with just about every girl that crossed his path, on the road, up in New York when he was performing on TV, even at home in Memphis. 

When he showed up at her house after New York, he had claimed that it was all overblown and that every time he had to speak to a girl, the newspapers and magazines turned her into his date, but it wasn’t the papers that had told her friends to tell her that he was ‘plowing through every girl like it was his job.’ His cousin Gene didn’t write for the papers, or much at all as far as Chancy knew.

Ironically, the reason they had broken up was that she had got a Christmas present from a boy in her class; just a little skating figurine that the boy said reminded him of her after they had gone, as a big group from school, roller skating one weekend. When Elvis found out, because Alicia couldn’t keep her big mouth shut, he acted like the ornament was an engagement ring and the big argument had ended with both the figurine and their relationship in pieces. 

It had been their longest break-up yet. They had had little tiffs before, usually something to do with him being away so often, it made both of them suspicious and jealous over the other, but nothing quite like the one at Christmas. It had been the first time that Chancy had not been certain that they would get back together. She had suffered through an unprecedented month of not seeing him, in person at least, since he was just about everywhere she looked on television, magazines, newspapers and almost constantly being played on the radio. 

Then, the night he got back into town, he was at her door as if nothing had ever happened, telling her all about New York and what it was like recording for a big record label like RCA Victor and how he had hardly had any sleep and the food hadn’t tasted right. She had been so glad to see him, so relieved, that she had risked Grandma’s wrath by climbing onto the back of his motorcycle and letting him take her for a ride all the way down to Riverside. 

Without warning, Elvis flipped over onto his back, his neck apparently miraculously healed, and tried to yank her down by pulling hard on her arms. 

“Ow!” she cried, fruitlessly fighting his grip, “too rough! Elvis, stop it!” He abruptly let her go and pulled himself up in a seated position, his pouty, sheepish face clear in the half-light.

With a mournful sigh, he let his head drop forward against her upper arm and she shivered, smiling, as she felt the little kisses he was pushing against her bicep. 

“Sorry,” he murmured in a baby voice, “Just missed my widdle baby so much.”

Before too long, the kisses had moved upwards, over her shoulder and to her neck as his warm hands drew her forward, pulling her down incrementally with patient but determined slowness. 

As was becoming more and more common these days, even with their parents and guardians just outside, Chancy wondered how far she would let this go, if today was the day when she would relent just that slight bit more and they would go all the way. It was the last boundary, the last little piece of herself that she had not given to him, and she was aware that, as the world became more and more enamored with him, threw everything at him, that she would have to keep giving, too, in order to keep hold of him. 

It was taken out of her hands when the bedroom door flew open and the overhead light flickered into stark brightness.

“Elvis, your mama says that you need to get your behind out of bed or you’ll be sorry!” Alicia announced. “Say, why are you two sitting in the dark?”

“Anyone else in your family wanting to march into my bedroom tonight?” Elvis commented, dropping back onto the pillows with an air of exasperation. “Grammy ain’t waiting in the hall, is she?”

“No, but she is in the living room, so keep your voice down!” Chancy whispered. “Alicia, get out!”

“Hey!” Elvis grabbed hold of the back of her skirt as she stood to steer her sister out of the room. “Don’t run off!”

“You need to get dressed!”

“I think I need help!” he returned, pouting cutely. 

“Okay, I’ll send in Grandma,” she replied, giggling when she was hit on the back by a pillow as she walked out the door. 

Not much later, Elvis was sat between Chancy and his mother on the couch, drinking his third glass of lemonade and telling Grandma about life on the road. Chancy had to give him credit, he was note perfect, playing down the mischief that he got up to, and instead talking about the interesting and/or famous people he had met on the Hayride, and the pretty country he had driven through. 

“Can’t tell you how glad I am to get home though,” he pronounced, his jiggling left leg nudging into Chancy even as he was patting her and his mother’s knees. “Don’t think I had anything worth eating in nearly two weeks!”

“You know, Chancy’s been so busy these last couple of weeks too. Haven’t hardly seen her!” Grandma said, airily shaking her head. Elvis’ eyes sharpened and he leant forward in his seat. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh my yes, one of the families at church, the Barkers, their home burned down just last month and they lost everything, Lord help them. The church have been fundraising to give them a little something, help them get back on their feet. Chancy here helped put on a dance. She organized everything, and in just two weeks too.”

Chancy felt uncomfortable as everyone looked at her with a variety of expressions on their faces. It was sweet of Grandma to give her all the credit, but the truth was that she had just called up all her pals on the usual committees and all the girls pitched in. Margie and Barb were just the tops at talking reluctant, cantankerous adults into submitting to their will with the sheer force of their enthusiasm and, once they managed to get a number of local businesses to sponsor the event in exchange for advertising and the chance to put up sidings, it had all come together. 

Chancy had come up with the idea, but after that she preferred to be the cheerleader, the secretary, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be and at the right time, ensuring the budgets were balanced and everyone knew when to show up to decorate the school gym. She could create a color-coded notebook like nobody else.

“I was just saying to Vernon the other day, wasn’t I, Vernon- Vernon! Wasn’t I? I said Chancy hasn’t been coming around here so much these past couple of weeks. I thought you were busy with school, but you were doing all that work, honey, and for that poor family? What a sweet little girl you are!”

Warmth spread through Chancy at Mrs Presley’s pronouncement. She had a way of talking and smiling at you that made you feel like you were being hugged, much like her son, except he wasn’t looking like he wanted to hug her very much right then. 

“Wasn’t that clever and sweet of Chancy, Elvis, to do that?” Mrs Presley prompted, after Mr Presley had glanced up and given a vaguely disinterested, lopsided smile and nod. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s real clever and sweet, Mama,” Elvis murmured, not looking at Chancy. 

When Chancy volunteered to help Mrs Presley dish up dinner, Elvis followed, leaning the kitchen doorway while he watched them perform what was by now a familiar dance routine. 

Chancy could feel him behind her even when he didn’t say anything, could feel the weight of his thoughts and emotions almost as if they began in her. She could even feel him working up to say something, but before he did, Mrs Presley scolded him for hovering and sent him off to the table with a basket of rolls. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about that poor family,” she confided to Chancy as she plated up the chicken. “No one was hurt, were they?”

“No, Ma’am, they all got out okay,” Chancy reassured her. “They’re moving into a new apartment at the end of the month, and I heard Mrs Barker telling Grandma that the Lord sure does work in mysterious ways, because they would’ve never been in the position to live in a place so fine before.”

“And that’s down to you,” Mrs Presley said, patting her arm. 

“Oh no…” Chancy demurred, feeling awkward but not wanting to lose that look of pride in Mrs Presley’s eyes when she looked at her.

She whirled around to bring the corn to the table and almost smacked into Elvis’ chest. He silently grabbed her arm and drew her into an alcove by the bedroom doors.

“You didn’t say nothing about no dance when I called you,” he whispered fiercely.

“Didn’t I? Maybe you didn’t call when it was happening. It was so last minute.” She saw by the way he ground his back teeth that he got the underlying jab. 

“I called plenty enough for you to say something. I-It just gets me to thinking that there’s maybe other things you ain’t telling me.” 

Chancy took a surreptitious peek into the kitchen to see that she hadn’t been missed and then pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed him to try and defuse the situation. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t respond either. 

“Who took you?”

“Huh?”

“To the dance, who was your date?”

“Nobody, I was helping out.” He shook his head and went to walk away and she grabbed his arm, still trying to balance the dish of corn. “We went as a group, a big group of us.” He let himself be pulled back into the alcove and she shoved the dish onto a side table so she could press up on him. 

“Who took you home?” 

“Margie and her date. I was a lonesome wallflower the whole night, don’t worry.” 

“Baby, you know that ain’t what I want,” he murmured, gripping her waist with his fingers. “I just- I gotta make the most of this while I can. Ain’t no telling how long it’s gonna last, you know that.” He stroked her side with his thumb as he spoke. “Just… be patient, honey, and remember what you promised me.” He was leaning back against the wall, his head slightly tilted back as he looked down at her, all heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. She couldn’t remember anything right then. 

“There’s my corn!” Mrs Presley snatched the dish off the table and gave them both a leveling look. “Let’s go sit at the table, huh, and remember why we’re all here?” She cuffed Elvis’ shoulder as he jerked upright and followed Chancy. 

Awkward and sheepish, they shuffled into the dining room where everyone else was already seated and looking at them expectantly.

Why they were all here finally came up as they were eating. It felt like most of the evening had been tiptoeing around the shape of it, no one quite willing to touch on it, but leave it to Alicia to bulldoze her way right through it like someone who had never had anything fragile to look after. 

“You know, Aunt Rose said that I might be allowed to get a kitten when we go to visit, but only if I take care of it,” she informed the table after getting caught trying to hide food to give to Boy. 

“Well, she said ‘might’,” Grandma reminded her quietly, taking a dainty bite of greens. 

“Chancy said she wouldn’t go even if she was allowed to get an elephant.”

Chancy winced as she closed her eyes and felt her body heat up several hundred degrees. She just kept chewing the same piece of chicken, feeling as though she would never be able to swallow it down. 

“That also remains to be seen,” Grandma commented primly. She had a way of seeming small and delicate and also as rigid and resilient as iron. 

“Well, if it helps, Grammy, I promise I wouldn’t let her get an elephant,” Elvis put in, giving her that winsome, impossible not to love boyish look. 

“I sure appreciate that, son,” Grandma replied, smiling in spite of herself, “but I’m more concerned with making sure she’s still attending school and giving her attention to her studies.”

“I told you I would,” Chancy said softly. She looked to Mrs Presley since they had talked about this, about how they would handle this so many times. 

“Mrs White, you know that schooling is just as important to us. We made sure that Elvis graduated before anything else and we’d do the same with Chancy, I can promise you that. We all know she’s a smart girl.” 

Chancy nodded slightly like a director pleased with how the lead had recited the script. She turned back to her grandmother.

“I understand that, Gladys,” Grandma nodded. “And I’ve always appreciated how much you and your family care for Chancy. It’s just that… I promised her mother that I would raise her, that I would take care of both girls the best I could. And leaving her behind, even if it is for a little while, it just doesn’t sit right, not at all.”

Chancy forced the overly chewed chicken down and she could almost feel it drop into her tense stomach. She looked at Elvis and, though he had been following the exchange between the two women closely, it seemed he felt the prod of her gaze as his eyes dropped to her face and his expression softened.

“Grammy, I can promise you that I love Chancy and-and I would never do nothing- anything- to spoil her or ruin all the hard work you’ve done raising her up so well. It’s- It’s because you done such a good job that I love her so much!” 

Chancy had been scrutinizing and scoring the exchange like she was a judge, deducting points for the bad grammar, which she knew made Grandma curl up like a snail on salt, and adding points for earnestness. It took a beat for her to actually hear the meaning of the words and she coloured a little, her eyes welling slightly. 

“And if I stay here while you’re taking care of Uncle Stan then I can keep going to school every day instead of getting and sending all my assignments in the mail. I’m so close to graduation, after all.” 

As soon as she said the words, Chancy wanted to swallow them back up, because that left the door open to Grandma laying down the law about what happened after graduation, when she no longer had the tie of school, when she should have been thinking about her future. Luckily, faced with their three pleading expressions, Grandma wasn’t exactly thinking her clearest. 

After dinner, Mrs Presley shooed them out of the house with conspiratorial excitement. Elvis obeyed without hesitation, but Chancy wavered, leading Mrs Presley to give her a firm peck on the cheek and push her off out of the door. 

“Go on, babies, let the grown ups talk now!” She spoke with such a sense of control and determination that Chancy’s stomach finally eased a little. Mrs Presley would take care of it, iron out those final little wrinkles that Grandma kept rucking into their plans, and Chancy would be able to stay instead of being dragged off deep into the backwoods of Mississippi with Grandma to help take care of Uncle Stan after his big operation. 

They had to bribe Alicia to stay behind, Elvis asking her, all furrowed brow and bottom lip, if she wouldn’t mind taking Boy for a walk and looking after him until they got back. The Presleys outmaneuvered the Crawfords so completely that evening that Chancy should have had more of a sense of foreboding and outrage about it, but it wasn’t until much later that she realized that she had already switched teams, that she had been the first victim. 

“You think your mama can do it?” Chancy asked, as Elvis slid his arm along the seat behind her and turned to reverse out of the drive. “Grandma can be real stubborn.” 

“I think if anyone can, Mama can,” he nodded, winking at her. “Grammy ain’t coldhearted, she knows how much we love each other.” His breath hitched as he laughed softly. “And how you can’t live without me.” 

“If that was true I’d be dead a hundred times over!” she retorted. It took a minute for Elvis to respond, a tiny battle where she watched him decide whether to snap back or let it go. He finally chose the latter and hit her with a peck to the temple. 

“Prettiest ghost I ever saw.” 

As was happening more and more often, they were not alone for long, and pretty soon they had gathered up some of Elvis’ friends and were cruising the streets, sniping and poking at each other playfully. Red had a girl with him too, so when they stopped for drinks and snacks, Arthur was sent in to fetch them. 

“Soooo rich and famous and we’re sitting here getting Krystals,” remarked Red’s date, emerging from beneath him with her lipstick smeared across her cheek in the back seat. “How much money do you even make anyway?” 

Even with his face buried in the crook of her neck, Chancy could imagine Elvis’ expression as he tensed against her. He hated bad manners, especially in girls, and while he wanted everyone to know how well he was doing, talking specifics really made him uncomfortable. The girl had already made cracks about the car, wanting to know how much he paid for it, and had also remarked that Elvis was wearing flashier jewelry than his own girlfriend, implying he was cheap. 

“Hey, cool it, would ya?” Red muttered, grabbing the girl and pushing her back against the seat so he could mess up her lipstick and clothes some more.    

It was too late, that little switch inside Elvis that turned him from the sweet, polite, silly boy to the crazy, reckless, and wild one had already been flicked. Chancy could feel it, her senses keenly attuned, and she was now just waiting to see how it announced itself. He glanced up from nibbling her shoulder and saw Arthur heading towards them with the sack of food. 

With what might have outwardly looked like a playful grin, Elvis started the engine and pulled off just as Arthur reached out to grab the door handle. Arthur being Arthur, none the wiser, hurried after them. Elvis made the car squeak to a stop, let Arthur grab the handle and then jerked forward. He did it a couple more times until, finally, breathless, bewildered and slightly annoyed, the boy dropped into the car, still diligently hoisting the sack. 

“Gimme that,” Elvis snapped, snatching it out of his hands just as Red and as his date reached for it too. 

With his jaw clenched so tightly that you could hear his teeth cracking, Elvis emptied the sack out of his car window, then yanked the car into reverse and shot back, before driving over all the contents, letting his tires spin, and then flying out of the parking lot like a flash. 

“Now no sonovabitch is eatin’!” he raged. 

Seconds later, he was pulling up alongside the sidewalk, the poor Cadillac bouncing to a premature stop, and Chancy having to throw out her hands to brace herself against the dashboard. Red was already telling his date to get her things together like a man trying to help his wife prepare for an oncoming hurricane. So, when Elvis yelled for either the girl or both of them to ‘get fuck out’, he was ready to bundle her out instantly. Red barely pushed the door shut behind them before Elvis took off again. 

Chancy turned her head, watching through the rear window as the girl stumbled over the sidewalk trying to gather her purse and her jacket, looking shell shocked. Chancy caught Arthur’s eye and he gestured in confusion for an explanation, but she shook her head very slightly.  

After a tense few minutes, Elvis pulled over near an abandoned lot and jumped out of the car, pacing back and forth, his outstretched fingers clenching and unclenching. Chancy slid out after him and Arthur had the good sense to stay where he was. 

“Why’d she have to ruin everything like that?!” he cried, gesturing so wildly that Chancy took a step back just in case. “We were having a good time, weren’t no call for her to start in with her bullshit!” He wrinkled his nose and gave an impression that sounded like a cross between Mickey Mouse and Droopy:

“How much money do you make, Elvis? Why you gotta wear so much jewelry, Elvis? Why you eating burgers, Elvis? Shoulda shoved those burgers right up her-” Chancy finally took the chance and grabbed his arm as he passed her, almost getting yanked along for the ride. 

As he turned to storm back the other way, he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and marched her right up against the wall of a darkened store, pressing in tight. She was rubbing his back as he pressed into her front, soothing him like a colicky baby, feeling his tense muscles beginning to unlock. He rested his forehead against her shoulder and she heard him take some deep breaths, trying to calm himself. They were on the home straight now, she just had to keep on rubbing and murmuring, pressing her lips against his fluttering pulse. 

He shuffled forward, his hips tilting against her stomach where she could feel that he was riled up all over. His thighs squeezed her leg between them and he finally just slumped, the dark, demonic rage flushed out of him. Now, he scooped her jaw between his hands and was kissing her as if trying to wash out the taste of his temper with the taste of her. 

“Baby’s all better now,” she said softly, submitting to the baby talk in a way she only ever did to soothe him after an episode like this. He exhaled into the kiss and nodded, pushing his forehead against hers. 

“Sorry,” he murmured in a breath. “He’s sorry.” 

“I know.” She felt him gripping her fingers and, when he stepped back, she glimpsed his diamond pinky ring on her finger. Her stomach lurched at the sight of it on her left ring finger, but she knew he hadn’t really been thinking about that. “Honey, you don’t have to-” 

“And that’s why I did it.” He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, finding it hard to carry what he had done in the past twenty minutes. It was always the same, after. “C’mon Cha Cha, we gotta go.” 

“Where are we going?” she asked, though she already knew.

“Well, we can’t just leave ‘em on the street.” 

The switch flipped back, the other Elvis held the door open for Chancy to slide in and then joined her, pulling her hand onto his thigh as he started the car. 

“Hey, you doing alright back there, Arturo?” he commented with exaggerated good humor, sounding the all-clear. Arthur nodded and sat up, his face bright again. 

“Yeah, sure thing!” 

And they were back on the road. 

Red was by himself, traipsing along the sidewalk by the time they caught up to him. Elvis leaned on the horn and when Red turned and squinted into the headlights, he didn't look surprised to see who it was. 

“There you are, man!” Elvis called out of the window. “Knew I’d find ya, could make out that hair from five miles down the road!”

Back on Getwell, Elvis pulled up next to Grandma’s old Ford and fixed a faraway stare at the house with its glowing windows. Chancy sat beside him, arranging her hands on her lap so that she looked like a genteel Southern lady, mainly to stop herself from stroking the creases that ran from his nose and the corner of his mouth, tickling a smile out of him. 

“You know, if your mama hasn’t convinced Grandma, I’m gonna walk all the way back from Mississippi,” she said finally. “When my shoes wear out, I’ll just carry on walking barefoot.”

“You ain’t leaving,” he said in a low voice. In spite of how quietly he had spoken, the ferocity was deafening. He looked down at her hands folded so primly and picked up her left, frowning over it pensively. 

“You can have it back, I-” He gave a fierce shake of the head and she stopped. 

“What if it was real?” he said, his words flowing slowly like a lazy river. “W-what if we just drove on down there tonight and… I mean, you’re nearly eighteen, ain’t nobody that could stop us!”

“They’d kill us!” Chancy breathed, even as her chest was swelling with excitement. “We’d be married and dead in a day. They would take turns: Grandma, then your mama, your daddy, Grandma Minnie… Uncle Stan when he’s feeling better…” 

For a moment, they tilted on a knife point, the desire to do it, to lie about her age and get themselves a marriage license, tie themselves together so that they didn’t have to bend and scrape and beg for anyone’s permission to be together again versus the fear of the no doubt terrible consequences. 

Chancy wouldn’t have to worry whether the photos she saw were really fans or the easy girls that threw themselves at Elvis when he was on the road. She could go with him, get away from rules and babysitting and dusty textbooks about dusty subjects. 

The fire dampened in Elvis’ eyes before she felt it gutter and extinguish within her. She knew what he was about to say before the words pierced their excited bubble. 

“Colonel says that if I get married right now, it’ll be over.” He swallowed, hitting his long thumbs against the top of the steering wheel. “All of this-” He flapped his hand at nothing in particular, but she took it to mean the comfortable one-family house he was renting, the car, the bills paid on time. “All of it, just gone.”

Chancy nodded, feeling her throat tighten and her eyes prickle over losing an idea that hadn’t been hers to begin with, that she had not even considered until he put it out there. 

“I’ll wait,” she croaked, clutching her fingers together until they turned white. “You know I’ll wait.” She started to slide the ring from her finger, but he grabbed her hand, his own fingers damp and shaking. 

“Whenever you get to worrying or thinking that I don’t love you, Cha Cha, I want you to look at it and remember that you are my perfect little baby, ain’t nobody more perfect for me than you. And one day you’re going to be my wife.” He kissed her hard, like he could will the words into truth with the force of his lips smashing against hers. He sighed and shook his head. “And if Mama hasn’t changed Grammy’s mind, then we’re just gonna forget all of that and find a damn courthouse. Colonel or no Colonel.” 

Chancy laughed, unspent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, and felt the weight of the ring as she lifted her hand to wipe them away. 

That night, she had to make a thousand promises to her Grandma, promises to go to school daily, even if she was sick, even if she was run over by a bus on the way; promises to be a good girl and not do anything that could sully her reputation or diminish herself in anyone’s eyes; promises to always heed the Presleys just as she did her grandmother; promises to call whenever she could…

“You’re only going for a few weeks!” Chancy said with a laugh. “We’ll all be back home before we know it!” Grandma just looked at her for a long time, her eyes uncharacteristically hazy, until Chancy had to start touching her face and shifting in her seat. She had known what was really happening, even if Chancy had been too young and stupid to see it. 

“I promise.”

Mid 1973

The white Stutz shot across the intersection, which was thankfully clear, forcing the cavalcade of cars behind to do the same to keep up. Chancy winced at the distant sounds of horns as someone in the back encountered traffic. 

“A microphone, godfuckingdammit? Who steals a motherfucking microphone?!” Elvis seethed, gripping the wheel with white knuckles, glaring out from beneath his wide brimmed hat. “And fucking how’d they do it? Twenty sonsofbitches on payroll and not one of ‘em sees a goddamn thing!” 

The silence from Charlie and David in the back seat was a wall built for their own protection, and his, knowing that whatever was said would just make things worse. 

“I knew I made a fucking mistake agreeing to record in that shithole. Only reason the place is still standing is ‘cause the rats and the roaches are working together to hold up the damn walls. Fucking broken down, dirty-” He was thumping the hard rim of the steering wheel with his knuckles to emphasise each word. 

“Good to stay in Memphis though,” Charlie remarked blithely from the backseat. “Better than hauling our asses out to Nashville.” 

It was far too soon, Elvis was not ready for the bright side yet and Charlie was about three drinks too far in to gauge it right. 

“Fuck Memphis!” Elvis bellowed. “And fuck recording too! If RCA wanna sue me for breach of contract, they can go right ahead! Ungrateful motherfuckers, how many records have I sold for them over the years?!”

It had been a trying night. Chancy was very quickly discovering that working all day and being with Elvis at night was not a feasible plan. Really it had been sheer wishful thinking from the beginning. 

The day before, she had wished so many clients a good evening before eleven thirty in the morning that her assistant Lynette had started to worry she was having a medical episode. And when she yawned one too many times in the studio, Elvis had cut the session short without recording a thing and stormed back home, though not to let her sleep. No, he decided that what she was lacking was excitement, so he, Red, Sonny and Dave had put on a karate demonstration for everyone that featured disarming an assailant using a gun with live ammunition. He noted triumphantly that she didn’t yawn once through that. 

And then on to tonight, where he had taken almost three hours to dress, calling up various people to discuss different matters with them in his dressing room like he was an executive taking meetings. 

Chancy had waited in the bedroom at first, trying not to doze off in all her finery, but eventually wandered downstairs and visited with Grandma Minnie, who regaled her with all the old stories about Elvis as a sweet, thoughtful little boy as if she had not heard them before. Some of them had changed over the years since Chancy had first heard them, turning almost into parables: ‘Elvis helps the old man across the road’, ‘Elvis gives all his toys to the poor’, ‘Elvis heals the sick by bringing them a glass of water’. 

The absurdity, of the stories but never Grandma Minnie’s devotion to her grandson, was even more apparent when Elvis tapped on the door and appeared swathed in a Superfly outfit that made him look like he was taking a break from making a cocaine deal that would get him out of the ghetto and set him up for life in order to record some records. 

“Now that is an outfit!” Chancy pronounced, reaching over and rubbing the velvet fedora as Elvis leant down to greet his grandmother. She had to bite down hard to stop herself questioning the fur coat in a Memphis summer, because she knew he would either get upset or go and find a matching cape to let her know what he thought of her advice. 

“Well, I figure if I can’t wear it now…” 

Chancy nodded and smiled, hoping that the guys at Stax would take the clumsy homage as earnestly as it was intended. She doubted Elvis would notice either way, his voice was soft and slow and his movements slightly out of time or sync; he was using more than the thick fur coat to insulate him from what had increasingly become more of a chore over the years. 

“Okay, Dodger, I gotta go to work,” he announced, giving the fragile-looking lady an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on the cheek and rubbing her arms. 

As he drew back up, his eyes fell on Chancy and narrowed. She had a moment of dread that he might ask her to go put on the white fur he had bought while they were on tour and quickly decided she would just fake a faint. Drop right there on the carpet.  

“What’s wrong with your neck?” he asked sharply, peering down his nose, his eyes looking almost black. 

“My neck?” Chancy put her hand to her throat, quickly trying to catch up. Grandma Minnie rolled her eyes indulgently and gave Elvis’ hand on her shoulder a little tap. 

“Yeah, c’m’ere a second.”  She approached tentatively, knowing it was just as likely that he would pretend to throttle her than fix whatever problem he had spotted. When she felt a cold weight unravel and slide down her chest, she slumped a little with relief before she examined what it was. She lifted the pendant and tried to make sense of the lettering picked out in diamonds. It wasn’t difficult. 

“Elvis,” she read slowly. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” he replied dryly. She fixed him with a look of affectionate irritation. 

“Thank you, I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask you to remind me of your name, but it seemed a little awkward after so long.” 

He glanced at his grandmother, her presence muting whatever reply he had originally intended. 

“You can give it back if you’re gonna-”

“No, no, it’s beautiful, honey, thank you!” She gave him a hasty kiss and made a big show of letting Grandma have a closer look. She pronounced it ‘very fine’ and then made a comment about them being a good looking couple that had them both shuffling their feet and fighting embarrassed smiles like they were in Junior High. 

“Yeah, she ain’t bad to look at,” Elvis mumbled, clearing his throat. “C’mon Ugly, we gotta get going.” He snorted as she swatted his back, waving goodbye to Grandma Minnie as she followed him out of the room. 

When they got to the studio, the long jamming and joking session started as everyone warmed up. Chancy recognised a few of the session musicians from a previous life, but she was a little distracted by the way that Kathy was giving her furtive looks even as she seemed engrossed in working out her parts with Mary Greene and the Holladay sisters. 

When Chancy had got back from work earlier that day, everyone had been down by the pool as Elvis was working on his tan for Las Vegas. Chancy had wandered out there after changing out of her office wear and found Elvis and Kathy on adjacent sun loungers, heads close together as everyone splashed and laughed and joked around them. Apparently they were discussing weighty spiritual matters, but Chancy had the distinct feeling of intruding on something personal, serious. It made her return to the house soon after, ostensibly because she was hot and in need of a refreshing shower, but also to rinse away the bitter feeling in her gut. 

Why ask her to come and stay, encourage her to burn herself out working all day and playing all night when he already had someone else much more available and in tune with him right there?! It was just… rude. Yeah, that was it. It was poor manners, that’s all. And greedy. 

The faint prickle of offended sensibilities and definitely not jealousy still plagued her as she watched the band and singers preparing for their first take. There was nothing better for making you feel left out and superfluous than being the only non-performer during a performance. Even Hamburger James got to carry a towel. 

Too soon, she regretted that reflection as Elvis wandered over to where she was sitting and plopped his hat on her coiffed head, wiping his damp, sweaty hair off his forehead. Great, now she was useful. 

A little while later, Elvis was back, still teasing one of the musicians as he swigged water from the bottle and wiped his face with the towel he had taken from James. He dropped his discarded big gold, bejeweled bracelet in her lap before his hand cupped her chin and he deposited a quick kiss on her mouth, then he returned to the microphone. 

This happened several more times, until she was laden with a jacket, hat, towel, various pieces of jewelry and was diligently copying out some lyrics from the sheet music. It was only when she approached with her sheet of handwritten lyrics just in time to see Elvis giving Charlie a sharp shake of the head as he proffered him a printed version that she finally realized what was going on. 

“Here you go, Boss,” she said, smiling softly. Elvis squinted at the words slightly, before nodding with satisfaction. 

“Thank you, baby. Don’t understand why all this poetry keeps slipping outta my mind.” He shook his head. “Next song we’re doing is ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ to a bossa nova beat. Gonna storm the fuckin’ charts with that sumbitch.” 

Laughter choked Chancy as she tried to fight it down and when he saw her, eyes watering and face red, and biting hard on her lip, he laughed a little too and some of the sharpness of his frustration was dulled. Audience appreciation always soothed what ailed him. 

“We ready?” Felton’s voice buzzed in from the booth. 

“Uh, yeah,” said Elvis, waving the sheet that Chancy had passed him. “Forget my damn name half the time, man… Oh no, there it is.” He tapped the pendant on Chancy’s chest, lips twisted into an ironic smirk.  

They broke for a coffee break around one am, which Chancy assumed gave some of the musicians the chance to try and sober up a little. She felt a little drunk too trying to walk on the sloping floors. 

Marty was explaining, as if they couldn’t tell from the front facade, that it was because the place used to be a movie theater and they had just torn out the seats and moved in the equipment.

“Wish it was still a damn movie theater,” Elvis intoned, returning from posing for photos with the session musicians. He wandered off again to talk to the Stamps and Lamar remarked under his breath:

“He keeps on the way he’s going, in a couple of hours we could tell him he’s at the movies and he’ll believe us.” 

Chancy frowned, hating the bite in Lamar’s tone, but also recognising the concern and truth in there too.

Loud laughter rolled in from over by Elvis and the quartet. Towering JD could always be counted on to give Elvis the validating big grin and rumbling laughter he was reaching for, but even he was looking a little bemused. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Chancy murmured under her breath. She felt responsible, though logically she knew it was not her responsibility and certainly not her job to run interference and defend a grown man from himself. Didn’t stop the feeling though. 

“Well, you can lead a horse to water…” Lamar remarked with a sigh. “But try it with Elvis Presley and he’s gonna tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It was when everyone reconvened after the break that everyone realized Elvis’ personal mic was missing and suddenly they were pulling towards the gates of Graceland without slowing down. 

Luckily, someone had called ahead and the gates were already open, though a couple of the fans had to scurry out of the way as the Stutz bounced slightly against the curve of the slope and raced towards the back of the house. 

After they jolted to a stop, Chancy reached down to grab the purse at her feet, but when she sat back up, the driver’s door was open and the seat empty. 

“Where’d he go?” she asked Charlie and David in the back, and they gestured towards the house. She trailed after him in the path of devastation, walking through the returning guys, who were standing around, wondering what Elvis had in mind for them next (Please, not another karate demonstration!)

In the kitchen, the staff were hurriedly preparing iced water and discussing whether Elvis needed anything to eat. 

Chancy climbed the stairs, almost tripping over the purple velvet hat sitting on a step about halfway up. On the landing was the fur coat, which she snatched up and tucked over her arm. 

She idly wondered if he would be naked at the end of this trail and whether she should have let the maid go up first for fun. 

“Elvis? Wh-” She tripped over a boot and almost toppled head first through the door into the bedroom. “Dammit!”

Elvis’s explosive laugh was both infuriating and a relief. She glared at him laying on the bed, sadly still wearing most of his clothes, and threw the hat and then the coat at him. She was gearing up to pitch the boot when he hastily rolled away and scrambled down the other side of the bed, leaving a (no doubt loaded) handgun behind on the mattress.

“Cease fire!” he yelled, waving a hand above the mattress. 

“No way, this is-” Chancy stopped when the maid brought in Elvis’ water as if it was a perfectly normal situation to walk into. She even paused to ask Chancy if she wanted something to drink and to tell Elvis that Pauline the cook wanted to know whether he wanted something to eat, all while Chancy stood there holding a boot above her head.  

After she left, closing the door behind her, Chancy and Elvis looked at one another and started laughing. Hers was more out of relief than anything else. She had been preparing herself during the car journey for a sleepless night of cooing and placating and soothing to the best of her abilities. This abrupt switch was not unprecedented, but the frequency with which he could swing from one extreme to the other had definitely increased lately. 

With his hands raised, and a naughty smirk on his lips, he cautiously climbed back on the bed and she gestured wordlessly to the gun. 

“I’ll move it if you ditch your weapon,” he countered, twitching an eyebrow, showing that he had definitely learnt his skills of negotiation from the Colonel Parker school of nonsense and befuddlement.  

With a pout that telegraphed her misgivings, Chancy dropped the boot and Elvis grabbed the gun and shoved it onto his nightstand like it was a discarded book. 

“There we go,” he said in a sing-song voice, reaching out and tugging her closer by the waist. “You know, baby, that I’m a lover not a fighter.” He folded her backwards onto the bed, cradling her as her legs tucked up beneath her. 

His kiss was like a warm blanket, easing her tension and warming her from the inside out. Whatever he wanted to invoke in her, he knew exactly what to do to achieve it. Chancy didn’t even know if he understood the amount of power he had and the way that she had fought to make sure no man ever came close to attaining it over her again.   

“That’s not what I saw with Red and all those guys last night.. Yesterday?” She ran her palms over his shoulders and down his chest, marveling at the way touching him had almost the same effect on her as kissing him. 

“Well, honey, a man’s gotta be both sometimes, you know.” He moved the pendant aside and trailed his fingers across her chest, his nails sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin. “Gotta take care of my baby, keep her safe… and keep her happy.” 

“I’m sure you do,” she murmured, gripping a handful of hair at the nape of his neck as he leant down to press his hot, breathy mouth against her tingling skin, but he abruptly pulled short as he registered her words. 

“And what in the hell’s that s’posed to mean?” 

Struck slightly dumb by having him pressed against her, Chancy blinked and scrambled to regain control of the strings that controlled her mind and body. 

“You make me happy?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, he looked disgusted, his lip curling in disdain.  

“Naw, that ain’t what you meant with that sneaky-ass, snide little comment. If you got something you wanna say, just fucking say it. Just say it..” He braced his arm by the side of her head, but didn’t pull away, pressing in on her, forcing her to yield both mentally and physically. 

“I didn’t mean anything, Elvis, I’m tired and it came out wrong.” She made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from him. 

“I’m tired, I’m tired,” he intoned in his high-pitched impersonation of her. “This ain’t about you being tired, honey. You keep trying to play it off like you’re some kind of modern woman who’s just in it for the kicks, that you don’t care, but I know you. I know you, Cha-Cha, all the way deep down.” He tapped at her breastbone. “You know what’s happening just as much as I do.” 

“Oh really, and what is that?” She resisted the urge to reach up and rub the sting on her chest, panting slightly under the weight of him. His stormy expression broke into a slow smile at her defensive tone, her discomfort, her utter confirmation of everything he was saying. 

Instead of words alone, which had never been his favorite way to communicate, he let his slow, careful hands give an answer as he reached over and drew the straps of her dress down from her shoulders. 

Not even Elvis Presley could make clambering back onto his knees look cool and graceful, but she still let him take her hands and pull her up too so that he could draw down the zipper of her dress with infuriating slowness. She watched him blink, eyelashes fluttering as he focused intensely on getting the silk to slide down into a pool at her bent knees. She hadn’t been wearing a bra and her skin pebbled in the open air, nipples peaking and tingling. She reached up to touch… something, and opted for him, fingers grappling for purchase on the tiny buttons of his shirt, fingertips slipping inside and brushing against coarse hair. 

He let her work, his face unreadable as he flicked his tongue against his pillowy lower lip, until finally she reached the bottom of the shirt and she tugged it off over his shoulders, nowhere close to as gently and sensually as he had removed her dress. His cheekbones brimmed as his mouth twisted into a wry smile. 

“Can I keep my arms, honey, I need ‘em.” 

Chancy responded with her mouth, gasping a moan as she pressed her lips into his, slipping and sliding her tongue against his; she was his. Her hands flexed against the warm skin of his chest, tickled by the hair as she followed it down over the soft curve of his stomach to the waistband of his pants tucked underneath. 

Just as she managed to unhook them, he surged forward, sucking at her neck, and she half-laughed and half-squawked as she toppled backwards. She reached for him, but he just withdrew with a mischievous smile, grabbing her foot and yanking her leg straight as she tried to shake him off. 

“Hey, quit,” he intoned sharply, like she was one of his horses getting restless. His stern look faded as he studied her foot, running his thumb along the arch meditatively and repetitively until she felt a strange warmth starting to pool in her lower belly, tendrils of excitement creeping down the inside of her thighs. 

Slow enough that it was almost cruel, he lifted her foot and kissed the top and then the inside of her ankle, his kisses leaving warm, wet patches that felt icy cold in the conditioned air. It took all of her self-control to stay still as his lips and tongue took a long, scenic route up her calf and behind her knee. Every twitch that gave her away felt like a point lost in this battle of theirs, this parrying of wills, the dance around the truth.  

When he gave out a sigh that almost sounded like a moan and pressed his hot cheek against the inside of her cool thigh, it felt like a victory, even though the depths of her ached and flooded with fierce, heated anticipation.  

“What a way to go,” he murmured to himself in answer to whatever thoughts were swirling around behind that vulnerable and hungry expression he was wearing. She started as she felt him nip at the soft, thin skin at the top of her inner thigh and she curled upwards, her hands scooping around his face, to pull him away, to push him down, to claw and slap at him, or everything all at once. 

Elvis’ face as he awkwardly obeyed and climbed up so that he was poised over her, was so needy that it almost looked pained. His mouth slightly open and his brow knitted, he gave her a wet, sloppy kiss even as he was shoving down his pants. Their mingled breaths were rasping and fast and she snatched the opportunity to wriggle down, kissing a path along his side, making him twitch and then still as she reached the crease at his hip. It was all she could not to rut against the mattress as she salivated and moved fast, ready for his firm hand to push her back. It never came, and the musky, salty sweetness of his cock filled her mouth and made her hum a moan of recognition and delight. 

Who was winning this battle now? She wasn’t sure, she only knew that she was delirious to be playing. Elvis was arched above her, his face wreathed in shadow as he watched her mouth work, his breathing light and panting, interspersed by little whines from the back of his throat. As her lips tingled and grew numb and she struggled to get enough air through her nose, he began to twitch and jerk forward, just a little.  

“My turn,” he muttered breathily, not even sounding like himself as he drew back and grappled with her arms, pulling her up towards him. He didn't even manage a kiss before he was ripping down her underwear and burying himself inside her. She couldn’t tell if he was trembling or it was her, or the both of them, as he paused, trying to adjust to the way she gripped him in her warm, wet embrace. 

Showing, as ever, that rhythm came naturally to him, he thrust deeper and knocked the air from her as she clung to his shoulders, keeping a steady, unrelenting pace.

Chancy rested her forehead on his shoulder and squeezed her eyes closed. She could hear herself breathing, then moaning, the sounds refining into words:

“Please, please, Elvis, please.” She was signaling defeat, a joyful, emphatic and ecstatic defeat in this fight of theirs. She wasn’t indifferent, or cool, or realistic. No, stripped back like this, she was still that desperate, hungry, besotted seventeen year old, ready to offer herself up to any pain, any suffering, for the chance to feel this way. 

With a guttural groan, he stuttered and spilled into her. She felt him pulsing within her and her nerve-endings exploded with a surge of pleasure that was almost painful. He relaxed down on her, burying his sweaty face in the crook of her neck and she felt herself sinking into the mattress, breathing in the heady scent of them together. Tonight, at least, she had what she had always wanted. 

Chancy waited for him to say something, to make one of his silly little comments or tease her for her neediness, but he was still and quiet. She knew what he was waiting for her to say, the final act of submission. 

“I know what’s happening,” she whispered, before clearing her throat and repeating herself. 

With a grimace, he peeled himself away from her shoulder and lifted his head so that he could see her face. There was not even a hint of a smirk on his face, it made it easier. 

“I’m in love with you.” It sounded so stupid, redundant and repetitive. The teenager in her rolled her eyes like it was obvious, like it was easy to say. The adult Chancy felt like she was tearing out parts of herself to admit it. Like she was handing him that gun and helping him aim. 

“Aw, honey,” he said finally, when she had started to feel cold spidery legs of embarrassment in her stomach, “we’re in love with each other. Don’t you know little us is just crazy for each other? Ain’t no stopping it now.” 

She nodded, watching a happy smile spread slowly across his face, transforming it into radiance the way it always did. 

“I love you,” she said, wondering if it would feel less like the words were ripping out from her chest the more she said it. “I love you, uh…” She lifted the pendant she was still wearing and pretended to read the diamonds. “Oh yeah, Elvis, that’s it.”

Jutting his jaw and clenching his teeth in a playful show of rage, he placed his whole hand over her face and pushed her back down onto the pillows. His hot breath played against her ear as he murmured:

“I love you too, baby.”

Just hours later, bleary-eyed and barely awake, Chancy stumbled in the direction of her car, having left Elvis submerged deep within a sea of medicated slumber. She watched Mr Presley get out of his car, about to head into the kitchen for his usual pre-work cup of coffee, when he went round to the trunk and pulled out a small bundle of wires and a small, silver microphone. 

“Elvis, you sneaky bastard,” she murmured to herself, chuckling a little against her will.  

Taglist:

@richardslady121 , @dkayfixates , @fallinlovewithurlove , @notstefaniepresley , @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith , @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation , @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts , @joshuntildawn13 , @i-r-i-n-a-a , @from-memphis-with-love , @ellie-24 , @be-my-ally , @vintageshanny

[sid-the-sandwich]

'Obey Me!' character hobby mechanic

This is my second time writing this because I lost the first draft even though I saved multiple times.

Anyways, this is (Maybe) part 2 of stealing features from other games and incorporating it into the mechanics of 'Obey Me!' While writing the shops for each character, my mind wandered and I had a thought, what if there were hobbies like in 'Blush Blush'. Leveling up these hobbies would give rewards such as intimacy multiplier, icons, bonuses, and cards.

I'm a yapper, so this is going to be long. Not proof-read

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

firstly, i'll talk about the hobbies mechanics and what it would do:

There should be 4 types of hobbies:

Common- hobbies that almost every character has.

Uncommon- Hobbies that 5 or more characters have

Rare- Hobbies that 2, 3 or 4 characters have

Character specific- A hobby distinct to each character

the rewards for these would be:

Common/Uncommon- Grimm, AP

Rare- Grimm, AP, DP, DV, Character lines

Character specific- Grimm, AP, DP, DV, Character lines, Card pieces

NOTE: all four will add an intimacy multiplier that will apply to only characters who have that hobby

the rewards for the level max for these would be:

Common/Uncommon- an icon of Sheep MC doing the hobby

Rare- icon, Memory card of the characters with that hobby

Character specific- Icon, UR card of that character

The Hobbies:

Common:

Reading

Running

Bowling

Music

Watching TV

Board games

Uncommon:

Art

Cooking

Swimming

Sports

Dancing

Nature

Sleeping

Animal lover

Card games

Rare:

Horse riding

Gaming

Modelling

Partying

Piano

Calligraphy

Knitting

Marine Biology

Demonus tasting

Shopping

Working out

Technology

Character Specific:

Cursed Record collector

Gambling

Cosplay

Cat Enthusiast

Self-care

Competitive Eating

Stargazing

Chess

Tea tasting

Baking

Writing

Magic tricks

Trap making

Sewing

Journalism

There are a lot of hobbies listed above, however considering how long the game is running, and the amount of characters, a wide variety of hobbies make sense.

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

Now onto the characters:

Lucifer:

Common:

Bowling

Music

Board Games

Uncommon:

Cooking

Reading

Card games

Rare:

Demonus Tasting:

"I'd love to share a glass with you. Meet me in my study in 20 minutes" "Careful, i wouldn't want to drink too much, who knows what I might do"

Horse Riding:

"Hold on tight to my waist, I'll keep you safe" "Let's take a trip together, far from my brothers"

Piano:

"There's a piano in the music room, you're the only one i trust to use it" "Lets play a duet, naturally I'll take the lead"

Character Specific:

Cursed Record Collector:

"Come to my room, i want to show you a new record I acquired" "I used to have more records but Mammon is holding some hostage for money"

UR Card: Lucifer looking at a record player with Sheep MC on top of the record spinning.

Mammon:

Common:

Running

Watching TV

Music

Uncommon:

Card Games

Sports

Dancing

Rare:

Partying:

"YOOO! THE GREAT Mammon wants to hang out with you! lets go paint the town" "WHA! I CANT HEAR YA OVER THE MUSIC FROM YESTERDAY"

Modelling:

"You can look but ya cant touch... well, i g-guess i wouldnt complain if ya did" "Did ya see the new edition of Devucci? Top cover baby"

Shopping:

"Hey my favourite human, my first, my number one... ya really wanna pay for me today, don't ya?" "YES! I just stole Goldie back from Lucifer! let's go before he finds us!"

Character Specific:

Gambling

"Hey MC... whats your favourite number? thats gonna be my lucky number today" "MC you have to come to the casino with me! you're my good luck charm"

UR Card: Mammon holding Sheep MC running out the Casino

Leviathan:

Common:

Art

Watching TV

Music

Uncommon:

Card Games

Sleeping

Swimming

Rare:

Gaming:

"Luke befriended me in Mononoke Land... who knew he was so good" "Can you come to my room later? i brought a new game"

Marine Biology:

"Henry 2.0 is my friend... sometimes i think i should get him some siblings" "Once Belphie drifted out to sea... we didn't see him for a week"

Knitting:

"Wanna make a Ruri-chan doll with me? It's n-not like i wanna hang out with you or anything" "I'm just a Yucky otaku who likes knitting"

Character Specific:

Cosplay

"H-Henry? y-your dressed as Henry? E-eh d-dont taunt me like that" "Can you be the Azuki-tan to my Ruri-chan? BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!!!"

UR Card: A picture of Levi in a Ruri-chan costume and Sheep MC dressed as Azuki-tan

Satan:

Common:

Art

Board games

Bowling

Uncommon:

Reading

Pottery

Animal Lover

Rare:

Calligraphy:

"Don't talk, im concentrating... okay, now continue." "I wrote your name on your book for you... i know you'll enjoy it"

Piano:

"whats your favourite song? ill play it for you" "My heart is fluttering... your notes are really doing something to me"

Knitting:

"I learnt how to knit from Raphael... he's a good teacher... maybe i can teach you some tricks" "Want to knit some scarfs for each other?"

Character Specific:

Cat Enthusiasm:

"MEOW" "Sorry about that- i accidentally cursed myself again"

UR Card: Satan and Sheep MC with a cat filter

Asmodeous:

Common:

Running

Art

Music

Uncommon:

Nature

Pottery

Dancing

Rare:

Partying:

"hi <3 lets go out tonight!" "I can dance all night long! join me?"

Modelling:

"Why does Mammon have to be attractive? he's an idiot" "I'm ready for my close-up <3"

Shopping:

"You should wear an outfit i choose for you" "Lets go to the new lovers' Cafe, my treat"

Character Specific:

Self-care:

"Hehe! i have the cutest face-mask for us to try" "You have soft hands, lets join them..."

UR Card:

Beelzebub:

Common:

Running

Watching TV

Bowling

Uncommon:

Nature

Sports

Cooking

Rare:

Working Out:

"Lets play Fangol together... you remember the rules, right?" "Here... hold the stick like this... good, thats good."

Horse Riding:

"We could both ride on one horse... I'll hold you tight, I promise." "I'm not letting you ride a horse until you wear a helmet"

Gaming:

"You, me, Levi and Belphie should all play a game together sometime; its more fun with more people" "Lets play an easy game this time..."

Character Specific:

Competitive Eating:

"Woah! There's a human world sport that involves eating?" "MC, lets eat a whole pile of hot dogs together! I'll let you have the first bite"

UR Card: Beel eating from a plateful of hotdogs and Sheep MC cheering him on

Belphegor:

Common:

Board Games

Watching TV

Music

Uncommon:

Reading

Sleeping

Animal Lover

Rare:

Gaming:

"The last time i played with Simeon, i slept through 'DevilKart' and still won when i woke up" "Sleep is like life's pause button"

Knitting:

"I only started knitting because i wanted a new blanket, but its actually fun" "I can knitt in my sleep y'know... maybe i can trap you in one of my knitted blankets... heh."

Piano:

"Can you play me a lullaby?" "You really have a lot of time- huh?"

Character Specific:

Stargazing:

"You remember THOSE stars? Those are the one's Beel and I gave you" "I wonder if you think about me when you look at the stars... just like how i think of you"

UR Card: Belphie stargazing with Sheep MC on his chest looking up at the stars

Diavolo:

Common:

Running

Art

Music

Uncommon:

Pottery

Nature

Animal lover

Rare:

Horse riding:

"Lucifer, Mephistopheles, and I like to take leisurely strolls on the Horse ranches... those two are like best friends" "I wonder if Barbatos will allow me to take the day off to entertain you with a ride on my horse?"

Piano:

"Lets have a contest! Who can play better?" "I'll play a tune for you at the next Devildom festival... as our guest of honour"

Demonus tasting:

"Lucifer says the funniest things when he's drunk" "'I love you, now clean your room' such fun! Do i sound like Lucifer?"

Character Specific:

Chess:

"I've never been beat before... you really want to play against me" "If you win, I'll be your 'pawn' for the night"

UR Card: Diavolo playing Chess against Sheep MC

Barbatos:

Common:

Art

Board Games

Music

Uncommon:

Reading

Pottery

Animal Lover

Rare:

Caligraphy:

"The Young Master is lazy when it comes to learning calligraphy" "Its refreshing to see someone so young taking an interest in calligraphy"

Knitting:

"Knitting was something i didn't pick up for thousands of years, who knew it was so... amusing." "I created a quilt, a patchwork of human history as a side project"

Marine Biology:

"It's only logical to learn about the human world sea-life," "In another timeline, we are all fish."

Character Specific:

Tea Enthusiast

"It's piping hot... be careful." "Does it taste familiar? it contains ingredients from your home country"

UR Card: Barbatos and Sheep MC having a tea party

Luke:

Common:

Bowling

Watching TV

Board games

Uncommon:

Swimming

Nature

Animal Lover

Rare:

Marine Biology:

"I LOVE ALL THE CUTE FISHIES" "Barbatos likes teaching me about fish when we cook together"

Knitting:

"Simeon made me a sweater! its so cute! i wear it when i go to the human world!" "MC, can you help me start the row for my knitting?"

Gaming:

"I just sent Levi a friend request on Mononoke Land! he accepted immediately" "Simeon said I'm no longer allowed any more time on my DDD today!"

Character Specific:

Baking:

"Someone get Solomon out the kitchen. PLEASE!" "Can you reach the mixer for me? Simeon put it on the top shelf to hide it from Solomon."

UR Card: Luke and Sheep MC with chef hats and aprons mixing a batch of dough.

Simeon:

Common:

Bowling

Board games

Art

Uncommon:

Pottery

Nature

Reading

Rare:

Working out:

"Being an angel means i have to be in top shape!" "Lets do some exercises together... i'll help you do some stretches."

Modelling:

"A company called 'Majolish' asked me to be their model." "Mammon and Asmodeous gave me tips on how to pose; i could show you later if you want."

Knitting:

"I made Luke a little sweater... Raphael helped me with the design" "Solomon took a picture of me knitting... I'm hunched over."

Character Specific:

Writing:

"Leviathan keeps begging me for a new TSL novel... he really is an avid fan, huh?" "Luke said i should use a computer... i kept pressing the wrong keys..."

UR Card: Simeon typing on a computer, squinting with glasses with a Sheep MC (Also with glasses) doing the same on his shoulder

Solomon:

Common:

Art

Board games

Music

Uncommon:

Card Games

Animal lover

Sleeping

Rare:

Calligraphy:

"This is how we used to write in 'ye olden days'" "Hmm... who else can i taunt with my writing?"

Piano:

"Let me dream a little dream of you ♩" "I wonder what the others would say if i played your faverouite song?"

Marine Biology:

"I still cant believe I'm exiled from the sea" "do you think if i put Leviathan and Barbatos in a tank, they'd fight?"

Character Specific:

Magic Tricks:

"Get ready for the elusive Solomon-dini" "And for this trick, I will take your heart."

UR Card: Solomon in a magician hat with a magician wand, he points the wand at Sheep MC

Thirteen:

Common:

Art

Running

Music

Uncommon:

Sports

Nature

Swimming

Rare:

Modelling:

"I only model so that Solomon has to see my face everywhere!" "Do you... want to do a photoshoot with me?"

Partying:

"Yoooo! Lets go party, i'll sneak you outta RAD" "Lets set fireworks! hahaha!"

Demonus Tasting:

"When i first came to the Devildom, i didnt understand Demonus, now i totally get it!" "I wonder how a drunk Barbatos acts like..."

Character Specific:

Trap Making:

"If you ever need help, just text me... I'll send one of my traps over" "This is 'Spider-squid v4', i made it for you..."

UR Card: Thirteen shooting a net-trap from her contraption with Sheep MC ontop of the trap

Raphael:

Common:

Art

Board games

Music

Uncommon:

Pottery

Animal lover

Sleeping

Rare:

Calligraphy:

"You want to see my writing, why?" "I could write you a poem, I guess..."

Piano:

"I remember playing this tune in the Celestial Realm" "Could you do me a favour? Could you gather Lucifer and his brothers... i wanted to play a song for them"

Knitting:

"I made you a sweater... i heard this design was 'hip' with the humans" "Knitting is easy and repetitive, its addictive that way"

Character Specific:

Sewing:

"I remember sewing the brother's clothes in the Celestial Realm" "You know some new sowing techniques? You humans are incredible"

UR Card: Raphael sowing some clothes with Sheep MC's help

Mephistopheles:

Common:

Art

Board games

Running

Uncommon:

Sports

Pottery

Nature

Rare:

Calligraphy:

"Calligraphy is a forgotten art" "I wish to write your name in as many fonts as i can"

Piano:

"I can play a multitude of human songs I heard from the past" "Lord Diavolo once told me a story of a young boy, but he expressed it through the medium of piano... that was a long hour."

Horse Riding:

"Lord Diavolo takes Lucifer and I to ride horses sometimes, its always so... awkward" "I like racing horses, I've known how to ride horses since i was a mere boy"

Character Specific:

Journalism

"i think you should be on the front page of the school newspaper" "You enjoy spending time with me?"

UR Card: Mephisto and Sheep MC with magnifying glasses

[toomuchracket]

what would be like the average day at home for d word and girlie now the baby is here. living in Manchester? weathers lovely and they do a food shop, go for a walk? imagining that mattys not on tour.

living in london! the concrete bunker has been baby-proofed to the best of your ability and brightened up just a tad in prep for your precious girl's arrival; you were initially a bit nervous to bring that up to matty, because you know he's taken so much time and care getting the house to look so good, but he was SO enthusiastic about the little redecorations, very "it's you and the baby's home too, darling, want you both to be happy and represented in how it looks and feels", which was really cute. days are lived quite slowly at the minute, just spent in your little family bubble with lyla, which is code for 'her sleeping a lot and you and matty just looking lovingly at her' lmfao - you take her for little walks around the local area, like you said to do the food shop (she's asleep when you leave and she wakes up in tesco and matty's like "oh my god she must think she's tripping" lmfao) and to see your family or matty's, and once you've taken her to get her birth registered when she's a couple of weeks old you visit the office to introduce her to your work friends (there's a blurb about this already). although she's still only tiny, she already seems like quite a curious baby, who perks up when she hears any music (but especially daddy's), splashes around quite happily at bathtime, and is content to be sniffed at by mayhem (he loves her so much. is hesitant to leave the pram even with his lead off when you go walkies); when she first smiles, it's not at her parents or her big cousins (eilidh and keir) or her grandparents, it's at the dog. real of her. anyway! you're thinking you'll actually take a little family trip up to manchester/wilmslow to stay with matty's family during the summer, once lyla's sleep schedule is hopefully a teensy bit better and she's a little bit more alert, and actually you and matty have been talking about getting a place up there so you can be a bit closer to family, so you might take a look at some available properties while you're up. not that you don't love london, and you'd be happy to stay there, but matty's lowkey quite keen on the idea of raising your kid(s) in a quieter place, like the ones he grew up in. but, like i said, you'll see - really, he'd do whatever, if it made you and lyla happy. and you really are, right now, just spending time at home together in newborn bliss. lovely <3

[skywalker42]

What people think ADHD is:

So I went to my room to grab sticky notes to leave my roommate a reminder on the dryer but then I saw my week old mug on my nightstand so I went to put it away and then when I was in the kitchen I realized there's no room for it in the cabinet and now I'm measuring the wall for shelving units.

Which, yeah, it is that. It's definitely that. But it's also this series of texts I sent to my friend this morning:

[tonguetyd]

IIII LOOOOVEEEE NEW YORK CITY!

OHHHHH YEAHHHHH NEW YORK CITY!!

Also to give context to how big of a deal this is (aside from just name recognition), Webster Hall (where they played in September) has a cap of about 1500 people. Radio City’s cap is just under *6000 people*. That’s a STUPID massive jump. Like when I was tinfoil hat-conspiracy-ing venues, I joking said “psh, sure I guess they COULD play Radio City, but Beacon (which is like, half the size of Radio City) makes way more sense” AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY TO BE WRONG!!

This is so exciting for them, and going to be so confusing to be in such a fine upstanding venue while screaming about blood and ancient gods 😂

[quinn-pop]

genuinely i could not sleep until i drew this. sewing jokes ft a very confused kirby

at first i thought this idea was silly but i mean. it probably would be a big deal for the prince of patchland to be made of synthetic fibers, so uh

bonus doodle of me when i actually am sewing lol (sorry for the anatomically incorrect iron)

[puppyeared]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[ra-vio]

semester is almost over. im dying

[saminthea]

Is it appendicitis or just fibromyalgia and a stomach bug? Guess we'll see in the morning!

[novelconcepts]

i don't make resolutions, but if i did

it would be to finish this fic

(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)

[scarletcomet]

scrolling through instagram and it's making me want to die

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

so i had a couple ocs as a kid (made for a story that i never wrote a lot for) and i haven’t drawn any of them since i was like. 14. so it’s been a hot minute but anyway i realized the other day that out of the 5 main cast i have gotten 3 of their haircuts. i remember vaguely thinking that one character always seemed to have the haircut i wanted and i had that haircut for years but recently i got rid of that haircut and had another one’s haircut then i changed it a bit and dyed it and now i have another one’s. so i’m like man 12 year old me had great taste in haircuts. i should go down the list and do them all

[phantomqueen]

frequent headaches? #justgirlythings